#how dare someone drug people in his town!

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as cousins warm up, part two! 

First part is HERE. 

Next part is HERE. 

Reminder: Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine.

Warnings: Steve and Robin Get (canon-S3) Drugged. 

"I'm just saying the other theater is cheaper." Eddie said around the straw jammed in his mouth. 

He carried the largest bucket of popcorn Starcourt’s movie theater offered, alongside the two boxes of candy he'd also demanded Gareth buy him. 

"Easier to sneak into, you mean." Gareth corrected, with his significantly smaller bag of popcorn. His, he planned to share with Jeff, Grant having snuck in his own food. 

Gareth himself would have snuck in the cheaper (and far larger) snacks, but Eddie had thrown a fit about going to the mall to see a new movie instead of Hawkin’s far older theater. 

Of course, the older theater also had several disadvantages, key of which was terrible seating, and so, Gareth had bribed him with whatever treats he wanted. 

His wallet took a hit but fuck it, at least they got to actually see the screen. 

Not that they even made it into the fucking theater, because someone chose that moment to crash into Eddie. 

Popcorn kernels and soda flew everywhere, with Eddie only avoiding it landing on him and Gareth both by years of dealing with this exact bullshit in school. Of course, the mall wasn’t school, and neither of them had their guard up. 

"What the hell man--" Eddie spat, immediately on the defense, as they both turned to see what jackass wanted to cause problems this time. 

Except Gareth had recognized the person who bumped him. 

"Steve?" Gareth asked, causing  his cousin to totter around and face him. He was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, which remained to be absolutely ridiculous, but that hadn't been what had drawn Gareth's attention. 

No, that would be the absolute wrecked face staring at him with a doped up grin. 

All thoughts of the movie immediately faded away. 

"What happened to your face!?" Gareth demanded, immediately stepping up into his cousin's space, eyes darting over the damage. 

Recent black eye, split lip, blood splatter all down one side of his neck, nevermind his clothes… 

"Robs!" Steve called over his shoulder instead of answering, body moving as if he was walking on a wildly rocking boat and not solid ground. "Come 'ere!" 

He beamed, which had the horrific effect of resplitting his lips. "Meet Gareth, my baby cousin!" 

"I am two years younger than you." Gareth argued on automatic. He didn’t look to see how Eddie took this little piece of info--he’d figure out what he’d say later, when Steve wasn’t covered in blood. 

It did not stop Robin from reaching out to pinch his cheeks. 

She too, Gareth realized, was clearly high on something, both of them giggling and weaving on their feet. 

At least Robin didn’t appear to be hurt--or at least, not hurt as badly as Steve. 

"What the hell did you two take?" Gareth demanded, looking between them as he quickly put his popcorn back off to the side. 

"We didn't take anything, dad." Steve said bossily, rolling his eyes. He spoke in a voice so unlike himself that Gareth knew his own face was doing something crazy. 

Not that he could stop it because what the hell. 

"What my patriotic friend here means is that we don't know." Robin added, smacking a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. 

(The entire sentence was slurred and sounded like she'd shoved candy in her mouth before she started talking.) 

"You don't know?!” Gareth asked, taking in the way Steve flinched when Robin touched him. Added a mental note to check his cousin's shoulder too. “How do you not know?" 

Gareth wasn't panicking, he wasn't, except he absolutely fucking was. Steve's dad was going to kill him, disown him, and throw the body out of his house--in that exact order. 

Gareth’s parents wouldn’t take him in, not unless his mom felt she could use it to one up her sister in some way which meant that Gareth was going to have to sneak Steve in and out of the house like he was some--some puppy Gareth was trying to keep and--

"Did someone give you two something?" Eddie asked, interrupting Gareth’s spiraling. 

"Give is a very strong word." Steve said with a snicker. 

Robin nodded so much she looked like a bobble head. She leaned in, nearly falling into Gareth in the process. “In fact it’s not the word I’d use at all! I’d use…” She trailed off, screwing her eyes up in thought. 

“Made us?” Steve suggested as Gareth finally gave in to his instincts and reached out to steady his cousin. “Forced us?” 

“Socked it to us!” Robin added with a weird amount of glee, and the two of them once again collapsed into giggles.

Literally, forcing Gareth to try and steady them both. 

Which meant Eddie was right--they’d been drugged. It made perfect sense-- Steve wasn’t the kind to experiment with drugs beyond weed. Had in fact, given a very long lecture about how he’d make Gareth go on runs with him if he ever found out Eddie had given him anything stronger than weed. 

There was no way he’d change now, and especially not around a jobsite. Particularly one as busy as the mall. 

"You can't tell anybody." Robin continued, eyes so wide they were more white than pupils. "But we got truth serumed!" 

As if that made any fucking sense. 

Gareth turned a half frantic, half disbelieving look to Eddie--whose own face scared him almost as badly as Steve's did. 

He was hiding it, and doing a good job of doing so, but Eddie was the one person Gareth knew better than Steve. 

Right now? Eddie Munson was furious. 

Not mad, or upset, or even as pissed as he had been the time Tommy Hagan had thrown his drug box in the river. 

He was enraged. 

"Hey." He said, and the only thing more shocking than realizing Eddie was this mad was hearing him talk in a calming, almost playful voice. "Sounds like you two sailors had a pretty rough time. Why don't we go to the bathroom and get you both cleaned up? I bet you'll feel a little better." 

It was clearly the right move, because both of them looked downright delighted. 

"He thinks we're sailors!" Steve said, cupping a hand around his mouth and leaning to talk in Robin’s ear as if he was whispering. (He wasn’t.) 

Robin’s grin grew impossibly wider, before Eddie stepped forward to help Gareth half guide half herd the two into the nearest bathroom. 

"I know you." Robin said, squinting dramatically as Eddie opened the door with his regular flair, bellowing for anyone in the place to get out. 

It was Steve's turn to nod enthusiastically. "That's Eddie, Robbie." He said.

"I'm honored King Steve knows such a humble peasant's name." Eddie bowed as Gareth finally got both Steve and Robin into the bathroom, trying to get them to sit on the floor before they fell on their asses. 

Which just made a hurt expression appear on Steve's face. "’Course I do. You have really pretty hair." 

It had the effect of making Eddie look like he’d been punched and Gareth had to quickly turn his bark of laughter into a cough. 

"I bet it's soft.” Steve continued, as he pressed his back against the tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor. “Gare, is it soft?" 

"It's very soft." Gareth agreed, trying to wet a paper towel with shaking hands. Finally he gave up entirely, ripping the plaid sweater he had tied around his waist and shoving one of the sleeves into the sink. 

“Oh my god.” Robin said abruptly, sitting up from her own slouched spot on the floor as if she’d suddenly been stricken sober. “It’s him! He’s your type!” 

“What’s my type?” Steve turned to her, as Eddie leaned his back against the door to the bathroom, blocking anyone else from entering. 

“It’s like--like Nancy! But boy Nancy.” Robin seemed to think this made a ton of sense, and given Steve’s immediate groan maybe it did to him, but Gareth was too freaked out to even begin to process what the hell they were on about.

Probably nothing, given they’d been drugged. 

Eddie seemed to pick up on his general anxiety and poor attempts at shoving down his own freakout, because he gently called out Gareth’s name. 

“I think it’s wet enough.” He added with a raised eyebrow. His eyes drifted purposefully to the sink and with a curse, Gareth snapped shut the water off. 

His hands were still shaking. 

“Give it to me.” Eddie said gently, moving to take the shirt from Gareth’s hands. “Here, swap me Gare, and guard the door.” 

Gareth did, as Eddie knelt down to take Steve’s chin in one hand, and carefully began dapping his wounded face with the wet sleeve. 

“May I ask what battles you two sailors have been involved in?” He said, continuing to sound like playful, fun Eddie and not like he was about to murder half the town (which, Gareth could tell by body language alone, is what Eddie actually felt like) “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the villains who did this?"

“Robin melted into Steve, rubbing her face in his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe us.” 

Eddie smiled his most charming smile, a full blown rouge grin he played up as he continued to wipe and dab at Steve’s wounds. “You’d be surprised at what I believe in, my fair lady.” 

Steve tried to talk, but ended up hissing as he ran into Eddie’s fingers. 

“Russians.” He managed to get out, when Eddie quickly took the sleeve away so he could talk. “We got kidnapped by fucking Russians. Also we kinda saw some shit and they’re after us. Possibly you now if they saw you with us.” 

There was the briefest of pause as Steve and Robin stared at Eddie, as Eddie stared back. 

Then Steve and Robin as one started howling with laughter, so hard that Robin’s head ended up in Steve’s lap with Steve’s own head resting on hers. 

Eddie turned to give Gareth a pinched look. “Russians.” He said, still calm despite it all. “Right.” 

Which had to be the fucking drugs speaking. 

Gareth just took a deep breath as Eddie managed to gently prod Steve back into putting his chin in his hand, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

He didn’t know who he was going to actually have to murder, but at least Eddie looked to be on board with acting as his backup. 

[fluff-n-cookies]

So I was watching Hazbin Hotel (which is streaming on prime video) and I was thinking how hilarious it would be if the pro heroes Fatgum, Aizawa, Mirko, (or Hawks) had a S/O who has a quirk like Nifty (which by the way, is my favorite character in Hazbin hotel😅) she is kindhearted, but there are times that she says messed up shit to freak out the heroes and the LOV love her for it🤣

Guess who's back! I was on break for writing my book, so sorry for the delay. and once again, I don't do romance but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. also, this is so short, I'm so sorry, I don't really do senarios for this one reason.

for my poor boy fatgum, it's gotten to the point where he has to keep you on a leash!

but he's actually quite indifferent to it, rather opting to let you let hell loose on whomever you want to.

sometimes he does get a tad bit fed up with your antics but at the end of the day, you're one of his favorite people ever. not because you're useful or powerful, it's just that he holds you dear for being who you are.

a monster.

y'know, at first Aizawa used to actually think you were high on coffee and monster energy so he was actually quite suprised when he learned that... you're just like that.

but no seriously, he had you take multiple drug tests to be sure, lord knows what's in your veins.

but as long as you can shut up when he wants to sleep, he acutally quite likes you.

as a primarily night patroling hero, it's nice to see someone with so much energy and kindness.

in the end, he quite likes you, he probably kill for you.

NO BECUASE SHE ACTUALLY HAS THE POWER TO KEEP UP WIHT YOU SSTOOOOP.

chases you around town when you try and make a run for it

hypes you up whenever you get excited

MATCHES YOUR FREAK LIEK THE GODDESS SHE IS

ha sand will again kick someone to the moon if the DARE judge you.

he is actually a mix of Fatgum and miruko.

while he does indulge in your little freaky stunts he also known when to be professional and act differently.

and he will always introduce you as "my favorite weirdo."

he's just happy to be with you.

takes you out on late night fly's whenever you get that burst of energy during the night.

sweet bird boy.

BONUS! LOV!

has kidnapped you 8 times now with the sole purpose of recruiting you to the LOV!!!

they genuinely think you're a villain (maybe you are!) and that you're secretly on their side and are playing around with the hero's just because.

no seriously, try and tell them that you're not a villain they say something like "yeeeeahhh, sureeee. *wink* *wink*"

but they actually really enjoy you're company, you're invited on their weekly schemes and they always hope that you'll come.

Toga loves you the most but the others really like you because you always think a way to irk their most hated hero's.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Cliché as it sounds, I really like the idea of a High-school au Adamsapple Omegaverse.

Basically, my idea would have Adam being, at first, this innocent boy who trusted Lilith, his best friend, with everything in his life. She knew all his secrets from his abusive household with his relatives (Sera is his Aunt and Emily is his cousin) to the massive bullying that he's enduring at school for being a Beta and unable to scent the world around him like everyone else.

Betas are one of the rare ones. A class made for those who never present. You're seen as defective and broken by society whereas Alphas and Omegas were seen to be the cream of the crop. Betas were meant to serve the superior gene pool.

Lilith is his everything. Sure, she's an Omega and he's a Beta (there friendship is frowned upon) but he still desired Lilith's friendship and companionship. Until she convinces him to come to some house party. Adam is nervous and doesn't really want to go, but his friend is practically begging him. He agrees rather reluctantly.

Adam, unfortunately, isn't taught the etiquette of how to be safe at a house party run by rowdy seventeen-year-olds. Plus, he's a 6'4 boy. No one thought they needed to. He's pressured to drink something Lilith gave him and suddenly everything is blurry.

He's taken to a room where...well, Lilith had a deal with a guy named Steve. She needed to pass her class in Biology. He wanted to get laid. She agreed to bring Adam over to a party, drug him, and let the football team go to town on him. Besides, he was a Beta. Who would care?

While the drugs made him a bit more compliant, Adam still fought to not let them have their way with him but it was a losing battle. He called for Lilith to call someone, the police, when he spotted her in the corner and she simply smiled. "Adam...you need to know your place among society. Betas are meant to serve Alphas and Omegas in this world." She walked to the door as Steve and his friends surrounded the rapidly crying Adam.

At the end of the night, Adam dragged himself home. He of course is yelled at by his Alpha aunt but he lies through his teeth about the whole situation. He hoped, despite him hating every minute of his existence after that moment, that he could just forget about that night.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end. Lilith didn't pass her Biology class and to help her gain sympathy points and more people on her side, she started spreading that Adam raped her at the party which was why she failed. She was dealing with trauma.

While there was no proof, so they couldn't arrest Adam, everyone sided with Lilith and made his life Hell for something he didn't do. Adam didn't even finish his 11th year and dropped out to homeschool for the rest of that year because of how bad the bullying got.

His Aunt finally had enough of his "dramatics" and told him that she'd send him to another school if he would finish his last year there. Adam didn't have a choice so he's sent to a new school.

Adam's changed everything about him at this point. Sure he's a Beta, but no one even dares to look in his direction anymore because of his attitude, clothes, and overall appearance. Your basic rebel boy. He didn't care that Liltih was somehow going to his school and dating a wealthy Alpha named Lucifer. He didn't care that people whispered behind his back about what he supposedly did.

No one could hurt him like this if he looked and acted like this. The Au would start with Adam and Lucifer being paired as lab partners for the year.

Alpha/Beta relationship.

OMG my poor baby 🥺

This is a great concept thank you!

@fanofstuff01

[holylulusworld]

Gun for hire (1)

Summary: You’re his next target. Nothing else. Right?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: hiring a killer, Lloyd being Lloyd, being followed, sunshine reader

Gun for hire (Prologue)

Gun for hire masterlist

Lloyd curses himself once again.

He still didn’t get his money. His newest client is an annoying piece of shit. And on top of the pile of shit, this assignment turned into, the exotic beard wax he wanted to order was sold out.

In other words. Lloyd Hansen is fucking livid. 

This doesn’t keep him from following his latest target around town.

So far you went to work, bought a muffin on your way to the library, and talked to the librarian for half an hour.

Lloyd yawns, bored beyond belief. He never followed such a boring person. Most of the people he killed were criminals, or at least interesting. You’re just…too nice.

You made it your mission to visit the elderly librarian every day after work to make sure she gets her extra portion of sugar – hence the muffin you bought. Plus, you try to make her feel needed by asking questions about books you already read.

He’s close to calling it a day when a man walks past you and the librarian. The man bumps into your side and has the guts to yell at you.

Lloyd pokes his head around the shelf he is hiding behind to watch you smile at the man. He can’t believe that you smile at a man yelling at you not moments ago.

“Crazy,�� he concludes but decides to watch you for a little longer. Assignment or not, he’s got nothing better to do today.

“Sir,” you carefully pat the man’s arm while you speak to him in a low, but soft tone. “Your day must have been hard.” You batt your eyelashes, and smile again. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so rude, right?” 

The man suddenly smiles and apologizes repeatedly. The man’s whole demeanor changed so suddenly Lloyd could not believe his eyes.

“Drugs maybe…or a hidden gun?” Lloyd wonders. No man ever changed their opinion so fast without being under the influence of drugs, or in danger. “That woman must be the devil in disguise or something. She must be more dangerous than I first thought.”

“Come on, do something more exciting,” Lloyd grunts as your daily routine drives him up the walls. He looks at his notes again and sighs deeply. 

He rereads his notes and tries to find new information.

“Work. Buying something sweet for Grace, the elderly librarian. Talking to said librarian for half an hour. Going home. Watching TV.”

This is not how imagined his Friday night would look like. He wanted to spend it at his favorite strip club, a pretty girl’s mouth wrapped around his dick.

“She’s so…” he rubs his tired eyes, “boring. I can’t believe someone wants to kill her.” Lloyd ignores the kink in his neck and his burning eyes, or the fact that he’s watching you giggle at something your elderly neighbor said. “I hate her so much.” 

He could just end your life or call it a day, but he keeps on watching you smile and giggle. “She’s a fucking ray of sunshine. What the fuck!”

Lloyd shakes his head. Today someone spilled coffee all over your pretty sundress. Your boss yelled at you. And you lost your phone.

Nothing seems to ruin your mood. You are still laughing and joking with your neighbor.

“I should just go over there and kill them both. Less headache for me – a house and a car for my client,” Lloyd is tempted to get his gun and silencer out to shoot you and your neighbor. “Maybe later. I need to unlock her phone first…”

Lloyd rolls his eyes while scrolling through your phone. There are mostly pictures of bees, flowers, and cake on your phone. No interesting or naughty stuff. 

“This woman can’t be real. She buys sweets for the librarian; cooks soup for her sick neighbor and has a fucking insect hotel on her veranda. She’s crazy…this must be it.” 

He nods to himself. “I need to find out more about her. Maybe some files are password-protected. I know she’s hiding shit from me.”

“Boss, it’s two weeks,” one of Lloyd’s men dares to say. “He didn’t pay.” The man clears his throat. “The woman is still alive too. What is your plan?”

“I need to find out more about her,” Lloyd grunts. He doesn’t need one of his bootlickers to sniff around and find out Lloyd is following you because he’s fascinated and a little grossed out by your bubbly personality.

Your friendliness is hard to stomach, and he wants to find at least one thing you try to hide before he kills you.

“Boss, he didn’t pay,” the man insists. “We don’t work for free. That’s rule number—” A gunshot ends the man’s life. 

“Rule number four is to never doubt me and my decisions,” Lloyd sneers at the dead man on the ground. He snaps his fingers at one of the others. “Clean this up. I got a job to do.”

“Boss…” the man nods and goes to work.

“And bring me her boyfriend. He broke our contract and didn’t pay me a single buck. I want to know why he believes he can fuck with Lloyd fucking Hansen.”

“What are you doing at my house?” You take a step back. A stranger is standing in your living room, a gun with a silencer aimed at your head. “Oh…Tommie.” You shake your head and sigh. “He’s such an unhappy man.”

Lloyd cocks a brow at your reaction. You don’t scream or beg. Instead, you are concerned about your ex-boyfriend.

“He doesn’t have the money to pay me back for the house and car,” you conclude and nod to yourself. “But he has the money to pay you?”

You take a step toward Lloyd, taking him by surprise. He backpaddles and aims his gun back at you.

“You don’t look like a guy he found on the street and paid him twenty bucks. You look like a…” You tilt your head to look the man in front of you up and down, “professional.”

“Sorry, but you got to go…” He murmurs, wondering a little about his words. It’s the first time he said more to a target than hello and goodbye.

“Uh-okay,” you wring your hands. “I just ordered takeout. Can I eat it before you kill me?” You cock a brow. “You know, the whole last meal thing and stuff. I got dessert too. Please don’t let me die hungry.”

Lloyd is stunned. No target ever accepted their fate without fighting back. Most of them at least begged and pleaded or offered more money.

“You can have some dessert too,” you softly say. “I guess in your line of business you don’t often get invited.” You giggle. “You know, because you kill all of your clients.”

“I don’t kill my clients,” he sighs. “Fine, have your last meal. You are giving me a fucking headache, sunshine.”

“Aw, that’s a cute nickname,” you point out. “Do you call your girlfriend that too?” You ask while walking past Lloyd. “I’m going to eat now. Please don’t shoot me before I finish my meal.”

“Just shut up,” he grunts and follows you inside the kitchen. “Why are you not screaming or throwing a tantrum?”

You shrug. “We all must die one day. Right?” Watching Lloyd, you smile. “Please don’t shoot me in the face. Someone must identify me, and I don’t want them to see me like that.”

“You always think about others first.” 

He watches you prepare two plates of food. You watch him watching you. He cocks a brow, believing you will try to trick him. “It’s not poisoned. I’ll eat it too.”

“Do you want to sort things out first?”

“I got everything sorted out,” you smile. “I’m just worried about my neighbor and the stray cat I feed. They are both old and need help.”

Lloyd shakes his head. “You must be crazy thinking about others while a stranger threatens to kill you.”

“I thought you wanted to kill me, not just threaten me,” you round the counter to place a plate close to him. “I didn’t take you for someone making empty promises.” You run your fingertips over the hand holding the gun and smile. “Right. Mr.…?”

“Lloyd,” he says and drops his eyes to your finger running over his hand. “Are you flirting with me?”

You look him straight in the eyes and smile. “Why would I flirt with my executioner?”

Gun for hire (2)

Tags in reblog.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 26: Fake Dating

Steve was ready for Hawkins to open up again and for the Upside Down to swallow him whole. Christmas was meant to be fun, well at least it was supposed to be fun now that he spent it with the Buckley's. Right now though he was glaring at his boyfriend and best friend across the table. Or wait not his boyfriend this evening, no tonight, Eddie was Robin's boyfriend.

Steve could only blame himself he supposed, one for loving the two idiots that were currently badly suppressing giggles and two because it was all because of what he'd said last week.

One week earlier...

"Robin, just tell your mom you're a lesbian or I'm not coming to Christmas lunch next week."

"Steve I can't do that do you want to ruin Christmas!?"

"She was already fine with me being bisexual she's not going to send you to hell, that's why we tested her with me in the first place!"

"No, I'm not ready!"

"Well I can't sit through another Christmas of your mom suggesting a Spring wedding!"

"You're my boy space friend can't we just let her live in a fantasy world where she marries into the Harrington's?"

"I don't even want to be one!"

"Could pop down to the courthouse and become a Munson, baby," Eddie supplied watching the back and forth while blatantly stealing from the candy display.

Steve gave him a deadpan look, "You need to propose to me better than that, Eds. No, Robin that's it I'm not going, I'm not being your boyfriend anymore!"

"What am I meant to do then, she'll be asking about you all day!"

"I'll do it!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Do what?" The other two asked giving him a questioning look.

"No, stop I hate when you do that twin thing it's creepy. And I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas, Birdie."

Which brought Steve to now. It had seemed like a brilliant idea, one Steve could enjoy his Christmas lunch peacefully being the golden boy of the table as Mrs Buckley dawned over him and two, no boyfriend questions. There was also the added bonus that lesbianism might seem like a better option than the town's drug dealer in the Buckley's minds. What Steve hadn't counted on, was the Buckley's loving Eddie.

"Oh, you're in a band that's so lovely, you know I played tamborine for a band back when I was your age, we thought we were going to be a big girl group."

"I hear you're working over at Thatcher's son, they're good men there you're certainly going to learn a lot."

Steve had been relegated to peeling the potatoes while Eddie was literally putting his feet up in the living room. He felt like the middle child of a family that just got a newborn baby, how dare Eddie steal his pseudo parents. What was worse was that Robin was finding this hilarious.

"Oh poor Stevie Wevie are you sad mom's not asking about how EMT school is going?"

"Yes! I had such a fun fake heart attack story she was gonna love." Steve pouted and for a moment he thought about stomping his foot in protest.

"Hey, it's ok, next year I promise I'll have told them, and Edward over there can come as your boyfriend, ok?" Robin reassured wrapping an arm around him.

Steve guessed that he could give up being the favourite this time, and it was nice seeing people be kind to Eddie, it hadn't been easy after Spring Break. It didn't stop him shooting daggers whenever Eddie and Robin decided to reassure Steve at lunch that he'd find someone nice eventually.

Steve and Eddie waved goodbye after lunch, promising to visit soon and hopped into the van.

"Have fun?"

"Oh yeah, I think Janice is already planning the Spring wedding."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed getting fawned over because we've got dinner with Wayne now, and guess who's his favourite?"

"Just because you know the difference between the Chiefs and the Packers, I'm his own blood and the minute you're there it's like I'm chopped liver!" Eddie exclaimed as they drove towards the trailer park.

Lunch had been interesting but he was very glad it was over as he laughed and slid his fingers between Eddie's between them, happy that he had his boyfriend back.

Ao3

[auspicioustidings]

Mandatory Dungeons and Dragons

Summary: You have moved to a new town and really miss running D&D, good thing the nearby military base is looking for a DM.

Words: 3.9k

CW: None :)

“So I’m naw going tae go through the portal?”

“Ok so you do know from your arcana check that if you were to try go through this portal while it’s red, that a few things may happen to you and none of them are good.”

“Aye, but how not good we talking?”

“Dragged through hell before being spat back out, let’s hope someone in the party has a diamond and revivify ready not good.”

“Copy. I’ll naw go through it then sweetheart.”

“Don’t be a pussy Johnny.”

“I go through the portal!”

“...why are you all like this?”

–

You wanted to cry on the train home. Your first time at the TTRPG club in the city nearest your new home in a little village and it had been a disaster. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to play Dungeons and Dragons just because you didn’t know every rule inside and out, but they had made you feel so stupid and as if that was absolutely the case. You missed your group back home and were already a bit insecure knowing they had another person DMing for them now. It was hard not to get in your head and wonder if they would like the new DM better, if their style would be more agreeable than the rules light chaos you brought to a table. And with the derision you had gotten from the DM at the club for daring to call a nat 20 on an attack roll a crit, you were stuck on the train considering just never going near the hobby again.

Maybe you really wouldn’t have if not for the brave little flyer hanging on to the edge of a stall for dear life that caught your eye a few months later when you went to the farmers market. You liked the farmers market in this little town, lots of handmade jams and local produce and baked goods. The stall the flyer was on was the most eccentric stall of the market and one where you had made a friend your first time wandering through, although Nik was not always here.

The Russian man looked every part the stereotypical gangster, but he was funny and kind and didn’t get upset whenever people from outside this community took issue with him on account of his home country. He had little hand carved animals that when you asked he said were made by a friend. Saying he sold them was sort of complicated because he’d give them away for free if asked, they were pay what you want with any money going towards a charity for helping recovering drug addicts. 

All that to say, it was entirely surprising that he would have a flyer looking for someone to run a D&D game at a nearby military base. 

“Do you know this game lapposhychka?”

“I do! I used to run it back home. I’m surprised a military base is looking for someone to run a game though, it’s generally played by… I mean it’s more a nerdy game, I didn’t think soldiers would be all that interested.”

“Ha! Do not listen to these silly tv shows that tell you soldiers are very cool and tough. You are more cool than any of them.”

“Uh huh, should I ask how you would know that or is it a you’d have to kill me situation?”

Nik laughed in that way that you loved, it made you so happy how unstrained he was with his fondness for you. Such an odd man. Given that he sometimes would be away from the market for weeks and always gave vague answers about what he actually did you had suspected he was in some sort of shadowy career, at least if it was with a nearby military base you didn’t have to worry that he actually was a gangster.

“Send email to the address so you can run this silly game for them hm?”

Well, what was the worst that could happen?

–

“They found someone else, sending him tomorrow” Price said with a long, tired sigh to his team. 

You would think that being a task force that was entrusted with saving the world, they would be exempt from the wellness initiatives that some civilians with fancy little degrees in an office somewhere kept forcing onto them. This one had been running for a year now and TF141 had been finding ways around it. 

The base football team had kicked them off when Johnny had bitten one of the players after an argument turned into a scuffle, so HR sent them to do airsoft thinking that it would be more appealing.

The airsoft venue had swiftly asked for them not to return when Simon had made the other team get on their knees and mock executed them one by one, so HR had sent them to a life drawing class.

The life drawing class had declined to continue running for them with Gaz’s insistence that he must be naked in order to feel comfortable drawing someone else naked, and at this point HR seemed intent on declaring an all out war on Price’s team.

Their latest was Dungeons and Dragons. Price had not known what that was when the arrogant little shit of a man had waltzed in with all of his books and dice and props and complex maps and got them to make characters. He rubbed them the wrong way entirely, clearly had some sort of superiority complex knowing that he was able to tell soldiers what to do. That had been the same with every activity they had been sent to and he was getting more and more mad about it. Why did HR think it was a good idea for civilians to be giving them instructions? It always ended with a power trip and his team needing to cut someone down to size.

“Did they aye? Such a shame aboot whit’s his face, wonder why he quit.”

“Strange right? Thought the git was having fun what with Ghost getting so into character!” Gaz added, him and Soap grinning in a way that spelled danger for whoever they were sending next.

Ghost had gotten very into character. It’s not like the knife ever would have hit the little weasel behind the DM screen, it had thunked into the wall behind him just as it had been aimed to do. Price tried to smother his own smug grin thinking back to it, the look of horror when Ghost had launched the knife, walked over, ripped it back out of the wall and said ‘tell me again that it’s lodged so deep that I can’t get it out’. 

HR were changing tactics now, making them stay on the same activity and just switching around the person running it. Well, they’d soon find out that Captain John Price did not negotiate with terrorists.

–

“Just tryin’ to be ready for any last minute missions sir.”

Price had to hand it to Simon, the man was going all out today. Full tac gear, skull mask on, generally being the most terrifying soldier a civilian could ever have nightmares of meeting in a dark alley. No doubt whoever came in would try and feign disinterest, would try and come off as if the whole thing was beneath them. As if that would do anything but encourage his lieutenant. 

“Very good. Soap?”

“Sir?”

“The mask?”

“Aye, like LT said, battle ready.”

Gaz chuckled and Price once again controlled himself so he did not join. Soap hadn’t wore that little red skull mask in a while, but he couldn’t imagine it would go down well. The temptation to go digging through his own belongings and pull the black one he owned was creeping in the back of his head. If they could scare off this DM before they even started it would really save them all a lot of time. 

–

You were jittering with nerves as the soldier checked and rechecked your ID and waved you through. This was seeming more and more like an awful idea as you parked up and were escorted through the grey winding tunnels of the base, clutching the straps of your backpack like a lifeline. 

You were dropped off outside a door and left to try and control your erratic heart as you forced yourself to open it and walk inside what looked like some sort of briefing room. It would work, there was a big table. They were already here.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, they were huge. They were terrifying. Two were wearing masks and you thought that maybe this was fine, character masks right? Maybe the setting they played in was more modern-ish and that's why the heavy tac wear as well. The other two were a younger man in a baseball cap and an older one in a fishing hat. They would have been less terrifying if not for the fact that they were also big and good looking. This felt like a fever dream, these people could not exist. Were those knives?

“H-hi!”

The nervous squeak of a greeting coming out of you made you at the very least force a megawatt smile on your face to cover your embarrassment about it as you introduced yourself, stumbling over your own name.

“I ah… I’m here to run a game!” you said, swinging your backpack off of your shoulders and holding it up as if it would suddenly turn see through and show your supplies.

You suddenly felt wildly underequipped. You didn’t have all the fancy terrains or stacks of books or intricate props. You had a PHB and a oneshot, a beaten up DM screen and snacks that would double as battlemaps. The email had said that they already had player sheets and dice and you didn’t see anything on the table. Oh God you hadn’t thought to bring stuff just in case, what had you been thinking? Was the months of going through every background check under the sun not warning enough that you should not be doing this?

“Of course, we’ve been expecting ye! John MacTavish, ye can call me Johnny” said the man in the red mask after a moment of stilled silence, smiling and holding a hand out for you to shake.

You felt like your hand must be clammy and your heart was liable to beat out of your chest with this man being in your space smiling down at you. You tried to relax as the older man took your bag and set it down on the table, leading you by the small of your back to one of the chairs. 

“Captain John Price, have a seat” he said kindly.

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you sir. Captain. Sir? I’m so sorry, I’m not sure which I should be using. I should have looked that up before coming, I’m sorry, I really wasn’t thinking” you rambled.

“Slow down sweetheart, you’re not under my command, you can call me John.”

It was so clear that they were soldiers. Not just the outfits, but how they held themselves. The Captain was so solid and safe feeling, like a hurricane could rip through the door and he would be able to fight it off before it touched you. It was strange the feeling it gave you to be in the space of that kind of person. It was stranger still that all four of them had that same undercurrent to them, even the huge man in the skull mask with a bunch of knives strapped to him. You sat and swallowed thickly, trying to get yourself together as you shakily unzipped your bag and started to pull everything out, trying to at least make brief eye contact with the others as they introduced themselves.

“Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz luv. Hang on, we have our stuff somewhere I think” the man in the cap said sheepishly, sharing a knowing look with the others that you knew meant there was something going on here you were missing. 

“Ghost. We don’t have stuff, sheets are long gone. Left the dice in a bar.”

“That’s ok! I mean we can wing it with a pen and paper, I’m sorry I didn’t bring any extra sheets. And if you have your phone there are free dice apps. And um…” you trailed off, looking between them and slowly figuring out that the thing you could see was a strange mix of pity and guilt. “...do you… actually want to play D&D?”

“No.”

“Jesus LT, way tae let her doon gently.”

“Git! Don’t listen to him luv, of course we want to play.”

You looked at the Captain in question. It was natural to see him as the leader here, so if anyone was going to explain it would be him you thought. He held your gaze and you found you could not look away from those eyes. There was just something so decidedly cosy and warm about those eyes, like being inside bundled up next to a blazing fireplace while being able to see snow out of the window. 

“Soap grab some pens and paper would you?”

“Aye sir!”

–

John MacTavish had been so confident when that door opened that they were about to make HR give up once and for all, that whatever man walked through that door would barely make it ten minutes before running off. That had went out the window when you came spilling through. Not one ounce of posturing or arrogance, just a sweet little thing looking at him all nervous and jittery. 

He knew it wasn’t just him that had been taken off guard, the whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence after you had introduced yourself. He had never been good with an uncomfortable silence, and he was feeling especially inclined to fill it seeing how it made your face fall more and more by the second. 

The urge to immediately tease his Captain was strong seeing that barely perceptible tick of his jaw when you had stumbled over which honorific to address him by. In all of the activities they had done, not one person had afforded Price any of the respect he deserved. It wasn’t like any of them expected civilians to follow their orders or treat them as superior, but there was something almost disdainful about it when people very pointedly refused to acknowledge it at all. When they swung the other way and tried to assert superiority over him as if to prove something. So having this sweet thing immediately try their hardest to give him his place? It was definitely affecting his Captain and it was obvious to the trained eye.

He could have spear tackled Simon for being so blunt with you. He could have kissed Gaz for immediately refuting him. And he could have eaten you right up when instead of immediately showing off all of your knowledge about lore and rules like the last one, you started out with going over all the ways you would all make sure everyone was safe and happy and having fun. 

You got so bashful trying to explain traffic lights with Simon teasing you that he couldn’t really help but put a hand on your leg to stop it from bouncing. Your bright little blush and smile at him just melted him entirely. Ah fuck, he was so screwed.

–

“I don’t know what your last DM used but totally open to whatever makes you most comfortable. I tend to use a traffic light system, have you ever used that before?”

Simon Riley found you wildly amusing, not least because Johnny was like a puppy with how he was trying to get you to like him. He was certain that if you put a hand to that mohawk then he might actually just bundle you in his arms and never let go. Cute. 

“Red means too much, orange means slow down, green means fuck yes baby keep going,” he answered, suggestion dripping off of every word. 

He watched how that made you shiver from your toes to your head, your leg bouncing nervously making it endearingly obvious how it had affected you. He wasn’t really looking to make you uncomfortable, just to tease a little. Gaz gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table and he fought off a laugh. 

“Ok you’re technically not wrong, same principle. That’s just for during the game if anything comes up, but we can decide beforehand what we definitely won’t have in the game. I’ll go through my list, but if there is anything at all anyone wants to add we’ll add it on and I’ll work around that.”

Colour him surprised when after thirty minutes he had indeed contributed to your little list. You explained it so gently that it made sense to mention that he didn’t really want snakes in the game, the same game he hadn’t been intending on playing in the first place. He liked that a lot. He liked that you put him in a place where he could comment on something vulnerable so easily because there was no chance that you’d judge him for it, you just wrote it right down on your list without question. 

He supposed they could do a few hours of this stupid game.

–

If someone had told Kyle Garrick an hour ago that he would be very seriously yelling at a magical gate that kept bloody shooting magic missiles at him, he would have said you were off your head. And yet, here he was. Well, not him. Here Elliot Knight, elvin Paladin was.

When they had played last time it was like pulling teeth. This time? The paper in front of him didn’t have a thousand things on it to keep track of, you had more or less thrown the rule book out and simplified it down to what would be easy and fun. Soap had been encouraged to reskin his sword to instead be a golf club which he was delighted about. Price was doing an outrageous Yorkshire accent that he had done briefly as a joke and then committed to once he saw how it made you grin. Ghost had fully been allowed to macgyver together a molotov in the game. And he was so bloody mad at this gate that here he was yelling at it. 

“Stop shooting at me!”

“The gate simply repeats it again. Security protocols activated, please answer all security questions to deactivate security protocol. What is the gestation period of a milk cow? It fires another missile at you and… yeah that hits. It smacks into your shoulder for 12 points of fire damage.”

“Ow! Next time someone else is playing distraction, if you fail another investigation to find this bloody book I will kill you in real life Soap.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying! Naw ma fault that Neil Ellis is a dumb fuck, I had to put all of ma points intae wisdom so he could be a proper Druid!”

“Ok so you do have a really high wisdom Johnny, and one of the skills under that is animal handling. If you wanted to, you could try to use that to see if Neil knows the gestation period of a milk cow instead of using investigation to look for the right book.”

Gaz nearly killed Soap when he managed to fail that roll as well.

–

This was stupid and fun. John Price found this stupid and fun. He had gotten strangely attached to Barry Sloane, his human fighter who was really just trying his best, although his favourite character had to be Samuel Roukin, absolute little shit of a bard. Simon had made a 4 foot tall dwarf who happily sat and played his stupid lute during all of the fights and yet had managed to land the final hit on every single thing they had fought so far by insulting it to death. 

It had been especially funny when the big monster had transformed into a maiden with flowing hair and a billowy white dress and Samuel had, while Neil and Barry were downed and Elliot was desperately trying to get them up and not die, told her “what’s the difference between you and a salad? The salad knows how to get dressed” and you had just buried your head in your hands when he had landed the hit and told you the damage. Another kill for the bard.

It hardly felt like it had been a full four hours when you wrapped up the session and apologised for over running. When you asked them about why they were playing in the first place and you had agreed to join the fight against HR? Oh, you were part of the 141 now whether you knew it or not.

–

“Wait, so they're forcing you to do an activity between every mission?” you asked, somewhere between disbelief and wild amusement.

The game went really well in the end. You liked this oneshot, it was always a hit and good for beginners, but this group had made it especially chaotic. You didn’t think you had ever been kept on your toes so much or laughed quite so hard at a groups antics. They were so ridiculous, even more so with how scary they looked in their gear. Johnny had taken his mask off during character building and you really thought you must be some sort of psycho because it had sparked your cute aggression and you barely resisted the urge to smoosh his cheeks. Ghost never took off his mask, but you got used to it. He wasn’t anywhere near as severe as he looked and he had such a stupid sense of humour that was so at odds with the spooky skull mask that it made what he came out with even funnier. 

“Yeah, supposed to somehow promote wellness more than actually catching up on sleep” Gaz grinned, clearly delighted that you seemed to find it as ridiculous as they did. 

“So what will they make you do next?”

“This again if you say yes sweetheart. You’d be the first person to not drop us after one session.”

You gave the Captain a wry smile. They had insinuated that they had been pretty badly behaved at every other activity, so you could imagine they had scared everyone else away.

“Well why don’t you just get me to come back then? We don’t have to play D&D, as long as I report that we are right? You guys can just do whatever you want for 3 hours.”

You really wanted to see them again you realised with a thump of your heart. Even if it was just a quick hello once every one or two months so they could get a sign off to say they had done their mandatory activity session. It was difficult to try and process exactly what mix of emotions you felt when Ghost laughed warmly from behind you where he had been tidying away all the drink cans and sweet wrappers you had been using as map pieces, and then dropped his arms over your shoulders in a sort of hug. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours so that he was looking at the others still lounging at the table. You could feel his cheek, he must have taken his mask off.

“What do you say Captain? Have her come back and do whatever we want with her for 3 hours?”

There really was only one word going through your mind and you prayed that you hadn't said it out loud.

Green.

[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

"𝐋-𝐈-𝐕-𝐈-𝐍'."

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 5.1k summary: you made your choice. what will come of the consequences? surely, only good things, right? all you know is one thing you learned from a wise man: you just gotta keep livin'. l-i-v-i-n'. warnings/tags: MDNI. angst, hurt/comfort, underage drinking and drug use, jealousy, love triangle, name-calling, physical fighting/abuse, emetophobia/mention of v*miting. notes: this is long over due! i've been so happy seeing people still liking the series and i hope this ending does it justice. i'm already missing them, and thinking of ways i could do a little spin-off. suggestions are welcome, hehe.

<- chapter four.

Fucking at the Moon Tower was an activity you could cross off your bucket list, a feat that was surprisingly easy to pull off for an area of land running rampant with drunken teens. It seemed as though luck was dealing your cards for the evening and things had all started to move forward smoothly.

The ordeal with Angus was a bittersweet feeling, of course. Being drunk didn’t mean that you completely lost all touch of your morals.

It just meant that the guilt wouldn’t bother you until it was all over, and you were laying in bed hungover, wondering why you couldn’t have mustered the strength to end things off with Benny before you settled on infidelity. Hell, even now you were the other woman, Angus’s promise of ending things with Elise didn’t make this any better.

The only fighting argument you had against your wrongdoings was the fact that neither you nor Benny had made things… ‘official’, but you sure acted like it. That had to account for something, and you knew very well that if he found out, he wouldn’t be happy.

Forcing the rising guilt back down into the pit of your stomach, you focused on the way the grass felt against the exposed skin on your back. Lifting a hand up to toy with your hair that was rather messy now and let your eyes focus up on the stars in the sky, which were mostly hidden by the light of the moon tower that lifted above the treeline. The sound of gentle breathing next to you kept you calm, shuffling in the grass while you saw Angus turning on his side out of your peripheral vision.

“So,” his voice was deep in his throat as he shifted up on his elbow, able to get a better angle of you, “are we going to do that again sometime?”

You had to fight the smile growing on your lips, twitching at the corners and daring to make you smile like a dork. Leave it to Angus Tully to be the one to keep you from getting lost in your head, and instead, in the here and now.

“No,” you were quick to react, lips spreading into that grin you’d been avoiding, “definitely a one time thing.”

“Ouch, you really are feisty,” he groaned, lifting a hand to his heart and clutching at his chest, his button-up no longer doing its job of keeping him covered, “you have a cold, cold heart.”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, earning a returning smile from the curly-haired boy, “I don’t have a cold heart. I’ll have you know that I am actually a really good person.”

“Good people don’t have to say they’re good people,” Angus tilted his head, an absent hand reaching forward to tuck some hairs behind your ear.

“Looks like you’ve seen right through me,” you whisper, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

The act itself makes a fierce warmth grow on your cheeks, so warm it reaches the tips of your ears and over your chest. There’s nothing more you can say at this moment, only able to react to his touch and slightly nuzzle your cheek against his hand like a needy pet. 

You stared into those big, brown eyes of his and wondered how you got so lucky to meet a boy like him – even if it meant leaving your home. He was truly the only good thing about this town.

Maybe this was the start of something new. Something you both deserved.

Your lips opened to speak, but the sound of someone rushing near you both had startled you up and looking around. A younger boy, likely a freshman, darted past you both and towards a large bush, the sounds coming from him making your nose crinkle as he emptied his stomach. 

“Christ,” Angus grumbled, pulling away from you instead pulling you up to your feet, “who’s letting these kids drink their fucking brains out.”

Quickly, you both vacated the area until you were halfway between the puking boy and the party that had continued to go well into the night. Neither of you had noticed that your hands were held tight together until Angus had stepped ahead, and your feet remained planted in the taller grass. 

“We can’t tell anyone about what we just did,” the words fell from your lips quickly, eyes settled ahead on the crowds of people that you could see in the distance. All illuminated by headlights and the moon tower.

Benny was there somewhere. So was Elise.

Just like the boy hidden somewhere behind you both, you felt sick to your stomach as the regret coursed back through your veins without Angus able to fix it all for you with his touch. 

“Why would I tell anyone?” He retorted, dropping your hand and turning to face you, blocking your sight so you were forced to look up at him, “I’m not looking for problems… you’re not going to say anything are you?”

“...No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

“God, Angus, what do you want me to say? You just cheated on your girlfriend,” you grumbled, the effects of alcohol and weed wearing thin, making this night feel a lot more real than you wanted it to.

This was supposed to be a night where you hoped you didn’t remember much of it, so drunk and high that you could completely let loose and kick off your last summer before senior year. You were more complicated than that, though, you came with nuances and emotions that you didn’t really understand just yet. You had so many wants and needs, and so many fears.

“I told you I was going to break up with her. You’re acting like I’m the only one who fucked up here, you know,” Angus’s voice was sharper, like it was at the moon tower when he chastised your relationship with Benny, “this was mutual.”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“Do you think me sleeping with you tonight was just for fun? Like I’m going to leave you in the dust and forget about what happened tomorrow morning?” He took a step forward as you took a step back, “I meant what I said. I really like you. Don’t make me overthink this.”

“It’s just,” you started, arms crossing over your chest, “fuck, we really should’ve waited, Angus. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

A heavy sigh came from him, and you could tell he was fed up, but holding back.

“Yeah,” he eventually breathed, “you’re right, I get it. We… uh, really fucked up.”

You could see his mannerisms change, the sheepish look in his eyes when that very guilt you felt extended into him. But you were young and you were certain this wouldn’t be your last fuck up in your life. You’d get through it – eventually.

“I like you too,” you murmured, fingers twisting into the fabric of your halter top, “I guess we just gotta deal with everything if we want this to work.”

Angus nodded, a tiny smile on his lips that made you feel all sorts of funny, your cheeks warm and belly fluttering with waves of butterflies swirling in a vortex. It was making you feel sick all over again, but for good reasons this time.

“You should come with me in the morning,” he said, kicking a foot into the tall grass, “I’m going with Wooderson to buy Aerosmith tickets… It'll be a good time.”

You were complicated. Wanting to say no because you needed time to cut things off with Benny, and because your mother would freak out when your bed was still empty by morning, but instead you nodded your head without any hesitation.

You were just a teen girl, there were no rules on how you acted or felt.

“Yeah, okay,” you smiled, “maybe.”

“Maybe?” The boy matched your wicked grin, taking a few steps back from you and closer to the party, “I’ll see you later, then.”

You watched in awe as Angus spun on his heels and sauntered back to the party, leaving you in a state of uncertainty. There was much to think about, but his request reminded you of something important.

Life was short.

So, why the hell were you standing in the middle of the wooded forest listening to the sound of some poor boy getting sick when you could be back with your friends getting shitfaced and forgetting about everything that happened.

You pulled your feet forward and carried yourself back to the party, everyone now officially drunk or stoned out of their minds, your friends nowhere to be seen. The beer keg was your first stop, drinking one full cup in quick succession and pouring yourself another. 

The cool liquid poured down your throat and numbed your mind instantly, fingers tightening around the red solo cup as your empty stomach greeted the alcohol. You closed your eyes and guzzled down the remainder of the second beer, knowing that any more would likely put you in the same predicament after your argument with Angus.

Fingers crinkled the cup, and you tossed it to the ground, perking up and looking at your surroundings. There were an abundance of drunk teens, your eyes watching two girls take a tumble to the ground together and a boy sitting in the backseat of a convertible coughing his lungs out because of a particularly intense bong rip.

“Where the fuck is Kaye?” You sighed under your breath, eyes scanning the area and excusing yourself when two boys asked you to move away from the keg. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you begin walking away in hopes to scout around the party for a familiar face.

Just as your eyes nestled on your friend, who was sitting on the back of Tony’s car, you felt someone shove themselves against you roughly – with intention.

“Buzz off,” you groaned, catching your footing before nearly crashing into the ground. 

Perking up, your eyes darted over to the other and saw none other than Darla standing there with eyes narrowed and cheeks flush with anger. A few paces behind was Elise, looking just as angry.

“You slut,” Darla hissed, taking taunting steps toward you and her voice loud enough to grab the attention of the two boys taking beer from the keg, “you must like stealing boys, huh? Stealing Benny from me, then trying so hard to get Angus’s attention and acting like you’re nothing but a saint,” her face twisted with fury as she spoke, “stupid bitch.”

You gasped loudly as Darla flung beer at you, the lukewarm liquid splashing against your chest and soaking your halter top. 

“I had no idea you and Benny were a thing!” You blurted quickly, always wondering why these things had to happen after you finished downing multiple beers, “and nothing’s happening with Angus… he’s just a friend.”

Both of your hands had lifted in defense, breath shaky as you watched Darla and Elise’s combined anger unfold in front of you. You were hoping that tonight would treat you with more grace than it could have, but karma was doing its work.

Darla’s lips curved into a sickening grin as she threw the red cup at you, as if pouring the beer wasn’t enough. “You think we’re stupid? Like we haven’t seen you flirting with him for the past few weeks? God…” she shook her head, an airy laugh of disbelief coming from her, “and you try to tell me that you had no idea Benny and I were a thing? I get that you’re new here, but you’d have to be really dumb to not know what’s going on around you.”

“Okay,” you said, trying to level with the girl that looked like she could pounce any moment, “maybe I didn’t do my research with others before spending time with Benny, but in my defense he didn’t tell me anything. I just… I figured he was single. You should be getting mad at him!”

“God, stop acting like you’re the victim here!” She laughed against and balled her fists together, and you knew then and there that there was nothing you could do to share your side of things. She was far too angry, and much too drunk, “You’re such a stuck up bitch, like every dumb prissy girl from the West Coast.”

Your eyes flickered over to Elise, who seemed to have some semblance of sobriety at the moment, but doing nothing to make this situation any better for you. When you settled your gaze back on the girl in front of you, you saw the anger boiling beneath the surface. She was starting to talk angry nonsense which you had no bite over.

You either needed to make one quick response to shut her down, or get the hell out of there.

“Darla–”

Before you could plead anymore in a last-ditch attempt to bury the hatchet and keep it from escalating, a flimsy hand met with your nose and pain shot through your head. Darla sucker-punched you, making a fool out of you. As you grabbed at your face, wincing loudly in pain and feeling blood drip down your nose, you heard the other girl yelping from the pain radiating in her hand. “What the fuck?” You roared, eyes wide and anger flowing through you. Not once had anyone ever disrespected you like this, and even though you wanted to lay down in a ball and cry the pain away, there was a rush of adrenaline keeping you afloat.

“Aw, look, she’s angry,” Darla laughed in your face, taking a step back, but you lunged. She wasn’t getting the satisfaction.

The two of you tumbled to the ground and hands began to tug at clothes and hair, shouts and yelps garnering the attention of anyone close. “Holy shit,” you heard Elise’s voice just barely because soon all you could hear were people yelling and cheering you on. Well, both of you. Two girls drunkenly fighting? It made for great party entertainment.

“You stupid bitch!” Darla squealed as you yanked on her hair, tugging her back to the ground after she tried standing up.

“You punched me first, asshole!” You yelled, unable to land any good hits on her and resorting to some lowly slaps and kicks. Finally, you managed to get on top of her, holding her down with her weight as you straddled her and she was doing her best to push you off, “Fuck you,” you spat at her, fist tightened as you punched.

But it never landed.

“Hey, break it up!” Kaye’s voice was loud, quieting down everyone who had been bystanders, watching and cheering. 

“Let me at her!” You growled, kicking your legs out as you were pulled back, watching as Elise and Shavonne pulled Darla away. Then, you saw Kaye to your left and realized it wasn’t her pulling you away from the fight; you glance over your shoulder and see Angus staring down at you, dragging you far from the scrap.

“Fuck you!” Darla snapped at you, stumbling on her feet and smoothing down her clothing that had gone askew from your wild hands that savagely attacked her, “You’re dead to us, Tully! Dead. Have that worn-in skank!”

“Easy now,” Shavonne’s voice could be heard.

“Are you okay?” Angus’s voice was loud in your ear and you could smell the beer on his lips he forced you to look his way, “Fuck. You’re going to be bruised tomorrow.”

“C’mon, let’s get her out of here,” Kaye jumped in, helping him pull you away.

Your eyes flickered around, seeing the crowd fizzling out and how Elise looked at you and Angus with a clenched jaw. She extended a middle finger out, and for some reason it sent a wave of relief through your body – was it over now? Would her and Darla finally give up on tormenting you? 

Angus and Kaye got you situated onto the back of his car, sitting atop the trunk, your legs dangling as the boy tended to your bloody nose and busted lip. The pain was rising now that the adrenaline was leaving your body, leaving you squirming under his touch as he used his sleeve to wipe the dried blood that coated your upper lip. Not only that, but your soaked halter top was making you terribly uncomfortable.

“I’m fine–”

“Not fine,” Angus cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you reiterated, looking rather sheepish, “she started it.”

“Yeah, I saw,” he smirked, tucking some of your hair behind your hair, “you gotta’ get better at fighting. That was bad.”

“Easier said than done. Are you going to teach me?” 

“Sure.”

The silence between you both is welcomed, and you hadn’t realized that Kaye left. Kegs were emptied dry, which meant everyone had begun to leave and go home or move onto an after party. You two stayed situated in your spot, though, unmoving as the cars around you filled with teens and roared into the night.

“I broke up with her,” Angus admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “I would have rather waited until tomorrow, but that’s not fair to either of you.”

You click your tongue knowingly, rolling your eyes playfully, “So, you’re the reason Darla came and unleashed her anger out on me, huh?”

“No, that’s because she bottles shit down until she’s hammered and she finally had the balls to confront you about it,” he smiled at you, lifting both hands to cup your cheeks, “you took it like a badass, though. I think you look hot.”

“Yeah, I feel so hot–”

You’re cut off by Angus’s lips pressing to yours, a gentle kiss that’s careful of your wounds. You wince in pain, pulling back and lifting a hand to the side of your lip that’s tender and a bit swollen.

“Shit, sorry,” he exhaled, pulling back from you.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, arms wrapping around his neck and instead pulling him into a tight hug, “thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, hands on your back and brushing his fingers along the exposed skin from your revealing halter top.

“For dealing with me,” you murmured, burying your face into his curly hair that clung around his ears, “I’ve been a mess tonight. Honest to god, I’m usually not this insane.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the sound vibrating against your neck as he pressed a few soft kisses to your skin, “hm, it’s okay. I can deal with crazy.”

Both you and Angus found yourself unable to leave each other’s arms for a short while, as if making up for lost time between the two of you. Not even an hour later, and after a good makeout session in the back of his car and changing into one of his oversized band shirts, you found yourself in the middle of the football field, laying between Angus’s legs and your head pressed against his exposed stomach from the shirt that you’d unbuttoned earlier.

To your left was Jason and Shavonne, having made up for the night, and beside them was Slater, who was digging into a baggy of weed and rolling up a few fatties for the group to share.

Wooderson stood tall in front of everyone, reading from the pact that Angus still hadn’t signed.

“Not to indulge in any alcohol, drugs, sex after 12, or any other illegal activity,” he stepped toward everyone, who had started laughing. Angus groaned, sitting upright and reaching out for the paper with a grouchy look on his face, “found that in your glove compartment, man.”

“You know you’re the third person who’s given me this today? God,” he groaned, rolling it up and tucking it into his jean pocket.

“What’re you going to do?” You asked, looking up at him and bringing the cigarette to your lips that you two had been sharing.

“I don’t know,” Angus complained, wiping his face with his hands and looking between everyone, “I’ll probably just end up signing, I just don’t want to give in too easy, y’know?”

“Man,” Wooderson looked at him through half-lidded eyes, taking a hit of his joint and exhaling a large cloud of smoke, “that’s the same bullshit they tried to pull in my day. If it ain’t that piece of paper, some other choice they’re going to try and make for you. You gotta do what Angus Tully wants to do, man.”

You looked up at the curly-haired boy, admiring his features that illuminated from the large flood lights on the football field. You noticed the way he listened earnestly to Wooderson, who wasn’t known for great advice, but so far this was sound.

As he watched the older guy, his hand played absently with your hair, leaving you far-too relaxed and tired for someone who was planning on heading out to get tickets once the sun was fully risen above the horizon. There wasn’t much longer before it would be up.

“And let me tell you this. The older you do get, the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin’ man. L-I-V-I-N’.” He beamed, earning a few giggles from everyone around as he collapsed onto the ground next to Slater.

“If you’re gonna sign that paper, man, you should throw a little grass right in the middle, man. Roll it up, and sign the joint, man. That’s gonna tell ‘em something.” Slater spoke, eyes practically shut as his reddened eyes looked around at everyone sharing laughs at his words.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Slate?” You piped up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, man. The size you could get out of that paper would keep me high all day, man.”

“So what?” Jason broke into the conversation, head in Shavonne’s lap and eyes closed, “you gotta think about it. We’ve had a lot of really good times here, Tully.”

You sink a bit lower, able to tilt your head back and get a proper look at the boy you’d fallen in love with so deeply, smiling, “He’s not wrong. I mean, you’re, like, king of the school, you know? You get away with whatever you want, anyway.”

Angus let out a heavy exhale through his nostrils, leaning his head back as he slipped out from beneath you and rose to his feet. You pushed yourself up, eyes trailing him as you smoked the last of the cigarette and held the filter between your fingers.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself,” he grunted, car keys in one hand and ready to toss away that slip back into his glove compartment so he could forget about it.

Jason sighed, “Look, Tully, all I’m sayin’ is that I wanna look back and say, that I did it the best I could while I was stuck in this place, had as much fun as I could when I was stuck in this place,” he continued and you watched Angus, seeing how he paused in his steps and listened, back turned from everyone, “played as hard I could when I was stuck in this place, dogged as many chicks as I could when I was stuck in this place.”

Everyone laughed again, Shavonne mostly groaning as she shoved at Jason, “Yeah, right, Mr. Premature Ejaculation.”

As the couple to your left playfully fought each other, and Slater and Wooderson laughed at them, your eyes settled on Angus. He returned your gaze, staring at you with a small smile. A hand lifted and motioned for you to go to him, and you obediently listened, rising to your feet and sauntering his way.

“Do what you need to do, Tully,” you said to him, in a perfect buzzed state from the cigarette and joint you’d smoked. You lifted your hands, palms pressing against his chest and his hands wrapping around you loosely, “Don’t let anyone make that decision for you.”

Angus smiled down at you, needing to hear that. After a day of being told what to do by everyone, it was nice to know that you would have his back.

“Thanks,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss to your lips. It was gentle, exactly what you needed. His hands lifted up to caress the sides of your neck, licking over your bottom lip and eager to make it heavier than it needed to be in front of your friends – you were already walking around with two visibly hickies on your neck from your rendezvous in the car before coming to the football field.

Just as you pulled from him, noses bumping together, bright, shining headlights startled everyone.

“Oh, shit, are those the cops?” Shavonne perked up.

“Hey, all of you! Get over here!” One of the cops called as he exited the car and slammed the door, waving you down, “Now!”

The group all listened, rather slowly of course. It wasn’t illegal to be on the football field, but it was illegal to be smoking weed. Slater sneakily tucked the bag into his pants, sulking behind everyone else who made their way to the fence.

It was embarrassing, the cops making you all line up like a bunch of criminals. Your back pressed against the chain link fence, wanting nothing more than to be at home in the comfort of your bed, preferably with Angus by your side. But no, the cops recognized Jason and Angus immediately and called the coach – and no one was to leave, even as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

“Tully. Smith.” The coach grumbled from his spot in the driver’s seat, having pulled up in his Jeep and staring you all down like he actually had some semblance of authority. It was laughable, especially to Angus, “Get your scrawny butts over here!”

“Morning, Coach,” Jason smiled, hands in his pockets as Angus lagged behind.

You and Shavonne, on the other hand, stood back and shared quiet laughs at the situation. It’s not like you could help it, when your body was minutes away from crashing into the deepest sleep of your life, it was hard not to find every little thing at least kind of hilarious.

“What’s going on?” He berated the two football players like an angry father.

“False alarm, Coach.” Angus said nonchalantly and you could tell that he was over the conversation already. All he wanted was to get to the city to buy Aerosmith tickets.

“Come here, Tully.” The coach beckoned and you couldn’t quite hear over the conversation, but the angry look on Angus’s face told everything you needed to know about  what was happening.

“How can you talk that way, huh?” Angus’s voice was loud as he took a step back from the vehicle, looking over his shoulder and at you for a brief moment before turning back around, “You don’t know any of them, what do you know about bad fucking influences? You think I’m some perfect angel?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m willing to wipe the slate clean if you straighten up, stop hanging out with these hoodlums and sign the goddamn commitment.”

“Hoodlums?” You and Slater said together, both looking at Angus and the coach with half-lidded, red eyes.

Angus rubbed a hand over his mouth, letting out a breathy chuckle, “You know what coach,” he started, looking back at you again, a smile on his lips, “I gotta get going. Me and my loser friends, and girlfriend… Well, we’re gonna go get Aerosmith tickets. Can’t be fucking late. Top priority of the summer.”

It was a subtle mention, but the title of ‘girlfriend’ made your stomach swirl in all sorts of ways and you could see Shavonne’s devilish smirk in your peripheral vision.

Angus began making his way back over to you, but then he spun on his feet, looking back to Jason and coach, “Oh, coach,” he said, digging into his pocket and retracing his steps back to the Jeep, “I forgot,” he cleared his throat, crumpling the paper, “I might play ball, but I will never sign that.”

The taller boy tossed the paper right into his vehicle, jaw clenching and staring daggers at him before turning back around and heading your way, huffing as he let his anger dissipate and the coach sped away.

“Shit, man, that’s livin’!” Wooderson grinned, giving Angus’s hand a smack, “Now come on, I’m getting my third wind. Let’s get on the road.”

“You comin’ man?” Slater spoke up, looking at Angus, then to you, “You’re definitely coming.”

“Oh, I am?” You snorted, shoving Slater playfully as you walked next to Angus, your hand slipping into his almost perfectly, “What about you guys?” You shot a look over to Shavonne and Jason, the latter looking like he’s going to collapse any minute.

“No, I’m tired,” he mumbled, hardly able to open both eyes as Angus tossed his keys to Shavonne. The blond looked at Angus, smacking his lips a few times, “So, that’s that, huh?

Angus shrugged his shoulders, looking at his friend and giving him a couple pats on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later, man,” he told him, nodding and watching as Shavonne began dragging him over to Angus’s car.

You and Slater settled into the backseat of Wooderson’s car, passing a joint back and forth as wind rushed through the open windows and left your hair blowing wildly around. Angus would look back at you every so often, checking on you and shooting that charismatic smile of his as music blared loudly through the radio – Slow Ride by Foghat.

You know, things may not have gone the way you wanted them to go, but hell, it was better than a shitty night stuck at home. Your lip was busted, nose still throbbing, and you didn’t really have an answer to what was going on with you and Benny and it wracked you with guilt.

But you’re only seventeen, you’re meant to make fucking mistakes, lots of them – to learn from them. That’s the fun of life because if you hadn’t fucked up as much as you did, you wouldn’t have been with your favourite people, riding off to the city with the smell of weed and summer break tickling your nose.

Angus’s eyes met your own once again, those stupid, big brown eyes. You passed the joint over, grinning like a fool as he winked at you. 

There was nothing but the morning sun rising in the sky, great music and even better friends – and you knew summer was going to be full of everything you needed.

[bahbah-bee]

- Tiger Lily - (Yandere! Namjoon x Reader) - Part 1

Warnings: Slight ABO, smut/noncon (not this part), kidnapping, innuendos, harassment, gaslighting, drugs, forced undressing, nonconsensual touching, slavery/forced prostitution, dark themes. You have been warned.

Summary: To be a flower maiden is to know pain. Pain that comes many forms. It's too bad for you that your curse is not well known, and running from the only man who knows about it, won't do you much good. Run while you can... for when he catches you, there's no telling how he'll ravage you.

Note: I have no idea what time line I wrote this for lol. I’m also thinking of making this a series with the other members, so if you like it, please let me know! This is inspired by the Yuri Manwha Kang Unnie.

Your clothes had always smelled of smoke.

Not because you enjoyed the bad habit, but because as you grew older smoke was the only thing able to cover the scent. The scent of the Tiger Lily. The scent ranged from cigarettes, to old incense, to burnt ash from the fireplace. Your parents never took chances when it came to you. Fear always glimmered in their eyes; Fear that their only child would get taken away to be a noble's toy, never to be seen again.

It was a bright summer day, when you first interacted with Namjoon. With no idea as to who he was, he was the first person to see past the smoke.

You wished you had been more careful; More cautious as to who you interacted with. But the Tiger Lily came with a curse. And it was naïve of you to believe you could escape the curse.

"Are you alright?"

It took a moment for you to realize that a young gentleman had bumped into you. The arms that had wrapped around your own, allowed for a more stable support. Strong muscles hardened over time, with scars easily noticeable underneath long sleeves.

It was the first thing you noticed about him. Second, were his eyes. They gleamed mahogany and dared those that didn't know him to lean in a bit closer. You wanted to lean in closer. Sadly, you did not have that luxury. Especially, when that very same man was apologizing for falling into your lap and ruffling your skirts.

"I really am so clumsy." He rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "It is not gentlemanly to be falling into a young ladies lap."

He grabbed your right hand and kissed it, looking into your own eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he raised himself up before looking around. You had been sitting at a nearby fountain with a book in one hand, when he had stumbled upon you. It was a common habit of yours, when taking a break from the old apothecary your parents ran. It was a nice place to take a rest from the outside world; a place where no one had to worry about greedy individuals in the dark. Your own refuge.

It was when you had been in the middle of a kissing scene, that you heard a scuffle occurring nearby. The strange man had been perusing the shops nearby, when someone had ran into his shoulder, and shoved him to the cobblestone at your feet. In the process of catching himself from the fall, he had managed to face plant into your colorful skirts.

"It's quite alright sir." You giggled. "I'm just glad you are not hurt. Some of the people around here can be quite rude." He smiled at that before tilting his head.

"Still, it was not appropriate of me. Though I am curious, you smoke ma'am?"

No one had asked it outright as forthcoming as that in the past.

"Why no-" you chuckled "my parents just enjoy it, and who I am I to judge them for the habit."

There was a hum from his side, before he bowed before you. "Well, my lady, it was lovely meeting you, albeit in the wrong circumstances." He looked over at someone that was approaching quickly. They seemed to be in servant attire. A large tailcoat and white cuffs clipped at the wrist. Peculiar for a small town like yours.

"You really shouldn't run off like that -"

He shook his head at the man approaching. They shut their mouth and backed up a step, giving the gentleman his space. He sighed. It seemed that was his notice to leave.

Before the clumsy man left, he managed to look over his shoulder and asked you one last question. "What might my savior's name be?"

"(Y/N). And yours?"

He paused, thinking over his response. His eyes flitted over your attire, the long skirts that dragged in the dirt. The corset framing your bodice. The way you fidgeted your hands together.

"Namjoon. Just Namjoon."

You didn't think anything of your interaction with Namjoon. He wore peasant clothing, and yet held himself in a more gentlemanly manner than most commoners you lived with. If anything, your interaction with him had made your day.

It wasn't until later in the day, when your parents reminded you to keep the incense burning in the home, that you remembered why you can't get close to men. They would just use you, and drag you away for their own selfish desires.

That is what happened to all flower maidens.

Flower maidens were around for as long as you could remember. They were always young ladies born with seeds implanted in them. Seeds that on their 21st birthday, would bloom across them starting all the way from the nape to their back all the way to their bottom, creating imagery of gorgeous flowers unlike any tattoo or painting could ever envision. Blooming in real time, more alluring than anything. Each maiden embodied a different flower, all the way to the way their hair shined in the sun, to the powerful scent given off by each fair lady. To be a flower maiden, was to be an angel incarnate.

These ladies were cursed though. For even though they held immense beauty and could bewitch any man that came across their path. The blooming's held a price.

Starting from the first blooming, the maiden would be weak to anyone that came across them, unable to fend for themselves or against anyone that came to take advantage of them. Their minds would be primed only for the sexual desires of themselves and others, ravaged by the sensations that occurred across their skin. A fire and pain that only got worse the longer they ignored the want for someone inside them. It was said that the pleasure from bedding a flower maiden was unlike anything feasible on earth.

To "protect" the flower maidens, the royals and nobility created a garden hidden away. This garden held all the rare and beautiful flower maidens, and treated them like nobility themselves. The cost being that, a flower maiden must always give themselves to the nobility that visited and paid. It was a "treat for all the nobles hard work". A life of a gilded cage of prostitution. All nobles agreed that watching a maiden writhe around in want and need, as pansies, poinsettia's, roses, and more, spread like a new painting across their bosom was mesmerizing.

The clientele were highborn, and with that came the expectation that a flower maiden may never leave. Every flower maiden that has entered that garden has died before the age of thirty five. It is said that the thorns and blooms wrap around their heart, swallowing them whole of loneliness. Nobles pay millions to enjoy the final blooming of a flower maiden and it is common knowledge that there is no known cure.

There has always been speculation, however, and in your heart you always hold out hope. Hope that by the time your blooming comes, you will have found a way to beat the death curse.

As you pass your hand over the seed on your thigh, you are reminded of this. The seed that would one day bloom into beautiful pink and orange Tiger Lily's.

Your parents always said that the Tiger Lily represented wealth and pride. That was what scared them so. Fear that the nobility would snatch you away. That you would be cursed by their pride and wealth in an endless loop. A toy for them to enjoy.

You refused to be that for them.

When you were sixteen you first noticed a scent start to appear. Your parents quickly moved homes, albeit not easily due to the poverty you all suffered from. Incense soon became common in your household as well. But they refused to allow you to be taken. For they knew they could not afford the cost to visit the gardens, lest you be taken, and knew that you were worth so much more than a life in an esteemed brothel.

It was a dangerous game, but one they were willing to pay.

It was the law that any flower maiden born in Korea be handed over to the government from birth. It was easier to raise a lady into prostitution, than to convince her it was her duty to her kingdom later in life.

The cost of hiding one, was death.

"(Y/N)! Dinner's almost ready!"

You looked one last time at the seed at your thigh.

"Coming!"

“What have you been reading about this time?”

Looking up from your book, you made eye contact with your parents in the kitchen. They both were cleaning up from the days meal, and you could notice a hunch in their shoulders from the days work at the apothecary. You shrugged.

“It’s just another fairytale romance. Prince falls in love with a peasant girl and love happily ever after.-“ Your mother smiled. “You know how they go.”

“I’m glad you’re still able to enjoy those things.” She patted her hands on her apron, before grabbing the flour off the table, reorganizing the pantry as she meandered.

“I will be needing some help in the shop tomorrow. You know how busy it gets on Wednesdays. Is that alright?” Your mother never wanted to impede on your personal studies. It was rare for a women to be educated, so she prioritized your own before the need for money.

“Of course. Nine o’clock?”

“On the dot.”

She blew a bit of dust off a shelf, and wiped a few things down before settling in next to you on the lounge. It creaked under the weight, with old florals stained over time, but made no other noise. She wrapped her arm around your back and held you close. She smelled of smoke and ash, although, you knew she hated it. But she loved you more.

It was as your eyes were starting to shut. The warmth and breath lulling you to sleep, that you heard three knocks on the door.

They were concise and clear.

It was unclear to you, why someone would be knocking at this hour. Many individuals should have settled in for the night by now, or at least been off the streets. Your parents were intrigued by who was at the door as well, as they looked at each other in suspicion, before you felt the warm touch of your mother leave your side.

Their steady footsteps rang out as they approached the door. A creak was heard as the hinges squeaked open. And on the other side stood a royal guard.

You froze in your seat.

The officer took off his hat and held it at his waist.

“Excuse me, ma’am. So sorry to intrude at this late of an hour.” He peaked his head in, making eye contact at you before smiling. “My name is Officer Jungkook. We were alerted of a disturbance on this property. May we come in?” He paused to allow your guardians a moment to process the request.

They looked at each other before nodding. No one could deny an officer of the king.

“Of course. Please don’t stand outside too long. It’s far too cold for anyone to be out.” She waved her arms inside, before around ten men entered the premises. Each one donned in navy blue, with patches of red on their shoulders, designating them as members of the royal forces. They meandered along the walls, dragging fingers along surfaces, led by none other than the individual introducing himself as Jungkook. He looked around with hooded eyes, almost as if intrigued by the atmosphere and cozy home.

It wasn’t until he was far into the living room and the door had been shut, that he clapped his hands.

The sound rang out. Like thunder in a storm.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Hands grabbed and vases flew, as you were apprehended by multiple men. Your parents yelled out for you as you were dragged back screaming and kicking. They were not far better as men dragged them away to a back corner. Muffled yells and tears were the only thing you could hear from your parents.

“Let me go!” You went to bite your oppressors hand, but they quickly brought their hand back before another grabbed your head and held your jaw shut.

“Search her.”

You snapped your head to look over at Officer Jungkook. The order was quick, and if one were not paying attention, they would have missed it. Too bad for you, the royal guards were paying very close attention. Within a second, you had been stripped of your blouse and hands were touching all over your shoulders, back, and neck. You quickly yelled out, as no one had seen or even touched you in those areas before. Face heating up, you kept kicking and shoving at anyone that dared lay a hand on you.

The head guard snapped his fingers in front of the faces of his men quickly.

"Enough of this! The report was for a scent near the skirts. Don't undress the women more than is necessary!" There were a few mumbled apologies before your bodice was thrown back over your shoulders and instead your skirts were pulled down. The situation seemed to be getting worse by the second. You yelled out, as their hands passed over your skin. Brushing over calves and thighs, before finally landing on what they were looking for.

You shook in their grasps, as one of their hands gently passed over the indent of a seed on your thigh.

Your cursed Tiger Lily.

"It's in the middle of the thigh, sir."

Quickly, your skirts were pulled up, but not before the arms around your waist tightened further. Head Guard Jungkook nodded his head and looked pleased before turning to your parents, tailcoat whirling behind him.

"The cost for housing a flower maiden is death. In accordance with our laws, you will be escorted to the palace where you will await trial. This process can take weeks or months, but it is within your best interests to come silently, as we may have to use more force than necessary otherwise." While the other guards were groaning at every jab you sent back, the head guard seemed to be fairly content with the events of the evening. Your parents heads hung low in shame. They had failed protecting their little girl.

He slowly walked over to you. The way he held himself was almost bunny like, with a chagrin smile and mischievous brown eyes. He was just as mesmerizing as the man you had seen earlier. He leaned in close to you and took a piece of hair within his grasp, twirling it around his finger, before his grin reached larger across his face.

"Poor little maiden, I'm sorry you've been cooped up here so long. I can assure you that we will -"

"Piss off fucker!" You snarled. The smile slightly slipped, but never disappeared.

"It seems you are a bit confused. That is of no worry, Wonho?" He held out his hand. One of the guards seemed to get the memo.

"Yes sir!" A needle was placed into Jungkook's hand. Your eyes narrowed onto it. Gritting you teeth, you gave the man your deepest glare.

He smiled. "Don't worry fair flower maiden, in time -" He pulled off the cap. "You will see that this is your true purpose."

You felt a needle plunge into your neck, before everything went dark.

Note:

Hello Everyone! This story is a lot darker than anything I've ever written. This part was about halfway done when I first started writing Snatched Part two, so I can assure you that is coming out soon as well. But boy, do I have a bad habit of trying to write one-shots and them turning into multiple parts. I'm expecting this to be about two to three parts. Hope you all enjoyed! Let me know what you think. Your comments make my day! Who do we think Namjoon is? Is there more to the curse?

[peachyloveswriting]

Can I get knives and vash {separate} hc with fem reader whose personality is like nausicaa from valley of the wind? I think it would be interesting because maybe she's kinda an outcast from everyone else cuz she's willing to embrace all forms of life, even those that might scare other humans like imagine her calming the most dangerous animal! I think that would be nice, have a nice day/night or noon/evening

This makes for a perfect introduction as for why Knives would have taken interest in the reader in the first place so I like this idea. This is very short because I couldn't think of anything else.

Beast Tamer --- Millions Knives & Vash the Stampede

SUMMARY: Headcanons of the twins reaction to a reader who's like Nautica from Valley of the wind.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Knives

Knives had arrived in the town for the plant, but he began hearing rumors of an outcast, they lived just outside of town. As per reputation, they called you the Beast Tamer. He was intrigued by this title and sought you out. When he found you he expected some huge human with taxidermied animal heads tacked up to the walls. Instead he found you, a small, quiet, sweet, human. He tried to put your appearance past you and inquired about this rumor. He requested that you show him the most dangerous animal you've ever tamed.

You led him out to the middle of the sands, far from any city, alone. Just the two of you. Knives was getting impatient but then he saw the sand below fly though the air. It revealed a massive worm. It pummeled straight for you and for a moment he dared to jump in its path to protect you. Why? He doesn't know.

You let out a short sharp whistle and the worm came to a screeching halt just feet from where you stand. Knives watched in awe as you stepped up to the idle creature and brave smile on your face as you reached out to pet its snout.

He was simply amazed by such a huge feat and offered for you to come with him and teach him how to tame such powerful beasts. Without anyone keeping you from leaving you took him up on his offer and left with him to the city of Ju'lai.

While Knives is notorious for being impatient at times he never seems to have trouble watching you sit still and calm even the most dangerous of creatures. He believes it's a gift given to you from the higher dimension. In some instances he believes you to be a plant.

He finds that your calming capabilities don't just work on animals but people as well, you have an amazing eye for what calms people down and more often than not you disengage situations where Knives tries to kill someone. Though he finds it annoying he's also fascinated that you have an ability so strong.

With this knowledge he makes you work with Con'rad and calming the people he tests and drugs constantly. Though it's inhuman you don't fight it as you find it nice to relieve someone of their mental stresses. This also applies to knives but he's noticed that you heavily take after his brother. While you strongly advocate for the circle of life and death you also don't advocate killing someone. Not unless it's for a good reason.

He finds you so intriguing that he can't help but keep you around for the sake of his own curiosity. You're truly a wonder to him.

Vash

First hearing of this outcast he didn't give it a second thought, until he began to hear rumors of your strange feats and abilities. It bothered him to hear people call you a monster, some even believing that you might not be human. Vash honestly wondered if you might have been plant before you met him and even still wondered so after he met you.

Curious. He decided to sate his own need for answers by showing up to your house and waltzing right in. From the get go he asked you so many questions, even exposing his identity as a plant to you to try and get answers. He found that you were very easy to talk too and even had many pets of your own.

He found your presence in general calming, you weren't even scared knowing that he was Vash the Stampede. You shrugged it off like he was nothing and offered your home as refuge for him and any of his friends. Of course he swore to come back and visit just so you wouldn't be lonely. Vash kept his promise and came back to you once a month.

Every time that he'd come back you'd have a new animal roaming around outside your door some even growling at him to keep him outside. These were the times he really got to see you at work calming these vicious animals. He thought it was amazing what you could do and didn't single you out for it.

Later on he even found that it wasn't just the animals you had this effect on, it was him too. He told you about the dangers he comes across on the daily and asked if you wanted to travel with him. to keep him company and keep any animal he might cross paths with at bay. You were very fond of him by this point so you happily agreed and left with him.

He loves watching play with the animals you find, almost as if they were house pets. Even more so does he love it when you quell his worries with just a single touch.

[wroteclassicaly]

All these people in the gator and fargo tag complaining of people thirsting over gator, calling him a nazi and how dare people find the humanity in him but praising joe for his great job like he didnt find the humanity in this character and played him to be someone you feel for. 🤡

Then being pro munch like he doesnt have problematic traditional values either

Honestly so tired of these people virtue signaling and having no nuance or media literacy for the sake of internet points, its exhausting and they just look annoying and stupid

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to answer this, because I’m trying to stay out of things. But I’ve gotten several messages like this, and I’m writing for Gator, so I feel like I owe my take on him, which had a major influence on my choice to continue.

TW below the cut, discussing Gator and his issues:

I live in a Midwestern, republican town. Everyone here owns flags like Gator’s, has blue lives matter flags, etc. If you’re raised into that life and it’s all your family knows/the people around you know - you will likely adapt to that way of thinking as well. I was fortunate enough to be able to break away from how the people around me thought and felt, forming my own opinions and expressing my disgust for the blue lives matter crap and the flag, etc. My parents are heavily republican (carry all that side’s beliefs) and so is my brother.

It’s an incredibly suffocating and confusing environment to grow up in, especially if you have no way to safely think and form your own opinions. Again, I’m grateful I could break away and think for myself!!!!

Now, discussing Gator. I just want to say that it never said he was a Nazi! Roy was. Gator was misogynistic and racist.

I’m going to compare Gator to a character called Mickey Milkovich (now this will probably upset people, due to Mickey’s character being a gay man), but I’m mostly comparing fathers/environments. Mickey and Gator were raised by two dangerous and horrific men, who beat and brain washed their sons into one way of thinking - theirs. Products of their environment, (Mickey used slurs, had flags like Gator, weapons, drugs, and even had nazi items on his wall) and what is called ‘learned racism’. They have no safe way to think for themselves, no other people around to show them love or kindness, help lead them towards a different way. Mickey found that with Ian and was able to develop and fully nurture the kindness/goodness that was in him, and he had over ten seasons to grow!

Gator only had Nadine and 10 episodes. When she left he began to let his warped devotion to the only person he had a blood connection with - flood him, outweigh his own personal goodness. Dot said it herself when she said his need to be like Roy outweighed the goodness inside. He was a product of the father and the environment. He didn’t have his own way of thinking, not really, he clung to what was beat and brainwashed into him, trying to find love and approval from his abuser/only blood relative/only person he was around (very common).

Am I excusing that? Absolutely not! Gator was not entirely a good person, and he knew that as well! He made choices he knew were wrong, to impress and gain affection from a sociopathic, demonic man. Gator was responsible for what he did, so this is not me trying to excuse or argue that!!

The only way for him to become free of who he was molded to be (he has no clue who he is, just a weak prototype of what he tried to be, hardly anything that is his own), was for him to become blind in order to see, and start serving his time. They left his ending open, which is a great way for those of us who choose to write for him - to explore his mental freedom and further nurture the soft/good side of him!

We don’t know how Gator would act or think (he was immediately apologetic to Dot and didn’t hesitate to give Roy up when he saw he wasn’t loved or cared for, so he didn’t need to protect his father), now that he is away from the environment and the man that molded him into the character he was on the show.

Gator was still a child trapped in a man’s body in some aspects; his temper tantrums, his knee jerk reactions, his hot headed plans without thought, his bedroom items (the toy cars, the sneakers, etc), his blinding anger towards Dot for leaving him behind (not even faulting her, because baby girl needed to get out and I’m glad she did). The show also alluded to the fact that he might have been addicted to some kind of substance he was stealing, as well.

Feelings on Munch are that he’s got just as much issues, lol. And we hardly knew much on him, tbh? What he did in the past, other than what he said.

Anyways, that’s my take on Gator.

We all have the right to feel how we feel!! Hate or love Gator, see his humanity or not. Some of the things his character represented effect a whole lot of people, so they have a right to be upset! There’s a lot of different factors and feelings involved!! I only look sideways at you if you thought his torture and eyes getting burnt/cut was what he deserved, because that’s just gross!

But at the end of the day, none of us who do love Gator/write for him — condone Gator’s actions! Seeing the layers and humanity in a character Joe put his all into, is perfectly normal/okay!

Sometimes there’s areas in between, and it’s not just either/or.

But I will say that not everyone who feels this way is just doing it for internet points! A lot of people have valid points/feelings about the dislike of Gator, to which I will not/have no business arguing, you know? There’s also other people that make callout posts for clout and false superiority, without even recognizing what Gator actually did and they just pull stuff outta their ass, lol.

If you don’t like Gator fans or writers, then just scroll!! It’s easy, I promise! No one is hurting anyone or being malicious!! ❤️

[sorendeimos]

In the quiet hours of the night... his mind is deafening.

How I perceive Severus Snape, part 2 | part 1

Notes: Go into this understanding that to Me, Severus is deeply flawed and broke and trauma filled. There are parts of him I see as soft and squishy, covered by hate to keep Them from bruising. If you don’t like that, do not read this. Otherwise, enjoy.

TW: Mentions of alcohol abuse, drug abuse, sex, physical and emotional abuse, poor mental health, death, manipulation Please do not read if you cannot handle these topics. This part is a lot lighter than part one, though it still has a few sore spots.

Positive Attributes

𖤐 studious and driven, severus is someone to have on your side when you need information. He likely already knows what you need and where to find it. 𖤐 severus is attentive, noticing things you likely didn’t. This often leads to him giving support before needed or compensating for things ahead of time. 𖤐 severus is quite witty and funny, he’s often cracking jokes, but his deadpan tone often makes Them fall flat. 𖤐 severus is incredibly thoughtful, especially when giving gifts. He observes people constantly, and his gifts to others on holidays or birthdays are often times things that are so touching, it's staggering.

𖤐 moments of bliss 𖤐

Negative Attributes

𖤐 severus is so incredibly stubborn. Once he has an idea to do something, well, he will not give up, even if doing it causes him personal harm. 𖤐 severus doesn’t sleep well, so he is constantly grumpy and snappish. 𖤐 severus has terrible social skills and a carefully black tone and expression. This often leads to him coming off angry, mean, or spiteful. 𖤐 severus wears his distaste plainly. It’s clear if he hates you. 𖤐 compliments are earned, to him, so you doing well or being kind to him often doesn’t come with thanks or praise, which can make him seem standoffish. 𖤐 insults are his way of expressing love and care.

𖤐 severus as song lyrics 𖤐

Musical tastes

𖤐 severus never stuck to one genre or another. The music of her youth is that chosen from discard or discount bins. 𖤐 lots of the music severus holds dear is music that is a gift or a moment of perspective shifting.𖤐 her favourite music to brew to us, classical OR absolute rubbish noise music. It depends on what is brewing, delicate potions get the latter. 𖤐 severus owns multiple band tees, also usually discounted, all unknown.𖤐 severus gets a lot of Her love for classical music from ballet classes with Lily. Her favourite pieces spawn from duets they created or performed together and she still hums them to herself often.

𖤐 severus’s playlist 𖤐

Severus has a dynamic relationship with music, it’s typically all around him either playing in his head, him humming while working, or playing out loud while he brews. His tastes are varying, vast, unexpected and usually not the same day to day.

Severus’s clothing

𖤐 for a very long time, clothing meant absolutely nothing. Clothes were a means of covering herself and keeping warm or staying cool. It isn’t until years down the road, probably around 14 or 15, that style mattered. 𖤐 severus, after a day of ballet class, went into town with Lily to hunt down some new leotards and, on a dare, tried one on. It was tight, constricting. She loved it. Lily bought her the leotard and some tights. 𖤐 from that day forward, the pair of them would find and try on anything and everything, Lily gaining a love for baggy cargo pants and jeans, severus a love for dresses and skirts

𖤐 Pinterest outfits severus would wear 𖤐

╰⌲ teens

╰⌲ twenties

hobbies

𖤐 severus has very few hobbies and usually things that were found to be creepy or entirely unexpected 𖤐 they can draw, often doing flowers, bugs, or creatures in the margins of their textbooks and adding art to assignments. 𖤐 severus also does ballet with lily and has for years. The two of them have done duets, individual performances, and won awards. They practice during the school year in a neglected wing that the two of them transfigured. 𖤐 severus also paints, plays piano and violin, can sing, writes long-winded essays on long forgotten topics, and speaks four languages besides English. 𖤐 the languages: German, Latin, Korean, and French.

End Part Two

[18caramel]

Before I leave (Ponyboy Curtis x Curly Shepard)

Curly Shepard, a known prostitute around Tulsa. And Ponyboy Curtis, the one who fell for him.

tags: aged-up characters, angst, romance, family issues warnings: smut, prostitution, drug use and pejorative speech word count: 3.7k ao3 link: here A/N: my song suggestion would be anything heartbreaking or tragic by LDR ofc

pics from pinterest

When Sandra Shepard, mother of three children, went missing on a random Sunday evening, Shepards went silent. Darrel Curtis, naturally preoccupied with everyone, just like his younger brother Sodapop, tried talking it out with Tim, forcing him to go to the police. 

Three years later, they still didn’t know what happened to her. She was an alcoholic and used to disappear from time to time, so the cops didn’t give it much thought, leaving Tim, Curly, and Angela on their own. They had to survive. Do something to make ends meet. And it wasn’t easy to contribute to the family. Especially for Curly Shepard.

It was another summer without Johnny and Dallas by Ponyboy’s side. A few years flew by, and he found new friends, got accepted to college, and impatiently waited for the next chapter in his life. Nothing was holding him back. Or at least he thought so. 

He didn’t remember when he first started seeing Curly downtown, erratically walking with a girl under his arm, but mainly with guys Ponyboy had never seen before. These men sometimes looked to be the same age as Curly, but often they were quite older. He had never seen Curly leave off alone. As Darry used to tell him - whatever that hoodlum had become, it was none of his business. Shepards were trouble. As soon as Angela hit the majority, she got married off to some idiot, and Tim was planning on doing some paperwork to discuss the heritage but was quickly troubled by his mother’s missing status. He could barely afford to live in that house.

Pony didn’t know how to approach his old friend at first. Curly dropped out of school a while ago, even if he had only a year left. And now Pony saw him every day standing by the liquor store, smoking a cigarette, his eyes constantly drifting from left to right, waiting for someone, maybe even anyone. Pony didn’t understand at first what was happening to him. He wanted to come up to Curly and have some kind of small talk, but his legs wouldn’t walk, and his tongue stood still. He never felt anything like that. Never.

Curly didn’t lose his charm over the years. Yes, he seemed a little worn out, but his clothes were always tight and neat, showing off his slim, perfect figure. His curly hair was usually slightly greased, and his teeth were nicely polished. Pony saw them shine from a mile away whenever a stranger passed by, and it always seemed to Pony that Curly was trying hard to impress all of the mystery men. And all of it wasn’t for Ponyboy Curtis.

Curly’s eyes blazed with desire and wildness each time he’d notice Curtis stare at him bluntly, secretly biting his tongue, not daring to come and say hello. He noticed him right away - Shepard learned to read through people too, and Ponyboy surely wasn’t there just to greet him and talk about the good old times. No, Curtis wanted more than that. Curly watched him come out of the library at about six, his school bag hanging from his shoulder, his hair all ruffled, and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He was growing to be a gorgeous young man, soon going off to college. And Curly would remain standing there, in the corner of the street, waiting for his regulars to show up.

There was something about Curly Shepard that Pony tried hard to figure out but couldn’t.

At first, Pony thought Curly was dealing. Because who didn’t? And then why would he wait for all of these random people? There was no other possible answer for Ponyboy Curtis.

That was until Two-Bit came by on a Saturday evening and started debriefing a few rumors going around the town. Steve Randle sat in the recliner, clearly a bit drunk, and was giving his honest opinion about Angela’s marriage which none of them was invited to.

“She married that dork last week,” Steve finally laid off his beer, keeping his eyes closed for a second, “Shepard didn’t even call Darry. Hell, he probably wasn’t even there.” 

“Yeah,” Two-Bit carried on, pinching the hole in his sock, as if he could magically fix it with his touch, “I saw Curly downtown the day Angela was tying the knot. It surely didn’t occur to him at all.” 

“Curly Shepard,” Steve stretched out his arms, almost spilling his beer, “That manwhore…” 

Pony almost choked on his saliva when he heard it. His body began to tremble, and his cheeks grew slightly pink, and then he knew, he knew it must’ve been true. But he still couldn’t stop waiting until the next day he’d come to the library and see him in the corner of the street. And he couldn’t stop gazing at him. He learned all of the unfamiliar faces, their walk, their gestures. He couldn’t believe it to be true, no, Curly couldn’t have been doing it. Only women did. Not Curly Shepard. 

But then it did seem that way. He surely must’ve smelled good, as Ponyboy often imagined it, and wore the freshest clothes. He never had anything else with him, not even a bag, only his jacket in the evenings, where he shoved his masculine hands, protecting them from the cold breeze. Pony was the last one to get out of the library every single time he went there. He got used to seeing the same old lady surveilling the books, and they even ended up forming some kind of friendship. The lady told him about an available summer job, and Pony started seriously considering it. Yes, Pony went to the library even during summer, but less than in spring. At first, it wasn’t for Curly but for school, then for his obsession with English and American literature, but quickly Shepard did become his main intention. He came during the weekdays, but then mostly on Friday and Saturday evenings too. 

It was becoming a mania. Pony ran his hands through his hair, adjusted his collar, put on some cologne, and was convinced that Curly was going to come and finally talk to him. They saw each other every single fucking time, but no one made the first step. And that’s what made it so obvious and irremediable - Curly Shepard and Ponyboy Curtis desired to get closer with each other. 

Pony wasn’t capable of stopping going to that damned library, on the contrary by the beginning of August he went there almost every day. But then, suddenly, Curly wasn’t in the corner of the street anymore. Pony panicked that day, and went to sit by the window, peeking through the glass, as if was tracking him down. He didn’t come. The next day he wasn’t there either. 

It finally happened at the end of August. Something clicked in Pony’s head, something terrible and tormenting and Pony got frightened by one simple thought - what if Curly had left?

What if someone kidnapped him? What if he was found lifeless on the floor? What if Pony would never see him again? What if he lost his chance?

And then Steve and Two-Bit weren’t helping Pony at all. They often talked about Shepards, especially about their money problems. But he never dared to participate in their talk. So one day Ponyboy swallowed all of his pride and decided to ask Darry about them. 

“Dar, how is Tim doing?” 

“Not that good,” Darry’s lips formed a straight line, “He’s always talking about selling the house these days since he’s the only one living in it. But I don’t think he will.” 

Darry continued talking about heritage, how Tim would mostly spend all of the money in a casino the following day he’d sign the papers, and how it was probably impossible anyway, but Pony had no interest in his talk. He wanted to know where Curly lived. Was it right there next to the liquor store? And why wouldn’t he be living with Tim anymore?

When Pony sprinted to the library that same evening, he quickly realized how dear Curly was to him. Their childhood memories reappeared, and Pony could swear that he felt an aching sensation up in his gut. And then he was mad. Angry with Shepard for choosing to live like that. Angry that he saw other men. Disappointed in him. 

He intended to address him and give him a piece of his mind. That it was wrong and he shouldn’t have been giving his body away to make a living out of it. Anything, but this. 

Curly was there, wearing a white tank top, showing off his broad tanned shoulders, smoking another cigarette, making sure not to stain his clothes. There was a tad of surprise in his dimmed eyes, and he quickly adjusted his posture when he saw Ponyboy running to him. 

“Something’s wrong, Curtis?” Curly frowned his eyebrows, scanning Ponyboy from head to toe. Pony just stood there, trying to catch his breath. 

“You know,” Curly looked left and right, searching the road, “You shouldn’t be out here so late, all by yourself.”

“You’re here right?” Pony wanted to make a joke out of it but saw that it didn’t please Shepard. 

“I am.” Curly mumbled, “And I’m not.” 

Pony always wondered about those draining words he had pronounced that evening. And he thought of his lonely eyes, his stolen dim, those eyes that had seen it all. 

“You better leave, Curtis,” Curly whispered to him, making a step closer so that his friend could feel his breath on his lips. “You don’t want to be seen by my side.”

“What if I want to?” It took him a lot of courage to say it. He trembled on the inside, but he was being honest with Curly for once. He couldn’t live without it any longer. And the idea of leaving for college frightened him even more. 

“I know you do,” Curly’s voice sent shivers down Pony’s spine. It was as if he was in a trance when he followed Shepard to his apartment, his body floated, and his stomach ached as he climbed up the stairs to a sketchy door, waiting for Shepard to put the keys into the lock. 

They were in complete darkness when their bodies collided and their tongues twisted in a dance they’d been longing for the past couple of weeks. Pony was no good in any of it, he was still inexperienced and a bit shy, and Curly was the polar opposite, but it didn’t matter that night. Curly stripped down his clothes, ripping the buttons of his shirt, sending them on the floor - another memory Curly would keep for whenever he needed to feel warmth. And Ponyboy was a fool for Shepard, he brushed his hand through his curly hair, hearing a slight moan escape from his lips, and couldn’t help but think about all those times Curly would moan for other men. He suddenly felt his stomach twist and he sat on the bed, his chest filled with sorrow. 

“Pony, what’s wrong?” Curly sat beside him, gently pressing his head against his. If only they could stay like that forever. 

“You don’t have to keep doing it.” 

Curly knew exactly what he meant, so he stayed silent. There was no way to explain to Pony everything he had gone through these couple of years. Pony had two loving brothers, and all Curly had left was a broken family. He managed well to hold his tears and kiss Pony’s neck, his lips trailing down to his naked torso. Pony let go of his thoughts when Curly’s teeth met his skin, and he felt butterflies in his stomach, his cheeks were burning up too. He never felt anything like that before. 

The pleasure was unmatched. When Curly dropped to his knees, there was not a single hint of fear or disgust in his eyes. He wanted to do it. Maybe Pony wasn’t a simple client, he was more than that, or at least he believed it each time he’d go back to that sweet memory of Curly’s lips wrapped around his length, his tongue underneath, sliding up and down, making Pony’s soul leave his body. 

Curly probably did it all the time anyway, Pony imagined but quickly realized that he couldn’t continue having these kinds of thoughts. He had to relax. He wanted it. 

Curly sucked him off pretty well. There was nothing special about giving another blowjob to someone, but he did enjoy it with Ponyboy. He always liked him when they were still friends, Pony was handsome, shy, and a bit weird from time to time, but Curly could never call him lame or boring, no, he always respected him. And now being able to kiss his lips, feel him, was a real treat for Curly Shepard. Because he longed for it for all these past months. 

That’s what made it so sweet. They waited a long time before doing it, almost like a normal teenage couple, almost as if they just recently got married. But the reality was different. Curly was prostituting himself. Giving his body to all kinds of men. And he deeply despised it. 

Curly wanted to take Pony so hard, that he abruptly stopped the pleasure he was giving him, and got back near Pony’s face to kiss him. Pony was so gentle. He was still a virgin, but even if he wouldn’t be one, Ponyboy Curtis had always been a good person. He could never hurt Curly Shepard.

Pony was ready to get laid with him. When Curly helped him undress and pulled his jeans off completely, Pony understood that he was the one who was about to lose his virginity. He didn’t mind because he had never given it much thought. But no, it wasn’t true. Pony thought about sex all the time. It’s just that he has nobody to talk to it about, but he genuinely wanted Curly to fuck him. 

Shepard needed it too. Sex had become a horrid duty to him, and he wanted to finally feel like himself again. He kissed Pony’s neck and left there a hickey, a small violet spot that would remind him of their time together. 

When Ponyboy lay on the bed, getting ready to be penetrated for the first time, he saw that Curly kept a lot of pills on his nightstand. Pony was no fool, he understood quickly that Curly ended up doing drugs like most of the Greasers around town. Pony closed his eyes, imagining what it could’ve been like for Curly if he had at least some kind of support in his life. Would it be different if Tim and Angela cared for him? Of course, it would. 

Curly’s kisses slowly made Pony’s thoughts disappear. Curtis was already very relaxed down there since he had been discovering his body for a some time. That is why when Curly lubed the area and fingered him, it wasn’t painful at all. Pony moaned, living the best experience he thought he ever had in his life. 

Curly, on the other hand, had swallowed a few pills before he’d get his hands on Pony’s body just in case he couldn’t feel like himself. It was a part of his routine. When his mind was finally free, he entered Ponyboy and gave him what he wanted - his first time. Curly still remembered the first time he experienced it, but decided not to visualize the scene again, because it reminded him of the simpler times when he was still living with his siblings and used to go to school, had some money in his pocket that he’d waste on anything he wanted, and not fuck with guys just to have a roof under his head. 

Pony turned him on. Curly grabbed his waist when they switched positions and fucked him so hard, almost forgetting that Ponyboy was still new to it all. Curtis came, and when Curly saw the liquid splurge all over his bedsheets, he came too, inside Ponyboy. Curtis was in a euphoric, but also tired state for a few minutes, and when he finally opened his eyes, Curly was long gone to the bathroom, where he spent at least twenty minutes under the cold water, cleaning himself up. 

Pony got pretty nervous, blaming himself for everything they had done. Maybe they shouldn’t have. Maybe Curly didn’t enjoy sex any longer, maybe Ponyboy only reminded him once again of his job. Biting his lip, he got up from the bed and went to check on him. But Curly seemed fine. He still had a wicked smile on his face when Pony entered the bathroom. And Pony concluded that maybe Curly had enjoyed it, at least a little bit. 

Pony stayed to spend the night with him, almost forgetting that he had to leave the next day. And he felt horribly bad for seeing the reality in which Curly had lived, a small apartment, pills everywhere, dirty clothes, broken window… 

“Curly,” Pony cleared his throat, looking him in the eyes. It was dark and he could barely see his pupils, “Why aren’t you living at your house anymore?”

“This is my place now,” Curly’s lips formed a straight line, “I just wanted to be independent. Wanted to show my siblings that I didn’t have to sell or marry someone to get somewhere in life. But look at me now, I’m getting evicted next week. And Tim told me the house won’t be ours anymore.” 

Pony couldn’t even imagine Curly going homeless even for a day. Angela got married off to someone so she could have a home. And Tim, well, they didn’t know what he had become, probably rented a room somewhere or lived with a friend. Curly was all alone. Pony wanted to suggest something, at least anything, but he quickly ran out of options. Their family bond was broken. It was nothing like with Soda and Darry. They could never let him live on the street all by himself. 

Pony had a sudden urge to tell him how dear he was to him. He forgot about the awkwardness, swallowed his shyness, and began to speak, “Curly, I…” 

But Shepard saw it in his eyes right before he’d say it. His eyes gave it all away, but he didn’t believe them. He didn’t want Pony to say things he’d later regret, or say them out of pity, or worse - because Curly was his first time. And there was no such feeling of love for Curly Shepard. Everyone eventually left. And Pony would too. 

“This could never work out. You are better off without me, I promise you, Ponyboy,” Curly mumbled, his eyes closing, his body drifting off to sleep. 

Ponyboy didn’t cry. He wanted to, but the tears never came. He was so flabbergasted and inspired by what he had experienced that all he wanted to do was scream it to the world, but there was nothing to be so surprised about. He had just slept with someone who was having sex with multiple men all year long. Nothing seemed to make this time more special than the rest. 

But it was. To Pony it was everything. Curly was everything. The way he took him so gently and made love to him, even if usually it was a dreading job. 

Ponyboy was grateful. 

Curly’s future was Pony’s last thought before he drifted off to sleep. All these pills, random men… Everyone knew where it could end.

Pony tossed and turned in his sleep, not being able to let go of his intrusive thoughts about Curly leaving this world. He had another nightmare, but this time it wasn’t about his parents, it was about Curly. In his dream, he had become a junkie. His face was pale, and his perfect teeth had gaps in them, just like the skin of his arms. 

Pony glanced at Curly the second he had opened his eyes. No, he was alright. He was alive and breathing, he was young and careless, the same Curly he always knew. And he loved him for it. 

It struck him like lightning. Curly wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to stay, stay the same, stay here in this horrid place, with these worthless men, and Ponyboy would leave to build his future, leave Curly alone. 

Even if Shepard didn’t allow him to pronounce the big word starting with the letter “L”, Pony couldn’t have left without him knowing. He took a piece of paper on Curly’s desk and began writing.

When Curly woke up in the morning, he couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. He stood up, stretched his arms, and went to brush his teeth. But before he could reach the bathroom, he glanced at the desk. He grinned, taking the paper in his hands. His smile disappeared. 

"Dear Curly,

Sometimes I hate myself for not coming to talk to you sooner. I have to get back home early in the morning because I have to finish packing for college and say goodbye to my brothers. I still can’t forget the words you told me, that you’re always going to be here, but someday you won't,”

Curly took his eyes off the paper for a moment, trying to recall him saying it. 

“This is for you, Curly before I leave.” 

Curly lifted the paper and saw an envelope stuffed with paper bills. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His hands started to shake as he flicked them. The sum in his head rounded up to another month of rent. 

He smiled, cursing himself for having Pony’s money. Of course, if it was another man paying that much he wouldn’t mind. But it was Ponyboy Curtis and he was genuine. There was a paper that came with it, and Curly suddenly realized that it was Ponyboy’s salary. 

He must have been working in the library all summer long. But it wasn’t to pay himself a whore. Pony sincerely wanted to help. This was different. Pony could never leave knowing that Curly was going to be homeless in a few days. 

Curly’s eyes shifted back to the letter and then to the clock above the bed. It was too late now to catch him and give him back the money. But he needed it. He really did. 

Shepard felt a tear slip down his cheek as he read the postscript. 

"Please wait for me, 

Ponyboy Curtis."

hope you enjoyed! if you want to leave a comment on ao3 here’s the link, thank you <3

[groenendaelfic]

Do you think Simon would actually be willing to become the Prince Consort tho?! Like yes he LOVES Wille but I don't think he'd ever wanna officially set a foot in that system let alone give up his career for being a working royal

The quick answer is yes, I think he’d thrive. Go read my fic Becoming Prince Simon for details.

The long answer is that I think that just like we tend to make Wilhelm into this social justice prince who’d love being a house husband and hates being a royal, when in fact he is quite comfortable with ignoring staff while he walks past them in a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants because there’s nothing more normal than living in a palace and having staff cater to him for him, and he actively enjoys ordering Jan-Olof to send him food to the middle of nowhere Hillerska, to name but two examples of how Wilhelm very much doesn’t mind being royal or privileged, and just hates being told what to do or say and having to act like someone he isn’t, Simon, too, isn’t this grand idealist.

Sure he’d like being treated fairly, who doesn't, especially when you always draw the short straw even while following the rules while your classmates get away with breaking them without problem, but the truth is he’s rather pragmatic.

He gets back in contact with his drug addict, alcoholic and to a currently unknown degree abusive father so that he can acquire alcohol for his underage classmates to drink so that Sara can attend a party, and then steals drugs to among other things pay for math tutoring because he wants good grades.

I’m not saying Simon would jump at the chance to join the royal family, but he’d come to see the advantages, and I’m not just talking about him being with Wilhelm, but also all the good he can do. He doesn't need to be a monarchist for that.

So yes, I don’t only think Simon would be willing to become Prince Consort, but that he’d thrive once he got accustomed to the idea.

After all modern day Sweden isn’t Czarist Russia or pre-revolutionary France, you can’t just burn that shit down (and get the Soviet Union or Emperor Napoleon), because that wouldn't work and attempting so would do more harm than good. 

You need reform and systematic change, and to change a system you need to interact with it, for example from the inside, and as spouse to the Crown Prince and later King, Simon would be in the ideal position to affect that.

He doesn’t need any actual power to highlight problems and topics important to him or for people to pay attention and listen. It doesn’t always have to be Diana shaking hands with a man with aids in the 80s, it can be something as trivial as the irl second in line opening a fairytale trail in her duchy as a toddler.

What the royal family does (and doesn’t! do) gets publicity and is reported. Simon knows that. He grew up seeing it all the time.

And the people most likely to take note of what the royal family does? Those I dare say are also some of the ones who could do with a bit more exposure to the causes Simon would highlight.

Also not to be mean but give up what career? We know Simon enjoys making music and he wants to get out of small town Bjärstad, but as far as we know he has no great, specific career ambitions he’d have to give up.

I’m gonna end this with a potentially triggering and extreme example, so take care.

When the royal court announced that the irl Swedish crown princess had an eating disorder I was in junior high. I'll always feel sorry for what she had to go through so publicly and it definitely is another point on the list of why monarchies and celebrity culture are the worst, but I also cannot overstate how much good that publicity did when it came to bringing awareness to the topic of eating disorders.

Suddenly that was something that was seriously discussed as an illness by people in power and who otherwise never would have, and not just in a ‘haha those silly teenage girls wanting to look like Kate Moss’ kind of way, because it was the crown princess and not some random pop starlet, and if that can happen to someone like her, then who is to say it can’t also affect our own children etc?

We were taught about it in school, in detail, when my older cousins never were, how to recognize them, how to help, where to go for help. More, there suddenly were places to help, places that were actively advertised which hadn’t been before.

There were clinical programs being opened and awareness campaigns launched, and not just in Sweden. (I’m not saying she was the only reason, it was the late nineties, it was really, really necessary, but she was a big deciding factor when it came to the amount and speed at which things changed)

It sucks that royals and celebrities highlighting important issues can make such a difference, and I’m the first to go yell abolish all systems of inequality irl, but Simon could do a lot of good as a working royal, and he’d actually care about changing things, instead of just finding it a boring necessity like irl royals and the YR royal family including Wilhelm do, which is why I think that in a few years, given time, he would very much be willing to become part of the system if only to bring what change he can, especially when no one else can take his place and do it instead of him.

[sams-art-domain]

spooky psych ward, but different than the large media portrays it.

Tws: graphic depictions of violence, suicide & sh mention, HORROR OOOOOOoOOOO, medical malpractice

Characters: Charlie. And some other made up guys

He took a deep breath, just a stupid dare, in, out. Everything's fine.

The old psych ward at the edge of town had been down for years. Shut down due to medical malpractice and unlivable conditions.

Charlie rolled his eyes, putting up a brave face as he texted his group chat. 'Alright, I'm heading in. I'll take a selfie by one of the rooms for proof.' He then turned his phone on silent so that he wouldn't be spooked by any notifications.

He turned on his phone flashlight, and then the dark was brightened. Dead grass from the November weather. An old rusty door which was the entrance to the 3 story tall building. There was only windows on the third floor.

"Okay. Go in, top floor, take a pic, leave." He told himself. Taking a picture of the old rusty door. Charlie puffed up his hair with his hand, and went to open the door.

Inside was a waiting roomesc thing. Everything looked pretty old and dirty. A desk sat in the center of the back of the room. And flipped and broken chairs were next to the walls. Other than that, it was empty. Empty and dark. Charlie turned his flashlight up a mode because it was so dark. Even though that made his phone battery drain, this was going to be quick.

As he walked around the room. His anxiety spiked. It felt like someone was watching him. Though he figured it was just the reputation of this place.

A few years back, there was this old guy who used to be a 'doctor' there. His name never revealed to the public. He was horrible. Made his patients feel worse. If he didn't kill them. He thought that the people in there were freaks and monsters and deserved to be put in chains if not put down. It made Charlie sick.

How could you look at someone who needed help, and decide 'eh- let's starve them and drug them up and kill them for being human needing help.'

Charlie didn't know too much about psych wards, but he knew that the people who were supposed to helping people, were failing.

The way that the torture here was found out was by an escaped dude named "Harry Shild". He was put in there for repeated self harm. His family forced him in there when he was 16. Never left until then, when he was 19. He offed himself once he was outside. That's when the company was investigated and people realized how horrible the doctors were.

Charlie was walking towards the stairs leading upwards, every other door in the first floor being locked.

He heard something.

Someone walking. And humming.

Charlie almost screamed, but ran away from the stairs to the door, deciding the best bet was to make a B-line towards the door. He isn't some stupid protagonist in a horror movie. He shouldn't have even went into the building in the first place.

As he ran, his phone fell out of his hoodie pocket.

Nonono- he stopped running and grabbed-

Back when this place was up and running, that sicko doctor that ran the place started some kind of cult? Any sign of ‘freak’ in you and you could be put in here, scary stuff. The main reason people fear this place isn’t really because it’s of “crazy” people, but because the doctors were never actually arrested. A few of them- but a lot of them just… were never caught.

...

....

He woke up, vision blurring in. He felt sick. His face felt flushed. He was f r e e z i n g.

Looking around, Charlie saw a fluorescent light shining down onto his face. His throat hurt, he tried to sit up but couldn’t. panic set in. Where is he??

bile rises in his throat.

he looks at his body, stuck down to a table, like some stereotypically torture scene. He panics. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- fuck- where’s his phone!? He struggles hopelessly. Then he hears a door in the room open. His head shoots in the direction of the door. “Wh-“ he chokes on his own saliva.

“Shh, shh now. You’re sick, I’m here to help you.” A voice, soft as your favorite pillow and thick like cookie dough. Yet masculine in its own right. A sick blanket of warmth. It does nothing for Charlie’s panic.

“I- I’m NOT SICK- GET THE FUCK AWAY-“ Charlie’s fight or flight is triggered, he fights. Struggling aggressively while cursing out the man.

“Shhut up.” The man’s voice carries the ‘sh’ Almost a stutter but not quite. He grabs a vial of something and a kind of syringe.

“NO- NO-“ Charlie struggles more. Panic growing as he sees the syringe. his wrists and elbows and knees and ankles hurt from the hard clash on the tables metal.

“That’s an ugly noise.” The man’s face is half covered by a medical mask, whilst the upper half is uncovered. The man has grey-purple eyes, sleek black hair, though the roots are grayer. His eyes are narrow with deep eye bags. His skin is light, smooth with a simple wrinkle between his eyebrows. Which are thin and well-trimmed, furrowed together as his eyes are squinted with disgust.

“GO- GO.- GET- -NO FUCK- GO-“ Charlie was still trying to escape. Tears pricked his eyes. ‘Who is this why is here why me nononono I will not let him hurt me- stop stop stop why why why who is he no no no-‘ He hit his knee hard on the restraint, earning a strained yelp from Charlie.

The man holds Charlie’s arm down, just above the elbow. And the man begins talking as Charlie’s fight forms to freeze. “I said to shut up. This will help that. In this syringe is about 4mg of clonazepam, it should help you shut the fuck up so I can help you.” The man sighed, he was in a classic doctor outfit, blue round neck shirt with a large white lab coat of sorts on top. He had a stethoscope around his neck. Then, while Charlie stared in horror, injected him with the drug.

“St-op- nonono- please-“ Charlie began to cry, his nose burned and his throat burned and where he was given the shot ached and he shook violently.

TBC I JUST WANNA POST THIS

[steddiebang]

change your mind

Author: @helix_stomper l Artist: @horsegirleddiemunson Posting on Monday, October 16

After his breakup with Nancy, Steve Harrington keeps it a secret that he hasn’t made an effort to meet his soulmate. When he accidentally wakes up next to them a few days after his 18th birthday, he’s surprised to find that it’s not only another guy, but somebody else in Hawkins. Between losing all his old friends, learning how not to be an asshole, and balancing his newfound sexuality in a closed-minded town, Steve has his work cut out for him. Eddie Munson doesn’t believe in soulmates, but that doesn’t stop him from waiting in the dreamscape every night for his. Balancing life as an openly queer, drug-dealing super senior in Hawkins, Indiana is no cakewalk, especially with Billy Hargrove on his ass. But maybe, just maybe, there’s something to that whole soulmate thing after all. Hawkins is rough, but it's home. Warnings for homophobic language, slight violence, and Billy Hargrove. Modern AU with no Upside Down, obvious canon divergence, and a funky twist on soulmates.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Like all high-schoolers (even as a super senior), Eddie went to bed far too late. It was quarter till three when he climbed into bed, freshly showered and easily attuned to the concertos of crickets outside his open window that replaced the heavy music he’d blasted all evening. Despite what legalities would claim otherwise, Eddie was very much Wayne’s son in all the ways that mattered. Meaning, of course, that as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

And then he woke up.

Doctors said it was bad to enter the dreamscape every night. Said it took too much mental energy to keep up, kept you away from hitting that sweet old REM, that your body and mind wouldn’t be as well rested as it could be. Eddie generally ignored the advice. He might let himself fall asleep normally every now and then, but most nights? 

It wasn’t that he was eager to meet his soulmate. Quite the contrary, really. Eddie mourned the day that his soulmate arrived, and he lost his sanctuary in the dark. He treated the dreamscape like his own personal respite. A place that was all his own, where no one else could go. Of course, there was someone else who could come here, but he chose to ignore that tidbit most days. After all, it’d been his space for a whole year now. Nearly two, once December hit. 

He woke up as he always did. To an unending, unyielding darkness. He stretched his arm out in front of him, above and reaching for the ceiling. He felt it go out, knew that if he pulled it back and touched his face it’d be real. But he didn’t see it. He knew his eyes were open. He blinked them a few times, but to no avail. 

Eddie used the dreamscape for a multitude of purposes. Most of all, he used it to think. DnD, his dealings, sometimes he’d practice finger placements for whatever song he was learning on the guitar, and other times he’d just think about life. About Hawkins, about leaving it, about whether he’d ever look back. 

People treated their soulmates like they were their own personal Build-A-Bears. It was fantasy; a cruel joke played on them all by the universe. Eddie couldn’t even talk to people normally in real life. How the hell was he supposed to talk to and fall in love with a total stranger? One he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and could barely touch? 

Love wasn’t easy. Couldn’t be. Love was work. He saw it every day, in the way Wayne always made sure there was something for Eddie to eat before he went to work. He read it in his novels, in daring heroes going through physical and mental torture to keep their loved ones safe. Time traveling thousands of years in the past, all to make your way back to them. 

There had to be more to it all than meeting in the dark. It couldn’t be that easy. 

He was content to believe it. Ready for another long night alone in the darkness. Just the way he liked it. 

Until, of course, he rolled over onto his side, stretching his arms out in front of him, and felt something that was far too warm and far too solid to be a pillow.

Oh, god fucking dammit.

Steve fell asleep on the floor of the pool house in a stupor.

Then he woke up.

He was a little sluggish with it, at first. He didn’t realize what was going on. He blinked his eyes open, one at a time, and waited for his eyes to adjust into the darkness of the room. Didn’t remember making it to his bed. But he felt the soft cotton sheets beneath him.

Steve closed his eyes again, sighing into his pillow as he adjusted himself, turning to lay down on his stomach. Who knew? Maybe he’d smother himself in his sleep, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Nancy, or school, or his Dad, or anything at all.

He had just about fallen asleep again when he felt something prod at his side. 

Steve’s eyes blinked open, almost delirious with it. Had he imagined it? He must have. God, that had to be a new low. He was so goddamn lonely, he was imagining someone in bed next to him. Fucking fantastic. 

With a groan, he smashed his face into his pillow, arms coming up to wrap around it as he closed his eyes again. God knew what time it was. He needed to get some sleep, so his headache in the morning didn’t absolutely split his head open—

Steve’s eyes shot wide open when there was a second touch. This time, undeniably, a hand placed firmly on his shoulder. What the—?

He froze, partially from fear, partially because, well, he was still very drunk and he had no idea what the fuck to do about someone being in his bed when he didn’t even know how the hell he got there himself. Had he gone out? He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t conjure anything in his mind but the tiles of the pool house, cool beneath his legs, and a bottle of expensive whiskey between his thighs.

There was a brief moment where all Steve did was breathe. Then, the hand on his shoulder started moving.

More specifically, it started tapping. 

Steve was never very good with learning other languages. dreamscape code, while technically not another language, was not implicit from that. Steve struggled with it all through elementary school, never scoring higher than a B on tests and quizzes.

But he and Nancy had been practicing, secret messages between them on each other’s legs during dinner, and Steve had probably gotten more practice in the last few months than he had in years prior. There was no way he wasn’t still drunk, not with how long it took his brain to catch up, to make sense of the taps and translate them into words. 

‘It’s about time. You kept me waiting long enough.’ 

Read more on October 16!

[delicatedevils]

𝐇𝐔𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 : 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘;

❝ ... Well I think I've gone mad, isn't that so sad? What a shame you lost a brain you never had ... ❞

hudson frost (cismale, he/him) is twenty-nine, has been in blue harbor for approximately three weeks and currently resides in weaver ridge. He works as a bartender at the vault and kind of looks a lot like drew starkey. People around town would describe him to be +honest and +adventurous, but also -sarcastic and -temperamental.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒;

Full Name: Hudson Caleb Frost

Age: 29

Date Of Birth: 15 September 1995

Zodiac: Virgo

Parents: Steven Frost and Michelle Dixon

Siblings: Two older siblings

Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Bartender at The Vault

Languages: English

Positive: Candid, adventurous, daring, confident

Negative: Sarcastic, temperamental, stubborn, deceitful

CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘; (TW drugs, violence)

Hudson Frost was born into an almost underwhelmingly normal family, in a completely normal neighbourhood in Kentucky, with two perfect, stuffy older siblings. His mother was a primary school teacher, his father a bank teller. Anyone who observed the Frost family from the outside would have concluded that they had all the makings of a perfect family; yet Hudson was unmoored. A wildcard from the day he was born.

He wasn’t a troubled child, but his parents used to say to all of their equally normal friends and colleagues that he emerged from the womb with an attitude, and that attitude stuck with him all through adolescence (often getting him into fights, much to the abhorrence and tired frustration of his mother). He was a nightmare in classes, being a nuisance and making smart mouth comments wherever possible. After his fourth expulsion, Hudson's parents were at a loss. What were they supposed to do about the kid who seemed hellbent on bringing embarrassment to the Frost family? Boarding school seemed to be the only option, but freedom from the constraints of his family only enabled Hudson further. To the school's credit, they were persistent in steering him towards a good path laid out with a good future (helped by the investment his parents were making to keep him there) however, they too reached a tolerance limit. He was finally kicked out at sixteen, and Hudson's parents washed their hands of their wayward child. And that's when his life began.

By his early twenties, Hudson had seen pretty much every corner of America there was to see; he did enough odd jobs to keep himself alive and made sure to never stay in one place too long. To be tethered was the equivalent of death. He revelled in being a twenty-something with no real skills or prospects. As long as the money was coming and the parties were good. It seemed only natural that Hudson would eventually fall into the recreational-drug-user-turned dealer pipeline. How could he not? It paid better than any yard cleaning job, and was considerably less work for him. As it turned out, For someone who appeared so unapproachable, Hudson had a certain charm to him that he could use to his advantage if he needed to. Somehow, people seemed drawn to his chronically lazy nonchalance; would they be the lucky one to make Hudson Frost express a real emotion? He was happy to sell the idea if it helped sell the product. Employee of the month, eat your heart out.

As his clientele grew, so did his confidence, which festered into arrogance, into sloppiness. He started short-changing his clients, even stealing from them sometimes, if he thought he could get away with it. How would they know? Hudson didn't see it as an issue, but smart business. His reckless abandon failed to inform him that he might be putting himself into danger. Until it hit him over the head. Literally. Waking up in a Los Angeles hospital with three broken ribs, broken jaw and shattered collarbone knocked some sense into him, but not without a strong warning. You owe us, or next time you're dead.

Scared straight just enough to leave town, Hudson sought out the most inconspicuous-without-wanting-to-stab-his-eyes-out-boring place he could think of to lay low: Illinois. And so here he is, freshly arrived with a bullshit resume, a poorly devised cover story and a deep pit in his stomach that's telling him, now you've started running, you can never stop.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒;

TBC!