#holy smokes the pining between these two!

[bkglovergirl]

♡𓂃Water guns

Bakugou X Reader

𓏲Aizawa gives you and katsuki a second chance and with that it leads to a downward spiral of things.

Word count; 4.4k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“I’m giving you two a second chance.” Aizawa is in front of you and Katsuki, holding your hero suits. Katsuki had gone to Aizawa privately and asked for the second scenario, claiming he trusted you and that this whole situation wasn't on you. He threatened Aizawa not to tell you he went to him before Aizawa threw him out of the room. “A pair from class 1B is the villain. You won’t get to know who the pair is and this training is taken place in a facility outside of the school.” He tosses the cases at you. “Get changed and we��ll head over to the facility.” 

All of class 1A steps off the bus. Everyone is here so Aizawa can prove a point. Mess up and ask for a chance. The entire class has to be behind for you guys to get that chance. You and Katsuki are in your suits and so is everyone else, Aizawa is not so mean and is letting others train if you and Katuski get this done quickly. This facility is owned by Endeavor, it has everything you can possibly imagine as he needed to be the best at this as well. You and Katsuki are set up in a house? “What the hell.” You look around. “Okay, we need to set up a plan. We have no idea who these people are and this domain.”

“Let’s just fuckin run out there!”

“No dumbass!” the peace that you and Katsuki created for a moment is shattered as you two bicker back and forth for God knows how long. “What’s that smell?” You look around frantically, have the “villains” already found you both? Do they have an advantage because of Aizawa that you don’t know about? 

“Blue flames?” You look at Katsuki and follow his eyes. Blue flames are slowly swallowing the door. Smoke fills the room quickly, and you panic, having a coughing attack.

“Are they trying to kill us?! They are taking this way too seriously!” Katsuki grabs your hand and you quickly tighten your grip, He brings you up the stairs and breaks open a window. “We are not paying for that.” you joke but quickly shut up as bakugou lets go and jumps out the window. You look out, “What the hell?!”

“Jump!”

“No what the fuck!”

“Jump, I’ll catch you!” You jump, shut your eyes, and jump. He catches you. “Why are your eyes closed?” You look at him and laugh. “Y/N, you are so stupid.” He blushes. 

“Ok put me down.” you look back at the house while he puts you down slowly, “Holy shit ten more seconds and we would have been flamed... Katsuki you don’t think…?”

“I don’t know, it’s Endeavor. This is a pretty good-built facility.” An alarm goes off and a big slamming sound is heard on the other side of the training area. “Fuck!” You both run quickly toward the sound before a wall of blue flames becomes between you and Katsuki. You look around frantically before seeing a man standing on top of a building. He has black hair and purple bruising all over his skin. Is he smiling at you? “Y/N?!”

“I’m okay!” the man laughs, jumping off the building and landing close to you. The blue flames start growing closer to you. He’s mumbling something along the lines of distracting you away from the rest, and this will be an easy kill. You take a deep breath and grow a longleaf pine under you and Katsuki, it brings you both up above the fire and lets you jump onto a building and you run. You see debris and smoke on the other side, it'll take under a minute to get there, “So close…” you mutter. A scorching burn rises up your arm. He got your right arm. You quickly wrap it in a longleaf pine, it won’t stop the pain but it will stop the fire. Your path gets blocked again by blue flames. “Fuck!” You are getting way too dehydrated and dizzy which means you are gonna struggle to use your quirk. 

“Y/N!” 

“Go help the others and then come get me!” Katsuki for the first time hesitates, and he doesn't like that. He listens to you and runs to the others, his heart beating faster than it ever has. Smoke fills your lungs, and you look around for the villain. He stands in front of you a couple of feet away with the same smile. 

“I’ll make it easier on him and make sure there isn't anything he has to come back for.” Flames come your way, and you make a shield; it withers just a little enough to burn your cheek. 

“Fuck.” you move and run. It’s just straight-up fire and smoke. It’s hurting your lungs. It’s hurting your plants which means you have a useless quirk. “I’m going to die…” You mutter. You are still running toward the group and you see Shoto in the distance. You see Katsuki behind him and smile before you feel a wave of heat. You don’t know what happened but you blacked out. Katsuki watches as flames engulf you. He freezes. He watches as Todoroki and Midoriya run towards you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

All you hear is beeping, talking, and silence. You can’t see anything, so all you can do is listen. You can’t understand the voices that come around every once in a while, it’s all blurry. Eventually, you open your eyes. “She’s Awake! Aizawa she’s awake!”

“Loud...” you mutter as your eyes get used to the bright light. Then, you see a blurry figure with green hair walks out of the room. You feel the warmth on your hand and you slowly look down. Your right arm is covered in bandages and someone is holding your hand. You look back up and see Shoto. He’s smiling at you softly, it looks like he hasn't slept in days. Midoriya walks back in with Aizawa and Katsuki. Katsuki walks up to you quickly, his face is flushed and he’s breathing heavily. He looks at you and Todoroki and stops moving. Aizawa walks up to you and sighs.

“It’s always something with you.” You let out a small laugh but stop quickly once it hurts. “Do you remember anything?” You look over your body. Your legs are also covered in bandages, and you can feel the uncomfortable bandages on your cheek and chest. 

“The fight that happened today? Some um… Villains?” You feel Shoto squeeze your hand softly. “And I guess I got hit.”

“Y/N that attack happened over two weeks ago,” Aizawa admits. You notice all the boys look at you worriedly except for Katsuki, he’s looking down.

“What?” “You are correct you did get badly hurt, but that attack happened two weeks ago. Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki all have been taking turns watching over you and some of your classmates have been stopping by and also taking care of you. You kept stirring but… You never fully woke up. We got concerned you um… never would.” With that Aizawa brings his hand to his face and he continues to speak. “You have severe wounds. The ones on your cheek, chest, and arms will leave scaring. Your legs we aren't certain if they will yet.” He looks around at the boys and then looks back at you. “I’m happy you're safe. I’ll come back to check on you with the nurse later.” he walks out and you hear him sniffle. You smile and give your attention back to the boys. Midoriya is the first to speak.

“We were so worried about you… I thought… Never mind that!” he smiles. I should go tell the other!” He runs out. Shoto is next to speak, and unbeknownst to him, he had cut off Katsuki from speaking. 

“I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. The villain that attacked you knows me and my family… and he got word of the training and you… with how close we are he figured you were an easy target… I am so sorry!” he slowly picks up your hand and kisses your knuckle then slowly rests his forehead on your hand. “Please forgive me. Please.”

“Of course Shoto…” You smile. “This isn't your fault, I don't blame you, and see I’m okay!” you regret raising your voice but whatever you have to do for Shoto. Shoto picks his head back up and gives you an unconvincing look. “Shoto please believe me. I am okay.” you both stare at each other before Shoto finally smiles. Katsuki coughs interrupting the moment. “Shoto you should go get some rest and food.” he goes to interject but you stop him, “Come visit me after but go take care of yourself please.” He nods and stands up. Walking out he gives a glare to Bakugou and exits the room. You look at Katsuki. He doesn't look at you. “So… guess I have to make up all the meals I couldn't make you the past two weeks.” You joke and laugh, He doesn't laugh and you sit up reaching for him. 

“Stop doing that!” He gets close to you and grabs your hand, laying you back down. You look at him confused. “Stop acting like everything is perfectly fine! You almost died for fuck sake!” he sits down on the bed looking at you. “It’s not okay.”

“Katsuki…”

“I could have lost you then what?!” You winch and he slumps. 

“I’m alive and awake now, so let’s not dwell on what could have happened, okay?” Katsuki stares at you, and your heart skips a beat. Slowly, he leans down and places his hand on the cheek that has the bandage. He rubs his thumb over it slowly before kissing you. You are surprised, obviously, but you kiss back. He’s just as surprised as you are with the fact he kissed you and the fact you kissed back. You go to sit up to lean into him more but winch from the pain, causing him to move away breaking the kiss. “Katsuki…”

“Guys, look!” Katsuki moves away from the bed completely, and the class piles into the room after Midoriya. You smile at them, and they smile at you. Katsuki leaves the room.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

After a few days, you are able to go back to the dorm room and go back to your normal life besides the obvious scaring on your body and the sharp pain you get sometimes. Shoto helped you get back into your dorm. “I can open the door myself, you weirdo.”

“Why won’t you let me help you.” He opens the door.

“Because if you are going to help me, I’ll complain to feel less guilty.” You smile before laughing. You walk into your dorm, and he follows. Katsuki is sitting on the couch, looking at you both. His arms are crossed. “God, Dad, he brought me home on time.” You joke, but clearly, he could care less about your jokes. Shoto doesn't get the hint of Katsuki’s annoyance and walks into your kitchen. 

“What do you want? I’ll make you lunch.”

“I can make her lunch. I am her husband after all.” He stands up.

“A good husband would already have food ready for her and would have gotten her from the nurse's room.” Katsuki pauses for a moment. He’s stunned. “So Y/N what would you want?” you look between Shoto and Katsuki before walking into the kitchen. Katsuki takes that as you choosing Shoto and his throat burns and his stomach nots. He’s fuming and all he can manage is walking into his room and slamming the door. “Such a baby.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

It’s like Todoroki is doing this on purpose. For the past week he’s done nothing but be a wedge between him and you and it’s pissing Katsuki off. He’s trying to do this for you but Todoroki is always just one step ahead. Katsuki is known to be angry the majority of the time but this feels different. It fueling each minute and he feels like he’s about to burst. He tries taking it out during training but it eases only for a second and this confuses Katsuki. In the past it’s always worked for him so why the fuck isn't it working now?! He grabs his towel and wipes his face before getting himself a sip of water. He takes a deep breath. Why isn't this working? He hears a familiar laugh and looks around. He sees you and of fucking course Todo fucking roki. He puts down his water bottle and towel. He rushes out of the training room and goes up to you both. “The fuck are you guys doing together? Again.” You go to explain but Shoto stops you. Katsuki doesn't like this very much.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because it fucking does?!” Seriously who does this dude think he is? “Why can’t you go bother your own wife and leave mine the fuck alone?!” 

“Why should I leave her alone? All the times you've left her alone it causes her to be endangered.”

“So it’s my fault?!” 

“You didn't get to her quick enough during our training.” Todroki points a finger at him, “And your dumbass left her during the attack so she got hurt!”

“Don’t point that finger at me! It was your dumbass family drama that caused her to get hurt in the first damn place!” With this Todoroki steps closer to him and his fire quirk is activated.

“Say’s the one who froze when we needed to go save her.” You look at Katsuki. Katsuki doesn't look at you. For the first time, Katsuki bites his cheek and walks back into the training room. With a satisfied smirk, Shoto looks at you. Your arms are crossed and you are pissed looking back at Shoto. His smirk drops. “What?” you shake your head and walk away. “What?!”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

It’s late. You've already made dinner, and it’s starting to get cold. Shoto had brought you to the dorm against your wishes, and you slammed the door in his face in retaliation. Your guess is that Katsuki is still in the training room. You sigh, looking down at his dinner, before grabbing a blanket from the living room and walking out onto the balcony. You don’t know how much time has passed but it is quiet and the only lights outside are the streetlights. “What are you doing outside?” You flinch and look at Katsuki, he’s leaning against the door.

“It’s nice out.” 

‘The heat is on and you left the door open.” You roll your eyes and look away from him.

“I left your food on the counter.”

“Thanks.” He walks off into his bedroom, completely ignoring the food. Confused, you stand up and walk towards his bedroom, stopping him from shutting his door. 

“Excuse me?”

“You left the blanket outside and the door open.”

“Don’t ignore the obvious bullshit dude.” He just stares at you. “What is with you?! I made you dinner and you are just gonna ignore it?!”

“I’m sorry I thought you would have preferred making that shit for Shoto.” He mocks his name and you glare at him. 

“So what I do for you has been shit?” He shrugs and you drop your hand from off the door. “Whatever. I don’t know what your fucking issue is but glad to know everything I have done has been pointless.”

“Oh please we all know you wanted those points to switch and be with Todoroki.”

“Are you for real right now? All my actions have shown that's what I want?! Really?!”

“Yeah. Really.” He shuts the door in your face. You stand there astonished before cleaning up Katsuki’s dinner and putting it away in the fridge. You try to convince yourself you are only doing it to prevent food from going to waste, but the convincing doesn't work. Despite how mad you are, you want to make sure he eats okay.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

For days, you and Katsuki have ignored each other. People have asked each of you, and you respectfully shake your head no and say it’s nothing. Katsuki, on the other hand, gives them death glares. You still make food for him, and it'll go uneaten. When you give up hope that he won't eat, he eventually does, so you keep making him food. You always wondered how your family ignored each other when growing up and you never understood how they could do it so easily. You understand to an extent, that the act of ignoring each other isn't an issue. Katsuki does most of the work fully pretending you aren't even real. The mental pain of ignoring each other is affecting you more than you like and Katsuki feels the same. 

Two weeks pass, and it’s the fireworks festival. The school does this annually, putting on a grand display and making it a whole day thing. You and the girls are in Momo’s room getting ready. The girls have really been helping you during this whole situation and the bond you share now is something so important to you. “We are gonna make you look stunning Y/N! We can use all my stuff. Yes, even the very expensive stuff of course!” 

“Thanks, Momo but why would I do this for a guy who won’t even glance at me?”

“Oh, honey, this is NOT for him; it’s for you, silly!” The girls continue getting you ready. Kyoka and Ochaco work on your makeup, Mina on your hair, and Momo on the best outfit for you to wear. After a few hours, you are ready! The girls start taking pictures and start giving you compliments and in all honesty, you just wanted to go to the festival already.

“Is he gonna be there?”

“Who cares?” You did. Except you weren't going to say that. You walk up to the full-length mirror and look at yourself.

 “Do I even look good with this scar on my arm?” You’ve fully healed over the past few weeks thanks to recovery, girl, but your right arm has scarring, and you've been slightly insecure about it. Doesn't help that the outfit you are wearing shows it off completely 

“It makes you look sexy!” 

“Whatever you say, Mina.” You smile, “should we get going?”

The weather is perfect, to say the least. The school has rented out a nice park, full of flowers and trees, right next to a river, where on the other side, they’ll light the fireworks. Booths are set up for food, drinks, and fun things to do. You and the girls are going back and forth on what to do first. You watch as a few say drinks and food while others say games first. You just watch not having a strong opinion for each until someone catches your eye. Behind Momo you see Shoto waving at you, and you smile waving back. He walks towards you but halfway someone shoves into him. Katsuki keeps walking not even acknowledging what he did. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi, Shoto.” Just like how Katsuki ignores you, Shoto chooses to ignore his existence.

“Oh hey, Todoroki! Are you here with anyone?” Ochaco asks as the girls look at him.

“No.”

“I have a great idea!” This could be true or the worst thing Mina says. “We should go to one of the games, and Todoroki and Momo can battle to see who the better spouse is!”

“That’s actually not a bad idea and would be fun to watch,” Kyoka says.

“You down for joining us Shoto?” You look at him and he looks away from Momo and looks at you.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t go easy on me.” Momo smiles at him. 

“Don’t plan on it and you should pick the game.” You walk over to Ochaco and wrap your arms around hers, you guys start walking around to find a game. Momo eventually settles on ring toss, you sit down at the water gun booth to watch them. Momo and Shoto stand next to eachother with five rings each. The first round starts and of course Momo wins. “Another one.”

“Shoto we are not gonna sit here and watch until you win.”

“Yes we are Y/N shush.” And the second round starts, this time the bottles move side to side making it more difficult. You feel the presence of someone sit next to you, You ignore it at first before you hear a grumble. You look back to see a random student with his friend, you stand up quickly and apologize for being in his way.

“Don’t take up a spot if you arent gonna do anything.”

“She was waiting for me, so you gotta move it.” Katsuki puts an arm around you and you look over at the group seeing if anyone notices. You lock eyes with Ochaco and she gives you a thumbs up. The boys apologize and run off not wanting to deal with Katsuki. You take a seat again and Katsuki hands money to the stall worker and sits next to you. “One game, one winner.” you face your water gun rolling your eyes.

“Whatever you say.” It was not one game, it was six and the group stopped watching Shoto’s game and huddled around you guys. “What happened to one game!”

“You keep cheating!”

“How?” 

“You keep shooting me with water!” You laugh. 

“FUCK!” Katsuki slumps back, you stand up ad cheer. You turn to Shoto giving him a high five and turn back to Katsuki. He stares for a beat then stands up and walks off.

“What is his problem?” Mina asks, you shake your head.

“I don’t know but let’s go find Izuku.” The hours pass and for others it went by very quickly but for you it didnt. The whole time you spent looking around for Katsuki and you couldnt find him. 

“Hurry up lets go find the perfect spot!” The fireworks start in fifteen and honestly you werent feeling it anymore.

“I think I’m just gonna go back to the dorm guys..” you were met with a lot of disergrement. 

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“Yeah I’m not feeling well.” You lie.

“Oh let me walk you back.” Shoto goes to grab your arm but you step back, “No it’s okay. Stay.” You give them all a smile, say your goodbyes and walk back.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“Katsuki?” Nothing. You sigh and shut your dorm door. Luckly for you, your dorm faces right where they are gonna be setting off fireworks. You brush out your hair and walk to your balcony. “Cold…” you mumble shutting the sliding door and resting your body on the railing. You do the math in your head, it took you five minutes to get back here so that means itll be about ten minutes until they start. After some time you hear the sliding door open.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I can’t be in my own dorm now?”

“You should be out with your friends at the festival, not here.” You don’t say anything and Katsuki stands next to you, You glance at him.

“Why are you shirtless?”

“Because my wife wouldnt stop splashing me with water.”

“Stop Katsuki. I’m over this back and forth of you being mad and then not.”

“And I’m over Todoroki getting all your fucking attention. Piece it togehter Y/N.” You look at him fully.

“Me piece it together? I shouldnt have to do that? Why can’t you tell me straight up? You are so bold and loud but for some reason between us you shut down completely. It’s ridiculous.”

“Have you ever thought for one second why?”

“You rejected me Katsuki. In middle school, it was a full on embarrassment. Sorry I wasnt jumping to conclusions.”

“We were in middle school.”

“You made fucking rules when I tried getting you to take this simulation seriously.”

“Why’d you smile at Todoroki. You face him fully.

“What the fuck are you on about.” He faces you, he is red.

“During the Villian attack when you were close to the main group, you saw Todoroki and instantly smiled once you saw him.” 

“No I didnt?” You crossed your arms. Katsuki puts one hand on the railing and squeezes it. 

“Yes you did Y/N I watched you.”

“I smiled because I saw you.” his hand untenses.

“Yes Dumbass, I smiled because I saw you before I almost got killed by flames.” His hand tightens again. “What?” he stays silent so you repeat yourself again. “What?”

“For the first time I hesitated in battle.”

“So?”

“Because I thought I…” he pauses and looks down. “I thought I just watched you die and I couldn't, my brain couldnt comprehend it. For a split second all logic was out the window.”

“Where you ignoring me because of that?”

“I was ashamed.” He looks back up at you. “There goes fucking Todoroki and Deku running and there I was, frozen. Even if it was only for a second. It was a second to long. I don’t like what you do to me.” A boom goes off and the fireworks start up. The sky is full of assortment of colors. You and Katsuki both look. “I love you Y/N.” He says it not thinking you’d hear him and after this whole thing he can go back into the ignoring routine you guys established.

“I love you too.” Katsuki looks at you and you don’t look at him. He grabs your right arm and stops his movement. He stares at the scarring on your arm. You look at him before removing your arm from his hand and hug him. He squeezes you tightly before letting go and facing the railing. “You ignore me like that again and I’ll kill you.” He hugs you from behind.

“Mhm..”

“I’m serious Katsuki.” He kisses your cheek. “Fuck these fireworks.” You turn your body to face katsuki and look up at him, He looks down at you. “Kiss me.” He stares at you for a minute. “Katsuki I swear-” He cuts you off and kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck, and with that, he picks you up and sits you on the railing. You wrap your legs around his waist and deepen the kiss.

Tags;

@andysdrafts @eyesforbkg @kukikoooo @musicbecky @mia-luvs @yoyolovesdaiki @onlykarenkun @gina239

[slavicafire]

Hi, you seem to be very knowledgeable about scents and I'm very lost. I'm looking for something churchy or resembling an old library – do you know anything like that by chance? Or maybe where's a good place for me to start?

ah, you're in luck - those notes are very adored and thus often times used in niche perfumes. now, as always, two important factors are at play here: one, what you interpret as churchy/old library, and two, how those scents will behave on your skin. it's a hunt.

but! as a start! if we'd like to go into the churchy direction, the main notes would be frankincense and wood. now, as a sorcinelli devotee, I have to obviously start with him - but I will also expand beyond.

reliqvia, filippo sorcinelli - incense, smoke, sandalwood, pine, blackcurrant. deep, sacred, very heavy.

notre dame 15.4.2019, filippo sorcinelli - iris and neroli and lily of the valley mix with incense, wood, amber. gives off the depth of the burnt cathedral without using the smoke/tar notes.

lavs, filippo sorcinelli - greener take on incense, with rosewood and coriander playing a big role. tricky on the skin but wonderful for the lucky few.

quando rapita in estasi, filippo sorcinelli - incense and fir and peaches and tonka. a blend between church, library, and boudoir.

incense: avignon, comme des garcons - incense, myrrh, vanilla, and the zing of aldehydes. one of the more favoured fragrances in the branch, although not very churchy for me personally.

holy smoke, demeter - incense and spices in quite a pure form, with many similar scents available from the same perfumery, good for layering and achieving a perfect blend between church and library.

passage d'enfer extrême, l'artisan parfumeur - another beloved classic, one of my favourites due to the white florals. incense, sandalwood, and jasmine.

now, for more on the old library side:

spectral doorway, ds&durga - chalk and old books and the depth of musk, with slight greener sweetness. tough for me because of patchouli but definitely worth checking out, a fascinating scent.

forlorn embers & black reigns, toskovat' - tobacco, walnuts, mahogany, with a hint of sweet dried fruit. challenging, as all their scents, but definitely interesting.

storie 3, forfolks - leather and paper mixed with chocolate and freshness of citrus. not very well known but still deeply worth checking out.

wonderwood, comme des garcons - very woody, cedar and sandalwood and guaiac and cypress, with a pleasant vetiver and nutmeg warmth.

book, commodity - eucalyptus balanced by musk and velvet, with a lot of mellow woody notes. a classic for those seeking a library scent but tricky on the skin, can come off more herbal than librarian.

while I'm only recommending a couple of fragrances - and only those I've had a chance to check out myself - it's good to simply explore what fragrantica has catalogued based on notes, such as for example incense. they also have a lot of forum posts where people recommend their favourite scents and I wholeheartedly recommend exploring.

happy hunting, stranger, and might you find the perfect fragrance that blooms beautifully on your skin.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE ���

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

[frnchgirls]

warnings: 18+, nsfw, exhibitionism, lots of dirty talk, implied finishing inside :]

after pining for you for so long, danny finally gets you alone with him in a vacant bedroom at a vandals house party. he's far too focused on staying quiet and on the way you're taking him that he doesn't even notice when cockroach barges in, mistaking the room for a bathroom.

he had every intention of keeping what he saw to himself, really. but what's he supposed to do when he returns to the living room, blushing like a kid who just stumbled upon his father's playboy collection? "you was gone for half a second." corky taunts, puffing smoke from the corner of his mouth, "don't tell me ya got lost again."

cockroach just dumbly stands in front of the guys, stammering and growing redder by the minute. "no fuckin' way, i know that look. you walked in on someone, didn't ya?" wahoo chimes in, unable to hide his shit eating grin as he points an accusatory finger. him and corky exchange knowing glances.

johnny huffs, standing from the couch with outstretched hands in an attempt to intervene, "no, no. leave the poor bastard alone. just cause you two ain't gettin' laid doesn't mean ya gotta ruin it for everyone else." but he of all people should know that together, wahoo and corky are an unstoppable force.

wahoo rises to his feet, pointedly flicking a bottle cap in johnny's direction. "show me what room they're in or i'm takin' ya outside and you'll be pissin' in the fire pit." he threatens, and cockroach really doesn't want that. so, he complies, whimpering like a kicked dog as he walks over to the aforementioned room with the two knuckleheads in tow. corky practically breaks down the door. "i'm sorry, they made me do it. 'm so sorry-" cockroach cries out, and wahoo shoves him to the side before he can blabber on any longer.

the intrusion has danny turning his head as he shields your body from view with his own. once he realizes who the culprits are, he lets out an irritated groan. wahoo cheers, "holy shit, danny boy actually fuckin' did it." and claps corky on the back. danny pulls out of you, reaching for his discarded button-up to cover you with, and the boys' hurrahs are quickly replaced by sounds of discontent. "hey, we didn't tell ya to stop. you was puttin' on a good fuckin' show." corky whines, palming himself through his jeans.

danny moves to put on his briefs, quipping, "in your dreams, tweedle dee and tweedle dum." but you wrap a hand around his wrist to stop him. what's the harm in letting them watch? neither of you got to cum and you're aching for it, and you trust wahoo and corky and you'd be lying if you said they didn't make up for in looks what they lack in brains. " 's okay. i don't mind... if you don't." you confess, rubbing soothing circles into danny's skin.

he looks between the three of you, blinking, "are ya sure?" and you're quick to respond, "yeah, long as they keep their hands to themselves." wahoo and corky think they must've died and gone to heaven. "yes, yes. we'll be so good." "won't even know we was here." "scout's honor!" they blurt, talking over each other, and you chuckle before giving danny the go-ahead.

he begrudgingly throws your legs over his shoulders as you toss his shirt back onto the floor. wahoo and corky buzz with anticipation, whispering to each other while unbuttoning their pants. danny spits on his hand, smearing the sticky substance on his shaft before sliding into you once more. the room fills with your collective moans, sourced mostly from wahoo and corky touching their cocks to the sight of danny pounding into your cunt.

"shit, look at her tits bounce when he fucks her." wahoo grunts, nudging corky with his elbow while he speeds up the flick of his wrist. corky sighs in acknowledgement. wahoo's words spur you on, digging your nails into the pale flesh of danny's back as you meet his thrusts with your hips. his words seem to spur danny on too, when he leans in and tauntingly sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, making direct eye contact with wahoo. he lets out a strangled moan, like the sound was ripped right out of his throat.

"oh- oh my god, 's so fuckin' hot." wahoo mewls, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. corky tightens his grip on his dick, teasing the tip with the pad of his thumb. "i'd kill someone if it meant i got a chance to taste that." he hums, "how tight is she? i- i gotta know." being talked about so lewdly as if you aren't even there has you clenching around danny. he smirks before replying, "so tight it feels like she's chokin' me, gonna milk the cum right outta my fuckin' balls."

the words practically have wahoo and corky groaning in unison, mouths agape as they clutch desperately at each other's clothes. " 's good, bet it feels so goddamn good." " 'm gettin' close." "yeah, me too." their words overlap once again, speech akin to ragged pants. now danny knows all of you are almost there, based on the way your walls are fluttering around him, which prompts him to say; "you two gonna cum to the thought of fuckin' my girl? yeah, go on, cum f' her. spurt all over your hand and make a mess of yourselves. it's all you're ever gonna get."

the filth that falls from his lips pushes the four of you over the edge simultaneously, strings of curses tying knots that connect you to each other.

despite what danny said, wahoo and corky still don't know if they're gonna get to do this again. there's a glint in your eyes that seems pretty promising. but what wahoo and corky do know, is that they are so not shutting up about this.

that's not gonna give the other vandals any ideas, right?

[violetsiren90]

The Lighthouse Keeper

~a What the Moon Saw drabble~

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends, angst

Summary: Life moves on. The moon blooms and wilts. The tide sinks away from the sands and returns with new waters. Yoongi stays.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; drinking and drunkenness (set in a cantina); cigarette smoking; Yoongi gets hit on; longing and pining; sad Yoongi 😔; some ogling of a female character by Hoseok; reference to the death of a minor character; allusions to domestic violence; allusions to semi-homelessness; allusions to casual sexual encounters; this is just pure angst, honestly.

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my WIP folder, and in the wee hours of the morning last week I sat in a hospital cafeteria with the shittiest cup of coffee I've ever tasted (that I was nonetheless grateful for) and finished it up. Poor, sweet Yoongi . These two are my comfort couple and coming back to them has a way of reminding me that "nobody knows how the story ends - live the day, do what you can."*

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

*"Nobody Knows", the Lumineers

"Alright, old buddy, what's got you down?" 

     A slim, dark-haired young man slid into the booth across from Yoongi. The older man's eyes softened slightly, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile as he regarded his companion over a swig of Pacifico.

     "Who says I'm down?" he asked in a mildly affronted tone, drawing a hand over his beer-slicked lips.

     The other man's mouth broke into a toothy smile, his lips pulling into a heart-shaped grin as he let out a boisterous peal of laughter.

     "You never call these days unless you are," he rejoined, grabbing a foggy acrylic standee from the center of the table and squinting at its small list of beverages. "Geez, they really don't have much of a selection here, do they?" 

     Yoongi snorted.

     "Since when are you an alcohol connoisseur? You don't even drink, Hoba."

     "I do too!"

     A waitress sidled up to their table and slid a food menu in front of Hoseok, who trailed wide eyes up her tattooed arm to her bright blue pixie cut with a thick swallow.

     "Our mango ahi tacos are on special tonight," she hummed with a wink.

     The young man's ears flushed a bright shade of crimson as he stammered something about passing on the food but wondering if they had any ciders. She pocketed her tongue in her cheek as she flicked her eyes to Yoongi.

     "You hungry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and tilting a hip clad in low-slung cargo pants and a studded belt in his direction. Yoongi looked up at her and shook his head, taking another sip of beer.

     "Hm, damn shame," she hummed, flicking her eyes over him a last time before sauntering back to the bar.

     Hoseok tracked her every move with a slack jaw, craning his neck to watch her slip through the kitchen door before turning his face - features, still frozen in lascivious astonishment - back to his friend.

     "Holy shit, hyung," he murmured, covering his mouth with both hands, "You could see her nipple piercings right through her shirt!"

     Yoongi grunted in assent, trailing a cloudy gaze over the table's waxy surface as he picked at the bottle's damp label.

     "You gonna get her number?"

     "What?" Yoongi shifted in his seat, eyes refocusing on his friend.

     Hoseok sighed.

     "Nope, you're not. How long's it been, hyung?"

     Yoongi glanced down at his beer again, then raised it to his lips and drained the bottle.

     Jung Hoseok had met Yoongi the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school. He had attached himself instantly to the older boy, an unusual experience for Yoongi, who was used to people as sunny as Hoseok steering clear of his little storm cloud. He was one of the few friends from those days that Yoongi still called up, on occasion. One of the few who knew the context of his life - the sandy paths on which he'd come of age...what he'd found there, and what he'd lost.

    "Don't, Hoba," Yoongi murmured lowly, his voice suddenly thick in his throat. 

    Hoseok hummed, lips pulled into a thin line. The waitress returned with a hard cider, a Pacifico, and a plate of nachos they hadn't ordered. While Hoseok changed shades like a chameleon on a tomato and attempted to stammer his thanks, Yoongi cast his eyes out the window.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, the gulls pushing their yellow legs from weathered wooden perches to soar beyond the edge of the pier and into the little golden space between the fading light and sparkling waters. The sandy beach stretched around the edge of a rising rockface, dappled with lush green ice plant and yellow sea asters, a few miles to the north. Around the other side of the stony promontory was a place Yoongi knew well. The shore there drew inward and curved into another swell of land as the cliff rose; near its highest stretch an old wooden stairway weaving down its face.

     Tucked away to the side of those stairs was a ledge - a few meters wide and about as deep - that jutted out as the cliff sloped down to its base. It was smooth and fairly even, nearly level with the closest steps; a perfect little hideaway barely visible from above or below. Perfect for two children to sit, huddled against the rock, as they whispered their dreams and fears; for a boy and a girl to hold each other through nights that couldn't be spent at homes far less warm and gentle than each other's arms; for a young man and woman to give themselves to one another at last and too late.

    It was where Yoongi had sat utterly broken, on the last morning of a summer ten years past, his head tilted back against the stone as he wept up to the sky, praying to any god that would listen that you would run fast and run far - that you would finally spread full your beautiful wings...that you would forget him.

    But Yoongi never forgot you. Not one word that you spoke, not one touch of your gentle fingers or your soft lips.

     He had left the ledge that day, but he had carried you with him - down the beach and back into the horrid little shack where three nights later Yoongi's father hit him for the very last time. Yoongi had carried you with him to the doorstep, as he threw the man out into the dirt. Then he had carried you with him to every couch and car and dingy apartment that served as a night's shelter until he had saved up enough for a little place of his own; had carried you around with the tools and lumber as he spent long, hot days building the tiny workshop beside it. And he had carried you, on a some miserable nights, into the beds of strangers - who, through no fault of their own, could never ever compare.

    "My dad died," Yoongi said drawing his eyes away from the window. He said it with a quiet simplicity that he seemed to embody more and more with age.

    Hoseok looked up from the plate of nachos, mouth full. He looked as if he were sorry, but didn't want to say that. Instead he got up and slid onto Yoongi's bench of the booth, gently shoving the older man over to stay flush with his side. Yoongi wouldn't usually tolerate that sort of closeness, but with Hoseok it was different. Hoseok knew.

    "How's your mom?" he asked softly.

    Yoongi nodded.

    "She's okay. She's taking it better than me, actually. Already talking about leaving."

    "Are you going to?"

"What?"

    "Leave?"

    Hoseok's voice sounded hopeful. Yoongi's right hand slipped instinctively into his jacket pocket, slender fingers curling around a little whittling knife with a pink heart painted on its handle. 

    "I don't think so, Hoba."

    The younger man sighed through his nose. He was quiet for a long moment before turning to his friend.

    "I got an offer from a high school down south. VP. I start there in the fall."

    Yoongi raised his gaze, his small smile affectionate and his eyes soft. He wouldn't let the sadness reach them - he'd learned how to push it away.

    "They'll be lucky to have you," he murmured sincerely.

    Yoongi was used to people moving on. Everyone did...everyone but him. While the world turned, Yoongi stayed.

    "Someday, you need to leave, hyung,” Hoseok urged him quietly. “She's out there somewhere living her life. She'd want you to live yours too."

    At the mention of you, Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and ten years of carrying your memory well up and into his throat.

    Hoseok clapped a hand onto Yoongi's back, and raised the cider to his lips.

Hoseok knew, but he didn’t understand. No one ever really seemed to.

    As the cantina closed its door for the night, Yoongi ushered a stumbling Hoseok into the back of a cab. 

    "You're nah coming?" the younger man slurred as Yoongi stood and moved to shut the door. 

    He shook his head.

    "Gonna walk. Goodnight, Hoba," Yoongi gave his friend a little endeared crook of his mouth before closing the cab door and tapping the back of the car as it rolled away from the pier.

    Pulling a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, he watched the cab's red taillights fade into the evening blue. Yoongi lit a cigarette and turned to walk the path that wove along the edge of the cliffs. While he walked he wondered about you. He wondered if you were safe, if you smiled and laughed. He wondered if there was someone who made your eyes sparkle and your smile shy, someone with whom you could share your joys and sorrows. Yoongi wondered if you had found a home.

      The moon had risen to meet the stars when he reached the little stairway. He gingerly descended its rungs - neglected of repair and worn with their years - until he reached it, the little ledge in the moonlight. He stepped onto its smooth surface, the lower half of the rickety railing long fallen away, and sinking down he closed his eyes.

    The full bright moon washed over him, and for a moment, Yoongi felt it understood. It had seen, after all.

It had seen the boy and the girl and what they had become for each other. It had seen you give Yoongi a home, and it had watched him, in return, teach you to fly - to fly far away.

But Yoongi carried you with him. After all, you were his home, where else would he go? As the wind whipped up off the sea and swept around him, whispering of another summer's end, the moon watched Yoongi stay another season. And if it could have seen his heart, it would have watched him go to its little window, and, as the darkness fell, light a lamp to shine out across the sea.

The moon heard Yoongi pray that you'd never return.

…It saw him stay on the chance that you might.

-Fin-

[diamondmeadow]

as a certified Middle School Teacher, do you have any further thoughts or headcanons on mwpp at that age? because honestly this is a criminally underexplored comedic goldmine.

I cannot agree more! I feel like the first four years at Hogwarts especially have such potential. For gen fics mainly, so it might not be for everyone, might seem boring, but honestly we are writing and reading about a close-knit group of four boys, and by focusing on singular ships only, we might be missing out on so much of their dynamic expansion. I still keep thinking about that snippet of yours about Sirius pyjamas. But then I'm also coming from bands fandom which in a sense is a very similar environment, just a few men closely working and interacting together, plus my favourite trope is (best) friends to lovers, so there's that too. I'm pining for this. AHAHAH Anyway, enough of my ramble, here I come with some ideas, thought I don't necessarily think they are something people haven't come up with before. To sum up the comical possibilities move from bodily humour to more cerebral one over the years with lots of awkwardness thrown in between - i imagine a lot of hilarious situation happen just by accident. - ages 11/12 - they are probably extremely random. the things boys that age let out of their mouth, their associations, are just the wildest. the pranking at this stage must have been insane. a lot of body pranking and really dumb jokes. also there was a lot and I mean A LOT of physicality between the boys themselves probably. boys that age won't stop hitting each other, touching one another in quasi-fights, but there's nothing sexual about it. the boys in my class are at it nonstop, however dangerous it is, they keep smacking each other with cushions, slippers, textbooks, with ANYTHING that comes under their hands. they wrestle and pull at each other nonstop. i fully believe the marauders dorm room was a battle ground - this was specifically prominent between james and sirius. - ages 12/13 - this is the time when most of the boys enter puberty, so all kinds of physical changes you have described start appearing. they start to be more self-conscious about the way they look. as i HC for James to be a little on the vain side, I imagine him spending progressively longer time in the bathroom which might be a source of arguments (that are quickly forgetten) between the boys, they are constantly missing breakfast or well, James is, then he's grumpy because he is hungry. also times of the self-exploration, morning wood, wet dreams, lots of embarrassing moments for everyone. i imagine Peter being on the shy side, his bed has always curtain closed. their dorm room REEKS. Sirius might be the cleanest (pureblood upbringing leftover) lots of mood swings, it's a rollercoaster. a lot of bickering over stupid things. by the time they are thirteen they are a bit more shy with the touch (minus James and Sirius, again I feel like those two would be all over each other because that's their way of showing affection, James is a hugger from home). their pranking would get better, less body pranks, more cerebral pranks. i feel like here Remus might start getting bolder with his ideas. Sirius would get progressively mouthier. bless Mcg and every teacher at Hogwarts. - ages 13/14 - peek peer pressure. whatever their friends are thinking, that's the holy word. this is the peek pranking time. oh lord, Remus would hardly try to stop them. Peter would take a lot of detention to cover up for James and Sirius. and in general, they would be breaking records in detention. they are extremely aware of their sexuality, lots of lewdness, lots of stupid, inappropriate jokes. All the girls are annoyed by them. this is the time they start smoking if they start at all. sarcasm central! the randomness of their early age disappears - this is when everyone really understand just how smart Sirius and James really are. The third year is the year they are done with their mirrors and they are working on the map. they are bold enough to come up with the Animagi idea. this is the year they are invincible. by the way their room is a MESS - a MINEFIELD. Thank god for cleaning charms.

- ages 14/15 - now this is not very different from the previous year, i just think they get a little bit more organised, especially at 15, and increasingly it's possible to have a reasonable conversation with them. i feel like Remus would be a much more polite throughout the years, with his gratefulness for the opportunity he got at Hogwarts, so the difference would be scarce, the same goes for Peter, but James and Sirius would get much better and stop talking back as much. there's more secrecy in their plans. they also start to need their own space and time. their dorm room is tidier and the curtains are often closed on every bed. but all four of them have their opinions now and much more than before these opinions differ. it's not one brain cell/pack brain anymore. there are more discussions, a bit less pranking, they start seeing their behaviour is not as great and I think this is the time when they really only give a hard time to selected few (aka Snape) and whoever doesn't sit well with them. they definitely don't stop, but before they were much less selective. it could be anyone. Anyway, this is not wildly specific, more just like an application of my observation of teenage boys. I feel like everyone could make it work in their own way depending on how they see the individual Marauder.

[dontcallpanic]

WIP not-wednesday!

I was tagged by the absolutely incredible @seaweed-water and if you haven't read their latest WIP you need to go and do that now! It's dark and sinister and just has everything for all of your murder husband needs. Holy shit it's good!

I mean, I can't follow that example at all and I've been struggling over this for weeks but here's what I have so far although this bit also needs some credit because while this is from a dream I had (yeah I know...) I am certain the dream was inspired by mwsog.cymru's instagram (they go Hard on the weird welsh folk stuff) and @dear-massacre 's Bruised like Violets which continues to haunt me months later in the best kind of way. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46402561/chapters/116830630

It's only loosely related to this snippet but I love bruised like violets with all my heart and I think everyone should read it - and well, credit where credit is due.

So thanks everyone and here you go!

______________________________________________

Stiles is lost. Again. This time, however, he doesn't have the safety of his Jeep around him. This time, he is alone, deep in the forest. Ghostly mist curls lazily through the trees, clinging to the leaves strewn across the floor, weaving between bent and twisted trunks. Above him, the moon hangs round and full in the freezing sky and all around the tall spires of the pines press close, scattering the moonlight across the ground. His breath coils like smoke in the frigid air, the only sign of life in an otherwise deserted forest. Nothing moves. There's nothing for miles that makes a single sound – not even his feet on the frost bitten ground. It's like the whole forest is holding its breath. Between the filtered moonlight, the night is black as pitch and all he can see, creeping in the corner of his eye, are two red rings of light. They appear out of nothing, stalking him through the trees, drifting from shadow to shadow. Taking their time. Stiles picks up the pace, sneakers still eerily silent on the frosted leaves - but he tries not to walk too fast, now. He doesn't want to look too much like prey to whatever it is thats hunting in the dark. He presses forward, stumbling his way around the roots and trunks and the eyes match his progress, step for step. It only occurs to him then to wonder, when did the red eyed monster start hunting him? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Reluctantly he slows his pace again, hands curling into fists by his side, muscles tensing as he steels himself. Whatever it is, he'll meet it head on. He spins around but trips on the uneven ground. His arms spiral out for balance but the distraction costs him greatly and between one moment and the next, the eyes have gone. And strangely the absence actually hurts, a deep ache lodged deep in his chest. His heart begins to hammer even harder against his ribs. An all too familiar sensation of late.

The wind picks up from nowhere, rustling the stubborn leaves, the first sound he's heard in this isolated place. The frozen air sweeps across his brow, kisses his cheeks and pulls the blood to the surface. Pink stains blooming across his skin. Something cracks behind him. He spins again, eyes wild as he scans the trees for the red-eyed monster but it's nowhere to be seen. Instead, looming over him, towering towards the moon, is the burnt out, rotting husk of a house. Stiles stares up at the frame, monsters in the dark temporarily forgotten as he gapes up at the windowless frames that blankly gaze out towards the forest like sockets in a skull. The whole place reeks of bitter ashes and death, the acrid scent of smoke clinging to the mist where it curls around his ankles. Stark patterns of frost have curled around the blackened frame, the door hangs crooked on its hinges, jagged splinters snarling like teeth in the maw of some long forgotten god.

Dread trickles down his spine and coils in his gut. The remains look so violent for something so still. An entire family burned to death. Only the innocent left to face the consequences and he knows there's no justice here. Only grief. He shudders despite not feeling the cold, standing where the trees and moss give way to ash and charred remains. The line between life and death is stark, as if something in the forest recognises just what was ripped away here, leaving nothing but a festering wound. All around him, nature waits, biding its time as if that is all it needs to heal. Then, between one moment and the next, Stiles knows he is not alone any more. There is something in the darkness with him. Something lurking in the trees Behind him. His whole body seizes, freezing fingertips crawl up his back and he turns slowly, ever so slowly, staring hard into the corner of his eye. He expects to see red, slipping between the trees. That would almost be a comfort. Instead, he sees antlers and the long, wicked lines of a bleach-white skull. Stiles flinches back, his hands reaching out, the sound dying in his throat as the skull turns to look directly at him, empty, eternal sockets, piercing and full of intent. A breath of wind shudders through the branches around him, the whole forest rippling with the echoes of an ancient, rotting power, drawn irresistibly in towards them. He can't move. He can't fucking move.

The creature seems to glide forward, moonlight disappearing into the endless darkness of its cloaked body. It makes no sound as it closes in, the ground beneath it remaining untouched. Something fractures inside him and Stiles stumbles backwards, staggering out of the treeline. His feet disturb the ash, small eddies billowing around his feet and still the creature follows.

Ice cold fingers grab his jaw and he is forced to stop. His head is held immobile by strong bone-sharp fingertips but there's nothing there - nothing that he can see. When he raises one shaking hand to his jaw, he only finds his own stubbled skin. Yet the fingers remain, forcing his eyes to meet the gaping sockets of the skull as it drifts closer and closer until it is close enough to kiss.

Ash curls up around them, puffs of air catching at where his fingertips now hang uselessly by his side. Faintly he's aware that there is something caught in the wind – a sound, something reminiscent of words. The skull twists, tilting to the side, it's grinning teeth glinting sharply in the moonlight. It commands his focus, forces him to listen. It sounds almost like a voice, a woman's whisper, caught and carried, barely there, lost to the air. It sounds almost like a wish. Almost like a curse.

Come home, my darling.

Stiles jerks awake as if someone has blasted an air horn in his ear. He pistons upright, almost overbalancing the chair and grips hold of the desk to stabilise himself just in time. Holy shit. It was a dream! It was a mother fucking dream.

He swears loudly into the silence scrubbing a shaking hand through his hair. Fuck. His subconscious must be on one if that was what it was coming up with. Stag skulls and full moons and the burnt out Hale house. The red eyes almost seem secondary when faced with all that shit. He places a hand on his chest, oddly reassured by the hammering of his own heart after the stillness of the woods. Jesus Christ. He feels like he has been asking this a lot recently but seriously - what the fuck? What the absolute fuck?

______________________________________________

Gentle no pressure tags to: @gege-wondering-around @patolemus @hellameyers and anyone else who wants to share!

[littlemourningstarr]

Holy Light

Shadowheart stumbles upon Karlach and is unable to look away.

Kinktober 2024, Day 28: "Voyeurism"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Shadowheart x Karlach

Tags: Accidental voyeurism, masturbation, pining, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Shadowheart wrung the remaining water from her dark hair, leaving it free and flopped over one shoulder. She had meant to try and bathe far earlier- but had been distracted by one of Gale’s evening stories at the fire that night, even if she wouldn’t admit it. By now she expected most of camp to be slumbering.

She paused, still well away from camp, heard a bit of rustling. She listened carefully, thinking it was perhaps Astarion, returning from his hunt- or possibly even feeding. Even if she had warned the vampire away from her neck, she had to admit, she was a bit curious to catch a glimpse of him feeding with abandon. She pivoted, moving with grace and silence, carefully stepping over loose rocks and twigs, pressing herself to a tree and glancing around it, expecting to find Astarion with some poor little beast pinned beneath him on the ground.

Instead, she found Karlach.

Karlach, with all of her clothing shed, laying out in the grass beneath the forest’s canopy. She seemed utterly lost in herself, one of her hands between her well muscled thighs, fingers rubbing along a heavy, large clit.

Shadowheart stared, felt her heart stilling in her chest, before it beat with enough force to make her wince, her chest cramping up. She should look away but- she found herself leaning heavily against the tree, breasts pressing to it through her shirt, the bark rough on her tender, freshly washed skin.

Karlach tipped her head back, eyes closed, lost in bliss and herself completely. Her fingers slid off her clit, down her folds, before two dipped into her own body. The sound of wet flesh parting so eagerly seemed to still all other sounds in the forest. Shadowheart worried at her lip, watching as the tiefling slowly fucked herself, her hips rocking in an even rhythm with her fingers.

For a brief moment, Shadowheart wondered why the woman hadn’t simply sought out the company of any of their party, if she needed a bedmate- but the realization that no one could touch her crashed into Shadowheart painfully. There was no relief for Karlach, except by her own hand.

The tiefling cursed softly, fingers leaving her entrance, moving back to her heavy clit. Shadowheart sucked at her tongue, wondered what it would feel like in her mouth. Wondered what Karlach would taste like- did she taste of smoke and ash? Was she heady or nearly sweet?

The cleric pushed harder to the tree, grinding her chest against the bark. It was almost painful against her nipples, which had gone stiff beneath her shirt- but at least it was some sort of stimulation. She squeezed her thighs together, finding her cunt throbbing with a desperate need for touch, any touch.

She couldn’t lie to herself or others that she found Karlach attractive. She had the first moment she saw her- wanted to be thrown over her shoulder and carried to safety. Gods, the sheer thought of the tiefling’s rough hands on her thighs and ass, carrying her over a battlefield still smelling of blood, ready to take her on the nearest surface she found like a battle prize.

Shadowheart bit her lip, stifled a groan. She’d entertained the fantasy herself, plenty of nights in her tent- but seeing Karlach like this only gave it new vigor, new truth.

The tiefling was rubbing her clit faster, her cunt so wet Shadowheart could see it glistening. When Karlach sighed, her chest illuminated a calming blue, her engine casting a glow along her breasts, some of her veins. Shadowheart gasped softly when Karlach’s cunt mirrored that glow, like holy light. To be baptized in her bliss…

Shadowheart stifled a moan as she clung to the tree, watched Karlach’s back arch, shoulders digging into the earth- and her moan filled the air like song, making Shadowheart’s body ache with a need far more intense than she had ever known, when Karlach came.

Her eyes stayed locked on the tiefling, as Karlach touched herself through the orgasm- her fingers not leaving her clit, even after she had settled back properly onto the ground. They still rubbed in slow circles, dragging it out, until finally her arm fell away, limp, and she lay panting, staring up at the leaf filled canopy.

Shadowheart forced herself to turn away, press her back to the tree so she was out of sight, and listen. She closed her eyes, took in each sound of Karlach shifting, standing- the sound of clothing being replaced, slowly. It was hard to concentrate over the sound of her own pounding heart, but she did, until she heard Karlach heading back towards camp, away from her.

She slid down the tree, kept her back to it and shoved a hand desperately into her pants, her underwear. Her fingers found her soaked, cunt dripping into her panties. She choked on a breath as pressed her fingers to her clit, eyes screwed shut, not seeing the blissful darkness behind her lids but Karlach again, stretched out on the ground.

And then Karlach, in place of the tree her back was settled against. Karlach’s hand instead of her own- so warm it was almost uncomfortable, her fingers teasing Shadowheart’s clit. The cleric tipped her head back, smacked it against the tree as she pushed her fingers lower, into herself with ease. Her feet nearly slipped in the grass, her position not comfortable- but she was unable to care. All she could focus on was the need to come, for release…

She fucked herself quickly, her body clenching around her fingers. Gods, she wanted to touch herself while Karlach stood over her, wanted to press her face into her cunt and taste her as she drove herself mad, brought herself close to release but never there. She wanted Karlach’s bliss to drip down her chin, the tiefling’s hands in her hair, combing it back, toying with it- affectionate as she said her name.

Shadowheart pulled her fingers back to her clit, and in only a few strokes was shaking almost violently, thighs squeezing tightly as she came. She pushed back against the rough bark of the tree, felt it digging into her bare shoulders as she gasped, whined, her orgasm shaking her to her core. She had to pause her fingers as her belly went so tight she thought she might scream, if she continued to touch.

Carefully, she relaxed, head tipping back, hair catching in the bark. She pulled her hand from her pants, glanced at her fingers- they glistened like Karlach’s had, and gods, had she ever been so wet before, even with a partner?

She didn’t think she had.

She gave herself a moment to catch her breath, before she slowly stood up. She had to lean against the tree, her legs feeling weak, liquid like. She tried to still her heart, but didn’t think she would be able to calm its rapid beating for quite some time. She could only hope that when she snuck back to camp, no one was mulling about. She was sure she was flushed, and didn’t think she could hide her slightly quelled arousal, if cornered.

Mostly, she hoped she wouldn’t see Karlach. She was sure it was going to take her the whole night through to calm enough to look the woman in the eyes, come dawn.

[tossyouforedinburgh]

edit: regretting warning you lot, thinking you only like Hastur pining when it's a jumpscare. still I enjoyed this!

you weirdos seemed to be really into the Hastur/Ligur stuff so here's a little extension to the other thing. if I feel like it I have an ending for it planned, so it's not going to be very long

contains very vague references to adult stuff, ig some nasty stuff but no detail, it's Hastur and Ligur like idk how I could write that without some violence

it wasn't, it turned out, quite as difficult as you'd think sneaking into Heaven to steal a book. Angels were, obviously, fucking idiots, but beyond that, there was only one stop in the lift between Hastur's office and the offices of Heaven where they kept all their powerful, reality warping doodahs. and there was a rumour one of their scriveners had gone to run a bookshop--whatever that was--and so stuff was just lying about unguarded.

Hastur sighed heavily, drawing on his cigarette and leaning on the grave in front of him. he'd stopped in his favourite churchyard, the one he and Ligur used to lurk in when they got bored of the stench of the others demons. obviously, demons all stink--that bastard Crowley being the exception, not sure he was ever a real demon to begin with--but Hastur had never found Ligur's smell to be as bothersome as say, Furfur. there was something familiar about it, at least. just a side effect of having had desks next to each other for thousands of years. the smoke break had been intended to bolster his courage a little. why was he doing this, anyway?

Hastur would never have used the word love. that was the horrible noise that came out of an angel's mouth when they were singing the Almighty's praises. it made bile rise up in his throat. he'd not spent enough time on Earth to know what humans thought of it--nights spent lurking and daring each other to touch consecrated ground until the two of them had blisters all over their hands and feet didn't involve human interaction--but he vaguely knew about fornicating. something similar to what he and Ligur did in the supply cupboard occasionally, when they couldn't finish off an argument with words, and ended up manhandling each other roughly until one of them won top position, and then there'd be a sense of satisfaction that the disagreement was dealt with and didn't need to be mentioned again.

it was alright to miss that, wasn't it? violently dominating each other, that was demonic shit wasn't it? and nobody had to know if some of the physical contact was... gentle. that was nobody's business. certainly not Hastur's.

he held his fg end out without thinking, and then realised Ligur wasn't there for him to stub it out in his hand. he tossed it carelessly on the ground instead. see, Ligur was useful. that's what he was doing this for. selfish, advantage taking. that's what demons do. that's why he considered pissing off Crowley again after Ligur was gone, perhaps he had some more holy water lying about. but he didn't really want to be gone. he just needed someone to bitch to about the state of things. the light about his desk had gone out again, if Ligur was there, sure he wouldn't hold out a torch for him but he would grumble agreeably while Hastur grumped about it and that was almost the same.

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 ! ⌝

🎸⋆｡𖦹°‧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: moonlit confessions

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: black!cheerleader!reader, self-doubt, emotional vulnerability, smoking, cursing, mentions of death, eddie pining after reader

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 𖥔 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

🎸⋆｡𖦹°‧

march 21, 1986

you settle into the rough, scratchy grass, folding one leg over the other in a modest attempt to cover yourself. the cheer uniform you wear clings to your skin, revealing more than you’d like under the faint glow of the moon.

a cool night breeze whispers through the trees, prompting you to pull your sweater tighter around your body for warmth.

the gentle murmur of lover’s lake ripples before you, its rhythmic flow creating a soft, soothing melody as the water laps against the shore.

your eyes drift to the boy beside you, his unruly curls catching the silver light.

he’s focused, his brow furrowed, and his tongue pokes out in concentration as he carefully rolls a joint.

you find yourself wondering how you ended up here, sitting next to eddie munson of all people, the very embodiment of everything you once thought you’d avoid.

yet, despite the unlikely company, a surprising realization washes over you—you’re actually enjoying this moment, savoring the unexpected comfort of his presence.

"and... done!" eddie declares with a proud smirk, holding out the freshly rolled joint for you to see.

you can’t help but smile back, amused by his enthusiasm.

as he lights it, the flicker of the flame dances across his features, casting shadows that highlight the curve of his jaw and the glint in his eyes.

you watch, captivated, as he takes a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifts toward you, the earthy scent immediately tickling your nose.

eddie edges closer, the space between you shrinking as he nervously glances at you, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. with a tentative hand, he lifts the joint to your lips, his fingers trembling ever so slightly.

you take a deep breath, your lips brushing against his fingertips as you mimic the way he inhaled moments ago.

but before he can pull it away, you suddenly jerk back, a harsh cough escaping your throat, shattering the quiet serenity of the night.

“holy shit.” you manage to get out in between coughs, body flushing warmly as eddie lets out an amused chuckle.

“i’d say it gets easier the more you do it but that’d be a lie.”

the two of you pass it back and forth, until it’s reduced to a small nub.

eddie then tucks it into the pocket of his denim jacket, saving the last bit for later.

a tingling sensation begins to radiate from the tips of your fingers, gradually spreading through your limbs, making each movement feel simultaneously weighty and light.

a warm, lazy wave envelops you, softening the edges of the world around you. sounds become distant, almost muffled, while colors deepen, taking on a richer hue.

your thoughts wander like drifting clouds, unhurried and free, as a deep sense of tranquility settles in.

a faint, contented smile tugs at your lips, refusing to fade.

time seems to lose its meaning, with minutes stretching out endlessly or collapsing into themselves, leaving you suspended in the moment, at peace with both everything and nothing.

“do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?” your words come out slow and deliberate as you turn your head to meet the eyes of the boy beside you, your faces now only inches apart.

your gaze lingers on his face, taking in the redness in his eyes, the shape of his nose, and the curve of his lips.

“um, you know, just…on a daily basis?” he replies with a laugh in his voice. “i feel like i’m losing my mind right now, smoking with (y/n) (l/n), the queen of hawkins.”

you roll your eyes at the nickname, unable to hold back a frown.

“i wish people wouldn’t call me that.”

“how come?”

you glance out at the lake, gathering your thoughts.

���because it’s not real. that’s not who i am. it makes me feel like such a fraud.”

eddie’s gaze never leaves you, his eyes tracing the contours of your side profile.

his cheeks flush as he takes in your beauty, melanin skin glowing softly in the moonlight.

“i don’t think that makes you a fraud. i think it makes you smart. you’ve climbed your way to the top, kept yourself safe from the shit that comes with being a freak like me.”

he smiles as you snort at that.

“thank my parents for that,” you say, turning back to meet his eyes. “but you shouldn’t call yourself a freak. i admire you for not being afraid to be who you are.”

eddie feels as if he’s in a dream, unable to believe he’s sharing such an intimate moment with you. he silently thanks the guidance counselor for getting him into that hotline program.

“thanks, doll.”

he watches as you rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer to him.

“i wish we’d met in a different universe,” you murmur softly. “we’d make a really great pair.”

“oh yeah? i highly doubt you’d be into the things i’m into,” he chuckles.

“you’d be surprised, munson. i’ve seen some crazy shit.”

a peaceful silence falls over you both, and eddie almost thinks you’ve drifted off to sleep.

he decides not to break the moment, grateful that the lake was deserted tonight.

“i was there, you know? the day of the… mall fire.” your timid voice breaks the silence once more. you lift your head to meet eddie’s gaze, your eyes welling up with tears. “i saw… i saw billy die. it haunts me. i can’t breathe without seeing it. over and over and over again.”

eddie doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he gently wipes away a tear that escapes down your cheek. he notices the shift in your breathing, your mind spiraling.

“hey, sweetheart, we don’t have to talk about it right now,” eddie whispers. “weed can help with anxiety, but if your mind goes to a dark place, it can make things worse.”

you nod, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“will you tell me about yourself? to… take my mind off it?”

he hums in response, allowing you to snuggle back into his side as he ponders what to share.

“well, i lost my mom when i was six. my dad wasn’t much help—he was too busy being a criminal. eventually, he got caught, and i ended up moving in with my uncle wayne. i struggled for a long time to understand why such terrible things had to happen to me. honestly, i still do. but it helps to help others work through their own shit. maybe it’s just a distraction, but it helps.”

you nod, your brows knitting with sympathy.

though your high is fading, a lingering buzz remains, guiding your actions before your mind can catch up.

the air grows thick as you slowly lean in, eddie’s lips parting in anticipation.

just as your mouths barely brush, the sharp snap of a twig startles you both, pulling you apart.

reality crashes down on you as you scramble to your feet.

“what time is it?” you ask, your voice laced with urgency.

“eleven fifty.” eddie replies calmly, a note of surprise in his voice as you rush off, leaving him with nothing but the ghost of your lips against his.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Colorful Fic Titles Masterlist

all that glitters is gold (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum, luke/omc T, 30k

Summary: Luke is running from everyone, including himself, and Calum is getting tired from chasing after him.

black coffee and sulfur (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) calum/ashton T, 9k

Summary: “You’re the demon,” Ashton says, voice steady. “I was right about the crop failures and electrical storms. There is a demon in Springville.”

black is the colour (of my true love's hair) (ao3) - hemmingscliffords Michael/Luke E, 2k

Summary: His eyes graze over Luke's ash blonde hair, the multitude of colours from various batches of highlights that their stylists have given him over the past year, the butterscotch coloured roots that are growing in from not upkeeping it, and out of nowhere Michael thinks that holy shit, Luke would look awesome with black hair. Maybe an ebony colour that had a midnight blue washed through it.

Blue (ao3) - Extras0fts Michael/Calum G, 544

Summary: "You're home, and whenever I'm with you, I feel blue."

blue gatorade & strawberries (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 7k

Summary: “That’s actually why I’m here,” Calum says, causing Luke to frown in confusion.

“To haunt me?”

“To ask if I’m being too loud,” Calum replies with a lopsided smile. “My sister got me these badass speakers for graduation, but the subwoofer can be kind of intense, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t bothering you.”

“Oh, are you the asshole in 314 whose bass is making it impossible for me to quietly pine after my best friend?”

Blue Masquerade (ao3) - CalumSmiles (dreamforlife) michael/luke E, 85k

Summary: Michael is in love with Luke. That much is clear. Well, to Calum, Ashton and the rest of the world anyway. Luke is blissfully oblivious to the blatant signs. He gets a girlfriend. Michael tries to move on.

Spoiler: he fails.

Color of Love (ao3) - felixandtae luke/ashton N/R, 161k

Summary: ❝Sometimes my eyes show emotions I don't even realize I'm feeling.❞

Where Luke's eyes change color based on his mood, but they never turned purple until he met Ashton.

Gay Doesn't Mean Rainbows (ao3) - walking_crisis69 michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: "Your breath tastes like smoke." Luke said as he pulled away, running his fingers through his enemy's hair. "And your breath tastes like rainbows."

he's got blue eyes deep like the sea (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton 5k

Summary: He groans, a sickening pain shooting through him. He can feel something wet beginning to trail down his leg, and in his hazy mind, he just barely manages to put together that it's slick, and he's just presented.

Fuck, he's an omega.

(or, the one where luke goes into his first heat at a party, and it all goes downhill from there.)

Milky White (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 3k

Summary: 'Hey, where are you guys heading?' 'Woodford Folk Festival!'

Ashton is a gray romantic hard worker with his mind set on hiking through the forests and meeting nice people to become friends with. Whilst exploring the woods in Queensland, he comes across two friends who enthusiastically invite him to join them to the festival. Despite the fact they know nothing about each other apart from names, he decides to tag along and see what the fuss about this festival is all about. It all turns into a hot mess that night, with Ashton's nose nuzzling between Luke's milky white thighs he is starting to want to become good friends with.

My Baby Wears Shades of Pink (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Ashton now owns the Playboy mansion. Luke is the only male bunny, and the only one that suits his needs.

Pink + Black (ao3) - IfWallsCouldMuke michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 5k

Summary: Or where Luke and Michael had a summer fling and they both have feelings for each other after a year.

Purple Lipstick (ao3) - SinisterMind michael/calum T, 3k

Summary: Michael picked up the eyeliner his mother left on the side of the sink and an overwhelming desire to wear it washed over him.

or

Michael likes to wear make-up

Rare as Gold (ao3) - FalseDevotion calum/ashton E, 230k

Summary: Growing up is hard and scary and you may find yourself lost more often than not. But if you surround yourself with good people, you can always find your path.

Red Desert (ao3) - jenlouniverse G, 1k

Summary: First song from CALM: Red Desert. A quest to know oneself a little better and trying to leave the past behind.

Tongue-Tied And White Lie Addicted (ao3) - fourdrunksluts michael/ashton, luke/calum E, 50k

Summary: Michael’s just finished his undergrad and is ready to stop messing around with strangers and get more serious about his studies as he prepares for his dream job. No relationships, no sex. Which is harder than it sounds when Ashton Irwin comes into his life.

White Lines, Pretty Daddy Golden Skin (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Part one to a mini series! Sugar Daddy Ashton and twinky, small Luke.

White Noise (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: Luke and Ashton have massive crushes on each other, Ashton throws a party, and all of Luke's dreams come true. (Maybe they're a tiny bit in love too. Maybe.)

you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else (ao3) - lifewasradical OT4, luke/calum, michael/ashton T, 20k

Summary: “Well, the color we can see is red. Well, wait, is this the color you see?” Calum asks, holding out his phone to show Luke a list of basic colors. The only box that's anything but a shade of grey is marked red. Luke nods again, looking around to place more red objects.

“I’ve never heard of someone meeting their soulmate and not seeing all the colors at once,” Calum says, leaning back against his bed.

Or, you're supposed to see all the colors when you meet your soulmate. Calum and Luke only see red.

you’re my honeysuckle rose (ao3) - merlypops Luke/Ashton E, 8k

Summary: Ash and Lu have been in love with each other for a long time, and they just want to be together.

[paintsplantspaws]

Blue Flames Chapter 3

Reg whipped around at the speed of light and Backed up protective of me. Weird truck.A armored truck was speeding through our main street to the longhouse. It jousted like a fish out of water Crashing several parked cars on the way. It finally flopped to its side in defeat. Smoke Billowed out in massive clouds. A couple fires started nearby. Two people in orange were spotted leaving the Truck. One pulled away from the other and ran. The other soon followed slowly after glancing behind them.

Reggie bolted towards the people in orange. He yelled over his shoulder that he was going after them and stay i should "stay back" because the truck was "gonna blow". "Pfft whatever I not 5." i thought as i rolled my eyes. "Stay away from the exploding Thing ,got it." i shout back. I jogged around to behind it. I heard a voice cry out "Can anyone hear me?" as i approached i realized it was a man. "Need some help here! " he shouted desperately. He was stuck under the back door.

I called for my bro."Uh.. Reggie? Guy needs some help." I looked at the vehicle it read army on the side. "What the hell is the military doing here?" i though out loud. I lifted the door and he squirmed out. He was wearing orange as well. He was bald and tan with a few tattoos. "Holy smokes dude." I helped him to his feet and he thanked me saying he though he was gonna die."Hey you alright?" asked Reggie with concern. The orange clad man widen his eyes in anger.

My Resucee then punched my and turned me to face my bro, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Hey let him go!" he demanded and whipped out his pistol. Reggie went full cop and told him to put his hands where he could see them. However it was useless. "I dot wanna hurt nobody. I just wanna get gone 'fore she gets here." he started shakily in the most southwestern way possible. "Reg Threaten to shoot him. The man stuck out his hand and it smoke and embers swirled around it. I could feel the warmth coming from his arm. I tried to grab his arm. Instead all i got was smoke but not like the normal kind.

It was like a capsule of embers and smoke held together by an invisible force. Almost as soon as i grabbed it my mind flickered with many images and then it all went black. I was face down on the ground when my eyes shot open. my whole body tingled as i got to my feet. I called out to Reg but no response. There was more destruction around me. More cars turned and there were many flames licking the ground. i realized to had to find him.

I took a pace forward and my body felt as it had became nothing but air for a split second and then back to normal. "What the hell was that? I don't What the hell?!" I began to panic. it happened again as i cleared a car on its side. I had no clue what was going on. My heartbeat was going up quickly. I almost went of the cliff. Then i Turned i could hear my brother on the other side of a fallen pine tree. "Reg? Reg, I really need you!" i shouted in terror.

I stepped closer to the tree and then i no clipped right through them as if i was air. I could fell the needles on the pine. I did it again and again. Then that jerk pushed a car into my brother. "NO!" i screamed in agony I couldn't lose my last family member. Mom and Dad had passed away when i was 15. Reggie and I were left behind.I dashed over to him. "Reg you OK?" "Delsin? what was that?" "I got to get that car off you." his feet were lodged between a fallen tree and the car. "I got to get you out!" . "Yeah Yeah Okay just just help Me Push!" Reggie gasped. I pushed and I felt those powers activate. "No! No! No!" I scream though clenched teeth. I proceeded to fall back as the car went flying.

"I can't stop man. I can't stop it! Reggie, I cant stop it , man!" i trembled. he wrapped me in a hug from behind and attempted to comfort me. Freaking out.

"I'm one of them! Man I'm one of them!" I panicked. "No. NO! No, you are MY brother, Alright? You are my Brother." "Okay" "Thing Thing with you is gonna pass. I promise and well fix it. Alight you with me? You with me?" he cupped my face. " Okay Okay" i responded. "We gotta get out of here. There is a Bio-terrorist, we gotta stop him before he gets to rest of the tribe." " Alight."

"Okay." He looked me dead in the eyes. "I need you, I need you right now. " OK i responded and got to our feet. I followed him to the cannery .

[muddyorbsblr]

They caressed downward, every achingly soft kiss making you melt into his touch.

When I tell you this had me all kinds of woozy (and we can't even blame it on the pain meds because I haven't taken any in the last 36 hours). Like honestly his immediate willingness to just drop the whole "I hate you" act should have clued Agent in that it was an act. He did the hate fucking because that's what she always claimed she wanted and he just gave her what she wanted 😩😭

Fucks me? No. you thought desperately, arching your back against his hand. This is what it feels like when he’s making love.

The way this chapter would have all out destroyed me if it was written from Loki's POV just from this part alone. I am a puddle I am a mess and I still can't believe that she doesn't realize it yet. *screaming from the rooftops* HE LOVES YOU, AGENT, ACCEPT IT FFS--

“You are so beautiful.” he murmured reverently against the dying, rolling echo of metal on marble, stooping to lower a kiss on the centre of your clavicle. “So beautiful…” he repeated quietly against a muffle of heated skin.

If it pleases the court, I would like to present the smoking gun that should have been complete overkill on clueing Agent in that the love is requited. She honestly didn't need him to confirm it by outright saying the words, it was RIGHT. THERE.

Loki’s wide tip never left you as he leant gracefully to the side, fingers curling around the second ornate candlestick gracing the hallowed altar.

This just made me all kinds of grateful that I wore the reinforced gusset panties today that is it and that is all holy fuck the man bent down without slipping out? I'm gonna have to quote the title of this chapter and say, "MERCY" 🥵😮‍💨

“I plead mercy, Agent…” he murmured slowly, running the tip of his nose against your temple. You felt a shiver roll down your spine. “I will only ask you one last time. Swallow your pride, and tell me that you love me.”

The mutual pining and desperation between these two is just something else. Both insanely in love with the other but afraid to say it first because he thinks that it's going to be a repeat of all his previous experiences (for which I still want to shave Asgardian Barbie's head for btw), and she thinks that it's all a game to him and once she says the words that the game is over.

Must resist the urge to bonk their beautiful heads together and yell at them with a loud speaker "THEY LOVE YOU BACK. YOU'RE WELCOME".

And the end. THE END. The wax seal over her heart disintegrating and blowing away with the wind?? Ma'am, when I tell you I was tearing up from that and I'm still struggling not to cry.

As someone who constantly has some of the spicier scenes from Priest by Sierra Simone living rent free in my head, let me tell you right now…this chapter dethroned some of those scenes. And the story between Loki & Agent is leagues better than the love story in the book. The way you've been establishing their relationship bit by bit in each duology from something as simple as having an outfit ready for her in the Full Throttle duology to having an entire chapter dedicated to him lamenting on his feelings for her back in "Bow to Me: Quivering"?? Outstanding. Top tier.

I'm pretty sure I'm about to do this in the wrong order but I'm off to shower and then I'm jumping into the Final Bids duology.

And also…*eyes the masterlist* am I reading this right?? AN EPILOGUE?! You're too good to us *screeches in the distance*

Holy Orders: Mercy [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (18) Inner demons come out to play, as Loki ends his mission in Rome with a theatrical flourish. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sacrilege. Desecration. Language. Hell awaits. Mild angst. All will be well.

Loki’s groans sounded against your wet lips as he pulled away. The green and gold shimmering vestments flowed lavishly around his huge frame, yanking you roughly from the wall. You stumbled as he began to stride down the side of the church, past the rows of stoic wooden pews scratched and worn from a thousand prayers. One of your sandals caught, making you wince as it popped from your foot and skated beyond reach. But now was not the time. His grip was firm around your wrist, pulling you easily up the low steps towards the pinnacle of sanctity. He suddenly spun you, switching positions and pinning you against the front of the smooth, sacrosanct marble altar.

The nave of the church stretched behind him, a narrow passageway of serenity broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Loki’s fingers roamed over your waist, over the curve of your breasts; the grumbles of desire building in his throat as his darkening eyes flashed. The digits slid up your cheekbones, his immense palms cupping the sides of your face before he was upon you. You found your own fingers winding in his hair, whimpers of need mewling from your lips between messy clashes of tongue. His kiss was savage, a maniacal arousal which made the air around your bodies hot. Like a woman possessed, your hands found their way to his neckline, a brutal rip resounding up to the ornate vaulted ceiling as you tore the beautiful green fabric from his chest. It split to his naval, fingers popping buttons on the descent from the innocent shirt he wore beneath.

“Is this what you want, Agent?” he moaned mockingly, as one of his hands slid over your groin. “To corrupt me. Destroy me. Disgrace me in a church of God?” A gentle stoop of his broad shoulders let him catch beneath the hem of your thin summer dress, the scent of his warmed chest tantalisingly close. “Loki I...can I-” you spluttered, fighting against the desire to let him ravage you the way he always did. His hand grasped at the soft flesh of your thigh, devilish pants catching in his throat as his hard-on pitched the swathes of holy garb hanging against his hips. “Loki stop-” you gasped, pushing his hand away from your jaw. You swept away the fingers sinking into your thigh; Loki’s digits falling to your shoulder as he studied your face – lust melting to confusion. Your firm voice continued to echo around the domed ceiling, vibrations seeming to ring in your ears long after it had evaporated. His hand slid down your bare arm to the wrist, fingertips trailing over every centimetre of skin as though for the last time, until it fell by his side.

“Yes?” he whispered saltily, features hardening. He looked resigned, drawing up to his full height as sunlight illuminated a burst of glow behind his raven hair. “I was wondering if...since we’re here, in Rome, and everything – could we...could you..-” “-Oh, out with it, woman.” he scoffed, folding his arms. A tinge of pink had appeared in his cheeks. You took a deep breath. “Could you maybe not fuck me like...-”

Trailing off awkwardly, you noticed that the pink flush had spread to the tips of his ears. “Yes?!” he hissed venomously, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Like you hate me.” you blurted, glancing to the side as your fingers brushed the smooth surface of the altar he had owned just ten minutes before. “Just once.”

The god tilted his head, long strands of dark curls catching on the embroidery of his sacred robes. “Hate you?” he snarled. “Whatever gave you that impression?” You raised an eyebrow, biting your tongue as you felt your cheeks heat with frustration. “Ummm, maybe the hundred times you’ve told me that?”

Loki snorted. “Only after you did. And besides, you enjoy it.” He stepped forward, hair falling across his cheekbones tingling against your forehead. “Don’t you, Agent?” he whispered. You shrugged, covering a shiver. “I just think it would be fun to see what it’s like when you’re not so…” “-Hostile?” he finished, the ghost of a penitent smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying not to react to the tip of his nose grazing down your temple. “Salvation, wasn’t it?” he murmured, the scrape of his shoes on the marble floor like sandpaper as he shuffled even closer, hips pressed to yours. There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It was unsettling; as he inhaled against your hair, his words no more than a wisp of air. “What you prayed for. Salvation.” He let out a shuddering sigh, catching himself before he stoically continued. “Deliverance from your torment.” You dared to look up at him, eyes wide. Warmth bounced in the shallows of his cheekbones, hues of gold and burnt sunrise dancing in reflections over perfect skin. The placid features set on his face were marred only by the faint knit of his brows. Contemplation, perhaps; as his grip tightened around the edge of the marble by your side. Trapping you. “Loki, I-…” you started, swallowing quietly as he pressed a finger to your lips. “Let me grant you the absolution you desire, Agent.” he whispered sombrely. “Let me at least do that.”

Before you could speak, his lips fastened gently to the curve of your neck. They caressed downward, every achingly soft kiss making you melt into his touch. Your head fell back as he burrowed against the skin, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling from his bare chest to yours as his hands gently gripped your hips. Light from the stained glass windows illuminated the colours behind your eyelids, speckles of gold and burgundy making love in fragrant waves.

“Like this?” he murmured against your ear. You nodded, a soft mewl of confirmation all you could manage as he lifted you easily atop the altar. His tongue massaged your own in haunting rhythm, strength rising and falling like the tide. The pulse of his stiff cock against your inner thigh was unbearable, his tentative unlacing of the binds holding your neckline together sending swirls of unfamiliar comfort through your veins. You carded your fingers through his hair, pushing back the waxy tendrils settled around his jaw. God, his cheekbones really are perfect; you thought, as you ran a fingertip along one sharp edge. He’s perfect. Loki’s eyes met your own as he studied your face, the solemn gaze threatening to swallow you whole as he ran it slowly from your parted lips back to your unwavering stare.

“Pilgrim…” Loki murmured thoughtfully, toying at the tatters of his holy robes left in your wake. “It seems your journey is at an end.” The thick fabric split like tissue paper beneath his gentle touch, running in a straight rip below his hips. His fingers made quick work of the simple leather belt buckle, metal tinkling lightly as he reached inside and pulled forth his majestic cock. Your breath hitched. It never gets old, you thought; feeling saliva well in your mouth as he stroked back and forth. Loki’s brows slanted, a wordless question tinged with desperation. You thought you saw his free hand tremble, before he clenched it to a fist.

He stepped between your spread legs, pressing the meat of his flawless cock against your wet slit. "Speak Latin to me." you said shyly, pulling at the clerical collar wrapped snug at his neck above the splayed sides of his shirt. Loki laughed softly, the tilt of his head to the ceiling making his jawline flash. He lowered it towards you, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. "In nomine patris...et fili...spiritus sancti..." he enunciated formally, narrowing his eyes. "Amen." you whispered seductively in response as you pressed your centre against his pulsing cock. Loki smirked. “Goddess…” he hummed, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. You gasped with mock-disapproval. “Sacrilege.” you said warily, making Loki’s lip curl in a knowing smile. “Heresy, then…” he growled, a glint in his eye as he dragged the thick column of hot flesh between your soaking folds. There was a heavy silence as Loki’s bare chest flanked by richest forest green fabric rose and fell with every breath. He tilted his chin downward, the flash of his tongue forming words before he thought better of it. Dark lashes fanned against the delicate skin beneath his eyes, a rogue curl of ebony hair falling over that regal brow. “Desecrate me, Padre…” you coyed, looping a foot around to his ass and letting the other join it. Crossing your ankles, you pulled him the final inch flush to your body, “-nicely, of course.” Loki’s placid features twisted in amusement, his dimples flashing in the morning sun through the windows high above. “I thought you’d never ask, mia cara.” he purred. The thick tip of his manhood nudged against your entrance, making you whimper as your slid your hands over his shoulders. The clerical collar flexed against the thick vein straining in his neck. Rigid. Immovable. “Loki...yes...uhh-fuck-L-Loki-” you gasped loudly as he breached your slick entrance.

“-Don’t call me that…” he growled, deep lines in his forehead twitching with the effort of restraint as he inched slowly deeper, the edge of marble dragging against his turgid length. “-the m-mission.” You smiled, eyes still shut as your lips stretched against your teeth in pleasure. “If someone s-somehow walks in on us right now...I think your c-cover is blown...uhhh g-god - regardless” you groaned as he bottomed out. Twin moans bounced eerily around the walls of the empty church as he stilled, ricocheting back to you clinging to the god’s body with your legs wrapped around his hips. Loki nuzzled your ear, his hot breath making you buck against him. “Not necessarily, Agent. You would be surprised.” he smirked against your cheek. He began to move, waves of muscle slapping gently against your open thighs. The thick veins lining his cock tugged against your fluttering walls, every pulse like a current through the last vestige of your resistance. Each roll of his hips was devastating, lilting moans of praise peppering your name in the air. You had never heard him say it like that. Come to think of it, you couldn’t recall him saying it at all.

The flats of your palms spread against the altar, sliding backwards as a golden candlestick clattered to the floor. It bounced several times, falling loudly down the steps as Loki lowered you backwards against his hand. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured reverently against the dying, rolling echo of metal on marble, stooping to lower a kiss on the centre of your clavicle. “So beautiful…” he repeated quietly against a muffle of heated skin. You ran a hand through his curls, cupping the base of his skull as he thrust in melodic motion, making your calves tighten around his waist. You bucked rhythmically against him, the motion of your bodies as smooth and poetic as the chant of his prayers. Somewhere, a bell began to toll. Loki’s grip tightened on the back of your dress, his fingers grasping at the textured cheesecloth scratching against your spine. You drew forwards, strands of hair falling over your forehead as you took in the sight of Loki lost in the pleasure he found in you. You could feel the muscles of his ass clenching beneath the drape of holy fabric hanging sluttishly against his hips, each squeeze of your thighs as he fucked you making you mewl his name. Fucks me? No. you thought desperately, arching your back against his hand. This is what it feels like when he’s making love.

Loki’s hand slid up your back, cupping the nape of your neck as he brought you forward to his open mouth. The kiss was needy, tasting every crevice of your lips and tongue against his own like he was departing for war. “Mark me…” you gasped against his cheek when he broke for air, feeling the beat of his chuckle against your chest. “That would be against the terms of your request, I fear…” he groaned, lingering the head of his furiously hard cock just inside your pussy. “Gods, I can feel how much you want it.” he growled, circling the tip licentiously at the catch of your cunt. Arousal slipped against the pull of his foreskin as he shamelessly devoured your emotions with his mind, wetness coating every inch of straining length. It pulsed, tiny flicks of his hips keeping you desperately on edge. “Although perhaps…” he added mysteriously, a flash of mischief in his eyes. Loki’s wide tip never left you as he leant gracefully to the side, fingers curling around the second ornate candlestick gracing the hallowed altar. He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the look of growing confusion on your face.

He brought it upwards, level to your searching eyes before tilting his head. Automatically, your back arched, pushing your chest forward as he mirrored his movement with a tilt of his hand. The hot, pooled wax spilled against your chest, dripping on the mounds of flesh heaving gently with each shuddering breath. Loki groaned softly, watching the white substance melt leisurely in a trail beyond his sight down the neckline of your dishevelled dress. “Perfect.” he murmured, setting the ornate candlestick back in place. He brought a finger to your skin, gathering the slowly hardening beeswax with intricate care. You looked down, seeing a thick circle had been formed on the curve of your left breast. A smile tugged at Loki’s lips, before his eyelids fluttered shut. You had clenched around the tip of his cock, reminding him.

“Patience, mia cara.” he growled playfully, bringing his hand between you with a flourish. In a low glow of green, something appeared between his fingers. It was thick, and short. It looked heavy, and...old. “W-what is that?” you stammered, breath catching as he thrust another few inches inside your tightened pussy. Loki’s smile widened. “My seal.” he said, flipping the object to face you. The base was a tarnished gold, scuffed with use and history that you couldn’t begin to fathom. On the metal, a double headed snake was carved, intricate endless tips wound around each other.

“Wars have begun, and been ended with this mark, Agent.” he murmured, exhaling hot breath gently on the circle of hardening wax on your breast. He licked his lips, eyes flickering to yours nervously. “And now...” You gasped as the chill of metal pressed against your flesh, the cool edges over spilling their target. Loki rolled it from side to side in practised decorum, capturing your lips with his own. A slow tug let you know the seal had been withdrawn; before you heard the sound of the heavy token fall to the floor with a clang by his feet. Loki’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs, pulling your spread legs flush to his hips as he bottomed out once more. A roar simmered in his throat as his grasp tightened; shallow, messy thrusts tilting into your centre as you squirmed on the side of the altar. You could feel the urgency in every jab of his tongue, your walls fluttering with the first sparks of long-denied orgasm. “Loki, I’m c-coming…” you moaned in his ear, feeling him shudder as your arms tightened around his shoulders. They slid down his biceps, grasping for purchase against the tattered fabric of his disguise as he rocked you over the edge of sanity. Climax shattered you from the inside out, cries of pleasure ringing in your ears as you came around him. The feral ache in your belly which had weighted you for weeks blossomed to a thousand strands of bliss, spreading and growing like wine in water. Loki’s pants grew shallow, careful thrusts becoming erratic delving deeper into the flood of your fresh cum. His chest jolted, a hand flying to the edge of the marble altar by your thigh in crushing precision. You heard a harsh crack, the whites of his knuckles glaring as he spent himself inside your wet, pulsating heat with a primal, endless moan of your name. And then there was silence, only wordless heavy breathing filling the warmed air between your bodies. Mussed hair fell around the god’s cheekbones, his eyes lowered as he wet his lips. He sighed. “I plead mercy, Agent…” he murmured slowly, running the tip of his nose against your temple. You felt a shiver roll down your spine. “I will only ask you one last time. Swallow your pride, and tell me that you love me.” A well of adrenaline flushed your blood, a deep longing to say the words flooding your mind before you came to your senses. “Tell me the truth, Loki” you said, brushing a strand of onyx from his brow. Your fingers grazed beneath his chin, raising his face to yours. “I need to know I can trust you-” He inhaled sharply, withdrawing from your touch with a jolt of his head. “I...I cannot.” he said, his voice clouded beneath knitted brows. “Why?!” you said incredulously, feeling his softening cock slide from your entrance. Sentimentality, forgotten. “I cannot!” he shouted. You bit your lip as the malevolent echo ricochet endlessly. The look in his eyes was pained. The quiver of his lip, the slant of his brows. It was raw, you realised with a drop in your stomach. It was real. “Loki, I don’t think you understand. I just need you to be honest with me without being so…-”

“-So what, Agent? Myself?” You let out a sigh of exasperation. “I was going to say dramatic.” you muttered, as Loki’s magic glimmered up his body. Strips of holy ripped green fabric stitched itself together, the embroidery as perfectly matched as it had been before you ever touched him. “I think I understand perfectly well.” he muttered, smoothing his sex-wild hair behind his ears before impaling you with a piercing glare.

“No matter how many times I try to open myself to you, it is only the shadows of my heart you linger in. It is only in the depths of my darkness you feel truly comfortable – just like all the rest. And when it comes to declaring where you stand, in the shadows you remain.” he growled, stepping towards you. He loomed, his lips hovering tantalisingly close, his scent mingled with heavy incense and spices swirling in the air of the sacrosanct space. Loki’s eyes searched yours, a silent plead wavering behind his hardened features. Your breaths felt heavy, every drag of air suffocating as you tried to speak and failed.

Loki shook his head. “I wanted you to find the light.” he rasped quietly, trailing his knuckles down the bodice of your dress before thinking better of it. They clenched in a fist. “But I see now how this must be. How it has always been for us.” In one swift movement, he ascended the steps, beginning to stride down the narrow aisle towards the entrance. The theatrical vestments billowed around his ankles, as imposing in church finery as he was in Asgardian battle armour. A grating ca-lunk of the metal bar sliding across its hold unaided made your blood run cold. Loki’s outstretched arms blew the ancient wooden doors wide on their hinges, banging menacingly against the stone. What have I done? you thought with a fierce chill; stunned panic rising as your body seemed to turn to lead in the wake of his heavy footsteps.

The wax of his seal suddenly crumbled to dust on your skin, blowing mockingly around your collarbone from the breeze of the open church doors. You felt it stick to your moist lips as Loki disappeared to the bustling piazza beyond the sanctuary's boundaries without a backwards glance. “Mercy.” you gasped under your breath, running your fingers over the sticky cast the wax seal had left over your cleavage. Over my heart. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you felt your gaze drawn inescapably up to the majestic baroque stained glass window, the brightness almost blinding. Your eyelids fluttered shut as the church doors slammed closed with shuddering finality. “Mercy.” you whispered again, deafening silence the only response.

A/N: And here we are - the final set is imminent! Cross your fingers my loves, here we go! Continued in Final Bids (Finale pt1) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @cheekyscamp @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @aliciamata

[tallbluelady]

12. humming a melody together

After working with the rambunctious group that included Nero tol Scaeva, Rowan found herself needing quieter company. Within a few days they would ascend to the top of the Crystal Tower and Rowan found that she fared much better in battle if she had a rested mind as well as body.

Unable to find a restful environment in the Rising Stones, Rowan sought the quieter company of the Waking Sands. She stopped by the common room to see who was still out and about.

"Rowan, what brings you here to the Sands?" Arenvald asked.

"It's too noisy at the Stones lately," Rowan said. "I can't hear myself think half the time."

Arenvald chuckled. "Well, if you don't mind me chattering away then I think you'll have a better time here."

Rowan sat and listened to the various gossip of Vesper Bay through Arenvald's eyes. It was nice to just listen to and comprehend a singular conversation rather than seven or so. The young man had just gotten into the more esoteric chores Urianger was having him do when the man himself entered the room.

"Arenvald, dost thou know if there is yet any stew remaining?" he asked, then he almost jumped when he saw Rowan. "Mistress Rowan, I did not expect thy company tonight. Is aught the matter at the Rising Stones?"

"There's naught but the voices of just a few too many people." Rowan smiled. "Alphinaud's recruitment strategy seems to work despite my shyness." 

Urianger nodded and spoke praise of the young Scion as Arenvald got the three of them bowls of stew that was still on the hearth. The three of them shared the meal in happy conversation and stories.

Arenvald yawned and stretched after a few bells had passed. "Well, I think it's time for me to hit the hay. You two - well, you two are going to stay up as late as you want, but don't stay up later than usual."

Rowan chuckled and waved the other Scion good night.

Urianger tapped on the table for a few seconds to a familiar rhythm after Arenvald left. Then his face lit up. "I just recalled the book I wanted to show thee. Shall we adjourn to the library?"

The tapped rhythm wouldn't leave Rowan's head as they walked to the cramped space that served as the Sands' library. She hummed at a volume she thought was low enough to not be heard. She had been reprimanded enough as a child to learn how to keep her volume in check.

So she chuckled when she heard Urianger start humming along with her as he traced the book covers finding his book.

"Wherefore art thou laughing?" he asked, handing her the book.

"We ended up humming the same song," Rowan said. "The funny thing is that I don't even remember what it's called."

Urianger gave a nervous chuckle. "Ha, so we did... ah, I believe the title to be The Red Rocks, which this tome also taketh as its own. Arenvald sangest the tune as he was cooking tonight. And as thou hadst asked about a book on Ala Mhigo but recently so did fate deigneth to remind me of it."

"Thank you," Rowan said warmly, "I'll read it tonight." Both smiled at the other awkwardly, unable to think of what else to say. Rowan turned quickly to remove the sudden temptation to give Urianger a peck on the cheek. Where did that come from? Mayhap I've been with A'quexta and Thorsthal too long. "Good night, milady," he called as she reached the door. "Ah, good night, Urianger."

Thanks for the prompt!

[wroteclassicaly]

i hope im not too late for the kink hour! 🫣 but skirt kink has been in my mind lately; either of the boys would love love love to see you in a short skirt that lends itself to some handsy flirting 😏

Ooooh, okay, so I love this ^_^ Thanks for sending it in!

Warnings: Language, mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), and more!

~*~

You’d all been friends a long time, but Eddie and Steve had started fooling around almost immediately after they bonded. Eddie wasn’t exactly shy about hiding how he continuously drooled over the former jock, often gossiping with you about how you’d both got off to not so friendly thoughts of Steve Harrington. However, Eddie got to him first, Steve reciprocating—suavely charming the metal head. They haven’t really labeled anything, both still pining after one more missing piece (you). You’d had to reign in your jealousy and nurse your sore wrist from the tension in the tendons, following the times you’d hung out with them and couldn’t wait to climb back beneath your sheets at home.

Today is different, though. You’re in your new cherry red leather skirt, fishnets tight over your thighs, and boots on your feet, with some lace crop top hugging (whatever your body type is <3) your figure. Nancy, you and Robin had went to get your nails and hair done for the Hallows Eve party in just a few hours, deciding to stop by the Family Video for some candy and videos to watch later in the night. None of you favored staying out too late and the parties around here were boring anymore. When you’d walked in between the two girls Steve had dropped all of his tapes on the floor and Eddie slipped on one, the cigarette he wasn’t supposed to be smoking in the store— catching in the carpet and burning a hole through the cheap threads. Once everyone’s laughter (you, Robin & Nance’s) had subsided, you three went into raiding the candy rack, stuffing Nancy’s big purse full.

But neither boy had stopped staring at you, whispering between the confines of their hair care product fumes and colognes. They also had zero plans tonight, but to get a little drunk at Eddie’s place after a small bonfire near Skull Rock. Though you suspect they’re headed there to make out (something you totally won’t be thinking about during the lame ass party). You’ve just gotten a pack of Razzles in your palm, shaking the candy from side to side, when Eddie is asking you something that makes your eyes roll beneath the smoky shadow.

“By the way, Y/N, what are you supposed to be going as?”

Steve, with his hand on his hip and a brow raised, smirks. You want to wipe it off with your mouth, but you’ll settle for some sass instead. Shifting on your work combat boots, you jut a hip out, tossing the Razzles behind you to an intercepting Robin, who hands them off to the stockpile Nancy’s organizing in her oversized bag.

Without missing a beat, you make sure they both know you’re simultaneously addressing them, and then it’s off your red stained mouth. “Your one night stand.”

You can hear Nancy snicker behind you, Robin coughing into her fist, with a ‘holy shit.’ And the guys’ expressions? Christmas has flown in early. You have to turn and bite on your painted lip, your two girlfriends sharing a mental high five with you. That’s the exact moment you see Nancy get one of those looks. The one that tells you she’s got a plan circulating around in that head of hers.

Before you can question it, she’s slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter, telling Steve to keep the change, and she’s pulling Robin towards the door, halting you as you attempt to follow, confused and slightly irritated. “Nance? What the fuck?” You warn.

“You don’t like parties anyway, right? And I was thinking me and Robs had this thing we were gonna go check out, instead—“

“We did?” Robin is more confused than you, receiving a slightly shoulder bump from Nance. “Ow! Okay, we did!”

“And why can’t I come? Or is it just the Nancy and Robin show now?” You cross you arms, tired of third wheeling different scenarios (oh, you are so not thinking of the two men to your left, still attempting to process your words).

Nancy shakes her head and backs completely out of the door with Robin in tow, that bell ringing and making your palms begin to sweat. You’ll be alone here, with no plans and no ride home. Her plan. Sometimes, you wished she were still into Steve. “Make it work!” She calls out, winking at you.

The silence that follows is sickening. It’s you and the combination of the only two guys you’ve ever really felt much of anything (everything) for. And you’re wearing something that’s so unlike you, you could be mistaken for a slutty clone. You sigh, folding your arms on the counter and using one hand to dig into your small clutch for cab money. Steve is objecting immediately, seemingly insulted.

“You know she meant for me to drive you home, right?”

Your patience thins and the band snaps. “No fucking shit, Harrington! She had to completely deviate from our plans in favor of her own, embarrass me—“

“Why would you be embarrassed? We’re all friends, aren’t we?” Eddie is baiting you, those large chocolate eyes making you feel zoned in on and small, but in ways that keep you grounded, held.

“Some of us…” You mutter, swallowing on the rush of a sudden anxiety spike.

They look at one another in knowing communication. You pretend you don’t notice, looking at your new nails.

“You’re awfully quiet, sweetheart. Cat got your tongue?” Eddie is getting closer and you turn around to avoid it, but he slides in behind you, arms on either side of your body, knuckles pressed on the counter that you’re leaning on, his chin dropping onto your shoulder. “Talk to me. M’ not gonna judge, you know that.”

“To us.” Steve comes around the counter so that he’s directly in front of you and Eddie, tilting over it on folded arms.

Fuck. You’re directly between them, caught.

“It’s just… I got into this stupid ass outfit and now I’m not going anywhere but home. It was all a waste of time.” And that’s not a complete lie. You’ve just left out the part that you wanted them to go crazy in seeing you dressed up, in comparison to your usual getup of jeans and t-shirts.

“Nance didn’t think so.” Steve tries.

“Yeah, well, who cares what she thought.” You snap, trying to shake off Eddie’s hold. He doesn’t budge.

“Do you care what we think?” It’s Steve’s voice again, his thumb reaching out to brush along your jaw.

You immediately jolt into the contact, hips pushing back against Eddie’s crotch without meaning to. He stiffens, groaning, tone muffled in your shoulder, almost a plea. “Man…”

You’re tired, so very exhausted. Lifting your gaze to Steve’s, you nod. “And what if I do? What if I tell you that it’s all for you guys? That what I’m wearing underneath was especially bought with you two in mind…?”

Eddie’s lifting himself from your neck, eyes rapidly darting between you and Steve. “Fuck, for real?”

“Don’t act like we didn’t talk about getting ourselves off when we thought about Steve. Except you can actually do stuff with him now.” You’re being entirely transparent, breaking free of his grip.

“You… you guys masturbated thinking about me?” Steve’s freckle dotted throat constricts around a gulp.

“I masturbate thinking about both of you.” You confess, chewing on your lower lip, arms crossed so that you can caress your own flesh in comfort.

“As in… present tense?” Eddie verbalizes. Steve is already retreating from his place around the counter, finding your personal space with a brisk invasion.

His big hand hovers over the side of your fish net covered thigh. “Can I feel you a little bit, honey?”

You don’t have to ask why, Eddie cutting off your remaining doubts, finding your left side. “We talk about you every time we fuck, Y/N. You’re there even when you’re… not.”

He brushes a back handed stroke with his rings over your collarbone, their metal cooling your skin. Steve scratches along the fabric stapled to your thighs. “Pretty. Like a present that’s begging to be unwrapped.”

“Fuck, guys. Don’t you have plans tonight?” It’s a lame question on your oblivious end, but it makes Steve snort and Eddie grin.

“Plans with an additional person. One that we’re definitely gonna have to keep warm in the woods tonight.”

They close in on you and you’re entirely fucked. You’ll have to thank Nancy later.

~*~

The firelight glitters in the background, staving off Autumn’s biting night breeze. It’s beautiful and serene, noises identified only by the singular panting breaths of three people caught in pleasure. They took you along with them after Steve closed down the store.

Eddie made good on his promise to keep you warm, but you suspect it was a way to also see you with half your costume on. Your boots and fishnets are on top of your shirt and jacket, your underwear beside them. A blanket is underneath your feet to give them comfort. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, and your silk black bra pulled down to expose your breasts. Steve is on his knees in front of you, his mouth working in delicate slurps that drag you onto your tip toes with each stroke, pushing you back into Eddie, who has one finger deep in your cunt, working in tandem with Steve’s tongue.

You’re on the cusp of a sweet death and headed to hell on Halloween.

[kithtaehyung]

fireworks (3tan) | myg

title: fireworks pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  rating/genre: pg ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au, new years ; angst summary: both you and yoongi hit up the same cul-de-sac for new years, and realizations flood in - one of them being that you really can’t do fireworks.  warnings: house party, pining, alcohol consumption, weed mentions, angst.. i mean yeah lol there’s angst but don’t hurt me!, fuckboi!yoongi is a warning in itself note: surprise! i got this idea while ringing in the new year (and it’s incredibly fitting since i also started 3tan on january 1st, 2021.) if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read that first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense!  event: ❅ holiday in handcuffs ❅ hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​ ⤖ spaces: I5, J5, G9, H9, I9 word count: 4.1k drop date: january 3rd, 2022, 9:27pm est  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

-

-

Around you, the crisp winter air is different, and not solely because of sparks and drifting smoke. 

You’re smiling with your friends as they take pictures to commemorate the end of a shit year. All throughout the neighborhood, multiple people are out and about, mingling on lawns or sitting in their garages to enjoy the flashes of color painting the sky. 

Like everyone, you find yourself having a good time, though you didn’t expect much since this past year had not been the best. Between fallouts and failures and unexpected events, you never want to revisit the last three hundred and sixty five days ever again. 

Except for one. 

One day that you absolutely will go back to—time and time and time again.

And, in a turn of events, the one person you shared it with is currently at this same block party. 

You heard from your brother that they were hitting up the same place, so you knew Yoongi would be there. But that knowledge still didn’t stop your heart from jumping whenever you caught sight of him, jacket sleeves rolled to his elbows and Nikes standing out on concrete. 

So now, mingling in front of a house two doors down, you sneak glances to catch any sight of him. Wondering how he’s enjoying himself tonight. 

For the most part, he’s drinking with your brother and a few other guys. People come up to them intermittently and he’s quick to dap them up or give side hugs to the ones that look especially happy to see him. Witnessing those again, you huff out a tiny laugh; it seems like nothing has changed. 

But holy hell, he looks good. It’s a damn shame you won’t be able to have the same amount of contact as the last time you saw him. Maybe never again, in fact. 

You try not to think about that. 

Suddenly, a shout of your name rings across the cul de sac, and you turn your head to see a couple more of your childhood friends stumbling their way over. 

Oh, shit! You haven’t seen them in forever! Delighted, you scamper to the edge of the sidewalk, getting crushed in a hug before you can even say hi. 

“What the hell! I didn’t know you’d all be here.”

“Are you kidding? Everyone’s here.”

“So good to see you!”

You engage in conversation for a bit until you realize they are way too tipsy already, so you tell them to get their asses inside, earning protests and giggles. As they walk into the open house, you smile at their bouncing shoulders and thrown back heads. It really is nice to see familiar faces. 

But another familiar sight has you faltering as you turn.

The same couple houses down, Yoongi stands with a drink in his hand. 

And it’s more than obvious that his eyes are on you. 

Temporarily thrown, you don’t know what to do. Do you wave? Do you ignore him? Wait, why is his gaze so obvious! Can’t other people see you? Why can’t you just pick something! 

Finally deciding with a gulp, you lift your hand in a slight wave, earning a lazy arm raise back. 

Oh, god. Why is that gesture enough to destroy you? You need to go before you look like an idiot. You probably already do! Go, go, go. Now. 

Panicked, you spin on your heel, fast walking into the house without a single glance over your shoulder. 

————

You’re able to effectively avoid Yoongi for most of the night. But when the countdown is nearing and everyone shifts outside to set off fireworks, you realize that you’ll be out in the open with him again. 

With liquid courage, you face your jitters head-on. Laughing, joking, and teasing with your friends always serves to distract you from the lows of life anyway. Tonight is no different. 

It’s a new year, a clean slate. Everything will be left behind and dissipating like the explosives cracking above your head. 

However, you start to realize that the sounds and bursts are a little too much. Or it’s the fact that some of the guys aren’t too careful with the boxes and tubes, which makes you afraid one of them will tilt and fire in dangerous directions.

So you excuse yourself to retreat. But what’s your plan? What will save you from embarrassment? 

Champagne. You want champagne for the new year! Obviously. Perfect. 

When you wander into one of the houses away from your friends, you realize that this one is cleared out—save for a few that chose to stay inside to smoke. Stepping through an open foyer, the music that washes over you is chill, tonight’s live broadcast fainting slipping through old school hip-hop. 

You find the kitchen easily, happy that it’s still relatively stocked with bottles and cups and empty, shallow plastic containers. Nice. It would’ve been annoying to walk next door. 

Leaning against the counter, your slightly buzzed hands find a bottle of champagne and a cup you hope is unused. The current song has you humming along, pouring without thinking and enjoying the quick moment of silence in a bustling night.

Until you hear a muffled laugh that clenches your chest. 

Flinching, you cease pouring your drink before you hear a door open and a bunch of guys burst inside. Surveying to the group, you recognize most of them as your brother’s friends, but your eyes snap to the one you absolutely know the most. 

You flash a smile as they greet you and throw obligatory happy new years on your shoulders, and the hugs you get are friendly enough. When Yoongi gets his turn, his breath has the same alcoholic tint that yours does as he greets with a low, 

“Sup.” 

“Hey,” you grin, leaning into his one-armed hug a little too much. “Long time, no see.” It’s a vague comment to everyone else, but the look in Yoongi’s eye holds a lot more understanding. 

“No kidding.” 

You don’t get another word in because the rest of the boys are as boisterous as always, taking what they can from the smattering of bottles on the counters. 

“Gimme some. Hurry the fuck up!” 

“Hold on, shit!” 

“Y’all slow as hell.” 

“Get yourself some then? The fuck?”

Your brother doesn’t seem to be with them, so you figure he’s with another circle or found someone for the night already. In which case, gross. 

Yoongi’s arm slips behind you to grab a solo, and you feel his heavy jacket run across your back, your body stiffening on impact. He, however, seems completely unphased as the disruption finally settles in the kitchen. 

“Damn, I need a hit.” 

“Same.” 

“Bet. Yoong, we’re heading out back.” 

“K. Be out in a sec.” 

Wait. 

He’s staying here? 

With you? 

As you watch the jostling and squeaks of sneakers clear out, you try not to let excitement or whatever other troublesome emotions spill out of your eyes. Even though the heat from Yoongi’s body radiates into your back, making anything incredibly hard. Focus. Focus! 

Swallowing, you do your best to keep your expression neutral while feeling anything but. It’s after they all retreat out the back door that you decide to face him again. 

Only an outstretched red cup graces your vision. 

“Lemme have some of that,” Yoongi orders with a flick of the solo towards a bottle next to you. 

“Sure.” You quickly pour him as much as he wants before setting the alcohol down with a heavy thud. As you lean on the counter, you stare at the opposite side of the kitchen and wonder what the hell to do next. 

Not once did you guess you would be somewhere alone with him tonight. The situation makes you more buzzed than any amount of alcohol can. 

“How’s life?” you suddenly blurt, to which Yoongi snickers over the rim of his cup. 

He responds with a teasing lilt, like he knows you regretted your question. “Life’s good. You?” 

A drawn out, unsure sound stems from your mouth, and you hold your own solo to your lips in an attempt to keep them from uttering something else embarrassing. “Life’s… good. Nothing too bad.” 

“That’s all we need, right?” 

“I’ll say.” You take a sip of alcohol, loving how it tastes like courage and stupidity. “How’s the music thing?” 

“What?” 

Curious, you turn to face Yoongi staring, brow cocked and shoulders tense. Why does he look guarded? Referring to a vision from before, you explain, “I saw equipment on your desk.”

“When did y—oh.” Rough fingers slide across the back of his neck as he looks around, continuing in a much lower voice, “It’s going.” 

“Riveting,” you respond, highly amused by his lack of detail. “Don’t forget me when you’re famous and doing hour-long interviews because you can’t shut up.” 

In a fleeting moment, you see light burst onto tile as Yoongi laughs, his eyes creasing tight. “Ass,” is all he says back, but it’s enough to have you grinning and burning up beside him. 

After that, the little bubble of awkwardness around you pops, and conversation flows a lot more freely. Yoongi stays longer than you expect him to, but still not enough to fill a mysterious gap in your chest. 

“Well, I gotta go,” he says after a few more words are exchanged. “But, hey. If you’re looking for a nice spot for fireworks, go upstairs. This house has a sweet balcony view of the whole neighborhood.” 

“Really?” 

“Mm.” 

You nod before thanking him, wondering how he picked up on your hesitance to stay outside by the street. “I’ll check it out.” 

Yoongi smiles before he’s tugged away from you, and you see one of the girls from before on the other side of his arm, liquor sloshing out of his cup and onto her uncaring skin. 

“I found him!” she shouts to a random group before you hear amusement spill out of her capture’s mouth. 

And you’re suddenly left to yourself. 

Interestingly enough, it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. After all, that exact same scenario is something you’ve seen dozens of times before. Nothing new. 

Besides, the New Years countdown is happening soon—at least, from what you can hear on the TV—so you join everyone else gathering in the cul de sac. When you get out there, you find your friends and they greet you with drunken hugs and bright, hopeful eyes. 

“We’re going into Jimin’s!” 

“Oh, my god, she’s so loud.” 

“I don’t care! New years, bitch!” 

Mirth shoots out of your mouth as you help the nearest idiot past the threshold of Jimin’s place. Immediately, the humidity of numerous bodies is palpable, and you want to get the damn countdown over with so you can leave. 

Pop blasts throughout the rooms as the living room TV is turned up, and everyone gathers to watch the animated host start a longtime tradition in front of a crowded city block. The countdown is echoed by multiple voices, raising in intensity as it gets closer and closer to zero. 

Even you start joining in as it reaches ten, looking around the room at all the people wanting the year to fucking end. Not too far away from your spot, you notice Yoongi and your brother with their friends, red cups raised high. 

And your heart drops faster than the ball at a sudden realization. 

You. 

Yoongi. 

Living in two separate worlds while being mere feet away from each other. 

Muffled shouts of happy new year or a much more explicit version clog your ears, but you don’t get pulled to the present until you get a kiss from one of your drunk girlfriends on the cheek. The wet and mushy nature of it alone is enough to snap your focus straight again, and you face them with fake disgust. Grinning, you playfully shove them while sporting a slightly weakened heart. “You sloppy bitch!” 

“You liked it, don’t lie!” 

“Wait, do that again I didn’t see it—”

“Fuck off, Tae!” 

You can’t help but erupt in more laughter; your friends are idiots and you love them. In the corner of your eye, you think you catch Yoongi watching you before you turn to smile at him, too, but what greets you is something entirely different. 

One of the girls from earlier pulls him down for a kiss. 

No. Stop. You can’t feel like this. The sight makes you falter in your celebration but you quickly turn away to distract yourself. Cheering, friends, new year. Anything. Anything to ignore the dark, uncalled for feeling coalescing in your belly. 

This is normal. Normal, normal, normal. This has happened so many times before. That’s it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Completely ordinary.

You don’t see Yoongi when you look again. 

————

More champagne and distraction is what you need, so that’s exactly what you retrieve. Any drinking game offered has you participating, and they are temporary respites from unwarranted disappointment. 

But after most of your friends start to head out or are forced to go home by more sober and logical people, your tipsy form retreats to the next house over—the one with the treasured balcony. One moment you’re surrounded by people ringing in the new year with shouts and laughter; the next you’re watching the night while drinking champagne alone. 

At least it isn’t entirely quiet. Not with the loud people in the backyard and booms of fireworks. But, even still, it’s enough to let your mind finally wander. To fantasize a world unlike the one you’re in now. 

What would it be like? To be that girl easily tugging Yoongi away? To be a person that can pull him down for a kiss in public and not have someone else jumping his bones? 

As you watch bright lights leave smoke marks on the sky, you imagine yourself in their shoes. Unbothered. Unchained from any obstacles they didn’t choose to have. Holding on to that one moment in time that you wish you could go back to and stay in forever. 

And as your breath wisps around your face, summer has never felt so far away.  

Overly rueful, you shoot empty laughs into your cup, your eyes pricked from the cold and absolutely, positively nothing else. 

————

You don’t know how long you stay up there, but it’s enough time for winter to burn the tips of your ears. Maybe your brother will be looking for you soon and it’ll be time to go. He better be able to take you home because you are not getting into your friends’ cars. 

Home sounds good right about now anyways. You can lock yourself in your room and pretend that your heart isn’t slightly, kinda, terrifically wounded. 

As you turn, the sliding door opens.

And the person that walks through is just as shocked to see you as you are them.

You would have thought that seeing Yoongi after that kiss would devastate you. But it doesn’t. 

Instead, at the sight of him, you feel strangely… Okay. Maybe it’s the amount of alcohol in your system, or the serendipitous nature of the moment, or the way his fingers grip his beer a tad harder. Whatever it is, you smile without teeth before commenting, “I see someone started the year off right.” 

“I dunno,” Yoongi responds, running a hand through his hair as he ambles over to the railing, a safe distance from you. Like he should. “She damn near ripped my tongue out.” 

“I don’t blame her. Yours is annoying.” 

“Wow.” 

Laughing, you extend your glass toward him, trying to come to terms with how far away he has to keep you. 

Even though it hurts, at least you can live with that one memory. The one, beautiful memory that changed your entire life. 

“Here’s to a happy fuck last year!” 

Yoongi raises both brows. You have no idea why. 

Until you suddenly realize what your statement could also imply, and your next words trip over each other flying out of your mouth, “Oh, fuck. I meant—I meant the whole year, not like… Umm.” 

Making a fool of yourself always seems to work. He laughs at you before clinking your glass. “Happy fuck last year.” 

Hearing him say it back is so much worse. If it wasn’t for the sudden bursts of light and hues, you would’ve been retreating into your own head. 

But you’re too enamored by the fireworks. Excited, you turn to face the neighborhood rooftops, marveling at the pops and sparkles of color shining above their shingles. It’s a sight to behold. A warm sight during a chilly night. 

Squealing unwittingly, you think this is the best way to experience a night like this. Observing fireworks from a distance and not worrying about potential harm, the mini spectacles lull you into a strange sort of peace.

There exists another reason why you’re so calm, though. With just one other person on the balcony with you, you no longer feel alone. At all. Intriguing how one person can make such a difference—or is it because that one person is Yoongi? 

More bursts of brilliance boom and break spots in the dark night, and you rest your cup on the railing before gripping the wood with both your hands. 

Hands down, this is the most content you’ve felt all night. And the most contemplative. You almost feel nostalgic for the exact same moment you’re living, which you didn’t think was possible until now. Softly, words leave you in puffs of white, 

“It’s so weird how you can love something you’re afraid of.”

You don’t expect an answer; you don’t even expect any kind of acknowledgement. 

But a beat of silence passes before Yoongi responds, “Geez, you talk just like your brother.” 

It’s an empty tease. You know you can speak freely with him, especially after he drilled it into you so long ago. It’s been months, and yet you feel like it’s only been days. Heart somewhat healed from fresh starts and hope, you continue, “I mean, I dunno. I just think it’s interesting. I love fireworks, but apparently I am terrified of them.”

You hear the swig of beer before Yoongi places his glass on the wooden railing, fingers lazily resting on its surface. Some other festive explosives set off in the distance, and you can hear the telltale sounds of sparklers going off in the cul de sac. 

“So you like the idea of them but not the real thing?” 

Smiling, you turn to face him, admiring his side profile for the upteenth time that night. “I guess so. Weird, right?” 

Yoongi keeps his eyes on the night, his lips pursing together in thought. 

Turning back to the expanse beyond the balcony, you want to know what he’s thinking. 

Scratch that. You admit to yourself that you want to know a hell of a lot more than that. You yearn to know why his life is good, what he thinks about you now, and even the little things, like if he even likes fireworks himself. 

“Who cares if it’s weird,” he finally responds in a low tone. “If you love it, that’s just facts.” 

If there’s one thing you love about Yoongi, it’s his ability to make everything make sense. At his words, validation fills some of the cracks in your soul. 

But you also feel emotions that you know you absolutely should not recognize or entertain seep in. Those need to be flushed out immediately.

More shouts about the next countdown erupt from below, and your heart sinks a few more floors. You know your friends that are still here would want you down there with them. Chest slightly caved, you relent. 

“I should go.” 

“Yeah.” 

His quick agreement cuts through you. Motivating yourself to walk away, you hate how empty you feel when you have to say goodbye. 

“Have a good new year, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave the railing and something more behind. “See you around.” 

“Same,” he murmurs back, hands in his jacket and hair catching slightly in the wind. “See ya.” 

When you step through the sliding door, you shut it behind you. 

And you don’t make another stride. 

Seconds and seconds pass, but you still remain. Like you forgot something and refuse to leave without it. Why do you feel this way? Why does it feel like you need to go back?

And then you remember. You’re an idiot and you left nothing but your drink. So you turn back around to go fetch your abandoned glass. 

Only to see Yoongi on the other side of the door. 

Your heart leaps into your throat, scared shitless because of the shock but also something even more frightening. What is this feeling? Why does it feel momentous? 

Why do you feel like crying?

As Yoongi slides the door open, you stay completely still. “I left my dr—” 

“Fireworks scare the shit outta me, too.” 

His eyes are scanning the room while a hand softly tugs your hip forward, and before you know it, you taste beer and warmth and summer on your lips. Your eyebrows jump impossibly high at the contact, and urgency pushes you into him immediately, drinking as much of him as you can. 

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. There are people here. Your brother is somewhere in this house and you have absolutely no idea where. 

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Because Yoongi is kissing you knowing damn well what could happen and it’s igniting a fire in you that will last and last and last. Your hands are frantic in the way they grip the front of his thick jacket, squeezing until your knuckles hurt. And you’re saying something into his lips but you don’t know what the fuck it is. All you know is that he’s responding incredibly loudly through the way his tongue darts into your mouth to shut you up.

You’re not in a random house anymore; you’re in his place. You’re making your way through his living room. You’re thrown onto his sheets. 

You’re finding refuge in his arms.  

But just like that, the kiss stops. 

Yoongi and you pull away at the same time, both hyper aware of your surroundings and the rowdy happy new year shouts a floor below. Your breathing is shallow, like you ran ten thousand miles without pause; Yoongi simply looks like he watched you from the sidelines, smug. 

His little breaths of amusement fill the space between you as he hands you your liquor, and you take it before even realizing what’s happening. 

“Now go have fun, doll. Don’t spend tonight alone.” 

You can only stare at the silver around his neck, wanting to go back to the last time you’ve seen them this close. “Oh…” You know how you want to respond to that, and you know that he knows how you want to respond to that. 

So you don’t say what you want to. With a heavy heart, you meekly respond, “Okay.” 

“Your kisses got better.” 

What? 

Your eyes shoot up from the ground as you regard his mouth in a relaxed curve. 

Yoongi didn’t need to say that. Or swoop in for a kiss that you’ll be thinking about ten years from now. But he did, knowing the possible consequences and doing it anyway. 

Lips puffed and chest burning, you grin—a real grin—giddy and floating high above the cloudless, smoke-filled new year sky. “Thank you.” 

He looks at you like he wants to say something, to tease you. But he doesn’t. “No sweat,” is all he replies with, a forearm resting on the sliding door. “Now go.” 

So you do exactly as he says, walking through the gameroom and realizing that there is a lot more color in it than when you drifted in the first time. It’s not until you get to the exit that you suddenly spin, a sense of deja vu coating your bones. 

“Yoongi?” 

He’s still watching you. “Hmm?” 

“If I ever… need another favor…?” 

Reaffirmation. You need to be okay with whatever he says, but you at least want to be sure. At least, the alcohol in your body and the thoughts in your brain need to know. 

Yoongi’s face flashes with multiple possible emotions and answers. Will he say yes? Will he say no? Your feet stay solid on carpet but his silence has you dangling off a precipice. 

But you’re tugged to safety as a corner of his mouth lifts, his deep voice holding you close. 

“You know where to go.” 

And the lights in his eyes remind you of fireworks.

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A/N: y’alll tell me why i cried while writing this dsfjdlkjf i love this couple so fcking much it’s actually so scary. :’))) i hope you all enjoyed this surprise drop! if you’re new to the 3tan world, welcome in! happy to have you; we have fun here :D ++ feedback box (new!): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist