#i sent her my apology via text after i yelled at her on the phone because i felt bad for yelling at her

[beansnpeets]

Just have to get through today and it's my usual 3 day weekend. Then I work Monday and have the rest of the week off. The week after is going to be the same. Glad to have all that time off. I will do my best to try to stay busy and get some painting done. I will be spending the holidays on my own. Am debating on possibly getting myself some salmon for christmas dinner as a treat. Maybe some beers to enjoy one night. I am trying to make the best of it, anyway.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 15

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Your attempt to help your brother move result in Yoongi meeting your family -_- 

Previous Chapter here 

TW: as previously mentioned, YN and her brother were abused by their dad. It is mentioned by her brother. Trigger will be labeled before and after by **  ** Yoongi’ song “The Last” is also referenced at the very end, which implies thoughts about self-harm/suicide attempt. But it’s a good, long chapter! There is fluff and humor in it too!

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

Late last night you received an email from your brother’s school informing you a dorm space had opened up and he could move in as soon as possible. You wanted to check and make sure there wasn’t anything else you should be doing today before you rented a van.  

You put on your robe and headed out to the main living area. Half the coffee pot was already gone and you heard light movements from upstairs. You wondered if Yoongi was prone to hangovers or not.  You poured yourself a cup of coffee and heard Yoongi pad down the stairs. 

“How are you feeling today?” You asked without looking up from your steaming mug.

“A little dehydrated but fine.” He passed you as he headed over to the sink for water. “Really? We’re just wearing robes around the house now?” 

You waited, slowly savoring the taste of the hot bean water in your mouth. You swallowed. “You were in your underwear the other day. I think the robe is fine.” You turned dramatically and looked at him.  “Unless you prefer just underwear?” 

“Aish, don't remind me.” He waved in your direction as though he could dissipate the memory with his hand. It was too early for flirting.

You laughed. “Hey, if it's OK, I'd like to go help my brother move today. A dorm space opened up for him and I'd like to get him settled in before school starts again tomorrow.”

Yoongi leaned against the counter, “Yeah, that's fine. You should do that.” 

“Great,  thanks!” You turned and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. 

When you returned to the main area Yoongi was gone, you didn’t bother checking by the door as you grabbed your purse and slipped on some shoes. You texted your brother to remind him what time you would arrive and then hopped on the train to the car rental place.

Fifteen minutes later you walked in, produced your driver’s license and payment and were then declined. 

“What do you mean? I already prepaid online.” You asked the attendant. 

“It’s not the payment, it’s your license. You rented the cargo van. You don’t have a license to drive that vehicle, it’s level one.” The man explained, gesturing to a garage full of vehicles as though that explained anything.

“Isn’t it just like a regular van but big?”

“No ma’am it’s more like a box truck. I can get you a regular van but I can’t refund your rental of the cargo van because it was a day-of rental.”

“I had to enter my license to rent the van. Why does it authorize licenses if they aren’t the correct type?” You asked, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, probably, but that definitely seemed like a crappy thing for the website to allow.

“I understand that ma’am but the website will allow anybody to pay for the van and the driver’s license check is very basic and checks to see if you have one, not the level. Now, would you like to rent a regular van?”

You stood there for a minute weighing your options. “Give me a minute.” You walked over to the waiting area and took out your phone. You opened the BigHit employee portal and scrolled through the services. There were so many options: food delivery, laundry pick up, chauffeur, pet walking, but nothing about hiring a driver for other vehicles. You groaned and dialed Yoongi’s number. Normally you would text but you felt like there was too much to say. The phone rang a few times.

“Hello?” It was surprising to you how deep his voice sounded on the phone.

“Hey...I'm sorry to bother you. Does anybody at the company have a Level 1 driver's license that I can like request via the app? I didn't realize the one I rented is for a license I don't have.” You paused. “This is so embarrassing.” Silence extended from the other side, making you feel awful, like you had probably interrupted something important.  You began again, " I can maybe just do it next weekend. I can find somebody by then I'm sure. It’s fine. What’s one more week.”

"I can drive it." 

You felt awkward having Yoongi do it."Noooo. Don't worry about it. I can do it next week. I’m sure I can find somebody.” 

“Aish send me the address. I'll do it.” He replied, starting to sound irritated.

“Were you busy? You don't have to.”

“You know the company phones have GPS trackers in them? But it will be a hell of a lot faster if you just send me the address.”

You sighed, “Ok. Thank you.”

“See you soon.”  

You awkwardly waited at the rental agency, kicking your feet in your chair like a little kid waiting for their parents. After about half an hour you heard the door ding and saw Yoongi walk in. He had traded his sweats for jeans, but otherwise had the same casual shirt and expression. 

“Hello sir,” the desk attendant greeted Yoongi. “How may I help you today?”

“I’ve been told I’m here to drive a van.” Yoongi looked your way.

"Oh, are you here for that one?" the guy at the counter gestured at you.

Rude. 

Yoongi smirked, “Yep. That one’s mine.”

Your jaw almost dropped. Fucking brat. You walked over. "It's a good thing you're being so helpful darling." You gritted between your teeth. You watched as Yoongi handed over his license and had it scanned without any issues. 

“Here you go Mr. Min.” The attendant handed him the keys. You heard him laugh as he took them.  He started to walk out to the rental garage with you following. 

"’Thanks for coming. I do appreciate it."

"It’s no problem. I mean. You, once again, will owe me dinner. But other than that. It's nothing." He clicked the remote to find the right van. "Why are you renting such a big ass van?" 

"Because my family doesn't own a car and I'm an idiot. The website didn't make it look that big. I put in my license and it let me rent it. Don’t you think it should deny it if it knows you can’t drive it?"  The two of you stopped in front of the cargo van. It was big. But not that big, you scowled.

"Oh man. I used to drive so much music equipment around in my shit van. This brings back memories." He climbed into the driver's seat. You walked around to the passenger side and stepped up as well. "And lucky for you, I came prepared today." He popped in a CD he'd been stowing in his coat pocket. 

"Oh my God. You are the cutest." You said, somewhat accidentally, out loud. 

Yoongi paused, and looked over at you. "I am not cute." 

You smiled and pinched your fingers together. "A little bit." 

He shook his head and put his hand on the gear shift. "Nope. Cue up the GPS." 

"The tiniest cute." You typed in the address. 

"Feared rapper and music producer. Ice King. Loner. It's in the lyrics, you should listen." He turned the car audio on.

"OK cutie, I know you have stuffed animals in the loft area." 

He held a finger up to his lips. "Quiet woman, I'm driving." 

You laughed and relaxed into the seat. "I fell asleep on track 5."

He pushed some buttons and you settled in for the car ride. 

Yoongi was thankful for the excuse of looking at the road so he couldn’t see your expressions as you listened. He put so much of himself in his lyrics, it was like taking his heart and mind out of his body and showing it to other people. Which for some reason felt fine when it was complete strangers, but felt so weird with someone he knew. He tried to play it cool. He knew he was two songs away from his most personal track.

“Ok, turn in here. We can park here for up to two hours without a permit.” You guided him near an alleyway next to your Aunt’s apartment. You sent a text telling them you were here. “Thanks. You can wait here if you want. I don't know how much packing there is left to do. Sorry. I just got the email this morning. There are also some coffee shops around here or some restaurants. I’m not sure what---” 

Yoongi unbuckled his seatbelt and cut you off. “Hey. You don't have to do this by yourself. OK?” He opened the door and got out before you could respond.

You took a few deep breaths and exited the van, walking around to the front to lead the way to the apartment. “Ok thanks. Also I apologize in advance for my Aunt.”

“She won’t be the first Auntie I've met,” Yoongi smirked. “Don't worry, Aunties and Grannies love me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Also sorry in advance for my brother. He seems rude, but it’s just because our family life was so fucked up. He’s a good kid.”

“Hey, I can relate,” Yoongi opened the door for you. “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Ack, I don’t think I can do this.” You turned and faced him.

“Do what?” Yoongi asked, perplexed.

“Have you meet my family. It’s. We’re all weirdos. The apartment is so small. It’s embarrassing. I already feel bad that you came and helped me.” You spew out everything at once, your anxiety levels suddenly spiking.

Yoongi sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Hey. It’s fine. I was going to meet them eventually anyways right? Might as well be before the wedding,” He teased you.

You were surprised. This was the first time he had mentioned anything about the other part of your contract. It had always been you teasing him about it.

“I guess so.” You took a deep breath. “Ok. Just...please...Remember. We’ve been through a lot.” You suddenly felt so vulnerable as you pushed the elevator button. You led the way to your old apartment and unlocked the door.

“Aunt Vi, I’m here.” You yelled from the foyer as the two of you slipped your shoes off.

“Oh finally, I was getting worried, you’re over an hour late and you're usually so prompt and hello young man.” Aunt Vi stopped dead in her tracks as she arrived in front of the two of you.

“Hello. Min Yoongi, nice to meet you.” He bowed.

Your Aunt gaped like a fish for a moment and eyed you. “Yes of course, I’m Vi.. And this is…?”

“My boss, Auntie. He drove the van today. Apparently giant ass vans need a special license.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Do not use such language in front of your boss, young lady.” She scolded. 

Yoongi cleared his throat to hide a laugh. It was unusual seeing someone boss you around for a change. 

“Yes of course, sorry Auntie. I’m very sorry, Mr. Min.” 

“That’s better. Now come in. You, help Jihoon pack, Mr. Min come join me for tea.”

She turned around and you gave Yoongi a stank look while he silently laughed at you. You flipped him the middle finger while he acted offended.

Auntie Vi turned around, “That is of course if he wants some.”

The two of you pretended to be perfect angels once again, “That would be lovely Aunt Vi.” He responded, sounding like a boy scout. You rolled your eyes at him the minute your aunt turned her back. You left the two of them as they headed to the kitchen and you went to the living room.

Your brother was packing up some books into one of the boxes when you walked over.

“Hey. Make sure the books go into a few small boxes instead of one big one, or they’ll be too heavy to carry.” You said as you grabbed another empty box and started to pack some things.

“Yeah ,ok. Those other two boxes are books as well. There should be a bookcase in the dorm. I think all my friend’s rooms have one.”

“Ok great, I’ll label them.” You walked into the kitchen to grab a sharpie and briefly overheard Vi and Yoongi. Yep. She was in love, you smirked and headed back to help your brother.

You were surprised when you walked past the hallway and saw two blankets on the floor, slowly moving. You smiled and paused, “Huh. What strange moving blankets.” You heard a set of giggles and continued on your way.

Your brother and you continued to put items into boxes and the blankets continued to slowly wriggle down the hallway until they made it to the corner. Your sister and niece sat up and pressed their tiny bodies against the wall, straining to see who the mysterious voice belonged to. You looked over and smiled. 

Aunt Vi paused for a second and heard the faint sound of giggles and “shhhh”

“There better not be any little girls eavesdropping,” She said. Everyone in the apartment heard the sounds of stomping and running down the hallway, followed by a door shutting. Vi sighed and Yoongi laughed. 

You set down the roll of tape and walked back to the bedroom. "Come on out girls." You led the way for them down the hallway. They nervously stood in the kitchen in front of Yoongi and your Aunt.

“Mr. Min, this is my sister, Hayoon, and my niece, Sooah.” You introduced them as they bowed deeply, as though they had been preparing for this moment for their whole lives.

Yoongi smiled warmly at them, “It’s a pleasure to meet you ladies.” You could see your niece already blushing. These girls were boy crazy already and you were sure they would relive this moment over and over again. They managed to squeak out a “you too.” Before they looked around awkwardly about what to do next.

“Alright girls, either help move boxes or git.” You prompted them. They looked at each other and then scrambled back to the bedroom, giggling the whole way. You sighed and went back to packing. Fortunately since your brother was living on the couch, he didn’t have a lot to pack. In retrospect you probably didn’t need the van. Oh well. Better to be over prepared than underprepared, you mused. 

You walked into the kitchen, “Excuse me, may I have the keys please? It’s time to start loading.”

Yoongi stood up, “Yeah sure, let’s go.”

You looked at him, “Oh no sir. I could not expect you to carry the boxes. Keys please.” You held out your hand.

Yooongi scoffed, “I can carry boxes.”

Aunt Vi quietly cleared her throat, “That would be too much surely. Won’t you please sit down and I’ll make you some lunch.”

Ah the intersectionality of age and class rank here were making your head spin, but you knew that he couldn’t turn down lunch from your Aunt, even as she turned around and he placed the keys in your hand while making a very strange face you couldn’t quite identify. You raised your eyebrows. Taking the keys, you pulled out your phone. 

YN: She’s a good cook, don’t worry. Sorry this is taking so long.

You and your brother each grabbed some boxes and started to move them out by the elevators. After about fifteen minutes you checked your phone.

YG: I feel weird not helping 

YN: You did help, you drove the van

YG: That doesn’t count

YN: Yes it does

You returned to the apartment where you saw Yoongi had somehow inserted himself into the kitchen and was cooking alongside Aunt Vi. That’s it, you thought, she’s never going to not mention him again. You sighed. Grabbing the last few boxes you and Jihoon began to fill the elevator and slowly move the items closer and closer to the van. An hour later it was all packed up.

“How was your soup?” You asked as you came back into the apartment, ripping off your sweatshirt. You had started off cold, but were now glistening with sweat.

“Really good, thanks again Auntie,” Yoongi looked over to Vi.

“Oh please, he’s the one who ended up doing most of the cooking. Are you single Mr. Min? Are you allowed to date your employees?--------”

Oh God it was happening, you were shocked it had taken this long honestly.

“Because even though YN isn’t much to look at, she’s a very hardworking girl.”

“We gotta go. Time to leave. Is there any leftover soup for Jihoon?” You asked as you cut her off and started scrambling around the kitchen for a takeaway container.

“There’s plenty of soup, grab some for Jihoon. Not for you though, you don’t need the calories.”

Oh God she was going full blown Auntie on your ass. Help. You looked over to Yoongi, mortified, but he was just standing there, the tiniest smile playing on his lips. He briefly flicked his eyes in your direction, causing you to feel flustered.

“Anyways, you should keep her in mind. Our family is unlucky, but we do try to make up for it.”

“I have the Soup, can we please leave now?  We have to return the van.” You grabbed your purse, sweater, soup, and coat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi said calmly. “Thank you for your hospitality Auntie. I hope to see you again soon :] .” He walked over near the door, put on his coat and took the soup from you.

“Put your coat on.” He chided

“I’m sweaty.” You responded

“You won’t be when you get back outside.”

You huffed but complied anyways. The poor man had suffered through an hour and a half of your family, you weren’t about to argue with him.

Your brother was waiting in the van with his headphones on listening to music. You climbed into the middle seat.

“Oh my God I am so sorry.” You said the minute the door closed.

“It’s fine. Like I said, not my first Auntie. She’s nice.”

“She called me ugly and told me not to eat.” You whined. “Hey...speaking of you called me ugly too the first time we met.”

Your brother took off his headphones; apparently interested in this conversation.

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I say that to you? That doesn't seem like something I would say.”

“Well, no. But you didn’t disagree with me when I said it.” You side eyed him.

He laughed, “I think you know you’re not ugly. You don’t need me to tell you that.” He pulled out onto the main street.

“I don’t know. Having heard it every day of her life growing up, it might not be a bad thing to not say to her.” You heard Jihoon say from next to you.

You tensed up briefly. “Jihoon, it’s a joke. Everyone else at the interview was literally a supermodel. Everyone.” 

“Sorry. People calling my sister ugly doesn’t seem very funny to me.” He said and moodily turned to face the window.

This was the kind of awkward you were worried about. “Sorry. Jihoon is a little protective. Also he doesn’t understand jokes.”  You tried to lighten the mood by teasing. It did not work.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny. I understand that.” He said snidely from the passenger’s seat.

You sighed, “Anyways, thanks again for driving. You’ll turn right here and then there should be signs for the school in about 4 kilometers.”

Yoongi was very quiet. He didn’t want to piss your brother off again. You pushed play on the audio, welcoming a change of pace from the quiet. To your shock, he hit the pause button. “Let’s listen to it later.” He said quietly to you. He didn’t think the lyrics would put your brother in a better mood and he also didn’t particularly feel like sharing the vulnerable side of himself at the moment.

“Is it normal to tell someone they can’t listen to music in a car? Asking for a friend.”

“Stop being an asshole Jihoon. Mr. Min was nice enough to drive the van for us today to move you into the dorm. And to give me a job to pay for the dorm. You need to be more respectful.”  The phrase came out of your mouth before you could even stop it. It was a triggering phrase for both of you and you instantly regretted it.

**************

“Right.” Your brother said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Be more respectful. Just because someone’s older than you they deserve your respect no matter what. That’s what dad always said while he was beating us, remember?”

***************

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your cool. “Oh my God. You’re supposed to be working through this shit in therapy not in a fucking moving van with me and my boss. I am so sorry.” You said to Yoongi who was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t in the van at that exact moment.

“I didn’t ask to be in a moving van with you and your boss and I didn’t ask to be moved into the dorms today.” He argued back. 

“You’d rather still be on the couch at Aunt Vi’s? I can unload all this shit and cancel your room. I can totally do that right now.” You snapped at him.

Jihoon huffed angrily. Such a moody teen. 

“I’ll take that as a “no”,” you responded. “Yoongi, I am so sorry.”

“For the record, does your boss know our dad's a fucking psycho?” Your brother said in English. You had done terribly in English and hadn’t touched it since High School. You understood the word Fuck though and were getting ready to scold you brother 

Yoongi didn't want to overstep his bounds, but at the same time, your brother was being a rude little shit. The whole reason you had agreed to marry a guy you didn’t know was to take care of this ungrateful child. Before he could help himself, he responded in perfect English, “Yeah, I heard you dad was an asshole. And I'm sorry that happened to you. It shouldn’t have and it really sucks. But your sister works her ass off for you.”

Yoongi was pissed. You could tell that much by the tone. You understood sister and that was about it. Or maybe he said sweater. But it was probably sister. 

Your brother was clearly surprised by whatever he heard and also mildly irritated. “What do you know about any of that?”

“I know that in her job interview all she talked about was you and your little sister and how she worries about the two of you and that’s why she took a job where she is on call 24/7 and why she’s worked 2 jobs for the past 7 years.”

You understood the number 2. That was it. This was a passionate discussion on Yoongi’s part. You were getting ready to speak after several seconds of silence filled the van. 

Your brother twisted his body and looked at Yoongi. “---Do you….do you like my sister?””

More silence. What the hell were they talking about?

Yoongi cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, continuing to look straight ahead at the road. “I do. And we’re being rude by having a conversation that she can’t understand. So please stop it.”

Your brother paused for a moment before replying in Korean ”… Yes, hyung.” 

“If he's being rude let me know and I'll take his lunch money. I will literally untransfer funds.” You said, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “I know how to say “fuck” in English and I definitely heard it.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Yoongi replied. “Here, we can also listen to the word ‘fuck’ some more.” he turned the music back on. Since everyone else was having free therapy in the van, why not join? One song played before you all arrived at the dorms. 

“Go round up some strapping young men to carry these boxes. I have to find your RA.” You told your brother as Yoongi parked the van. He hopped out quickly, all too eager to escape. You rested your head against the headrest and pushed your hands against your eyes. “I am so sorry. Today has been a total nightmare. Worse than I even imagined.” You said, feeling like you might cry.

Yoongi sat there for a few seconds, reliving the afternoon. It had actually been mostly fun for him. “I had a good time. I got to meet your family and I got free soup.”

You looked over at him slightly bewildered. “We need to raise your standards for what a good day should look like Yoongi, because this was a total shit show.” 

“Hey, don’t cry. I hate it when people cry. Your brother has been through a lot. It’s fine. Really. I too was an angry rude teenager and I didn’t have nearly as good of a reason. Come on, let’s finish this shit and get the van back.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. 

You followed suit and entered the dormitory, following the signs. You introduced yourself to the RA, got the keys, and found your brother and two other guys standing outside the van. You recognized the one kid.

“Hey Noona,” He waved. You liked that one. 

Yoongi had apparently started unloading the boxes while you were meeting with the RA. You picked up one of the smaller boxes and headed up to the dorm. With the 5 of you, it didn’t take long to move all the boxes into the dorm.  You placed the soup into the mini-fridge. You sighed and looked around at the mountains of boxes, “Ok. Do you want me to stick around for the unpacking or….?” 

"No. We'll get it." Jihoon responded and walked with you out into the hallway. Yoongi was leaning against the wall near the elevators, scrolling through his phone. 

"Thanks. And I'm sorry about earlier." He said looking down. 

"It's OK, come here." You pulled him in for a hug. He was taller than you. When did that happen?  You squeezed extra tight and then pulled away, "Make sure to answer my texts or else I'll show up here. And I have your RA’s number. Got it?” 

"Yeah yeah." he looked around. 

You looked up at him and brushed some invisible dirt off his shoulder, "OK. I love you. "

" I love you too. "

With that you turned and joined Yoongi by the elevators." Let today end please. " You said, crossing your arms in front of your body. 

"Nope. Not yet. You still owe me dinner," he commented as the two of you entered the elevator. 

You sulked , "You got soup."

"You haven't eaten yet."

You shrugged. It was true. But you were upset and when you were upset you either wanted to eat everything or nothing. Today you felt like nothing. 

The two of you climbed into the van one last time. You rested your head against the window and listened to the music. Yoongi gripped the steering wheel tightly as ‘The Last’ began to play. 

He glanced a look over at you. Your jaw was firmly set and he saw tears rolling down your cheeks. Shit. This was not a good day for this. He paused the music. 

"Sorry, that's pretty heavy for today isn't it?" The car came to a stop at a light and the silence was palpable. 

You breathed out, trying to keep it level. "Sorry, just. You and my brother have that in common." You wiped your eyes as you tried not to cry. You took pride in generally being pretty stoic and good-natured. 

The light turned green. "I guess we're all just fucked up, huh?" 

You sniffled. "Yeah. It just hurts my heart to think about a world where you or my brother don't exist." 

Yoongi felt like someone had hit him with a ton of bricks. He swallowed through the lump forming in his throat as he managed a response, "Well, we're still here. That's what matters. Right?” He tried to sound positive.

“Yeah. I’m glad for that. Turn left.” NEXT CHAPTER @lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah​

[burnedbyshoto]

aphrodite

“Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

— Or, in which Pro Hero Shouto falls in love with a dominatrix cam girl, only to find out that she’s quite a weirdo in real life. — 

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, stalking fan, cursing, unexperienced shouto, camgirl!reader, dom!reader, marking, blowjobs, praise kink

word count: 8,834

a/n: honestly, I did love this fic but mind is BUZZING at the thought of finally getting to write my todoroki family gangbang because I have that shit fucking outlined and I never outline anYTHING!!! but this was fun!!! i did a lot of extensive research into camming to only realize that if I wrote it realistically I wouldn’t be able to write this the way I intended... so camgirl is sorta really inaccurate and im sorry ;-;

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Being a Pro Hero was one of the most rewarding things Todoroki Shouto had ever done. With his day consumed with being in an element where he saved and protected people, there was nothing he could ever hope to improve. Well, as long as you only considered things in a job aspect.

As a Pro Hero, his job was his life.

Day in and day out, he was working. 

From the first chime of his alarm at six in the morning until he was crashing on his bed at eleven at night, he wasn’t just anyone, he was Shouto, the Pro Hero.

But Heroes were overworked, with the recent downfall of the League of Villains and the aftershocks that came from defeating a group that changed the world, there was a lot to do. He was twenty years old, two years free from Yuuei, and was a Pro Hero, not a sidekick.

After graduating from school, most individuals had assumed that he was going to work with his father as a sidekick for a few number of years, but that wasn’t right. Bakugou and Midoriya had created an agency together, so with them, the creators, Shouto made up one of the many founding members of this new agency. An agency that was constructed of only graduates of Yuuei,  it was strong, promising, and already one that had him and his friends well within the publics’ favorite heroes.

As goes any new Hero Agency, they had to prove themselves, after all, their alma mater was not enough to carry them through everything. Experience was valued higher than name-value after all. So Shouto, along with the thirty members of the agency, worked hard every day to swallow the fear of the reemerging Japan, fulfilling every and all tedious and significant need.

But for all his hard work, Shouto had been neglecting his own needs.

Two years of hard work for a man without a sexual relationship translated to two years without any sort of lover — romantic and sexual.

At first, it was easy to ignore. He made do with sloppy jerk offs in the shower, the warm water soaking into his skin while he came in loads against his fingers, but eventually, it grew tiresome, lonesome, and tedious. 

That is until something happened one day.

A single link had been sent his way by Kaminari, the blond man unknowingly sending this to Shouto and not the intended Sero. Shouto had just gotten home, his tired eyes looking at the highlighted hyperlink on his phone. Sighing, he had thrown it up on his laptop, wanting to figure out just what he was sending him of all people, he hoped maybe it was an article on his major rescue today. Kaminari was much better at tracking those articles than he was.

But what he got was not an article on his heroic deed today. No, there was no cold day in hell that this was a news article.

His eyes widened, the texts furiously coming in on his phone, apologizing for the mistake, but Shouto wasn’t paying attention. No, he was transfixed on the video before him and fire, unlike any heat he had ever known burned through his veins. Simmering heat rolling from his skin while he watched on, and just like that, Shouto found a way to feel anew.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Thanks for all your hard work!” Midoriya yelled after Shouto, who was three strides out the door once they traded places. 

It was Tuesday night, one of three nights that Shouto ever really looked forward to. For the past year, he had always made sure that he was never scheduled on these nights, and well, no one had objected, so he was still taking them. The travel back home was a five-minute commute via train, but always, as Shouto sat there, he felt as if the train was barely inching along.

But as soon as the train docked, there was no time to waste. Shouto was out of the crowded train and practically racing to his house. 

The door was slammed and locked behind him, and while practically stripping in his hallway — he didn’t need to care about a trail of clothes as he lived alone — he made it into his bedroom.

7:59, his clock read, and he cursed, moving even faster to set himself up.

Shouto couldn’t help but feel the burning embers of shame igniting in his chest, his heart rate soaring to the sky, when he clicked the join button. This was utterly shameful… twenty-one years old and he was in love… he was infatuated with someone he couldn’t have.

The screen darkened for the room he was looking into was dark, nothing but fuzzy pixels where you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and a sly grin on your face.

“Hi, love,” you coo. Shouto couldn’t make you out exactly right now, but on god, he already knows your lips were painted a deep red that always captivated him, your eyes insanely large with the thick and long strand of eyelashes you wore.

He wants to say good, he wants nothing more than to respond to your greeting, but he’s speechless. Besides, he knows you wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway.

“Now, now, don’t be shy,” you pout, standing up and nearing the camera, your strides were slow, smooth, terribly seductive and Shouto was taking you all in.

However, Shouto’s heart stops when your figure becomes more distinct. Red leather lingerie and toys strapped to the iconic utility belt you don. Even in the alluring lighting of your room, Shouto can see that your eyes are dark with amusement, glee, and lust. He groans lightly, the fabric of his boxer briefs tightening when you lean in close.

“I want to hear you cry my name…”

Shouto splutters at the whisper, feeling submerged into your show despite his brain telling him you didn’t know him. Regardless, his finger trails the trackpad and clicks the blue ‘donation’ button, the amount put at the full maximum the site would allow.

“Aw, thank you for the donation icy-hot,” you purr, your eyes fluttering on the camera, almost as if you were looking right at him. And Shouto delights at the sound of his username dripping like honey from your tongue. “I knew your slutty needy cock wouldn’t disappoint me. I wonder if you’re already touching yourself at the thought of me…” he watches your pretty red lips stretch from a pout into a Cheshire grin, and a pleasurable wave encases his body, his cock twitching against his restraint. “I hope you’re not, after all, I haven’t given you permission yet, have I?”

Shouto exhales shakily, the sultry confidence in your face, tone, and stature overwhelming him.

He watches your eyes fall to where he knows the chat is located on your screen, and the bell-like giggle swims in his mind while you amuse the many different viewers on this chat.

Aphrodite, that’s what you went by. 

The goddess of love, beauty, procreation, and pleasure.

With the way your eyes pierced the camera, legs spread open to reveal your cunt for your viewers, Shouto hissed in need for him to grab his cock, he knew better by now.

“Don’t you wish you were here so I could ride your small cocks instead of my fingers,” you sigh, and Shouto wets his lips, fingers that ached to give attention to his pulsing cock digging into his thighs. “If you want me to let you touch yourself,” you sigh, tossing your head back, your eyes glinted with power and coercion in this position. “Throw in a little donation for your goddess, whores~!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It pained Shouto to admit it, but he had a sincere and deep attraction for the girl behind Aphrodite. He didn’t need to check his bank account to know that outside of his daily things, the thing that he was freely spending money on was your shows. The more people donate, the more you would do, the more dominating, demeaning, and almost sadistic you would get. Most nights, like last night, Shouto would collapse on his bed. His cock a flush red from the aggressive fisting he had done, a desperate attempt to make himself pretend it was your tight and sopping cunt around his cock and not his heated hands. The room was always foggy, steam pouring from his skin because his control still went up to smoke whenever he watched you on the screen.

There was nothing more to say except that he would do everything in his power to make sure you were gaining enough money from these shows, and that his screen name would drip past your lips every show. Even if you would never do private shows, he would make sure you knew who he was.

But this wasn’t the time to think about you.

“Todoroki!” Bakugou yelled from a distance, and Shouto looked up to see Bakugou staring at him, his face set in annoyance. “Ponytail has a job for you.”

Shouto had just walked in through the door to the agency, but his lips pulled into a slight smile. His head nodding, “Okay.”

In the agency Momo, Iida, and Midoriya were the ones who were best suited at handing out missions and assignments. With Iida on temporary leave as he was on vacation with his family and Midoriya, who was on a week assignment with Bakugou, there was only Momo to hand intensive things out right now. 

Saying his good mornings to the people he passed, he eventually made it into the back room with the door closing behind him. He made eye contact immediately with Momo, who seemed to be jabbering with the client, but he knew her well enough to see that under the cheerful personality, there was something worried in her gaze.

“You wanted to see me?” Shouto asked the second he stepped in.

“Ah, yes, Todoroki-san!” Momo nodded her head, the smile on her face remaining keen on her face while she gestured to the person before her. “This is y/l/n y/n!”

Nodding, he looked down at the client and stiffened only slightly when you turned around.

Y/l/n… y/n… you were Aphrodite.

Shouto’s mouth went dry but also began salivating at an extremely high rate the second your lips pulled into a greeting smile. Was this real?

Would you be dominating in public? Your dominatrix bleeding into your personality outside of the screen? Would you rise to his eye level when you finally stood? He always imagined you would. Were you wearing something flirty, cute, or alluring underneath that jacket you had on your body? Your make up was done in the same matter as the shows, but the red lipstick he loved was substituted with a natural lip color, brightening the shimmer in your eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greeted, and Shouto nodded dumbly, words failing him entirely at this moment.

Was that what he expected you to say as a greeting? Well, he guessed you saying something along the lines of ‘welcome you dirty fucking slut’ was a bit out of the picture considering they were in public and you didn’t know him. But still, a part of him craved to have heard that utter from your lips, because there would have been no stopping the way that he would have sank to his knees for you.

“Y/l/n-san is here with us because she’s been a victim of a past B&E’s,” Momo’s voice pierces through Shouto’s thoughts, and he breaks his stare on your — sweetly? — smiling face to look at his friend. “We also have reason to believe that such offenses are because she also has a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Shouto repeated Momo’s words.

“That is correct, and said stalker seems to be in possession of a strong quirk,” Momo nodded her head, her face still kind for you, but her eyes calculating and sharp. “I’m assigning you on her case for a few reasons, firstly because you are capable of handling the perpetrator, and two, you live a block from her apartment, so defending her will be accessible to you.”

Shouto’s stomach jumped at those words, all this time you had been a mere block away from him?! 

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” you laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. Shouto blinks, that was a move most people made when they weren’t confident… you were always confident. “I mean, yeah, I don’t want to be like… hurt by this man, but there’s no way he’d do anything bad, right?”

“Are you serious?” Shouto asked, his voice leaking with his evident discontent to your answer.

Momo, however, redirected your attention back to her by grabbing your hands in hers, “There’s a possibility that there’s nothing bad that he’ll do, but that’s not something we wish to risk.”

“I have pepper spray, a stun gun, and a strong uppercut; I think I can handle this,” you say, pulling your keys up, showcasing the arrange of weapons you carried casually around you. 

“The pepper spray looks like you haven’t used it in ages,” Shouto immediately pointed out. “You need to use it about once a month to ensure it works.”

“Wait, really?!”

Momo giggled, watching in the way that Shouto looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, and how you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I can understand that you believe that you’re confident in your ability to take care of yourself! We aren’t trying to imply that you couldn’t, but your cousin brought you here or a reason! It’s easier to let us do our job, to make sure that you don’t ever have to put into a trying situation.”

Your bottom lip juts out into a small pout, but ultimately you sighed, nodding. “Okay… how long would this take, do you think? It’s just that I can’t have Shouto by my side at every instance of the day.”

Momo’s eyebrows quirked into a questioning stare, and Shouto could feel his body temperature rising at those words.

“Oh? How come?”

You still, as if you hadn’t expected Momo to further question why you didn’t want to be watched at all hours of the day. Loudly you splutter, unable to come up with an excuse through your panicked and while Shouto watched and listened with crumbling hope that your dominatrix personality was something that you held in every aspect in life. Your cries that you were an up and coming YouTuber — which explained the stalker — and needed to film your muckbang videos in peace made Shouto realize that you were not some sexy, confident woman at every instance of the day. No, you were awkward, weird, and dorky, but it still did nothing to calm his hammering heart when you stood up at the end of the meeting, clad in something that had to be pulled from the Lisa Frank collection and you hurried out.

“If I analyzed all of her police reports correctly, the stalker should be back by next week, falling on either Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday night,” Momo informed Shouto, passing the case folder his way. “Take care of y/l/n-san, and be safe.”

Shouto nodded; that was something he didn’t need to be told twice, “Of course.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You were a camgirl.

For most of your life, you had been someone who was overlooked by most. Being quirkless in a world where having a quirk, even the most useless quirks, was needed to gain success in your peer’s eyes truly sucked. It hadn’t stopped you from being successful, of course, you had worked hard in every aspect of your life, but it kept you from attaining your dream job because having a quirk was essential for it — even though you didn’t need one.

So with a minimum wage job to cover the costs of living and your long journey to prove your worth to get your dream job, you were quick to realize that you needed more money.

And one day, after a long day at failing to find a second job, you were in bed, reading over fanfics to distract yourself from a failed day when a particular story caught your eye. 

A story about a camgirl, and then it hit you.

You could be a camgirl!

It took a month of planning, nights spent on creating a persona, a person for you to become when the camera went on. 

You would turn into Aphrodite.

With such a stage name, you knew that you had to become the goddess of love herself. Your personality was quirky and dorky in real life when you only had to be you, but Aphrodite was all leather, lacy, skimpy hotness. She was daunting, commanding, dominating. It was almost as if the second you turned on your Livestream, the goddess herself possessed your body, turning you into someone that you could only dream to be.

You performed three times a week, precisely at nine and end sometimes even at two in the morning. Within a matter of ten streams, you had exploded in viewers and donors. You had been making around five hundred thousand yen a month, that is until your most special viewer icy-hot had made his first appearance. 

Icy-hot was someone who seemed to have a deep interest in you, and even deeper pockets because he alone doubled the price of your average income from camming. You were obsessed with him.

There was also another reason why you were obsessed, and it might have a little bit to do with the tall man walking behind you, just far away to make you comfortable, but close enough to keep you from harm’s way. Oh yes, in a world of celebrity crushes, you were in love with Pro Hero Shouto. 

It was stupid really, but as a fifteen-year-old girl watching Yuuei students who were your age beating the shit out of each other left an imprint of his then fifteen-year-old abs in your brain and you were hooked. Your crush was always shallow, of course it was, you didn’t know him, but he still provided you with a sense of comfort. The fact that he had lived so close to you for so long sent embarrassing flames to your face, how would he ever react to knowing that you needed time away from him so that you could control people into fucking themselves online? Or about how your stalker was a possessive man who watched your streams?

You had been fine with just informing the police, but apparently, the man had been apprehended before and had his quirk registered. He was dangerous, and with you being quirkless and the cops being unable to use their own quirks, your cousin dragged you to the local hero agency, proclaimed you needed help, and left.

Little did you remember that this was the hero agency that a lot of recent Yuuei alumni were at, and of course, the one that Shouto worked at. Heroes latched at your side, worried for you while taking you to the back to talk to the Everything Hero: Creati. With the police files on her computer, the two of you discussed everything that was happening with ease and sharp detail, and then Ground Zero barged through the door, yelling about something Deku was doing.

Creati talked with him, both of them coming to some understanding and a simple line from her mouth, effectively ending your entire life.

“Will you call in Todoroki-san when he gets here?”

It wasn’t that you were dressed ugly or wrong, but you were definitely dressed up in bright colors because you were trying a Lisa Frank aesthetic before your cousin dragged you off. Tugging at the ends of your hair, you looked back at Shouto, who was silent, his eyes looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his buttery voice soothes down your spine, and you threw a large thump up in his direction with a nod.

“Never been better!” you lie. This was bad this was so very bad, you wanted to push him into an alleyway and run away, why must the world curse you into looking like you were related to booboo the fool on the day you finally crossed paths with Shouto. Not to mention should he find out about your career? Would he think you deserved everything coming your way?

“It’s okay to be not okay,” he spoke up, his head tilting to the side, trying to figure out where your thoughts are. “You know that, right? You’re going through a lot right now.”

You blow a raspberry, your ears burning when you look back in front of you, your head shaking. “I’m perfectly fine, I wasn’t even in immediate danger! Besides, I have you here now, don’t I?”

They were familiar words heroes heard every day, maybe not those words exactly but similar enough that they weren’t unusual. But still, to Shouto, those words curled warmly in his chest, vibrating deep within his sternum while he nodded.

“You do.”

“See!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

To say the least, Shouto was genuinely shocked to figure out who you were as a person. 

The biggest thing he could put together about you, the most essential detail he saw was the fact that you were stupidly a dork. You had just about one hundred colorful mugs with weirdly dumb inspirational quotes on them. Whenever he showed up at your apartment in the morning — the nights you insisted he couldn’t sleep on your couch because of your recordings, which worked out because he would just go home and watch your stream with only the slightest guilty conscious.

You had a colorful arrange of sweaters and shirts, none of which were anything that he would have assumed initially you would wear, to begin with. Leggings and sweaters, joggers and tank tops, that seemed to be your style in the warming days of spring, and he was all for it.

With nothing more to do with this assignment, then stay close to you because the police where in charge of trying to find the man, the two of you grew close. Shouto often amused himself by asking you about the videos you were making for ‘YouTube,’ each time you came out with a poorly failed excuse of a lie for him, and every time you believed that he believed you.

It was a month into the assignment, and nothing had happened so far, nothing but late-night conversations and late-night cam sessions. Still, Shouto was a devoted watcher, and with each passing day, his ears no longer blushed scarlet at the sight of you the following mornings. 

The two of you were proper fans, and the crushes you had for each other still held true, only now reenforced with the appropriate images of each other.

“You have to go now!” you complain, trying to shove the much larger man out of your apartment’s front door. It was Thursday evening, and with only an hour until you were to stream — an accident on both of your parts because you had been distracted with watching an anime with him — you needed to get ready quickly. “Shouto, oh my god, I swear if you don’t leave, I’m going to pepper spray you!”

Shouto was pretending to be lost in thought, his body stable and unshifting while you attempted your hardest to get him to move. “I don’t remember you ever cleaning your pepper spray… it’ll end up hurting you more than me in the end anyway.”

“You don’t know that!” you grunt, your hands pressing against his spine, your feet slipping against the wood while you push with all your strength. “Even if it hits me, it’ll hit you too!”

“I’ve been pepper-sprayed before, apart of hero training, I can handle it, y/n,” Shouto points, and he finally takes a step forward, your body stumbling into his side where he graciously steadied you. There’s a silence between the two of you when he realizes just how he caught you, and you feel the temperature fluctuate around you when he pushes you to your feet, throwing on his shoes and leaving with a stiff wave.

“See you t-tomorrow!” he rushes out, leaving you with a burning face in your doorway. 

But as you closed the door, rushing yourself to get ready for tonight, you didn’t get to see the way that Shouto stopped at the staircase, his eyebrows scrunching when an uneasy feeling filled his gut. Could it be that the perp was finally going to make their move tonight?

In thirty minutes you had managed to get your makeup done, the sharp black eyeliner paired with large full eyelashes, your skin perfect from foundation and contour, and of course, the painted red lip. With only ten minutes to spare, you threw your camera set together, connecting it at eight minutes to spare. You sweat in nerves while you hastily threw on your lingerie. Black lacy panties that sculpted your ass, and a bra that left your breasts looking delectable. Then the leather garter belt hung around your waist, attaching to your thigh high stockings with a cute red bow. 

With the countdown on the screen, you flopped on the bed, cameras rolling as soon as your clock read 9:00.

“Hi, love,” you began as you usually do, confidence flooding your person while you sat up from your mattress, your hands smoothly gliding against the soft fabric of the comforter. 

Your show went as it normally did, harmless flirting with your viewers who craved more, thanking donator after donator, your smile growing into a smirk with each passing minute. You noticed that icy-hot was on, his avatar always pinned to your screen when he joined, but he was silent. Not a single donation.

Normally this would scare you, drilling ice-cold anxiety through your veins, but you weren’t you right now; you were Aphrodite. 

“Icy-hot,” you drawled, your voice husky and low, a subtle show to your dominance while you leaned forward, your cleavage only accentuating between your pressing arms. “What are you doing?”

But before you could continue on, before you could utter more phrases to get some sort of response from your favorite viewer, there was a rustle in your apartment. You froze immediately, was Shouto in your place? No, that couldn’t make sense.

Then in an almost slow-motion horror, you watched your bedroom door slam open, and a man you didn’t recognize appeared before you. His transfixed on you as if you were a true goddess, his muscles taut, lips perked into a lusting smirk.

“I finally found you, Aphrodite,” he whispered like a prayer, his feet taking several fast strides in your direction, and as the chat exploded in their confusion, your jaw dropped in an ear-splitting scream.

>> ‘Is this for real?’

>> ‘Is aphrodite finally fucking a man for us? I’m jealous it’s not me!’

>> ‘Holy shit, I think this is real?!’

The facade of Aphrodite was gone on you, no longer possessing you, but instead the meek and weird you. There was no stopping his conquering pace when his hand outstretched for you until he was frozen in place.

“Shouto?!” you squeak, looking to see your hero standing at the door, his cheeks flushed from most likely rushing over, his eyes deadly and severe. His eyes glanced you over, and embarrassment shrouded you when he eyed over your lingerie, but he said nothing of your state of appearance thankfully.

“Go into your bathroom, and don’t come out until I tell you it’s over,” Shouto commanded, and breathlessly you nodded, stumbling over into the bathroom as the perpetrator broke free from the ice. One lustful eye turning sinister and dark, and with an animalistic bellow, he charged Shouto when you closed the door.

You weren’t sure how long you lasted in the bathroom; the only thing you knew is that for ten seconds, it was loud with the clear sounds of battle before quieting. There had been no crash, nothing to tell you that the action had been taken elsewhere, only that you had heard the familiar sound of Shoutos singing ice and then silence. You pulled on your fluffy white bathrobe that hung by the door on your bathroom, your pacing unstoppable in your inability to calm down.

Was Shouto alright? They didn’t both die out there, right? No, Shouto was more durable than that, you reasoned, your hands aching with your nerves.

The pulsing beat of your heart sat heavy in your throat, your fingers trembling with shot nerves and fearful thoughts until a soft knock on your door alerted you that someone was there.

“H-Hello?” you stammer, unable to keep yourself from speaking.

“It’s me,” you hear Shouto’s voice tiredly stated, and without so much as wondering if it really was him, you threw open the door.

Shouto stood there, a bruise on his jaw, a visible injury he had sustained from this fight. 

There was no stopping you throwing yourself into his arms, your own arms throwing around his neck in your dopamine surge. He had saved you, he had finished this.

“Sorry that took so long,” Shouto murmured into your ear, his head burying into the crook of your neck, sending intensive static down your spine. “Bastard took us seven blocks away; apparently, he has a pretty shitty teleportation quirk.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay,” you sigh, not wanting to let go of him anytime soon. “Was it just the bruise?”

“Mhm,” Shouto informs you, his fingers running against the thick fluffiness of the robe. “Quirk side effect is that it makes you stupidly dizzy after using it, and that includes everyone he takes with him. So I nearly was throwing up when he landed one on me. The police will take you in for questioning tomorrow morning if that’s alright? I figured it was too late, and you went through too much to be questioned tonight.”

“That’s perfect,” you agree, not at all caring when the interview would be, just as long as he was with you. 

Shouto eventually pulled away, his hands remaining on your waist while his eyes looked at you warmly, “Okay, well let’s get you on your bed, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded dumbly, following after Shouto when he guided you back into the room that was liberated from his ice but had obviously been fought in on account of your fallen books. You sighed when you sat up on your bed watching Shouto stand in front of you, observing you in your fluffy white robe.

“Shouto?” you asked while Shouto observed your face in the better lighting of your room, his finger soothing tear streaks you had long ago cried while he made sure you were okay.

“Mm?”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“I thought something was going to happen tonight. I had this feeling when I was leaving and decided to stay until it happened.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I had screamed until after he was in my room,” you accuse, your eyes narrowing. 

Honestly, you had no idea how he knew… unless…

“I’m icy-hot,” Shouto states simply, but you couldn’t ignore the way that your body literally rejected this claim, how it sizzled to life because he knew what you did on these nights, and how you sparked at the thought of how he’d been supporting you for a year.

“You’re — ?”

“Yeah,” Shouto smiled, pulling away from you with a soft sigh, his arms folding across his chest. “A friend of mine accidentally sent me a link to your cam sessions when you first started, and I was hooked.”

“You’re telling me all this time, you knew?!”

Shouto nodded, unsure as to what you weren’t quite understanding.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” your voice raised dangerously, your spine shot straight while your world both crashed and built around you.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell my client that I watched her strip and fuck herself on my leisure time,” Shouto sighs, his eyebrow-raising in amusement.

“You’re a dick!” you exclaim, but your words were one of wonder, your eyes brightening in this new knowledge. “I can’t believe you, honestly!”

“Well then, I guess I can tell you a string of truths, and you can do nothing about it,” he challenges, his face nearing yours, dangerously close. His warm and mint breath fanning across your face. “I have feelings for you — deep and honest feelings for you, I think this piece you’re wearing under the rob is by far one of the best pieces you’ve ever worn, and I’m hard right now.”

“You know that Aphrodite is a facade,” you disclosed, your eyelids feeling like weights while you stared up at him, unmoving, unchallenging.

“I don’t think it is,” Shouto challenged his hands, tugging at the fabric that held your robe closed. “Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

Your tongue is dry, but still, you wet your lips, confidence, and fear meeting in the middle of your chest in an all-out war to see which would win. It was to no one’s surprise that you wanted Shouto, but for it to be reciprocated was a bit beyond you, and finally, you inhaled a bit sharply through your nose, “If you want me to fuck you, you better ask properly. Like a good boy.”

His eyes glint in an unreserved way that sends fire through your spine and a heat flashing in your core. It had been a while since you’ve fucked anyone, and here was Shouto implying that you fuck him. He also seemed to want to be dommed, and if there was something you weren’t expecting from him, was that.

Shouto licks his lips, his hands moving from your waist and pressing onto the mattress so that he’s forcing you to lean backward, trapped in his hold. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he breathes, and in a similar exhilarating thrill of Aphrodite possessing you before a show, that electrifying courage courses through your veins and grabbing onto the thick fabric of his costume and bring him into a simmering kiss.

Your fingers wound in his hair, the intensive heat and passion exchanging between your lips were insane. It was mind-boggling as it was breathtaking. Your head tilted, and you pressed in more, feeling the weight of the bed dipping as Shouto climbed onto the bed with you. Shouto was bigger than you, in just about every way of the word, but still, with your stocking covered leg, you wound it around his waist and spun in your place.

Straddling his torso, you pressed incessant kisses to his mouth, his desperate return sending confidence to your head, a warm pulse in your body. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a bottom,” you murmur against Shouto’s throat, your hands pressing flat against his chest, moving to unravel the restraints holding it together. You get the top of his jumpsuit undone, watching has his pale and toned chest slowly peeking through the growing opening. Your fingers move against the plains of his abs, nails moving against his hardened nipples while you sigh against his throat. “Such a good boy.”

Shouto heaves, his breathing uneven, unsteady, and unsure. For someone so confident thirty seconds earlier, he seemed to be crashing from that stream of confidence quickly, almost dangerously. Skirting around this knowledge, you removed your robe, discarding it onto the dirty floor with a content smirk. 

“I, um,” Shouto swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering at the sight of the lacy black undergarments and, for the first time, genuinely getting to appreciate them in real life. His fingers grab onto your waist, his hot as fire hands tracing your smooth skin, tracing against the hem of your panties until he got to the cleavage of your ass, stopping where your body met his. “I’ve never done this.”

“That’s alright,” you say, hands pushing the blue fabric of his costume off his shoulder, making quick work of it, and finally, your get to press your hands against his broad and naked shoulders. Your lips move unhurriedly against his neck, moving down until you reach his collarbone, taking a long swipe of your tongue against the protruding bone.

“Fuuck.”

The words that had meant to come from Shouto’s lips drifted towards the ceiling, no longer viable with the way that he folded against your touch. With your lips back against his chin, your right hand stretched behind you and pressed firmly against Shouto’s hard buldge palming against the clothed erection. His eyes close immediately, the touch of another on his growing cock was foreign to him, but it was igniting something within him while you continued your ministrations. A strangled moan vibrating at the back of his throat, his hips rising to buck and grind against your cupping hand, only hindered by your teasing retreats and bell-like giggles.

“So desperate already, baby?” you whisper against his ear, your mouth coming back to his, meeting his trembling lips into a passionate kiss. When you pull away, he makes a noise similar to an animal in heat but is quickly silenced by your teeth biting gently against his lower lip. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

Shouto helps you make little work of removing his costume, the dark navy blue material joining your robe on the floor, and you straddle him one again. Only this time, it’s your cunt rolling against his clothed cock. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask, your lips pressing painted marks against his chest. The red of your lips shining like rubies against his pale skin, but it does nothing but stirs you on. It wasn’t a mark like a bite, but it was an acknowledgment that as of now, for this very moment, he was yours. The red lip print proof of this bond. “Do you want my mouth around your pretty cock?”

Shouto shudders at your words, his hips involuntarily bucking at your ask, and he nods his head. His cheeks dusted red, and his heart hammering in his throat, “Y-Yes, please suck me off.”

“Aww,” you coo, your fingers hooking around the waistband of his underwear, your cunt grinding against him. “You said, please!”

The underwear joins the rest of Shouto’s outfit on the floor, and you stare at Shouto’s cock in its full glory. The long thick length bouncing against his stomach, precum dripping slowly from its tip. The knowledge that he was already leaking from your gentlest attempts of domination sent power through you once again, and you smirked leaning down so that you were level with his cock.

“Such a pretty cock,” you sigh, wrapping your hand against his length, your mouth watering at the fact that you couldn’t encompass it in your hand. “So beautiful… now, I want you to stare at me the entire time I’m doing this icy-hot. I’m putting on a private show for you, and I expect my favorite viewer to watch the entire time.”

There was no need to wait because Shouto was ready for your mouth, and with one final roll of his pink head with your fingers, you began.

You brought your mouth to Shouto’s cock and licked a clean line from balls to crown, the back of your tongue swirling around the head.

Shouto’s moan was nothing short of pornographic, and near animalistic in the way that it sent shivers down your back. Most definitely caught in the feel of things, Shouto arched his ass from the bed to thrust right into your waiting mouth. With the confidence of who you tried to be as Aphrodite, you decided to be the best at what you were doing for Shouto, hopeful this would be something he would ever forget. Adjusting to his lifted hips, you gripped and pumped the lower half of Shouto’s cock while slathering and sucking attention at what you could fit into your mouth – he was a lot bigger than the dildos you used for your show.

Your mouth was heated sin to Shouto, unafraid to choke a little, gagging ever so often to send incredulous vibrations through his sensitive sex. You were also a bit sloppy, saliva and drool leaking with his precum down his length, dribbling from the corner of your mouth while he pressed further into you. You then pulled from his length, oxygen burning your lungs to take each of Shouto’s balls into your mouth and delicately roll them with your tongue as your fist capriciously switched between fast and slow over his throbbing cock.

Mouth hanging wide and silent, Shouto stared intensely at your slowly blinking form. You nuzzled your nose against the trimmed fuzz at the base of his hot dick, your lips creating a wet pop noise against his balls. The soft touches of your nose against the vein on his cock ignited a broken and almost needy rasp against Shouto’s chest. And when a thumb, wet with your spit and his precum, trailed a line down the backside of his cock, Shouto’s heavy tongue caught up.

“That feels so good!” Shouto moaned, his voice gruff and near unrecognizable by its tenor. “More, y/n, please, more.”

And who were you if you didn’t comply? 

You groaned at the lewd position you were in, his intense duel eyes focused on every move you made while his cock twitches in front of you, your tongue flicking out of your mouth licking the bead of pre-cum on his tip making your cunt throb in anticipation. 

“Look at you, so needy, so innocent,” you giggle, using the hands that had been sensually traveling up and down his cock to angle it better for your await mouth. Brushing his head against your tongue, his pre-cum gathered on the slick surface, you delighted when his stomach contorted with his tightened breathing. You wouldn’t close your mouth to taste him, so saliva dribbling down your tongue against his length. Your hands rubbed it against his cock, using it as natural lubrication as you continue, “desperate for my mouth, aren’t you?”

Shouto tried to nod his head, which made you giggle, grinning down at him as you once more push his cock inside your heated cavern. Pulling it out slowly when you notice that his eyelids close for a little longer than a soft moan. 

“Keep your hands on me, icy-hot,” you coax, tangling his fingers onto your scalp. Keeping your left hand against the back of his thigh to land a slap against his skin to keep him focused. It was something that he found to be shocking, but the hair tugging that followed the surprising hit sent a proper shiver down your spine. You pushed his cock forward again, pushing inside you deeper this time, so his length hit further than the back of your throat. 

The motion once more sending Shouto to some other dimension as he hissed your name. The tightness of your throat, the muscle contracting against his thick cock, and the cold drool the dribbled from your lips sent his mind spinning. He only wanted more, and he craved more. With ragged breathing and the sight of his contracting stomach, his hips began to thrust into your mouth, pressing his cock further into your throat. Each desperate thrust had him hitting the back of your throat, drool slipping out of your mouth as you tried to breathe through your nose, groaning against his length, sending vibrations along Shouto’s cock. 

Your eyes began to water at the slightly suffocating sensation. Still, you were excellent despite the tears slipped down your cheeks, his hips thrusting into you roughly, the sign of an inexperienced man. Moving your hands to his upper thighs, you tried to slow his forceful thrusts, trying to allocate for time to adjust to his size in your throat. Instead, Shouto’s thrusting hips only stammered more, the sinful noises in your throat, sending only better feeling through his body. His eyes can read your eyes that told him this was okay.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Shouto babbles, his hands clutching your hair, fingers digging into your scalp using it as leverage to move you against his length. “I never thought, shit, I never thought it would feel like this, yes, yes do that!”

Your moans vibrated around his length as you let the larger man manipulate your wet cavern. Your tongue now rolling along his length, tracing the sensitive protruding veins on his cock, and with the speed in which he was thrusting into your mouth, it only heightened the desperate noises pouring from his mouth. So much so that he almost stopped shifting his powerful hips all together.

You felt Shouto’s thrusts stagger as he came closer to his release, his hips speeding up, your head bobbing with his final desperation as he gave a final hard push into your mouth. His tip hitting the far back in your throat, and he came inside you with a snarl. His hands held your head down on his length as you grunted, trying to take in all fast release in one swallow, but some spilled out of your mouth. His hot sticky seed dribbling down your chin. 

When you moved pulled to remove his length from your mouth, you immediately closed your mouth, tongue lapping at the cum that escaped your lips. 

Crawling back up to Shouto’s face, you gave a tight-lipped smile when his clammy hands rested against your waist, and with fluttering eyes, you connected your lips again. The minority of his cum still sits in your mouth and is pushed into his mouth with your tongue.

You sat up, your lips still connected to his with a string of entangled saliva and cum, his hands coming around to cup your ass, and with the sexiness, only one could achieve through countless times of stripping, you were finally free from your own lingerie.

“What’re you—”

A gust of air ricocheted from Shout’s lungs as his back slammed into the mattress once again, your hands planted against his shoulders, your head cocked to the side with a mischievous smirk. Shouto doesn’t know how to react, for someone who couldn’t shove him out of the doorway was suddenly handling him just fine in bed. But the thought of that stirred his cock back to life, something you noticed the second it rested against your ass. Shouto groaned in embarrassment, but it didn’t matter to you, who arched down to nuzzle his nose. Then you were licking searing stripes along his neck, teeth nibbling and pulling at his ear, digging at the joint of throat and shoulder, Shouto’s tilted chin and swollen wet lips.

Knees dug into the sides of Shouto’s chest, your nails cutting crescents into the slick shining mountains of his shoulders, Shouto hands grasped onto your naked form for dear life, coercing the storm of your shared desire. The impatient and growing unignorable weight of Shouto’s cock slotted between your slick and sopping cunt. Sloppy wet with your untouched arousal, a ticking timebomb of pleasure each time you thrust back against his rehardened cock.

“Y/n, please—” Shouto choked on his words, a lusting cry when he cracked his head back against the soft mattress at the moment you carted his hot cock against your dripping, aching cunt with one firm and delicate palm and your other pressing your weight against his chest. “Oh shit, yes, fuck – yes, more. Please, put it in, y/n. I want, shit, I want you to fuck me properly, y/n—”

“So fuckin’ needy,” your breathlessly giddy reply came, your words soaked the ear and filled Shouto’s head completely. Tightening his grip on your waist to accommodate a stronger hold on you in a desperate thought to sane himself, you began a more frantic rhythm of work-roughened humping. “Is this how you responded back to me when I stream? Do you listen to my instructions the entire time, Shou-to?”

The squelch and wet noises of your hips dragging staccato against Shouto’s throbbing skin was maddening, dumbing him down to strangled huffs and squeaks against your swollen lips. The pulse against Shouto’s own lips raged, a frantic desire for him that both weakened and empowered him to the bone.

Shouto’s finger dug into your skin, leaving imprinted bruises where he touched, his hips slamming up into yours. Wanting more, craving more, and with nothing more to hold from him, you complied and with a wet noise, sunk all the way down against him.

“Shit, shit, wait,” Shouto hoarsely whispered, his nails ripping moons into your skin while he panted against your skin. “You’re too tight, Imma cum, fuck, wait…”

You laughed against his mouth, but you didn’t move, allowing him the time to adjust his brow slick with sweat, eyes closed in concentration. Regardless, your walls fluttered around him while you adjusted, and he shivered with every involuntary move. “You good?” you murmur against his mouth, tongue lapping at his pressed white lips.

He nods once, and you grin, taking that as means to push as far up as you could, and with your entire weight and clench of your muscles, sunk back down against him.

A savage snarl ripped from Shouto’s throat, more animal than man as he tore at your lips, his mouth open with a hot tongue and teeth that tugged at your lips. You had no choice but to open up, letting his tongue meet yours while you felt his cock throbbing against your clenching walls. You met him in full innocent need, your kisses were uncoordinated attack from all angles, his hand working their way to your ass, once again gripping and pulling that the soft and warm flesh.

Your hips rolled against his, lifting up and falling with growing forces, 

The small of Shouto’s waist burned raw from how it kept curling into the mattress, his shoulders singing with sharp pain from your fingernails. Your breaths puff against Shouto’s lips as if you had never taken a single deep breath in your life like you’d flung yourself into the open flames just to fuck Shouto. The fill of his cock, the maddening way that his cock filled you out, it made your head spin and your knees tremble. With each twitch of his cock, his protruding veins pushing against your spongey walls, increasing the sensation, sending fire to your curling toes. Your weight pushing heavy on Shouto now, sandwiching him hard against the gentle mattress when he couldn’t meet you in an upwards thrust, too lost in the sensation of your smoldering cunt around his cock. 

Shouto’s thighs and stomach quivered in your conquest, his words an unclear babble in his prayer to you. The air was filled with the scent of sex, sweat, cum, and something else. Something you couldn’t put your tongue on, but it stirred you on more with the wet slapping noises of your meeting hips.

It was too much, too much, yet nowhere near enough.

“Y/n, I’m gonna—” Shouto searched for his words a short raspy cry, his cock swelling up and pulsing in your clenching walls, his fingers clenching around the nape of your neck. Bringing you in for another hot kiss. “Gonna—”

“Cum for me,” was the only thing you rasped in his mouth, your lips a deceivingly soft push against Shouto’s bruised lips.

Shouto shot off inside of you like an exploding fire, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he could only see white and feel you. His grip tightened around your body, pressing you slick against him. But the increased angle is what sends you over the edge, your eyes rolling when your body tenses, pleasure, and relief swallowing you whole when your orgasm overcomes you.

“Shouto,” you mewl in a cracked croak of a voice, your face buried in Shouto’s shoulder as he feels your walls spasm against his cock in almost insane ways. 

“That… shit,” he breathes, unable to think.

“Yeah, same,” you mumble, moving to press a kiss onto his lips.

His body rolls off warmth from his skin, and together, the two of you fall asleep on the bed, entangled in sweat and cum and only elation in your blood.

bonus!

“TODOROKI-KUN!” Iida’s voice pierces through his phone when Shouto wakes up the next morning.

“Iida,” he greets, watching while you brush your teeth, studying the various marks on your body from the night before.

“WHY DID YOU RELEASE A SEX TAPE?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Iida?”

“CHECK THE NEWS RIGHT AWAY!”

BREAKING NEWS: PRO HERO SHOUTO CAUGHT IN BED WITH CAMGIRL UNDER THE NAME APHRODITE

It was then that the two of you realized you had never turned off your session.

[pokemon-swsh-bartender-au-crew]

Heavy Heart, Heavy Soul: Chapter Five

—————————

As Piers sat there, thinking of how he could even slightly respond to Marnie, he ultimately just ended up starting crying harder than he had originally been crying. Perhaps it was out of frustration of not knowing how to respond? Or it could have also possibly been because of the fact that during this conversation, his mind had been clouded with more dark thoughts. When Marnie saw Piers just start crying harder, that of course, obviously worried her more than what words could describe. She went over to Piers, wanting to give him a hug. However, out of instinct, when Marnie got too close, Piers did something he hadn’t meant to do. He had shoved Marnie away, causing her to stumble back and fall onto the floor; resulting in her hitting her head on the wall slightly. Thankfully, she was relatively fine and hadn’t been knocked unconscious, but that did not stop her eyes from tearing up from the pain of hitting her head. She couldn’t help but look at Piers with a look of shock as tears began rolling down her cheeks. The look in her eyes was enough for Piers to tell that Marnie felt scared and betrayed about the fact that he had shoved her away. And when Piers saw Marnie get up and run out of the room, crying, Piers swears he felt his heart just...shatter...

He hadn’t meant to hurt her and he felt incredibly guilty for doing so. Marnie was the only living relative that Piers had left, yet he had just shoved her as if she had meant nothing to him and made her cry in the process. And considering what he had already been going through when she had walked in on him, you could bet this only made him feel a hell of a lot worse about himself. After all, it was his own fault that Marnie just ran out of the room, crying. And chances are, he knew she likely would not accept an apology for at least a few weeks. Even worse, what would Team Yell think of their Captain if they found out that their Captain made Spikemuth’s ‘Princess’ cry? Surely, that would make Team Yell think poorly of their Captain, right? A lot of thoughts were continuously running through Piers’s mind as well as what could possibly end up resulting from him pushing Marnie. And here he was, thinking of if this night was going to get any worse, or if tomorrow would at least be a little better. Now he was debating on whether he should sleep, or go back to working on his music. It turns out that music took top priority, so, Piers got up, ignoring his slightly bleeding arm as he went back over to his desk and sat in his chair; trying to work on his music some more.

As for Leon, as Leon was walking to the house he had in Wyndon, he couldn’t help but think about how rocky Piers and Raihan’s relationship was. He hated the fact that Piers and Raihan’s relationship had even gotten violent. Why won’t Raihan just break up with Piers already? So many thoughts played through Leon’s mind. But, why was he thinking this way? Shouldn’t he be trying to help his friends through this? Or did he care more about Raihan than he did Piers? He didn’t know. Something about it just really ticked him off though. However, during the time he’s been lost in thought about how he felt Raihan deserved better than Piers, he hadn’t been paying any actual attention to where he had been walking. When he stopped to see where he even was, he saw he was in the middle of the Wild Area. Though, he wasn’t all too surprised. He had a tendency of getting lost, so this wasn’t anything new. Since it was late, he just decided to spend the night at the Wild Area, being rather tired. The tiredness however, did not mean he’d be falling asleep right away. No, he had far too much on his mind to be able to sleep.

When Leon was soon laying on the ground, as he laid there, he tried to think of ways he could help end the rocky relationship between Piers and Raihan faster. Then he got an idea; a cruel one at that. If Raihan and Piers weren’t ending the relationship on their own terms, then why can’t Leon do that for them? It’s such a pure shame that Leon remembered the password of Piers’s main social media from the one time he saw Piers type the password in. So, he downloaded that social media app on his Rotom Phone, logging into Piers’s account. He knew very well that this app also happened to be one of Raihan’s main social media apps as well. He then decided to look through Piers’s messages on the app as well while he was on Piers’s account. And to say the least, he did find some blackmail worthy things in some private messages that Piers had with a few other people. So, he screenshotted them just in case he would need them later. Now, all that would be left was to message Raihan in the private messages section. Of course, he read through Piers’s and Raihan’s text conversation first, seeing that there were countless arguments in the texts, but to his surprise, he saw there was a message Piers had left in the text box, yet hadn’t sent yet. So of course, he read the text.

To say the least, it wasn’t a very long text. Maybe just a few sentences; but reading those few sentences made Leon question if this was even a smart idea to do as he read those few sentences. >>I’m sorry if I’ve been such an asshole to ya lately, Rai. Ya know I still love ya more than anythin’ else in this world, right? Which is why, I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore. I’m sorry for what I plan on doing tonight, Rai. I love ya, Rai, but this is goodbye fer forever...<< As Leon read those words, he felt his eyes tear up a bit. He could tell that almost seemed as if it were a small suicide note. Though, according to the text box, that message was last edited last week. It must have been a text from after that physical fight Piers and Raihan had gotten in. Yet, Piers had never sent it. Leon just sighed softly, deleting the text and began typing a new text to send to Raihan via Piers’s social media account. Leon knew how to text the way Piers did as well, after all, he’s seen Piers type before and had read those texts, so, he knew how to pretend like it was Piers typing.

>>I know ya have been really hopin’ that our relationship could work out again someday an’ that ya don’t want us ta break up, but... I think it’s time we started thinkin’ ‘bout seein’ other people, Rai. This relationship just isn’t workin’ out anymore an’ it’s only weighin’ us both down from continuin’ on wit’ our lives an’ it’s keepin’ us both from bein’ happy. Plus, wit’ my music career, I just don’t have time ta have a committed relationship an’ well, I’m interested in other people, Rai. So, what I’m tryin’ ta say is that I’m breakin’ up wit’ ya, Rai. Don’t take this too personally, a’ight? This is just what’s best fer both of us an’ I know ya know that very well. We just weren’t meant ta be together, Rai...<< Leon then sent the text, knowing Raihan would likely see this text soon. Leon knew this had to be done. It was for the benefit of both of his friends, right? Or was it only out of his own jealously of the fact Raihan still loved Piers even after Piers had hit Raihan a few times as well as Raihan hitting Piers a few times? Now all he had to do was wait for Raihan to see the text.

—————————

First Chapter: https://pokemon-swsh-bartender-au-crew.tumblr.com/post/616794959808479232/warning-this-story-overall-contains-topics-of

Previous Chapter: https://pokemon-swsh-bartender-au-crew.tumblr.com/post/617028044042977280/heavy-heart-heavy-soul-chapter

Next Chapter: https://pokemon-swsh-bartender-au-crew.tumblr.com/post/617167195354578944/heavy-heart-heavy-soul-chapter

[laketaj24]

Mended III

Author’s Note: Hey!! I apologize that it has taken forever to update this series, but I sincerely appreciate you patience!! Thank you @slimmiyagi for the motivation! It’s a been a little bit since I wrote Erik but I hope you enjoy!! Let me know what you think! Also I think some of my people are gone via Tumblr breakdown 2018 lol so my taglist is open!! I still accept Black Panther Request. I just don’t get too many these days.

Black Panther Masterlist

Warnings: Smut.

Mended I, Mended II

Collin: The states would look lovelier if I saw you.

You didn’t respond to the text message as you flipped the phone back over on the counter. It was one time, well three times. Three wonderful times you didn’t want Erik to know about, three times you had forgotten about yourself. The text messages from Collin started over a week ago. He was back in town from England and of course the first person he hit when he got back in town was you.

The fling between you two was short lived and by short you meant short. The blond haired, blue eyed terror was someone you used to forget Erik. He was the opposite of him. A spite fuck almost.

Your day was to frenzied for this anyhow. The twins were having a birthday party and every drop of your attention had been diverted to them. Everyone was expected over to your house in a matter of hours. And hardly any of the things in the list you had made were done. The food was started but the boys were still with N’jobu. But Erik didn’t seem to mind as he walked around the backyard working on the setup. The recent months had changed between you two. Things were no longer strained. There were no two separate homes. He sold that whore-pad on the North and moved back home.

You really couldn’t be happier, even if he had some control issues, you two were still working on. It was better than cheating.

“What are you burning?” Erik asked as he stepped behind you.

“Uh, excuse me?” You turned to him. The beard was growing back. You cheered silently at the small growth on his chin and put the spoon up to his lips. “I don’t burn shit. Thank you kindly.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” His full lips went over the spoon and his tongue swiped out over your finger. “The cook taste better.” He shrugged as he pinned you against the counter.

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time to have sex with him. Y’all sessions tended to last for hours and you didn’t really have time for it. You push his hard chest away from your body, but you can feel him already strained against his sweats, eager and ready. “No sir, the chef isn’t on the menu.”

“She always on the menu.”

His hands explored as they always did down the side of your neck with ease. They danced leaving small tingles each place he touched. “The food can simmer for a while.”

It always started in the kitchen for you two. You shake your head and laugh. “Erik, give me some time to get this ready. Your aunt and cousin are coming! They are coming all the way from…” words evade you as you feel his tongue dance along the line of your neck and his lips latch on to your neck and suck. He knew things about you. Your spots. Your triggers. And that soft spot was a trigger.

“It won’t take long. You can have the time in the world.” And with that he flips you over pressing your stomach against the chilled counter. The hard smack to your ass sends a reverent sting through your body and you suck the air through your teeth savoring the feeling. It’s instincts as your arch your back and he admires the curve of the nape of your back. He rubs from nape to the cusp of your ass and then grips. “All daddy’s ass.” He brags as he administers another sharp blow to your ass. You hum with excitement as you feel the breeze of cold air when he lifts the dress over you. “You like that?”

“Yes.” You answer as he rubs your bare ass this time.

“Let’s see how much.” His arm snakes around your waist and even though you knew where it was headed you can’t help but to jump at the rush of pleasure you feel when his thick fingers intrude your slick folds, right to your clit. He starts with small circles. He presses applying the smallest amount of pressure and then adds more sending you writhing for him. “Calm yourself, I haven’t even started yet.”

That’s what worried you. You didn’t have time for the finessing today. You needed to nut and finish the damn food. You thrust yourself onto his fingers hoping to rush him along, but he stops you with a quick spin and his fingers on your chin. He drags a finger down your lips. You can taste the sweetness of yourself and you can feel yourself growing even more intrigued. “What you tryna do?”

“I gotta cook.”

“I said don’t worry about that shit.” He warned. “So, don’t worry about that shit.” He drops to his knees finding his way beneath your skirt. His tongue enters you and your hands are in his head missing those short dreads you used to use to anchor yourself you settle for the back of his head, coaxing him to give you more. He grips your thighs as he laps his tongue over your clit a few times and sucks causing your head back.

You’re not sure how you made it up the steps so fast, but you don’t care as Erik undoes his belt and wraps it around your wrists a few times and then tightens it. He drapes your arms over the bed post and looks down on you with excitement. “Ain’t no running up in here now.” He nestles himself between your legs and pins them to the bed. You were already soaking and wet for him and to be honest you didn’t even know if your body could take another one. His thick tip prods at your entrance and you buck you’re hips against him, urging him. “Greedy ass.” He says pushing you back down on the bed before snapping his hips to yours and filling you completely.

You pull at the restraints as you long to rake your fingers down the slope of his back. No matter how many times you two fucked he still fucked you like it was the first time, filling you to the hilt and then sliding back out of you. “Ah fuck ma. Still so fucking tight. You keep that tight for daddy don’t you.”

You couldn’t form words only shake your head while dragging your teeth over your bottom lip in pleasure. He slammed into you again, bottoming out and tapping your g-spot in one fucking stroke. Your legs start to writhe under him but his weight locks them beneath him, making you feel tighter around his veined dick.

“I wanna hear you answer me. What you quiet for?” he slaps your thighs and spreads your legs farther apart as his winds his hips to get deeper. “Answer me.”

“Yes daddy.” At this point you didn’t even know what you were agreeing to, you just knew that you about cum and lose every ounce of self-control you ever had.

“You about to cum ain’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Nah you ain’t.” He laughed as he slowed his strokes and the build up that had started stopped. “you can hold that shit.”

You scoffed making your body winds against his faster and he laughed. “You really trying me ain’t you. Hold it.” He slammed into you again and again. Your whole body started to numb and there was no way you would be able to hold it. Your walls gripped him, shuttering as he sped up and you tried to breathe through and then it happened. You came with a shiver down your spine that sent fireworks through your entire body.

Erik shook his head with a grin on his face as he started to find his own high, drilling into you over and over until he found his own climax shortly after.

Erik’s body glistened as he stood up in the afterglow of sex. Fuck he was sexy. Your body ached. The last thing you wanted to do was be a host. “You better get up and prepare to be Mrs. Stevens. Start with that head. It’s fucked up.” He teased.

“It was fine fucking earlier. Now I gotta rock a ponytail.” You rolled your eyes as you rolled out of bed. “Ain’t no telling how many calls I done missed. I bet Nakia and Ko are freaking out at Party supply. I sent them for some napkins but they’re like some fucking kids.”

“Man, you should have sent T’Challa. His ass gotta one track mind.” He stepped into the adjacent bathroom and started the shower water. “Get in the tub. I’ll check on the food and join you aight?”

“Look at you being Mr. Sweet.”

“I mean I just blew your back out, the least a nigga could do is get you clean.” He pecked your cheek and disappeared down the hall.

You liked that you were already naked. You stepped into the steaming water and washed up humming music under your breath. Everything was back to how it was before the shit was done. It was truly mended. Never had he been this sweet to you before, second chances worked sometimes. You douse the towel in the Dove body wash for the second towel and hear the door open. “I forgot to tell you that Ramona said that she was bringing games! She said she got shit from when you was younger.”

“Oh yeah for real?” You watch through the glass as he perches himself on the bathroom counter. “She was always good at them games.”

“I know, it why she said she was bringing them. You gotta play with the boys. They are gonna freak out.” You peak out noticing the pink phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone E?” You laugh. “Kia text?”

“Yeah her and yo’ boy Collin. Sound like a god damn colonizer”

The shower water was the only sound in the bathroom as you closed your eyes shaking your head. “Why are you going through my phone, I don’t go through yours.”

“Tell another motherfucking lie.”

“Did I text back! Put my shit down.” Your voice is clipped as you opened the door. You snatched the black towel from the rack.

“You fucked him?”

“A while back does it matter?”

“It matters because you fucking lied to me. Only you.” He mimicked your voice. “It’s only been you. You been up here fucking Carlton the Colonizer the whole god damn time! It does fucking matter. We said no god damn secrets.”

“It ain’t a secret.”

“It’s not any fucking more!” He yelled back at you. His voice echoed off the walls. “Y/N you really think it’s not a big deal? But let there be a fucking Becky in my phone you don’t know about and you would lose your shit!”

“Erik! What you want? You want me to apologize? I am sorry I fucked him. Are you happy?”

“Nah keep that shit.” He tossed your phone onto the counter.

“Erik!”

It was hard to go after him butt ass naked so you shuffled into your clothes and tried to make it down the steps but you didn’t make it in time. The silver car sped down the road and there you stood, freshly fucked and fucked up.

 The guest arrived one by one and you held it together. The fake smiles hid the fact that you were about to lose it. This was supposed to be the day that you and Erik were reunited as a couple in front of everyone you loved and Collin had royally fucked that up for you. You dialed his number a few times. Each time it rang a few times and the stupid ass voicemail came on:

It’s E. You know what to do.

Y/N: Erik people are coming and the boys will be back any minute. Can you please come back? Please?

You hang up the phone dialing the number again and this time it rattles on the receiver and he answers.

“E’s phone.” The female voice said. “What’s good?”

  Tagging:  @challaxkillmonger @wakanda-inspired @misspooh @valynsia @vanitykocaine @harleycativy  @jecourt @virgosapphire79 @sparklemichele @theunsweetenedtruth @ahhhhkeya @iamrheaspeaks @thiccdaddy-mbaku @muse-of-mbaku @myboyfriendgiriboy @someareblindtoitsbeauty @brittyevans @almostpurelysmut @readsalot73 @eriknutinthispoosy @amethyst1993 @ivarsshieldmadien @slimmiyagi @cinnabearice @royallyprincesslilly @hutchj @igetcarriedawaywithyou @madamslayyy @nickidub718 @bakaris-shorty @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @allhailnjadaka @hearteyes-for-killmonger @dynastylnoire @destinio1 @panthergoddessbast @im5ftbutmythroat66 @whoramilaje @marvelpotterlove

[yaachtynoboat711]

Our Next Guest...

A/N: Here’s my contribution to @hoopshoney and @purple-apricots With Love, From Wakanda fic fest! I’m so excited to temporarily break from Fonder’s angsty chains and coming with that present-day Yaa and Wins! I apologize for the tardiness of this fic, as I started my new job this week. I had to dust this off from the depths of my archives due to the time crunch. I was going to do my M’Baku x OC, but my time was limited.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning(s): Fluff, Black Love

Prompt: “Have I mentioned how much I love you? Only twice in the past hour.”

“Chris, I’m fucking terrified.”,you huffed.

You were in your dressing room getting ready to finally begin your Sheimbloom press junket. The first stop was Jimmy Kimmel Live, one of your favorite talk shows. You’d been delaying the tour for personal reasons. Now, it was here and you were going alone. Winston was in the middle of a project in New York. Plus, it was Valentine’s Day. It sucked knowing that Winston couldn’t make it, however,it was worth knowing that he was being supportive and giving you advice on TV interviews. You’d had many a print interview, but never a TV interview.

“Baby, you’ll do fine. You’re a lawyer: you orate for a living. Plus, you love Jimmy, so this’ll be a breeze.”, Winston reassured via FaceTime.

“Yeah, you’re right...I guess.”

“You’re damn right I’m right. I can’t recall a time I was ever wrong. ”

“Well shit I can.”, you smirked, earning an annoyed huff and eye roll from your fiancé.

“ANYWAYS, are you going to indirectly promote Us?”

“Hasn't it already been promoted enough?”

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean,Yaa Denae?” One of the production assistants walked in at the perfect moment.

“Dr. Abdullah, we’re ready for you.”, the PA said.

“Well, won’t you look at the time! I love you, baby love!”,Yaa said in a hurry.

“I love you, too, Pumpkin. Gimme love.” The two of you did your secret handshake despite the distance and he hung up.

“K.D., you two are just too cute for words.”, your assistant Talia gushed as you handed her your phone.

You walked out of your dressing room along with Talia and your other assistant Jacqui to the backstage area.

When you got backstage, you found a mirror to check yourself out and posed for your OOTD post. Winston picked your outfit: simple black blouse with matching flared pants and a Tuskegee crimson and old gold striped ascot (your choice,of course). He even picked out the leopard pumps. That man had an eye for fashion. Your curly platinum locs were pulled neatly into a ponytail.

“Dr. Abdullah, you’re up in 60 seconds!”, you heard the PA announce. “Thank you!”, you replied. You took this time to recite your affirmation to yourself:

I am enough;I am here for a reason;I am here to slay; I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams!

Finally, you walked into the elevator as you heard the countdown and studio applause before hearing Jimmy’s introduction. “Welcome back! Our next guest is no stranger to shattering glass ceilings. In addition to graduating valedictorian of Yale Law School at the age of 23,yeah, twen-ty three, this past July, she became the youngest and the first Black woman to win the Richard T. Sheimbloom Award for Merit and Excellence in Law--the highest award for any lawyer in the world to receive. Please, help me welcome for the first time, Attorney Khalida Abdullah!”

The audience erupted into cheer, but not before the elevator door slid open to you doing that little Thotiana jig. You waved to the audience and gave them your brightest Miss Tuskegee smile. You strutted your way towards Jimmy and hugged him before sitting down. “Well...”, Jimmy began, “...happy Valentine’s Day and welcome to the show, Attorney Abdullah.” The audience continued their clapping and cheering.

“Thank you so much,Jimmy! Happy V-Day to you! Please call me K.D.. Can I just say that one, this is a dream come true to be on the show and two, I need to carry this audience in my pocket because they really--” they all screamed and you smiled as you glanced towards the audience once more, “--they really helped me overcome my nerves just now and this energy y’all are giving me is every damn thing to me.”

“Well, I’m happy that’s something that helped ease you. So let’s jump right on in: what made you want to become a lawyer?”

“You know, not a lot of people have asked me that question.”

Jimmy’s head bucked back in disbelief, “Really?”

“Yeah, so believe it or not, the OJ trial inspired me to go into law. I was about 5 years old and I see Johnnie Cochran, a Black man, and Marcia Clark, a woman, working the case. I guess I was trying to figure out why weren’t there any Black Women working this case. Even after the case, I didn’t meet a Black female lawyer until I was in college. Sometimes, you gotta be your own role model.” The audience applauded your answer.

“That’s something to really live by. Now fast-forward to this past July: what’s going through your mind before and after hearing your name called for the Sheimbloom?”

“Maaaaan, I was a complete wreck and a tad tipsy from the wine they put on the table. I had my umi and Winston’s hands in vise grips. For clarification, Winston Duke, y’know…”,you looked dead into camera 1, “...THICC DADDY M’Baku? Anyways, everything’s going in slow motion, so my reaction was about 10 seconds slower than what it should’ve been. Now, the Chairman didn’t actually announce my name per se.”

Jimmy and the audience laughed. “So...are you the 2018 Sheimbloom winner or not?”, he joked. “Jimmy, listen! Winston, along with some of his fellow Jabari actors, started barking like they did in the Warrior Falls scene? It wasn’t until Winston let go of my hand and literally took his scarf to bark did I realize I’d won.” The audience cheered as a picture of your raw reaction to winning appeared on the screen behind you. Your red eyes were bugged out, mouth ajar, both hands placed on your chest. That feeling of victory began tingling throughout your body all over again .

“How’s life after winning?”

“To be honest…I don’t really feel that much different. I worked that Monday after the ceremony and up until the middle of August because my partners essentially forced me on leave and sent me to L.A.”

“Why would they do that?” The audience laughed. You did too.

“Honey, I had been working like a madwoman from October up until they put me on leave.”

“Ah-a. So that leads me to the next question: what happened that night?” You smirked.

“Well, after giving my speech, I got whisked upstairs to take pictures with my award.” The screen behind you showed a picture of you holding your award up to your ear like a cell phone with one hand and showing off your rose gold slugs by pulling on your bottom lip with the other. You were squatting down and showing off your red sparkly pump.

“That’s one of the most epic pictures I’ve ever seen. What happened next?” The audience gassed you up with “Ow’s! and whistles..

“Wellllllllllllllll”, your toothy smile should have been the indication that it was about to go down, “I sneak away to the terrace for a breather because God knew I needed it. I’m out there and my Winston texts me asking me where I had gone, right? Long story short, he proposed. Afterwards, socialized for a little bit, and then Wins and I went to our favorite 24-hour diner like nothing even happened that night. So, that’s another reason I was out here in L.A.: he still lives here and we needed time to begin planning the wedding.” The audience went crazy with applause.

“So how’s the planning coming,”

“Uhh...it’s proving to be harder than we initially estimated. We don’t live together—he’s here in LA and I’m in DC. So with that being said, we can’t just meet at a central location at lunch and talk about flowers and what not. He’s big money now with his ever-filling schedule and I’m doing the damn thing too so we can’t just break. We try to reserve a weekend every month to devote our time and energy to planning. The few times we’ve actually come together, progress was def made.”

“One more question before the break: when’s the wedding date?”

You looked at him with your usual “Really, nigga?” face. “C’mon, Jimmy. I can’t just disclose something personal like that. We don’t want our special day to be a media circus. But the only thing I will say is that it’s in 2020.”, you teased.

“We’ll be back after the break.” The audience applauded until the director yelled “Cut!”

—————

“And we’re back! I’m here on this Valentine’s Day with the incomparable Khalida Abdullah, attorney and activist. Now earlier, you mentioned that your fiancé is none other than actor Winston Duke, who’s been on this show before.”, Jimmy explained. The ladies in the audience swooned.

“That’s correct! He’s currently doing press for his upcoming movie Us. Y’all should hit it up next month.”, you responded, trying to conceal the goofy smile forming.

“So one thing I failed to mention before the break was that you two are gracing the cover of Essence Magazine’s Black Love issue.”, Jimmy announced. The audience cheered. He propped the advance copy up that showed you and Winston posed together and serving faces.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, is it difficult being in a relationship with a man of growing international status?”

“Well, damn. I never even thought about that. Ummmm...no. If anything, our relationship is growing stronger. Life after Black Panther has, in a sense, caused us to strengthen our communication. I believe that our mutual communication is our greatest asset. We literally text each other our daily schedules and we have each other’s events and event reminders in other’s phones. We’re very transparent with one another.”

“So you don’t get jealous with other ladies throwing their panties at Winston?”

You shot Jimmy an unimpressed look. “Why get jealous when he’s in mine all the time?”, you said unphased, shrugging your shoulders, crossing your legs and drinking from your mug. The audience hooted and hollered.

"Welll, here's an Instagram picture of the two of you. Not quite like we just discussed but very cute. Does he get tired of the graduations and celebrations you drag him to? You taking his shine?"

A picture of you two came on the screen. It was the Instagram picture the two of you took at your graduation dinner this past spring. In your beautiful red off-shoulder African dress and doctoral cap and he in his khaki seersucker and unbuttoned white dress shirt, the two of you jokingly did the “prom pose” and he was kissing your neck. Your signature smile and red lip were on full display as you were mid-laugh. The audience awed as they felt the warmth and love you two shared in that moment.

“Nahhh...in his mind, he sees us as equally yoked. Whatever hustle I have, be it a speaking engagement, an award, or anything, he’s cheering me on 125%, and the same goes for me. So with anything in our lives, you’ll see one go all the way for the other. Metaphorically, no one has a bigger head between us.”

“But in the literal sense?”

“Oh, it’s definitely his ass.” Everyone including yourself burst out laughing. “Plus, it doesn’t hurt that we’re good arm candy for each other for events. I mean, look at us!”, you said enthusiastically as you pointed at the picture.

“Well, one more thing before we go: what’s on the agenda for Valentine’s Day?”, Jimmy inquired. You carefully thought about your answer. The thought of being away from your Teddy Bear on Valentine’s Day sucked ass.

“Well, unfortunately, he’s on his way to New York to tend to some business. Buuuut, in a perfect world, I’d be rushing to finish this interview and get ready to go out on a date or stay in, get into our pajamas, and watch Forensic Files all night long.”

“Well, once again, happy Valentine’s Day and congratulations on everything you’ve accomplished. Khalida Abdullah, everybody.”, Jimmy concluded. The audience stood up and cheered as you and Jimmy chatted it up until yhe break.

“Annnnd cut! Great job, Khalida!”, the producer yelled over the PA system.

“Not bad for your first interview.”, Jimmy complimented. You thanked him for the opportunity and were escorted backstage.

Jacqui was the first of your staff to welcome you backstage. “K.D. (you hated formalities with your staff), that was amazing! It’s crazy to think that you were terrified right before this and now look at you: mastered it like it was nothin’!”, she said as she hugged you deeply. You’d thanked her and you started walking back to your dressing room.

“I just wished that Wins could’ve been here, y’know?”, you whispered loud enough so Jacqui could hear. You opened the door and it hit something heavy, the door’s impact sounded as though the victim may have been a person. Your face scrunched in curiosity and your native New Orleans kicked in for this very moment. “Bitch, who the fuck?!”, you yelled. You stepped back to make sure you were going to the right dressing room. Yup, this is my dressing room. You slowly opened opened the door again.

Your confused expression remained on your face as you heard Ed Sheeran’s Perfect playing softly. The lights were dimmed just enough that you could see Winston standing in the middle of the room looking the fuck good as usual. You ran to him, tightly hugging his torso. He took in the sweet scent of your loc oil and perfume and kissed the top of your locs. He could feel your chubby cheeks complimenting your candy apple red smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Pumpkin.”, he whispered.

“You raggedy as fuck. Just want you to know that. I love you though. ”, you clapped back.

“I love you, too, but hoooooow?!”, Winston looked down into your teary light brown eyes. “New York, Winston? Really?”, you answered.

“Denver, Khalida? Really?, he shot back.

Silence. “Touché.”

Your staff recorded the entire exchange. Praise the ancestors for them. You looked over to the counter to see a large bouquet of your rose trifecta and Tropical Skittles, your personal favorite candy. Your favorite snack was sporting a burgundy suit with a tan turtleneck.

“Now, I was in a crunch trying to get here, but I figured you’d appreciate the Tropical Skittles over the originals, even though Skittles are your favorite regardless.”, he explained. You shook your head as you heard his explanation.

“God, I love you, Winston.” He kissed your fivehead before giving your lips the same attention.

“I love you even more, Pumpkin.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?”, you asked.

“Only twice in the past hour. ”, he teased. “Now come on—it’s half-past 4 and we need to get ready for the night ahead of us.”

“Welp, there goes that Forensic Files binge-a-thon I bragged about.”

Tag Listiana 🤷🏽‍♀️

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy-deactivated2 @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @hoopshoney @purple-apricots @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @supersizemeplz @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

[she-writes-words]

Summer Lovin’ Chapter 1

Pairing: Harry Holland x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mild Language 

Summary: 

Toni Thompson met Harry Holland after befriending his brother at an awards show. Tom's group had welcomed her in and practically acted like they'd known her their entire lives. Somewhere along the way, Toni fell hard for Harry, but nobody knows... Except for Zendaya. The group embarks on a summer trip together, one that they'd been planning for quite some time. How will Toni deal with her crush on her best friend's younger brother? Will they come to admit their feelings? Or will her fear of losing her best friends stop her from chasing the possible love of her life?

A/N: This is my first full-on fanfiction and my first writing for the Holland twin. I’m not sure how many chapters this will be, but please enjoy. Constructive Criticism is always welcomed!

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Driving up the California coast has always been my favorite thing to do. What made it even better was doing it with friends. Tom and Harry were currently seated in my car, jamming to a playlist made specifically for this road trip. A few cars behind us was Zendaya, Jacob, and Harrison. I peeked back at them from my rear-view mirror, smiling to myself.

I had met Tom a few years back at an after party. He wasn’t paying attention, obviously in deep conversation with someone, and bumped into me, spilling his drink down the front of my dress. I had cracked a joke about that being some way to get a girl’s attention. After what felt like a million apologies later, we had settled into a comfortable conversation, whoever he was talking to was long gone by now. We ended up exchanging numbers and continuing to talk the rest of the night via text. My nickname TeeTee came about thanks to that being what he put me under in his phone.

Suddenly a beautiful friendship had blossomed between us and we quickly became the best of friends. That’s how I met the rest of his inner circle consisting of his co-stars Zendaya and Jacob, his best friend from Haz, and his brother Harry. Sure, his other family was close to him and he did have other friends, but these were the ones I had gotten closer to.

Most of my free time was spent with Tom or Zendaya. He would occasionally spend a few days with me in Vancouver or L.A. when he could. If he was in L.A, usually Zendaya and I were as well. I had even been to London a few times, so I had gotten to know his family well. Zendaya and I had gotten close out of sheer luck thanks to us living so close to each other in L.A.

Now Tom’s younger brother Harry was a different story. Much like his brother, we had hit off almost immediately and he became part of my inner circle. When his brother didn’t have him hanging around and he wasn’t off doing a project of his own, he would stop in to see me when I’d be filming. Not only was Harry my best friend, but he also became my crush. A crush that I couldn’t tell Tom about out of fear of losing our friendship. Zendaya knew, but that was because she forced it out of me after a small get together he was at.

This trip we decided to embark on was something we didn’t get to do often. The six of us had decided to take a small road trip to a coastal beach house that a friend owned. The guys had all flown into LAX just for this trip. To say we were all excited was an understatement. It was only a few hours outside of Los Angeles, but come on, a trip is a trip. To get away from the hustle and bustle of the city with our favorite people is a must.

Getting off the highway and making a few turns, I could finally see the residential area near the beach. I smiled over at Tom who was still enjoying the music playing through my speakers while playing with his phone. “We’re here, ya know. Just a few more minutes until we get to my friend's place.”

Tom and Harry whipped their heads up from their phones in excitement. I smiled at the giddy men and rolled my windows down to take a deep breath of air. The smell of ocean water mingled with the scents of the flowers and trees lining the roads. It brought a peaceful sensation to my body that made me just as giddy as the grown men in my car. Beside me, Tom was taking a video with his phone, letting out a low whistle. In the back, Harry had his camera out, really when did he not have it out, and a goofy smile plastered to his face.

I pulled the car to a stop in the driveway of a gorgeous beach house and suddenly the only noise heard throughout the car was our breathing and the music. We were all just so in awe as we took it all in. The beach was just a few minutes away by walking and you could smell the strong ocean scent from the house. From the front, we could see the beautiful double door entry and a beautiful balcony attached to an upstairs bedroom. It was magnificent, to say the least.

Our attention was pulled away by the sound of a car pulling up next to us, a beaming Zendaya waving at us from the driver’s side and Haz and Jacob animatedly talking in the back seat. I patted tom’s leg and motioned to the friends beside us. “Think that’s our cue to get out, don’t ya think?”

“No, I thought I’d let them drag me out of the car,” he snarked back, a bright smile on his face.

“Fuck you, Holland.” He laughed at my sad comeback and I decided to get out of the car before I thought of something better. The moment I had closed my door, I was practically tackled to the ground by Zendaya. I could pick up a strong scent, but not overwhelmingly so, of coconut coming off her hair and skin as she tightened her arms around my upper body.

I was always amazed when I saw Z. She was an effortlessly beautiful girl and I always felt that I could never compare to her. It wasn’t a competition, of course, but it just didn’t seem fair that a woman could look that flawless. She would be in the simplest clothes and a bare face, just like she was at this moment, and she’d still look drop dead gorgeous. Her dark curls were so much prettier than my frizzy pink ones currently in a high ponytail atop my head. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I squeezed her back and chuckled.

“Nice to see you too, Z. It’s not like I just saw your face a few hours ago.”

“I’m just so excited to spend the next two weeks with you guys. It’s going to be amazing. I have so much stuff planned for us!” The girl was radiating excitement and energy, how she has so much I have no clue.

The guys had made their way up to us while Zendaya continued to ramble on about her plans. After a side hug from Haz and Jacob, we made our way up to the house. Zendaya was chatting with Harry and Tom about all the popular photo spots around town and how she was so excited to see the scenery and sunbathe. We all knew Harry’s camera would be attached to his face for a good part of the trip.

My attention was caught by a cool breeze lifting wisps of curls off my neck. I turned my head as if to follow the breeze and caught sight of the sun slowly starting to set. It was beautiful, no doubt about it. Just like Zendaya, I couldn’t wait to get more of the scenery. Something about the way the glow of the sun peeking through the trees just made me want to leave all my worries behind and never leave. I knew I couldn’t wait to get out and frolic on that magical beach.

The sound of someone’s fingers snapping in my face brought me back to the here and now. “You alright, love?” That accent. The one that belonged to my best friend. I laughed, looking up at him and patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little too wrapped up in my daydreams, I suppose. Don’t worry about it.”

Tom stifled his laugh as I brushed past him walking completely into the house. The discussion of sleeping arrangements was in full swing once I finally found myself in the kitchen. Trying not to disturb anyone, I quietly slid in next to Harry who smiled at me and threw his arm around my shoulders. Leaning up on my tiptoes to better reach him, I whispered into his ear “So what did I miss?”

“Tom’s bunking with Haz, you’re bunking with Zendaya, and Jacob and I are on our own.” He shot me a wink before turning his attention to Jacob. “I’ll take the upstairs if you’re cool with it, man.”

“Sure, man! Guess that means I get the lower level all to myself unless you want to join me, Harrison,” he sent a wink Haz’s way causing Z and me to fall into a fit of giggles as Haz jokingly threw himself into Jacob’s arms. Jacob was always so down with the flow and I really admired that about him.

I nudged Zendaya’s arm with my elbow. “Hey, Z, show me to our room?” With almost too much excitement, she grabbed my arm pulling me out of the warmth that was Harry’s arm and directed me up to the stairs a few feet away from where the group was stood.

“So ours is the master on the right. It’s got two kings and a kickass tub,” she whispered in my ear so as not to make the other guys jealous. I could hear the gloating in her voice. “Oh, and boys.,” She yelled down the stairs. There was the sound of shuffling and muffled voices, then four heads peeking up the stairs. “Get your crap sorted and we can head to the beach before it gets too dark.” And with that, we were off to check out or room.

A few hours later we found ourselves around a fire pit on the back porch, each of us with a drink in our hands. It had been a slow and peaceful night so far. Most of our night was unpacking our luggage, walking the beach, and then hunting for food. Between the excitement of the night and our drive earlier in the afternoon, we had all decided we were too tired to much. A night of games was the perfect ending to the night. I was sandwiched between the brothers with my head resting on Harry’s shoulder and a hand gripping a glass of wine. How natural this felt. Across from us Sat Haz who was talking to Zendaya and Jacob, arms flailing about as he explained something.

As I was thinking over the events on the beach, I started drifting in and out of the conversation. The breeze was so peaceful and serene as we were walking the shore. The guys were all bullshitting around when suddenly Haz races towards Tom with a hand full of sand and manages to get it down his pants. Zendaya and I stood back laughing as Jacob joined in, getting wet sand and stuffing it in Haz’s pants. Harry was standing off to the side taking pictures of the sunset and the wrestling match, chuckling at the stupidity of his brother and friends.

What happened next reminded me of those slow-motion moments in movies. The last bit of sun that was shining dropped down hitting Harry in such a way that it lit his form up in a beautiful golden glow. My breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t look away. Deciding I didn’t want to lose this moment, I took my phone out and captured a photo of Harry before he could look my way. His breathtaking smile, the way his eyes crinkled up, and the halo around his gorgeous curls. Oh, it was just-

“Strip poker!”

My head snapped up from its place on Harry’s shoulder, startling the two boys next to me. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I think I got a bit lost,” I chuckled breathlessly. I looked over at Haz whose look of utter glee slowly fell as he realized he scared me.

“You scared the shit out of me, Toni,” Tom laughs, placing a hand over his heart.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I giggled, patting his back. It was all laughs between us after that.

“So, is that a no for strip poker?” Poor Harrison really wanted to get people naked tonight.

“That is a hard no. Sorry Harrison, but I’m shit at poker and really don’t feel like getting naked in front of you guys,” Z patted Harrison on the shoulder with an apologetic look on her face. It was no secret that the two of us sucked at card games. Haz knew this, he was just being a little shit about it.

“Well, how about truth or dare,” I suggested. The faces around me lit up with mischievous grins. We might be a bunch of twenty-somethings, but we’re still a bunch of high schoolers at heart. “Cool. Harry, you’re the youngest. You can start.” I moved to the seat across from Z to even out our position. Sipping the wine in my hand and humming in pleasure at the taste, I watched Harry shift his eyes across the circle, landing on his brother. Tom looks at him with a confident smirk.

“Truth or dare, bro?”

“Come on, mate. You know me. Dare!” And there it was. Cocky Tom who thought he was invincible. This side of him only came out around people he felt really comfortable with. And maybe when he had a little alcoholic his system to loosen him up.

He pretends to think about it for a moment, flicking his eyes between the only other guys out here. Looking back to his brother he grins. “I dare you to give Jacob a lap dance.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted at the childish dare. “My God, Harry. What are we, fourteen?” He glares at me as I continue. “We’ve all seen his cross-dressing performance, yeah? I bet he’ll actually enjoy this!” I arched an eyebrow staring at the older Holland brother and smirked at him. I cover a giggle with my hand when Tom glares at me, knowing it will just further irritate the man.

“Fine. In your underwear.” And suddenly the group, minus a red-faced Tom, howled with laughter. A middle finger thrown in the air by said man, and he was riding himself of his clothing as slow as possible.

After fiddling with her phone for a moment, the beat to Beyoncé’s Naughty girl started flowing through the speakers. Neither of us could hold back our cackles at the expression written all over Tom’s face. Attempting to ignore the two women laughing at him, Tom begins to perform the most cringy lap dance I have ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many.

Did it look like Jacob minded what was going on? Not at all. In fact, he looked quite ecstatic at the man gyrating his hips over him. Occasionally Tom would do something funny like smacking his ass, putting Jacob’s hands on his abs, or hip thrusts. The five of us were nearly choking for air by the time he had finished his dance, the music fading out and changing to another upbeat one. Not wanting to be made fun of anymore, Tom huffed and threw his clothes on as quickly as possible and picked the next victim.

It was all childish dares and truths after that. Drink a nasty concoction of multiple liquors, confess your undying love to someone in this group, what’s your most embarrassing sexual encounter, or send a dick pic to the last person you texted. Poor Haz got that one and I feel even worse for the poor lady he’s been chatting up. Haz brought it full circle by daring Tom to stick his hand through the fire. Lame and simple, sure. But it freaked him out enough which was the best part.

“Oh Harry, my dear brother,” he coos. Well, shit. Harry is in for it now. “Truth or dare?”

All eyes are on Harry as he grins. “Dare.” We all awaited what we thought would be the most epic revenge dare. I should have known neither of us would get away from his wrath so easily. Between his brother’s silly dare and my teasing, Tom was out for blood. He enjoyed watching people squirm.

“Make out with Toni. For two minutes.”

Z hoots with laughter when I spit out the mouthful of wine I had just sipped. I couldn’t help but shoot her a nasty glare. Turning my irritation towards the older Holland, I scowled at him. ”Do not drag my ass into this, Thomas!” I warned. All it earned me was a chuckle and slight head shake.

“It’s either you swap spit, or he has to strip, bare ass, and run down the street. Which would you rather have happened?”

Letting out a soft sigh, I motioned for Tom to switch spots with me, shooting an empathetic look towards Harry. As I sat down next to him, I placed my wine down on the table and smiled. “I’ve had some pretty bad kisses, I’m sure this will be fine. No big deal,” I muttered. There was a faint blush that crept over Harry’s face and it made his sweet freckles obviously stand out. My god, can he get any cuter?

“Totally not a big deal,” he whispered. There was a level of confidence and a hint of eagerness to his voice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tom putting a timer up on his phone. “On the count of three. 1..” I could feel my hands get clammy as I braced myself. “2…” My breath was shaky, and I prayed that Harry couldn’t hear it as I closed my eyes and leaned in. “3!” And suddenly the softest pair of lips were covering mine.

I shouldn’t have been shocked, I knew it was coming, but nothing could have prepared me for how wonderfully awkward yet sweet it would be. It took us a moment to find a steady rhythm and not squish noses too badly. The gentlest puffs of air from Harry’s mouth hit my face as we parted our lips, changing the angles of our heads. The burning heat from his hand couldn’t be missed when he placed it on my waist, the other wrapped around the side of my neck. I could hear soft snickering from the group around us, but I was too far gone to care. I threw myself into this kiss, making sure I’d leave a lasting impression on the younger boy. Propping a knee up on the couch to press myself against him, I tilted my head to the left, deepening the kiss.

The sparks were flying, at least they were to me. All I could hope for was that he felt the same way I did. This kiss, this closeness, it was something I had only dreamed about before now. This was sweeter than any dream I had. A soft moan slipped past Harry’s lips. The sound of his moan and the feeling of his tongue on my bottom lip shook me from my mind and had me pushing back off of him, taking deep breaths. Eyes wide, staring at Harry, I wiped the saliva from my lips and scooted back to my original seating. Peeking over at Harry, I could see the blush on his face as he ran a hand through his curls.

“Your time was up like a minute ago,” Zendaya chokes out. Her face was pink from laughing and there were tiny tears in the corner of her eyes threatening to fall. I shot her the bird and grabbed for my drink, downing the rest of the contents.

“Well, Zendaya, I think it’s your turn. Truth or Dare, babe?” I shot back with a smirk. With that, the game continued on, pulling the attention away from Harry and me.

[askgarymfoak]

More than a month ago, I made a tough call

I broke ties with my mother.

Followers who have seen my couple rants about my family will know that my mom and I do not get along. I have a lot of resentment for how she treated my siblings and I growing up and how she continued to treat us once we were adults. The short story is that my mother is a narcissist and that she has perpetuated a cycle of faux caring, manipulation and using me as an emotional punching bag.

I was angry with her, a month ago. On a Sunday, after being quiet and angry with her regarding her recent behavior, I nevertheless agreed to being a good friend to her home in order to help her pack up old items so she could begin the process of moving out. It was a good night. We made a lot of progress and she was on good behavior. We talked. We reminisced. We laughed. My friend and I took bags of donations for her to goodwill when we left.

She didn't even make it 24 hours before she lashed out at me.

She called me as I was driving home from work that Monday. My drive is an hour long. I was nearly home. She called, I put it on speaker. "Did you not get my text?" She demanded to know. I asked: "When did you send it?" "20 minutes ago." "Then no. I'm driving home. I don't look at texts while driving. You know that."

The text was for me to come straight to her house. I informed her that I was almost home - her house is closer to my job than my home - so I couldn't do that. Note that she didn't ask. She demanded.

What followed was pure bitterness. She ranted - while I was still driving! - about me not caring enough. How she EXPECTED me to do more to help her. How I probably wasn't even planning on saying goodbye before she moved. How she waited for me to apologize TO HER for her temper tantrum regarding my birthday. (That's in another rant I've posted.) She guilted me as I rolled into my driveway, bitching about how awful I was. I got out of the car, she mentioned that 'but your dad can do no wrong, right?'.

I snapped.

"Shut up. For once in your life, shut up and listen to me."

She tried to talk over me, so I screamed at her. I have never screamed at her. Ever.

I stood there yelling down the phone at her for two minutes. That I was the one who was hurt. That my dad hadn't done anything to earn my ire. That I was tired of being pulled back and forth via her need to relieve stress in her life. At the end, I told her I was done. I hung up the phone. I blocked her number, and went into my house.

I had @zachsanomaiy delete voicemails she left for me so I didn't have to hear them.

I shredded the check she sent me passive aggressively through my dad for my birthday.

I messaged my sister, informed her of the situation. I messaged my father and told him I was sorry if she tried to drag him into it. Both of them understood. I called my brother the next night and told him, too. I called my other best friend, who has hated my mother for how she's treated me, and she offered me her home and her comfort. My roommates listened to me explain what had happened and offered me their protection.

And I am free.

It took me too long to realize that my siblings and I are not bad kids. That we aren't deserving of what happened to us growing up with my mother and her second husband. It took me too long to realize that, as an adult, I didn't have to stay in the vicious cycle of affection and abuse. That I choose who to spend my time with.

I am not ready to speak with her again. She tried messaging me via Facebook yesterday, saying she missed me. I told her I was not ready for communication and to respect my decision. She immediately dismissed my decision in favor of why SHE was ready and therefore I must also consent. I refused, and blocked her. She sent me two emails - the previews for them were equal amounts guilt-trip and nastiness - and I deleted them without reading further. The encounter has further strengthened my resolve for no contact. I do not know when I will reach out to her again. Perhaps never.

Of the three children my mother had, I was always the doormat. I let her say anything she wanted to me. In the past two years, though, I've slowly strengthened my boundaries. I did not allow her to slander my friends. I stopped trying to tell her about myself and instead watched as she floundered when it came to who I was. But I still let her into my life. Everyone has limits...her mistake was thinking I didn't have one.

[lenfaz]

Murder, She Kissed

I joined the PTA when my son started at a new school and their first event was a murder mystery dinner. While I was in line at the buffet, the person in front of me collapsed. Being trained in first aid, I’m ready to give him the kiss of life.

Well, it’s up to me to open the season for @csjanuaryjoy !!!! I had another prompt picked, but I couldn’t find inspiration and @blessed-but-distressedshared this idea with me and I knew I had to write it! Thank you so much to @sambethe for the beta duties and all the love in the world to @katie-dub who created all of this!

Ao3 - FF.net

Murder, She Kissed

From: Mary Margaret Blanchard

To: Emma Swan

Subject: Small town survival guide

Rule #1: Get involved.

Emma Swan hated the idea, but she knew Mary Margaret was right. Frankly, at this point she’d take any advice on how to adapt to small town life, even if said advice came in a two page email filled with rules, tips, best practices, and a picture of a hand drawn diagram.

So, as the newest resident of Storybrooke, Maine, she put on her big girl pants and dared to go where she had never gone before - she signed up for the school PTA. Granted, it might seem like too little, too late, with Henry almost being out of middle school. He’d be in high school in two years, begging his mother not to get involved, but for now, Emma was going to take a deep breath and do it.

How hard could it be after all?

It was hard. With the crazy hours she put in at the sheriff office, she missed half of the meetings. She was lucky that Henry’s teacher - a cheery redhead who insisted on being called by her first name, Ariel - had taken a shine to her and kept her in the loop via text messages and emails.

By the time their first event was hosted, a murder mystery dinner should couldn’t believe she was attending, Emma had only met two other parents, Ariel, and pretty much no one else. She didn’t let that get under her skin as she made her way towards the line at the buffet. The food looked quite good and it smelled even better. Emma closed her eyes as she let the smell of roasted beef invade her nostrils. There was something to how small town dinners still managed to keep the magic alive when it came to food. A smile on her face, she opened her eyes, reached for a plate from the nearby stack and made her way to the end of the line, anticipating the moment she’d make it to the front of the buffet table.

Trying to peek around the line for another glance at her options, she was stopped short by the sight of the man waiting in front of her. His head was slightly tilted to the side, leaving the perfect line of his jaw, with its smattering of dark scuff, on display. He was absolutely the most gorgeous man Emma had seen in a long time.

Scratch that. In her entire life.

Emma’s gaze travelled up and down, taking time to admire the stranger. He was tall and lean, broad shoulders framed in a black leather jacket, faded jeans enhancing his lower assets. The entire package was simply delightful.

Feeling guilty at potentially lusting over a married man - considering where she was, there was a 95% chance that he was a parent as well - Emma glanced down to check for a ring and instead found his left hand covered by a black glove. The line moved and the stranger stepped forward, bringing Emma’s attention from his hand to his graceful movements. Emma groaned internally. Between packing up her life in Boston and moving to Storybrooke, it’d been months since she managed to get out. And once here, she’d realized that while Mary Margaret’s list was long, there were some valid points (Rule #15: do not have one night stands with locals. If needed, drive one or two towns over to get laid. Or, you know, try dating for a change). She hadn’t had the time to drive to a nearby town and she definitely was not interested in dating, so Emma had been left to her own devices to keep herself entertained. Tilting her head to the side, she decided to gather as many details about the stranger as she could in case she needed a new fantasy in the coming weeks. There was nothing wrong in looking, right?

Taking one step forward, she imagined those strong arms circling her body, those hands holding onto her hips as that scruff itched deliciously while rubbing her inner thighs.

The sudden crash in front of her shook her out of her fantasy and she looked down to find the hot stranger collapsed on the floor.

Oh. Oh shit!

Emma couldn’t believe it. Here it was the first time in ages she lusted over someone, and he had to go and collapse right in front of her. Her instincts kicked in and Emma quickly bent down to his side. Damn, he smelled pretty good and was even more beautiful up close. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but his thick eyelashes were beautiful.

FOCUS, EMMA!

She could detect a faint pulse at his wrist, though it was a miracle she could feel anything between her shaking hands and her own heartbeat going miles per hour. She couldn’t be sure if the guy was breathing or not, and the commotion around her made it very hard to concentrate. In a split second, she made a decision. Straddling him, Emma pulled her hair back in a ponytail and got ready to administer mouth-to-mouth. She’d keep him breathing until the paramedics got here.

“Someone call 911!” she instructed as she leaned over, trying to focus on doing this properly instead of commiserating about how this was not how she had envisioned straddling this man less than five minutes ago.

Her hand tilted the man’s chin and her lips had just made contact with his - soft and warm, damn her - when someone behind her yelled nervously.

“MURDER! There has been a murder!”

Fuck. Emma froze, her mind quickly catching up with her. She was at a damned murder mystery dinner! Of course someone was going to drop dead out of nowhere. This is how these things went, and had she managed to show up to any of the recent meetings, she would have known who the ‘victim’ was.

All of these thoughts ran through her head as she realized that she still had her lips on this man’s face. And how she could feel not just his soft breathing, but the hint of a smile quirking his lips.

Fuck. Fuck!

Pulling herself together, she quickly stood, ran a hand through her hair and mustered her most official voice. “I- yes, this man is dead. He has definitely been murdered!”

A ruckus broke next to her as the rest of the teachers fell into their roles and the ‘investigation’ began. Emma stepped to the side, eager to find a way to run away from the scene unfolding in front of her. The rest of the party had moved to another room in search of clues and with the place almost empty, the stranger stood up. He turned, his eyes - blue, they were blue - finding hers, and he gave her a soft smile before he took off towards the stairs. Emma could only stare at his retreating form.

“So... you’ve meet Killian.”

Emma turned around and found Ariel watching her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Who?”

Ariel took her arm and laced it with her own as she directed Emma to the next room. “Killian Jones, British expat, 7th grade English teacher, and head of the drama club.” She sighed in patently false commiseration. “Too bad you couldn’t make it to the PTA meetings. He was the one running them all. Maybe you can try harder next time.” She cocked an eyebrow at Emma. “And oh, yes, he is single.”

/-/

It was a long evening, with Emma blushing every time she caught a glimpse of Killian Jones directing the action from the shadows, his eyes meeting hers from time to time with a hint of a bashful smile coming to his lips.

Once the mystery was finally solved, Emma couldn’t run to the exit quickly enough. Mary Margaret was so wrong. Getting involved had been a terrible idea.

“Hey, wait!” the voice calling for her had a hint of desperation in it.

Emma cursed and turned around to find Killian jogging towards her. He smiled when he reached her, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re Emma Swan. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Emma lifted her hands in apology. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the meetings. My schedule at the sheriff station is crazy, and I’m definitely sorry that I almost ruined all this -”

“Wow, stop.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Please, you don’t have to apologize for tonight. It’s more than fine. No harm done. In fact, it made for a great moment.”

“You mean when I jumped you and started mouth-to-mouth?” Emma blurted out and took a step back. She couldn’t recognize herself in the nervous jittery mess she was right now.

He shrugged. “I think it gave the story a nice twist. Your reaction made it much more… realistic. Besides…” He paused and smiled. “You don’t see me complaining, do you? It’s not every day a beautiful woman straddles you and goes the extra mile to ensure you live…” His smiled morphed into one that carried more than a hint of something that was definitely not proper for a public audience, and Emma couldn’t help herself as she smiled back in the same way. He was single after all, so what was the harm in a little innocent flirting?

He seemed to read her thoughts and he held his hand out to her. “I’m Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan, but you already know that.”

She took his hand but instead of shaking it, Killian brought it to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s very nice to formally meet you, Emma.” He released her hand and shifted in place. Clearing his throat, he pulled his phone out. “Listen, if your schedule is crazy at the station and you cannot make the meetings, I’d be more than happy to debrief you over coffee at a time that might be more convenient for you.”

The tips of his ears had gone pink and he had an adorable blush on his cheeks. Emma smiled again - she was starting to lose count of how many smiles he’d pulled out of her this evening. She reached for his phone and added her number. “That might work.” His fingers touched hers as he retrieved his phone and it sent shivers down her spine. “I have to go now, have a nice evening, Killian.”

“You too.”

She hadn’t even made it to her car when her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

I think we need to debrief about the outcome of the murder mystery dinner. Fancy meeting me for a coffee tomorrow?

Emme quickly typed in her reply. Looking forward to it.

Rule #1 for small town survival: Get involved (with the school’s English teacher.)

[publicschoolstories]

Help! My former math teacher is a creep!

I hope this story gets accepted when I submit this, and if it does it's actually a serious one; A bit of a warning actually to be wary of some of your former teachers who try to get back in touch with you. If anyone would like more info or screenshots even, just hmu on here @honeyhazey.

Alright, so it was around March when my former math teacher (let's call him Lou ) got back in touch with me via Facebook. I accepted the friend request and he immediately sent me a message; It was like 11 pm though so I decided to reply again later the next day cos I was tired. At first it seemed as if he was checking up on me, asking about my future and what do I have planned; He was a decent teacher too and he was always really intrigued by me in a way. Around 2014, he retired from CPS since the system was going downhill and he began to hate his job. Around my 8th grade year, you wouldn't be surprised if he had a breakdown and yelled at us saying that "we'll end up working in minimum wage jobs like Mcdonalds if we don't listen to what he's teaching." 

So after the first text that he sent, things seemed chill and I was happy that he cared for me that much. Eventually, he'd text me everyday (usually during the evenings and late nights) but after a couple of weeks things got very weird. He started trying to offer me large sums of money, at first it was $500 but he wanted to lower it "because his wife would notice". Lou even asked what did I want for my birthday, and since I figured his intentions were innocent at first I just said an Amazon gift card. After we stopped communicating, it was sent in the mail and it was a pretty large sum for $50. I didn't even ask for a present from him. Next, he mentioned taking out a $100K loan on his house because he wanted to take me out to this Harolds shack near this high school and I declined cos he wanted to meet at like 9 am while I was busy with my family. (The chicken shack wasn't even near the school...btw he claims that "he loves dark meat <3 and that he's not being prejudice"..btw I'm Black.). Then he saved a photo of myself that was in my sophomore year (at least from Spring 2016 and it was just a photo of me posing with skinny jeans and a tank top.) and accidently sent me to me. Finally, he would send me messages obsessively and would even stalk my status to see if I was awake or not (One time, I woke up early in the morning and I checked my facebook. A minute later he messages me if I was "Up for the day.").

Don't get me wrong, but we did talk on the phone a few times and he'd always bring up memories from when I was in middle school. I got bullied like hell and my school was trash at the time when I was there. Lou was going through a rough time as well since the public school system was trash and he would always have these mental breakdowns teaching in my math class; SO he'd use this and my experience in middle school to relate to me and build a connection since we were both "angry tortured souls". He even mentioned an incident back around 2015 in which one of the girls (Which I found out that it was someone I knew from him when he brought the situation up) were having a sexual relationship with a substitute teacher who was teaching there. Then, he goes on about how he felt as if she was trying to flirt with him and that he was paranoid for some reason on getting fired since the administration were thinking that he was a bad teacher at the time. He would always talk about how beautiful I was, how I looked like a goddess, and he even tried to get me to go to college in his state (he currently lives in Indiana).

So fast forward to spring break, and he continues to text and call me. I began to ignore them cos I was busy with testing and with my family. I told my mother when he first texted me, and she was happy. But I started telling her how he'd obsessively stalk my facebook status and message me multiple times if I did not answer. So she was very concerned and disturbed by the messages he would send, and told me to cut it off immediately. I told Lou that his behavior was beginning to disturb my family and I, and that it was becoming creepy. I informed him that my mother was next to me as well as I was texting him, and it took him at least 45 mins to reply back after he read the message. (He knew that my mother was a cop, and that she'd do lots of damage to his rep if he continued this.). He immediately apologized for his behavior, and made an excuse on that he just really misses his children. After I read it, he just told me that we should just forget about all of this and that he was happy to have me as "a buddy" for a month.

The next day, I informed two of my counselors about it and one of them had called 311 to report it. They told me that I should probably end up making a police report about it, and so I did. Later on that day, My mother and I went to the police station to discuss the incident with the investigators. So there was immediate action, and asked me for all of his information since some of the things that he attempted to do were very disturbing. They felt bad that I had to go through that, and his intentions made me very angry; I've known Lou since I was 7, and to be frank he did give me some really creepy vibes. Since then, the investigators still need to get back in touch with me since they have a large case load; But now, I'm just telling most of my friends that went to middle school with me to avoid him so the same thing won't happen to them.

*If anyone wants screenshots of our correspondence, please message me @honeyhazey!!*

[onceuponamirror]

the winged beast [6/12]

Fandom: Riverdale

Ships: Betty x Jughead, Archie x Veronica (background)

Chapters: 6/12

Summary:

This is how the world ends, she thinks. Not with a bang but with a motorcycle.

[serpent!au] [read on Ao3 from the beginning] [2] [3] [4] [5] [character design]

Betty, at least, was able to rule out Jason on Saturday morning, when she, without much delicacy, had asked Polly if she’d heard from Jason. Polly said she had; apparently he’d been drunk texting her all night and by breakfast, he’d sent an equal amount of flustered apologies. Her sister had said this all with pursed lips, and Betty filed away the reaction for later.

It’d been a huge relief; if it wasn’t Jason, it wasn’t her fault. Still, it was a reassurance she felt at odds with, given that just because Jason was okay, didn’t mean someone else was.

But she doesn’t have to wait long to find out; the news breaks on Saturday night.

When no one had heard from Moose Mason for 24 hours, Reggie Mantle had apparently confirmed it with the football team; he himself had tried resuscitating Moose until the paramedics arrived. Betty found out through Kevin, who already knew, but waited until it was publicly on twitter that Moose had been hurt before passing the news.

“I mean, I saw him like half an hour before,” Kevin says on the phone that night, his voice shaky. “I think he might’ve been trying to get me to have a threesome? Like? He was being so weird and out of it. I should’ve known something was up. I was so shocked that I just walked away but what if that was the last…” Kevin sucks in a gulp of air and trails off.

“It’s definitely not your fault, Kev,” Betty says softly, though she thinks about how stressed she’d been about Jason a few hours before and knows words probably mean nothing to Kevin right now. “There was no way you could’ve known.”

“Speaking of…none of us are supposed to know about this, by the way,” he adds, after a minute. His voice is stiff, and Betty can tell he’s probably still beating himself up. “My dad wants to wait for an official press conference. But he told me this morning. It’s…really bad, Betty.”

“Bad how?” Betty rolls over on her bed to grab her diary. She feels a sting of guilt with herself for jumping into journalist mode, but decides the truth is more important than tact. She raises her pencil to the paper.

Kevin pauses, choosing his words. When he speaks, his voice is very small. “He died, Betty. On the way to the hospital.”

She feels all the air leave her lungs and drops her pencil. “He…what? Died? I thought he was just…sick, or something. What happened? How?”

“My dad wouldn’t tell me, but I don’t think it was…uh, natural causes,” Kevin says. “Crap, I hear him coming. I gotta go, Betty. I’ll see you Monday. And don’t tell anyone,” he adds, and then the line is dead.

He died. Kevin’s words echo, almost mockingly. Moose Mason? Dead? It wasn’t as if she knew Moose particularly well, but she’s also known him her entire life. His entire life, she thinks with a sickening crunch to her stomach.

Betty closes her eyes and tries to retrace the moments at the base of the stairs. Joaquin running down the hall, someone yelling that Moose wasn’t breathing, Veronica and Archie arriving, the paramedics upstairs and shouting symptoms…they’d said something, a word she’d heard before. Some kind of medical term, maybe?

She exhales slowly, and when it finally feels like her lungs have nothing left in them, she blinks up at the ceiling. It doesn’t seem real. She saw him in class yesterday; she’d helped him spell the word scholastic. She feels sick; it’s one thing to abstractly investigate accidents and deaths on the other side of town, and it’s another to know someone taken by it.

Nibbling on her lip, she reaches over for her phone. She pulls Jughead up in her contacts and stares at the last conversation they’d had on Friday before the party.

Alright, I just watched 10 Things I Hate About You. It was so predictable!

That means you liked it :)

Does not

You like predictable

Can we keep the psychoanalysis off the table for once thank you very much

But then, a few minutes later, he’d sent:

I guess I see the appeal though

Betty stares at the exchange. Jughead does like predictability, despite whatever devil-may-care image he’s spent however long finely crafting. He may claim to be a cinema buff and a lover of creative integrity, but almost all of his favorite films have the exact same plot trajectory:

Character enters the mystery, then a reluctant partnership, a death or two halfway through to raise the stakes, followed by a big twist, followed by an ending that is somehow as satisfying as it is bittersweet.

She blinks back to the ceiling. If her life were a film, would last night have been the twist, or was the arc so obvious it couldn’t have been? Was this all foreshadowed by her obsession with finding the truth about the south side? Was this the moment that raised the stakes?

Or was a boy just dead?

The thought brings her soundly back into the moment. Her fingers hover over the keyboard of her phone, reading and rereading Jughead’s last text.

What she really wants to say is Hey, so what the fuck but that feels both too heavy and too joking somehow. Plus she’s not sure he’s ever heard her swear in the first place and the shock alone might distract him from the fact that she’s being serious.

But what would she say? Ask him what the hell Joaquin was doing fleeing the scene of what ended up being a death? That would feel accusatory and she doesn’t want to indict Jughead or even Joaquin of anything. After all Jughead opened up about people from the south side being stereotyped, and she just drops the blame on him or his friends without waiting for the full story?

No, she won’t insult Jughead by insinuating that.

So she settles on I have your leather jacket. She’s never seen him without it; she likes to imagine he has a closet full of them, like some cartoon character with only one outfit, but given the well-loved scuffing on this one, she doubts it. Anyway, she figures it’ll be easier to talk about this in person than try to navigate via text.

Do you want me to bring it to you? Meet at Pop’s?

About an hour later, and she still hadn’t gotten a response.

Or I’ll just bring it to school on Monday, whatever’s easiest.

Still nothing, and reluctantly Betty puts her phone aside to get ready for bed. Is he mad at her? Did she do something wrong? After her panic attack in the bushes of the Mantle mansion, the rest of the night had continued in such a haze that she barely remembers driving everyone home, but she tries to rack her brain for something she might’ve said to Jughead to upset him.

He’d tried to tell her something and she had shut him down, expecting it’d been the long-time-coming talk about boundaries and feelings. But Jughead doesn't seem like a guy who enjoys confrontation, and Betty would think he’d be relieved at dodging the “I have a girlfriend” talk.

Betty wonders if she should just be direct and ask him point blank if he knows anything. She remembers the terror on Joaquin’s face and Sabrina cursing madly down the stairs, but Jughead had seemed just as confused as she had been.

So why was he ignoring her?

She gets under the covers and pulls them tight up against her chin. There’s murmuring downstairs and the creak of her parents moving around, and Betty stares at the stick-on-stars on her ceiling and remembers tracing the constellations in the stars outside the party. She’d felt so happy then, if just for a fleeting moment.

She closes her eyes and thinks about Moose Mason.

.

.

.

Sunday drags on with glacial pace; this means two things. One, that no one else yet knows that Moose Mason, lovable high school linebacker, everyone’s All-American buddy, is dead.

Two, that her mother doesn’t know.

Part of her appreciates the day as the quiet before the storm, because once word reaches her classmates and especially once it reaches her mother and the town paper, it’s going to be hell. The north side of Riverdale has thus far happily kept horse-blinders on, but to lose one of their own is surely going to break the dam, especially if Moose didn't die naturally. 

Naloxone.

She sits upright in bed. The word comes to her in a flash, in a blinding memory of chaos and screams. “He’s hypoxic! Pupils dilated! Ready the naloxone!” The paramedic shouted, and Betty blinks. She hasn’t heard that word before, she’s read it.

She picks up her laptop and types it into the search bar. Naloxone, she reads, is the drug administered to people who have overdosed; it’s especially useful for those who OD on fentanyl because it’s so easy to over do.

Moose overdosed, she thinks, her mouth falling open. She clam shells her laptop shut and lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. On fentanyl? Moose Mason?

Fentanyl is not a drug typically found at the keggers of rich kids; it’s rough, and gritty. Cocaine, she could see. Prescription drugs, definitely. But her research has taught her fentanyl is typically cut into heroin, if anything, and that gives Betty pause, but she's not sure if it's her own unconscious prejudice about what an overdose should “look like” or if is this genuinely suspicious. 

She picks up her pencil and diary, her thoughts swirling. But after about ten minutes, Betty realizes she has just been staring at a blank page the whole time, and decides she’s not going to get anywhere with writing out her thoughts today, so she puts it aside and crawls over to her window perch.

Archie is sitting in his chair at his own window, spinning left and right as he juggles a worn-looking football between his hands. He looks up when Betty settles into her own seat, and moves to open his window. She does the same.

“How are you doing?” He asks, settling on his elbows.

With a pang of guilt, Betty realizes she’s been kind of neglectful of her friendship with Archie lately in lieu of time with the newspaper and, if she’s being honest with herself, with Jughead. But Archie has been equally busy with football and music and neither of them have made much of an effort lately. Betty makes a mental note to set aside some time for him.

“I’m okay,” Betty lies, forcing a light smile. “Thinking about Friday night though.”

“Me too,” Archie says, looking forlorn. “I keep trying to go through the people I saw at the party and the last time I saw them.” He pauses. “Who do you think it was?”

Betty bites her lip. Kevin had told her not to say anything and given the radio silence from Veronica too, she assumes he hasn’t told anyone but her. And she loves Archie, and while he’s decent at keeping secrets on his own, the minute someone presses him on it, he caves. He can’t lie to save his skin and telling him is too risky.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, deciding not to pass the buck, “but I have a really bad feeling about this, Archie. Like it’s only going to get worse.”

Archie nods. “I feel it too. But I don’t…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…this weird heaviness, like it’s in the air or something. Does that make sense?”

It makes more sense than Archie probably realizes. Betty tucks her chin down and nods, glancing across the room to her wardrobe, where Jughead’s jacket is currently hidden, tucked away like some dark, living, breathing secret. She exhales, long and slow, and meets Archie’s gaze one last time. 

These violent delights have violent ends, she thinks.

.

.

.

Betty wakes earlier than normal on Monday morning; truthfully, her sleep was fitful and tossing, so it’s not too difficult to roll out of bed at 5 A.M. and dress for an early run. She slips out of the house and heads out into a jog around the block. She’s exhausted, but her heart hasn’t stopped hammering since Friday, and the anxiety masquerading as adrenaline pushes her steps into long, lean strides.

She pounds into the cement, hoping to chase a burn that will soothe her churning thoughts, but after about 40 minutes, she realizes she can’t literally outrun her feelings, and she heads back home.

Her mother is bustling about in the kitchen when she returns. Alice looks up when she hears Betty approaching. “You’re up early,” she says, in the pleased voice she always uses when she’s impressed with Betty pushing herself. “Get a good run in?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, still breathing heavily. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Her mother nods and returns to her morning mantra of preparing pancakes and coffee. Betty watches her mother work for a moment, almost robotically, like some kind of pre-Feminine Mystique housewife going through the motions.

As she's heading up the stairs, Betty hears the phone ring, followed by her mother answering it quietly. It's a little early for a phone call, Betty thinks, but dismisses it once she's out of earshot. 

After her shower, Betty forgoes breakfast and heads straight to school; she wants to get there early, before anyone else, to get some work done on the paper, because she has a feeling that the day is going to be nothing short of a tempest once school starts. The police won’t be able to contain this secret much longer.

When she arrives at the Blue & Gold, she checks her phone again, but there’s still nothing from Jughead. Sighing, she hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack. It’d barely fit in her backpack this morning, and practically weighed as much as her old cat, but there was no way she was gonna let her mother see her sneaking out the door with a big black leather jacket in hand.

Betty sighs and settles down in front of her laptop. She doesn’t really know what she’s looking for, and technically this is just her own theory, but something still feels very suspicious about the combination of an all-star football player and a dangerous drug like fentanyl. She spends the next hour or two reading up about rise in overdoses across the country—there apparently is no shortage of small town horror stories much like their own.

Riverdale isn’t special, she realizes, and then feels naïve for not looking at this as indicative of a larger, national problem. Still, there's not much that reassures her about the conflicting depictions of fentanyl use and the image of Moose Mason. 

After she’s read so many articles that her eyes start to cross, she slams her laptop shut and puts her forehead in her hands. She hears people mulling about outside the room; students have started arriving like a gathering flock of scavenging birds, circling ominously over a wounded animal.

Betty sighs, and decides to use the remaining minutes before the first bell to get a few things out of her locker. When she returns, there’s someone standing in front of the corkboard, and she has a brief moment of relief where she thinks it might be Jughead.

It’s not.

Agent Drew looks over his shoulder at her, his face serious, before glancing once more to the wall of clippings and index cards with theories. His eyes linger on the center card for FENTANYL.

He traces his eyes around the room, moving slowly, and reaches the collection of Nancy Drew novels stacked on a shelf. He runs his fingers over them contemplatively.

“You like Nancy Drew?” He asks with a small smile. Betty returns it awkwardly and nods, her mind still playing catch up with the fact that there’s an FBI agent in her newspaper office. “Me too. I always used to get teased for reading the Nancy books instead of the Hardy Boys, but, well, I liked her best.”

“Because of your last name?” Betty asks, without really thinking first.

“Sort of the other way around,” he says evasively, clearing his throat and straightening. “Anyway. Miss Cooper, when we last spoke, you mentioned a few things I would like to follow up on. Would you mind answering a few more questions for me? We don’t have to go to the station; we can do this right here.”

The first bell tolls between them, but neither move.

“I know my rights, sir,” she says, raising her chin in the air, in an act that looks more defiant than she feels. “You can’t question me without a parent.”

He smiles, and runs a smoothing hand over his already crisp suit jacket. In the warm yellow light of the Blue & Gold office, Agent Drew looks a lot younger and friendlier than he had on Friday night. “Miss Cooper—may I call you Elizabeth?”

“I go by Betty,” she says, in a shaky exhale.

“Betty, then. You’re not under arrest, or even in any trouble. This isn’t a custodial setting and we can stop at any time. If there were charges being laid, of course we would have a parent or a guardian present, but I just have a few qualifying questions.”

She shifts from one foot to another. He looks at her, eyebrows creasing. “Gauging from the generous collection of mystery novels and the set up on that corkboard, I get the sense that you’re someone looking for the truth. Well, I am too. That’s why I’m here.”

She considers him. She thinks about what Jughead would say if he were here; probably warn her about not trusting authority figures or something with a casual conspiracy theory about capitalist police states.

But Jughead isn’t here, and has been ignoring her for days now. Why should she care what he’d say? She stares at the coat rack where she’d hung his leather jacket this morning, thinking he’d want it back today.

“If you would like anyone here with you, you are more than welcome to it, and I’ll happily wait,” he adds, with a small smile.

“No, it’s okay,” she says hesitantly. Despite a growing wariness of law enforcement ever since Jughead entered her life, there is something trustworthy about Agent Drew. He doesn’t seem any less business-like, but in the light of day, he has almost a paternal air to him, despite the fact that he can’t be more than in his late 20s.

Agent Drew crosses the room to the door, which he closes gently. Betty takes her usual seat, and he slips into the one across from her; the place where Jughead usually sits. She’d been upset that he’d skipped school again today, but now she’s desperately hoping he doesn’t change his mind and stays away.

He hauls a heavy-looking briefcase onto the desk, and begins sorting through it. He pulls out a manila folder and that familiar little black notebook, and aligns them together so that they’re perfectly straight and parallel.

He opens up the folder and clears his throat. “As this information will be released to the public shortly, if not already, I should tell you that Mr. Marmaduke Mason, otherwise known as Moose, passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning.”

He glances up at Betty, watching her carefully for her reaction, so Betty feigns shock, her mouth falling open. She’s not sure she convinces him, because he narrows his eyes before moving on.

“This morning I received the toxicology report from the autopsy of Mr. Mason,” he says, and Betty feels a shiver at the word autopsy. “And, along with a few other things, there was a fair amount of the opioid known as fentanyl in his system. Now that I’m seeing your…er, corkboard, I’m wondering if you have anything you’d like to share with me in that regard. What made you suspect the overdoses on the south side were linked to fentanyl? As far as I know, that wasn’t published anywhere.”

“My friend Jughead suggested it,” Betty says cautiously. “He works with me on the school paper.”

“Ah,” Agent Drew sighs, opening up his little notebook and flipping through it. “Right, right. Mr. Jones. I ran the names that you gave me, and unfortunately, it poses a bit of a dilemma.”

Betty bristles. He reaches back into his briefcase and withdraws an identical envelope. He scans his eyes over the papers briefly and begins to read.

“Joaquin DeSantos, the one who you said placed the first 911 call, has been arrested on multiple accounts of vandalism over the years. Sabrina Spellman has been in so many fights it’s amazing she’s still upright. And your friend Jughead Jones was once held in juvenile court for trying to burn down his elementary school.”

He puts the folder down and crosses his arms over it. “All three are known Southside Serpents. I’m afraid that doesn’t bode well, given I’ve learned they fled the scene shortly after Mr. Mason was found and that Mr. DeSantos was seen leaning over Mr. Mason by a witness.”

He looks up at Betty, and she’s surprised to see he looks more resigned than anything.

Known Serpent, she thinks. All three are known Southside Serpents, she hears Agent Drew’s voice echoing. Trying to burn down his elementary school.

That couldn’t be right. Why hadn’t Jughead told her? How could he have kept that from her? Did he think she’d care? Judge him?

She feels hurt—beyond hurt, maybe—but she doesn't have time to unpack that. She tries to keep her attention on Agent Drew. Her nails breach the skin of her palms in an attempt at focusing.

“That might all be true, sir, but I don’t think it’s them or the Serpents who are selling the fentanyl. I think they’ve been getting targeted for refusing to. There have been a lot of motorcycle accidents and people being run off the road, and bricks going through windows, and—”

“Betty, please,” Agent Drew says calmly. “I’m not accusing the Southside Serpents of anything. To be frank with you, I know that the local police department here would very much like it to be that simple. It’d be a neat little bow to tie everything together and would get the mayor’s office off their backs. I’m a bit of an unpopular guy right now for suggesting otherwise, but I agree with you in that there seems to be a pattern here.”

He sighs, and busies himself with readjusting his files. “But I’ve gotten very off topic. Betty, the reason I actually wanted to speak with you today is because of your friend Veronica Lodge.”

Betty blinks. She pauses, not sure she’s heard him right. “What?”

“Betty, are you aware that Veronica’s father is currently awaiting trial in a federal penitentiary?” He asks, pen poised over the notebook once more.

“I mean…yeah, but for like, tax evasion, right? It’s not like he was arrested for murder.”

Agent Drew smiles, but it’s more of a grimace than anything. “That would be Al Capone. Though that’s not too far off base,” he adds, more to himself. He immediately looks frustrated with himself, and sighs, straightening. “Betty, has Veronica ever mentioned anything about her father to you?”

It’s one thing to help Agent Drew with the investigation into Moose’s death, and it’s another to start pointing fingers at her friends. She opens her mouth to tell him just that, but doesn’t get a chance to, because the door flies open with such a force that both of them jump in their seats.

“Elizabeth, stop talking,” someone says, and Betty looks up to see her mother storming across the room. She throws her purse down on a desk, her face red with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are, questioning my daughter without a parent or a lawyer in the room?”

“Mom, what the hell?”

Agent Drew bolts upright from his chair. “Ma’am, please, I just had a few questions for your daughter regarding my investigation. It’s perfectly within legal realms. I assure you she is in no trouble; I informed her that she had the option of awaiting guardianship—”

“I’d like to see some credentials,” Alice snaps. “And get your name, so that I can report it to your supervisor immediately.”

“Of course,” Agent Drew says, and quickly retrieves his identification badge. “Special Agent Charles Drew with the FBI.”

Alice stares at Agent Drew for a long, hard moment, her expression odd and pinched.

“Mom, how did you even know he was here?” Betty asks, and it’s as if a spell was broken. Alice inhales and turns to her daughter.

“I happened to have a meeting with Principal Weatherbee today regarding Homecoming. He mentioned to me that the FBI were on the grounds conducting interviews and, well, I saw you two through the door window.”

Betty knows her mother well enough to read between the lines; that means her mother pressed Weatherbee into a corner for information and then she immediately went stalking off for a scoop.

Alice turns to Agent Drew with appraising eyes. “What exactly is the nature of your investigation?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper, I’m afraid I can’t speak to the details of an ongoing case, however, beyond the fact that I’m now the primary investigator into Mr. Mason’s death this weekend.”

The revelation that a student died doesn't seem to shock Alice particularly, which means she must've learned about it this morning.

Betty looks at her. Her mother seems stuck between a rock and a hard place, perhaps warring with her instinct to needle for information and her desire to shelter her daughter from it. “And just how long has the FBI been involved here?” She asks, squinting at him.

“Details of the case will be made public after it’s closed, or until otherwise seen fit,” Agent Drew says, almost robotically. “Mrs. Cooper, I’ve done my research into this town, and I am aware that you and your husband run the town’s local newspaper, so unfortunately, you’ll have to wait for an official press conference to get your questions in.”

His lips twitch, just barely, and Betty realizes that actually might’ve been a joke.

“Fine,” Alice sniffs. “Now, if you have any more questions for my daughter, you can contact our lawyer. You’re done here.”

Agent Drew doesn’t seem particularly surprised that this is the conclusion of a helicopter parent storming into his interview. He gives her one last studying look before packing up his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, and slips away.

Alice turns her eyes on Betty. “What was he asking you about?” She asks sharply. “I heard him mention Veronica Lodge’s name. I told you what I think of that girl. She’s not your friend.”

“Stop it!” Betty shouts. “You don’t even know her! Why are you so obsessed with this…witch-hunt with her and her family, when you should be talking about what’s really going on in this town?”

Alice crosses her arms and looks over at the corkboard. “What’s really going on in this town? You mean your flirtation with the high school newspaper? Elizabeth, please. Those gangbangers don’t care about you or any of us; why would you care about them? They made their bed and they’ll sleep in it as far as I’m concerned.”

Betty stares at her mother with horror. “Why are you like this?” She asks after a moment. “I mean, god Mom, what did they ever do to you?”

Alice just presses her lips together and looks back at the corkboard, her eyebrows creasing.

“People like you treat them like second-class citizens but they’re just as much part of Riverdale as we are. Just because they don’t fit into your Stepford fantasy doesn’t mean they aren’t,” Betty says, raising her chin into the air.

Her mother scoffs, though she looks noticeably ruffled. “Betty, this is hardly so Shakespearean. We’re not Capulets and Montagues. I’m perfectly sure there are some good people on the south side, but the fact of the matter is, I can say with certainty that a lot of them are gangbanging drug dealers. You of all people should know that by now, after what happened on Friday night, but you’ll see tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Betty repeats. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Your father and I are running a story about this boy’s death and the little Serpent that was seen standing over his body,” Alice says, staring out the window. She glances back at Betty sharply. “Or is that not what happened?”

“That—that’s you twisting it!” Betty sputters. “We don’t have all the facts, we have no idea what happened or how Moose got the drugs. You know, Jughead said—”

“Jug-head? Who is Jug-head?”

Betty realizes her mistake immediately. “He’s…he works with me on the school paper.”

“What an unusual name,” her mother muses suspiciously. “Hard to think there’s more than one Jughead in this town. Would he be the same Jughead Jones of south-side-proper that Reggie Mantle listed as being at the party?”

“He had nothing to do with what happened to Moose,” Betty says quickly. “He was with me all night.”

Alice hums; she has the same expression that Betty makes when she’s filing something away for later. Then she sighs, her whole posture deflating a little.

“Betty, you do remember that Reggie Mantle’s father owns half the share of the Register, correct? And then there’s party thrown by his son, apparently unbeknownst to them, and it ends in a boy’s death. Needless to say, it doesn’t look good for an upstanding family to have an overdose under their roof.”

“But...”

“Do you realize the kind of pressure Mr. Mantle is putting on us to write about the culprits who dealt the drugs or brought them onto his property?” Alice snaps, looking suddenly very tired. 

“But that doesn’t mean you should just start scapegoating the easiest target—”

Her mother turns to her, arms crossed. Her icy resolve seems to be melting a bit as she straightens.

“Betty, you wanted us to start talking about overdoses and drugs, and now we are. You wanted us to talk about the south side, and now we are. You don’t always get what you want the way you want it,” she says, and Betty is surprised to find the softness there, nestled in between a thoughtful frown.

Alice turns her attention back to the window. She almost looks sad now. “There are things I never wanted for you, honey, but I had to learn my lesson about Pandora’s box the hard way. And it seems you do too.”

.

.

.

[fangirl4799]

Bellarke boarding school AU, part 1

Arkadia isn’t your normal boarding school, students from all around the world died to come here, even though it was in Mount Weather. No doubt it was the most expensive and best private boarding. After graduating from Arkadia it was obvious the students will join one of the Ivy Leagues. “So your brother got in huh?” Raven asked her roommate Octavia, Who was collecting her things to go for a bath. “He just didn’t get in, he got a full 100 % scholarship” Octavia said taking out her towel “Dam he’s smart” Raven commented, “ I have ever heard people get a 90% and there he is” “I know, I myself had to give the exam twice and then got a 70% and he nailed it at first attempt itself” Octavia recalled walking in the bathroom” “When is he coming?” yelled Raven from outside “around 4 or 5 in the evening” Octavia yelled from inside. “ I am so excited Raven” Octavia danced in the room getting out of the bathroom, “I havnt seen him in a year” “I thought you went to him during summer break” Raven questioned “I did but he had gotten this summer job back then, I could hardly ever see him the entire time” Octavia explained opening her cupboard. “What do you think should I dress in?” Octavia asked “Anything, it’s no occasion” Raven reminded Octavia but still came by her to inspect the outfits. “It is an occasion, my brother is coming he’s going to go to the same school as me at last” Octavia exclaimed. “So, you can where this” Raven said taking out a wine red skater dress “Oh come on that will be too much” Octavia replied, shifting few of her clothes “But you said it’s an occasion” Raven told innocently making the other girl look at her with an raised eyebrow “Really?” Octavia asked “That’s was very funny” she then faked a laugh, “Now get me proper outfit before I am late” “Okay” Raven agreed, going through Octavia cupboard. “This” Raven shouted taking out a short blue dungaree overall. “Yes, perfect it will match perfectly with this” Octavia yelled showing a plain white crop top . “Nice” Raven smiled “shoot, it’s nearly 2 I had to meet Finn” she hurried toward the door. “Wait” called Octavia “What?” “You have to be by 3 : 30, you have to come with me to pick Bell” Octavia said crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought you wanted to spend some time with him?” Raven asked “I do, and now that he is going to be here, it won’t be an issue and I want him to meet my best friend in the entire world” Octavia answered “Aww, that’s so sweet of you” Raven said hugging Octavia, “and it will be nice for him to know someone from before hand, beside you” “That, he will be here before the dinner itself, we all hang out at cafeteria after dinner, why doesn’t everyone meet him then?” Octavia suggested “That will be nice, Monty, Jasper, Clarke, Wells, Miller, will be the same year as him after all” Raven agreed “Yeah, but he can be bit bossy” Octavia recalled, reconsidering her own idea. “Let’s not think of all that this instance, you get ready and I go quickly meet Finn” Raven said, leaving her dorm. “His train is already here, we are late” exclaimed Octavia, getting off the taxi “No the train’s just early” Raven argue, but clearly Octavia ignored her, she was busy scanning the station for any sign of her brother. “There he is” shouted Octavia and started running towards the exit gate of the Railway Station. As soon Raven caught up with Octavia, she saw a dark haired guy with a good built, surely quite taller than her, he didn’t look anything like Octavia, just their hair color was the same nothing else, if she hadn’t seen his picture before she could have never guessed it was Octavia’s brother Bellamy Blake. “O” she saw him yell, as he saw Octavia approach him Octavia replied with a tight hug and said, “Hello big brother” “How have you been?” Bellamy asked breaking the hug “Great, now that you are here too, sorry for being late” Octavia apologized “It’s okay O, y-“ Raven cleared her throat, “Sorry but the reunion needs to be cut shot, it’s already 5 : 30, and we need to reach back Arkadia by 7, its long journey and the traffics bad” she informed the siblings “Yes, and that’s why we are late, the roads are just so busy today” Octavia said, “oh and sorry Bell, this is Raven” she said putting her arm into Raven’s, “she is my roommate and best friend” “Nice to meet you, Raven” Bellamy and Raven shook hands “You don’t have anything else” Octavia asked looking at the 2 bags on the ground “Nope” “You realize, you are gonna stay here for next 2 years and not a month” Octavia pointed out “Okay, I get it you two have a lot to catch up to, but rest in the cab. Okay?” Raven said, opening the cab door she just stopped.

“So who are you sharing your room with?” Raven asked Bellamy as he came out of the administration office. “Wells Jaha” he read out from the papers he held, “isn’t that the Principal’s last name too?” “Yup, Wells is his son” Raven answered “I see” Bellamy said picking up his bags, “I will meet guys after dinner then, bye O see you Raven” he said leaving for his dorm

“So what’s the big news?” Finn asked sitting beside Raven “Octavia’s brother is here” Jasper said “And she wants us all to meet him” Monty completed “Who might also be my roommate” Wells adds, checking his phone, “the administration just sent a text who must have moved in by now” “There can be more than one new student you know” Harper argued “Nope not possible, Costia said she tried but there was only one spot” Lexa informed “Why isn’t Clarke here?” Maya asked to nobody in particular “She had to call her Mom” Wells answered

“What am I forgetting” Clarke wondered out loud, she was alone the terrace, she had just finished talking to her Mom, who promised her to send a new set art work supplies as reward for scoring highest in biology theory as well as lab work. “Oh forget it, I should just go tell Wells Mom will be sending supplies so he can receive them via his dad for me” It wasn’t unusual for Clarke to walk into Wells room and spend most of her day their, after all there were few perks of him not having a roommate. So just like any other day, she burst into his room, to find nobody there. ‘He must have already gone to the cafeteria, Octavia had some announcement after all’. She thought, and was about to leave the room, when her eyes landed on few sheets scattered over Wells bed. “This is what I was forgetting” she realized picking her sketches, “I don’t think you are Wells Jaha” said a voice from behind her, making her immediately turn around to find tall guy standing in front of her only in a towel. “You?” “You?” Both of them yelled, in sync annoyance was clear in their voice.

[ecotone99]

[HM] Faking a Murder in Moonville Tunnel: A True Story of Teenage Debauchery

I also posted this short story on Medium.

Faking a Murder in Moonville Tunnel

A True Story of Teenage Debauchery

A Quick Preface

During my early teenage years, I was absolutely obsessed with World War Two history. I collected two entire sets of vintage combat fatigues and field gear—complete with M1 Garand rifle and a sidearm revolver—and participated in World War Two battle reenactments whenever possible.

Since I was probably the youngest person in the universe with a desire to take part in historic battle reenactments, I was mostly running around a field with middle-aged guys in American and British military uniforms, shooting blanks at middle-aged guys in German wehrmacht uniforms. (Side note: shooting at Nazis is fun regardless of situational context).

I also wore my fatigues to school on the anniversaries of major battles and events. As one would imagine, donning moth-bitten old army uniforms and constantly spouting-off dates of historical remembrance doesn’t exactly make you the most popular kid in school. When I reached my late teens, my interest in social debauchery began to outweigh the battles of yore. So followed plenty of beer and plenty of trouble. By the time I graduated high school, the old 101st Airborne and 1st Infantry uniforms were packed away in dust-covered rubbermaid totes.

Murder at Moonville Tunnel

On some Friday or Saturday nights during the summer after graduation, my friends and I would make the one-hour drive to an abandoned railway tunnel called Moonville. Deep in the woods by way of an old gravel forest road, it had a local reputation for being haunted.

College kids would drive up from nearby Ohio University in Athens. They came in search of ghosts; and boy did Moonville deliver (at least when my friends and I were around). Those kids are probably telling folks to this day about the paranormal phenomena they witnessed deep in the woods of Ohio in an old abandoned tunnel … In reality it was my friend Dustin making spooky noises and rolling boulders into the creek; or my friend Kyle walking across the far entrance of the tunnel in an old wedding dress; or even just an explosive rustling of bushes and growling noises—enough to send even the most cool and collected frat boys running for the safety of their sedans.

On other occasions, we’d take unsuspecting friends for their first visit and put them through the usual rounds of teenage scare-tactics—yelling BOO, making spooky noises; boilerplate stuff. Teenagers having teenage fun. Until—as teenagers often do—we took it too far…

On a Saturday that could have been any other given Saturday, a bunch of us were hanging around the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart. Someone suggested we drive down to Moonville Tunnel. A group of four or five girls in our little crowd had never been before; so the boys began our usual rite of preparedness, telling them that the tunnel is haunted and that they were likely to run into a few ghoulish entities from beyond our earthly world.

A few of us—Kyle, Dustin, Greg, Dewey, Joey, and myself—went into the Wal-Mart to grab a few supplies for our journey. While we were standing in the checkout line, a terrible, insidious light bulb burned to life inside my brain. I told my three friends about my newly-hatched plan and thus, the cogs began to turn.

Back outside in the parking lot, Greg and I told the rest of the group that we were going to have to sit this one out: We had been called in to do some work early the next morning, we told them. Bummer.

Leaving the Wal-Mart, we turned onto Bridge Street and drove twenty minutes to my house. I dug into my closet and pulled out an old army ammo crate. I grabbed an en-bloc clip filled with .30–06 blanks, a handful of .22 blanks, and loaded my old blank-firing M1 rifle and .22 pistol into the back seat of my friend’s truck.

Operating through a spy network of covert texts sent via Motorola RAZR flip phones, Greg and I timed our arrival in Moonville—down the miles of dusty and unmaintained county roads, deep into the forest, to the makeshift parking area—to precede our group of friends. We drove past the parking area, farther into the woods, until we found a pull-off with enough space to hide the truck.

Carrying our weapons of mass disfunction, we backtracked toward the trailhead to Moonville Tunnel. We crossed a bridge over a wide creek, into and through the regular parking area at which our friends would soon be arriving. It was next to a wide creek with a bridge over it. The entire parking area was a muddy quagmire at the time. We carefully rock-hopped through the sludge until we reached the beaten path of the trailhead. Once we’d hiked the half-mile back to the old creepy tunnel, we took up positions in the heavy underbrush.

Thanks to our two insiders, Dustin and Kyle, our timing was impeccable. We had settled into the leaves not more than ten minutes before we heard familiar voices coming up the trail from the parking lot.

As the caravan of our buddies traveled across the path in front of us, I noticed that Kyle’s mom and dad—Carl and Robbie—had joined the group. Carl had a habit of encouraging (rather than discouraging) these types of activities. I knew he was in on the plan when the group reached the middle of the tunnel and I heard him instruct everyone, amidst protests from some of the girls, to turn off their flashlights and “see if any ghosts come out.”

We took this as our cue. Greg and I crept to the entrance, pointed our blank-loaded guns toward the decrepit ceiling of the tunnel, and I whispered, “One … two … three—” BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAM!

The sound of cannon-fire, screams, and laughter filled the tunnel as friends slipped in the mud, spun in circles, cried for their mothers, and struggled to regain their grip on reality.

Everyone who was in on the joke—Greg and I included—burst into a fit of laughter and the rest of our friends quickly realized they’d been bamboozled.

This is probably where the prank should have ended.

About an hour later we were in the main parking lot. Most of our friends had already left for home, but a few of us were still standing around and talking. I was going to hitch a ride back with Kyle and his parents, and had just loaded my things into the back of their truck. Just as I closed the door, a car pulled into the muddy parking area. My friends and I looked at each other. “College kids,” someone said.

“You outta get out that pistol and fuck with em,” Kyle’s dad suggested to me with a boyish grin.

It took no more cajoling than that for the rest of us to jump onboard with the plan—even though at the current moment there was no more “plan” than the suggestion of “getting out the pistol and fucking with” the college kids.

I discreetly opened the truck and harnessed my little revolver in a shoulder holster underneath my jacket as Carl approached the college kids. He introduced himself and told them we had just arrived as well; that we were getting ready to check out the supposedly haunted tunnel; and that we were first-timers.

I approached the group and took stock of them. There were five total: One big, tall corn-fed fellow who could have been a linebacker, a short guy in glasses who was about as wide as he was tall, and three innocent-looking girls who looked like they had just moved into their freshman dorms.

Of the five of them, I only remember the name of the short guy in the glasses: Dakota. An interesting name, which might be why it stuck with me after all these years. Or it could be because Dakota’s introduction prompted Dustin to spontaneously (and untruthfully, I might add) tell the group of strangers that he happened to live in North Dakota, where he was a professional bull-rider. His name was Mike, by the way, and he was only in Ohio to visit his cousin, Jeremy [Kyle] here. One of the girls went to shake his hand in greeting, but when they reached for it, Dustin held up an empty jacket sleeve (his hand was pulled back inside of it) and told them he had lost the hand in an accident on his family’s ranch as a child. “Kinda messed up of you to try to shake my nub,” he told her. When she issued an embarrassed apology, he accepted.

As the group of college kids were enamored by Dustin’s tall tales of Dakotan bull riding and lopped-off appendages, Carl leaned back and whispered to me, “Act like you’re hammered drunk.”

Thus, I mentally consumed a pint or so of corn whiskey and assumed the name of Sam. “Nice to—hic—meet ya,” I slurred to them.

We started down the trail. Dakota told us that he had been to Moonville Tunnel several times. He knew all kinds of interesting facts about its history. There was an old mining village beyond the tunnel that was abandoned in the late 1850s, he told us. You had to cross a stream to get to it. There have been several recorded deaths, one in 1958 when a brakeman fell onto the tracks. We learned quite a bit from Dakota on our walk back to the tunnel, and in return, we filled his head with as many lies as it could hold.

Finally we made it to the tunnel, walked through it, and approached a stream on the other side. “The mining village is just a little farther, past this creek,” Dakota told us. “Just need to cross on this log.” He pointed to a mossy fallen tree that spanned over frigid, rushing water.

Carl turned to me. “Sam, your drunk ass is liable to fall off that thing and drown yourself.” I took the hint, and after a couple of lines faux-protest, I consented to stay behind with Carl, Kyle, our friend Dewey, and Kyle’s mom Robbie. The college kids, along with Dustin and a few of our other friends, crossed the creek on the log and disappeared into the woods on the other side.

As soon as we figured they were out of earshot, we started to conspire. Of course, Carl was the first to offer a suggestion: “We should wait for them to get halfway across that log and fire the blanks at them so they fall in the creek.”

I imagined news headlines of a tragic accidental drowning, all caused by a group of prankster teenagers who would learn a valuable life lesson by way of spending their twenties and thirties behind bars.

“I have a better idea,” I said.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later, we were back in the tunnel and patiently waiting. As soon as we heard voices coming down the trail, Kyle and I started to argue.

Somehow, despite the fact that we were but a simple troupe of Appalachian hillbillies with zero acting experience, I swear the performance that would follow could have won an Oscar:

“I saw your number in her goddamn phone!” I slurred to Kyle. Dewey was holding him back against the wall of the tunnel and Carl was holding me back on the opposite side.

“Bullshit,” Kyle replied, “you’re fuckin delusional. Every time you get like this you start accusing me of this shit, you paranoid asshole.”

The back-and-forth continued until the group of strangers and friends approached our impromptu stage. Dustin and our other buddies hung around, (not in on the plan at this point themselves); the college kids passed between Kyle and me with confused caution.

Our improv routine escalated.

“Boys, calm the hell down,” Carl told us. Then to me, “Sam, you’re drunk.”

“So what if I’m drunk,” I told him. “He knows what the fuck he did.”

Kyle started to push Dewey away to get to me and Dewey tried to ‘calm him down’ in the same manner as Carl. “Jeremy [Kyle] goddammit, he’s drunk, let it go—”

“I ain’t lettin shit go, get the fuck off of me—”

The college kids hung a few feet away in the tunnel and watched as Kyle tried to get past Dewey.

“This is the last time,” I told Kyle, “the last time I hear about you trying to fuck her behind my back.” I reached into my jacket and started to pull the revolver from its holster.

Carl’s entire demeanor changed from the moment my arm reached in my jacket to produce our primary plot device:

“Jeremy—Jeremy he has a gun—HE HAS A GUN JEREMY, GET BACK—”

Cue collective gasps from the college kids. Carl wrestled with me and pleaded for ‘Jeremy’ to run, but Kyle’s character wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, you need a fuckin gun huh? Pussy ass little bitch—” he made it past Dewey and halfway across the tunnel with fists raised when suddenly I ‘managed to free my hand from Carl’s grasp’ and aimed the pistol at my faux-foe.

A cacophony of noise erupted in quick succession:

“NOOO!” screamed several of the college kids as they saw the pistol being pointed at their new friend Jeremy.

BANG! went the sound of the first shot as it reverberated through the tunnel like a stick of dynamite exploding in someone’s living room.

And then there were the screams. The most awful, blood-curdling cries of terror that you could ever hear. The kind of screams that stay with you for the rest of your life—even as you write about it over a decade later.

Kyle dropped to the floor of the tunnel. I fired two more shots, and with each of them his ‘lifeless body’ convulsed a half a foot into the air.

Carl’s performance continued. He left me and rushed to Kyle, who was stifling laughs between his best attempts at a dead guy impression. “Robbie, call 911!” Carl yelled. “Robbie, he’s not breathing! Call 911 right now!”

I collapsed against the wall and began to ‘drunkenly weep’ at the sight of what I’d done. The gun fell to the ground.

Carl turned and grabbed the lapels of my jacket, slamming me into the concrete wall. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO NOW?!” he asked me. “HE’S DEAD, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!”

“I don’t know,” I cried. “I don’t know, I can—we can—we’ll put his body in the creek and—oh god, I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry …”

Carl started to laugh. We turned and saw that the college kids had already made it to the other end of the tunnel. They paused at its opening, disoriented and panicking.

“We-we-we need to g-g-get to h-higher ground!” Dakota screamed.

“Run down there and scare ’em,” Carl told me.

Something in me, a little voice, thought for just a fraction of a second that maybe we had already taken things too far … but the laughter of my friends on our end of the tunnel was like an addictive drug. Laughter, which, either didn’t reach the ears or the consciousness of the college kids. When I took off down the tunnel, they saw me and screamed all over again. They pushed each other out of the way and stumbled in the mud trying to turn, and then fled down the trail toward the parking lot. The laugher in my ears waned and with it, its effect. I thought, These people are going to be traumatized for the rest of their lives if they leave here believing someone was murdered.

I holstered the pistol and continued out of the tunnel and down the trail, trying to catch up with them. By the time I reached the parking lot, they were already in their car. Dakota was behind the wheel, and the big linebacker was in the passenger seat.

Their car was stuck in the mud. Wrrrrrr …. wrrrrrrrrrr … The front tires were spinning backwards with the speed of a straight-lane dragster, but the car wasn’t budging from its mire.

As I entered the glow of their headlights, I saw both of their eyes grow to the size of baseballs.

“Stop! Stop, it was just a joke!” I yelled, waving my hands.

From inside the car, they saw the guy who just killed his friend running toward them, shouting nonsense, and waving his arms wildly.

The passenger door opened and the linebacker tumbled out and ran at a full sprint into the opposite tree-line until I heard a SPLASH as he swam across the creek near the main parking area to the other side.

Dakota panicked and put the car in drive, suddenly propelling it forward into a boulder on the edge of the parking area and smashing the front fender.

I finally reached their car and they screamed in unison before I held up my hands. “Guys, this was all a joke. It was all a joke, I’m so sorry. There were just blanks in the gun. My friend Kyle—uhh, Jeremy—is coming out of the woods right now.”

Dakota was sobbing. “I don’t care,” he cried. “I don’t care, I don’t fucking care I just want to go.”

All three girls in the back were sobbing.

My god, what have we done, I thought.

“It was just a joke,” I repeated. “We thought it would be—”

“Just a joke?” I heard a voice behind me. I turned to see the linebacker towering over me, clothes dripping, face covered in briar scratches. “It was just a joke, huh?”

About that time my friends were running back into the parking area from the trail.

“Uhhh, listen man,” I stammered. “I don’t want any trouble, we were just—”

“You don’t want any trouble? Don’t want any TROUBLE?!”

He started to raise his fist but Dewey pushed me out of the way and stepped in front of him. “Get in your fucking car … and go back to Athens.”

Several other friends stood behind Dewey and the linebacker eyed them all.

Dakota called from the bruised Camry … “C-come on, let’s just get out of here.”

The linebacker took a deep breath and pushed past Dewey. He went to the front of the car and pushed, along with a couple of our friends, while Dakota was finally able to back the car into the gravel road.

The linebacker paused at the open car door and turned to look at us one more time. “Just so you know. We’re calling the sheriff when we get back to Athens.”

He got into the car and they sped away, trailed by a contrail of flying gravel and mud.

We were silent; everyone realizing the gravity of what had just happened. Well except maybe for one of us: Carl started laughing his ass off.

“What?” Kyle asked him.

“Hell,” he said once he’d caught a breath. “They’re gonna call the sheriff and tell em they met some guy named Mike, who’s a one-armed bull rider from North Dakota, and saw his drunk friend Sam shoot a guy named Jeremy.”

submitted by /u/tomedwardsmusic [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2VxhuFs