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ikeromantic · 10 months

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Alice in College pt 4

An IkeRev Central characters AU! Written for my IkeRev 1K Celebration, a boarding school AU was the poll winner. Approx. 3800 words. 4/6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“I am an idiot. I always give myself very good advice but do I take it? Nooooo . . .” Alice stood in the empty dining hall, wondering again why she’d decided to come. The reason was simple. Curiosity. But on balance, it wasn’t exactly a great reason, or even a good one.

The door swung open, and Alice startled. “Da- oh.” It wasn’t Dalim standing there, but some stranger. A student she had not met. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair and wide, grey eyes like a stormclouds. Oddly enough, he had a similarity to the kid Blanc and Loki hung out with, right down to wearing a matching top hat.

“You.” The guy crossed his arms. “You do realize dinner was over an hour ago?”

“Umm. Yes?” She frowned. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Alice.”

“And I don’t have time to introduce myself to an idiot.” He looked around. “So. Why are you here after hours? It’s against the rules.”

Alice sighed. “I’m waiting on a friend. But if you’re going to tattle on me, I can just leave now.”

He held up a hand. “I didn’t say I was going to tell on you. Just be careful. There are worse things than detention with Mousse.”

“What, like Dean will turn me into a frog for a year?” She grinned.

“Dean won’t, no. But he isn’t the one in charge.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “People have gone missing here. Or died. People like you.”

Alice felt a flutter of fear in her belly, but didn’t want to let him know he’d scored a point. “Yeah, well, if it’s so scary, what are you doing here after hours? You could be in danger too.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Me? No. I’ll be fine. I’ve got defenses. But you? You should stay where it’s safe. Where the lights are on and the rest of the students hang out.”

“Look, I’m not going to let you scare me. I’m not defenseless either. I know how to protect myself.” Alice tried not to think back on London and the times she ducked into a shop or ran home to get there before dark. She’d never been very brave, but she wanted to be.

“Your head really is full of hot air, like a balloon.” He took a long breath, clearly not buying her bravado. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a powder compact or small mirror. “If you aren’t going to be sensible, then take this.” He handed it to her. “If someone - or something - bothers you, just point it at them and twist.”

Alice looked down at the thing uncertainly. “What does it do? I don’t want to hurt anyone . . .”

“It puts them to sleep. What did you think?” He snorted. “You really are such a dummy.”

“And you’re mean and rude, so I think between the two of us, I’ve got it better.” Alice stuck her tongue out at him.

“Pfft, and people think I’m a kid?” He started laughing.

Alice couldn’t believe anyone would confuse him for a child, even if he slung insults like one. “Anyway, thanks for the - the thingamajig.” She pocketed it.

“I haven’t named it yet, but I was thinking about calling it a sleep stick. Catchy, right? It’s a prototype, so be careful with it. And with yourself.” He added the last bit in a quiet voice, his expression going serious. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alice. And don’t forget. You owe me one now.”

“Hey! I don’t owe you anything! If it’s like that, take your - hey!” Alice called after him, but the guy was gone. And he hadn’t even told her his name. “What a weirdo.”

“The school is full of them,” said a voice just behind her.

Alice leapt and spun, her heart hammering in her chest. She held the sleep stick out like a tiny baton.

Dalim grinned. “Whatcha going to do with that, princess? I’m not in the mood for a nap.” His smile hinted at all kinds of things he was in the mood for.

Alice lowered her odd little weapon and tucked it into a pocket. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people. And you should stop calling me princess. You know my name.”

“Yeah, but you’re too beautiful for such a simple name. Calling you princess is the least I can do to respect your charms.” He said all this with a straight face, and every word of it put another degree of heat into Alice’s inflamed cheeks.

“You can stop flirting with me too. That’s probably the same line you use on every new girl.”

Dalim chuckled. “Only the gorgeous ones.” But he did look somewhat chastened and his smile relaxed into something more natural. “Thanks for meeting me here tonight. I half expected that you wouldn’t show.”

“I shouldn’t have.” Alice frowned at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. “So . . . what are we doing? Nothing against the rules?”

He shrugged. “Not explicitly?” She didn’t say anything to that, so he went on. “I thought we could hang out. And . . . I have some contraband from town.” Dalim’s grin widened. “Amon and I were saving it for a special occasion, but spending time with you is pretty special.”

He was at it again with the cheesy pick-up lines, she thought, but it was kind of endearing. “Alright. But if I get in trouble again, I’m never forgiving you.”

“Understood.”

Dalim led her to the boys’ wing of the school. This was where all the guys bunked in single and double dormitories. Most of the room doors were wide open, with guys shouting to each other across the hall, tossing balls back and forth or shooting each other with paper wads. A couple of people she’d met in class waved at her as they passed.

They stopped at one of the closed doors and Dalim knocked. A moment later, the door opened a crack, and Amon peered out. “There you are.” That was all he said before opening the door just wide enough to let the two of them in.

Amon wasn’t in his hoodie or scarf, just a loose black t-shirt and thin black pajama pants. He gave Alice a thin-lipped smile. “I didn’t think Dalim could talk you into coming.”

“I’m very persuasive,” Dalim laughed. He shut the door behind them as Alice stepped inside and looked around.

She’d expected the room to be about the same size as her own and the ones she’d seen in passing, but it was quite a bit larger. There was room enough for a small, worn leather couch, a bookshelf, the two beds, and a table.

“Corner space,” Dalim said, before she could ask. “Amon’s family pulled some strings for us.”

“Nice.” She sat down on the couch and was surprised when Amon joined her.

He studied her face in silence, as if waiting for her to do something interesting.

Dalim grabbed some glasses and a bottle from a box under his bed. The bottle was smoked glass, and some liquid moved beneath the dark exterior. It was a little bigger than a wine bottle, and similarly corked. “The cups don’t match. Sorry about that, pri- Alice.”

“I’m not fancy.” She averted her gaze from Amon, who was still watching her. “So what is it? What’s in the bottle?”

“Wine bottled from fruit gathered in the magic forest. Grown near naturally occurring magic crystals. They say it has all kinds of extra qualities.” Dalim raised an eyebrow.

Alice peered cautiously at the bottle. Things in Cradle had a habit of being more dangerous than they appeared. “What kinds of things?”

“We’ll have to find out,” Amon answered for Dalim. “It’s our first time trying it too.”

“What he said,” Dalim agreed. He pulled the cork and began to pour. The wine, if that’s what it was, glimmered in the lamplight. It was gold in color, opaque and a little cloudy. The scent was sweet and reminded Alice of roses and honey, an aroma that grew stronger when Dalim handed her a cup.

“To new friendships,” Dalim held up his cup.

“Friendships,” echoed Amon.

Alice clinked her cup against theirs and took a sip. Whatever was in the glass, it wasn’t wine. That was her first thought. Her second was that it was amazing, and her third thought was that she wanted more. The drink tasted like summer felt. Warm and lazy, humming with life and light. It suffused her with a sense of wellbeing and nostalgia.

“Kinda makes me feel like a kid again,” Amon said. He smiled at her again, and this time it didn’t look forced. “Just the good parts.”

Dalim nodded. “Yeah.” He gave Alice a questioning look. “Do you like it?”

“I think so. It’s really odd, but good.” She took another careful sip, wanting to hold onto this strange feeling for as long as she could.

“What does it make you think about?” Amon’s eyes were on her, the strange topaz color shifting just like the cloudy drink in her cup, sparkling in the light.

He was kind of cute, she thought, when he wasn’t scowling. His long, pale hair curled behind his ears, silky and fine. “Ummm. It reminds me of summer? I guess? Warmth and that feeling of just . . . not needing to be anywhere or do anything.”

“I think that’s a good description. It’s warm and sweet. Like a gentle kiss.” Dalim settled on her other side, sandwiching Alice between him and Amon.

She laughed. “There you go again, trying to flirt.”

“I sense it isn’t working.” He sighed.

“Just lay off, Dalim. Let her relax.” Amon leaned back, giving her a little more space on his side.

Alice was silently grateful for his comment as Dalim also leaned back. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Other than flirting with lovely ladies like yourself?” Dalim chuckled. “There are plays, dances, festivals . . . I like to read. And Amon has his experiments.” He shrugged. “If you mean at school, there’s not much. A few clubs, sports.”

“What about you, Alice? What do you do when you’re at leisure?” Amon asked without looking at her. His eyes were unfocused and staring up into the rafters of the high ceiling.

“Well . . . at home I would bake. Or write out recipes I had an idea for. I worked at a pâtissière, so I was always trying to come up with new ideas for sweets we could make.” She sighed. It seemed like ages ago, even if it was only a month. “I miss it sometimes? But I like Cradle. I chose to stay afterall.”

“Hm. Didn’t have anything to go back to?” Amon was paying attention now, his eyes as sharp and cold as gemstones.

“I - well, no. Not really.” She took a breath, wondering how much to share and whether she ought to say anything at all. “I had my job. My boss was very nice. And I had a roommate. But no one I needed to go back to.”

Dalim set a hand on her shoulder, a gentle caress. “That’s awful.”

When she turned to face him, expecting his usual flirty smirk, she was surprised to find an expression of genuine commiseration on his face.

He seemed to realize it and let his hand drop. “It’s just, such a lovely lady deserves better than that. Don’t you think, Amon?”

“Yeah.” Amon was still focused on her, his full attention almost a pressure at her side. “You know, we could be like family. Me and you and Dalim. Friends, anyway. And that’s better than family.” He said the last bit with more passion, a flare of anger burning in the depths of his cold gaze.

“I like to make friends. And you guys seem . . . nice? Nice enough, anyway.” Alice gave him a small smile.

Dalim put a hand to his chest. “All that and I get ‘nice enough’? I am losing my touch.”

“Maybe you are.” Amon threw a pillow at him. “Let’s stop talking about serious stuff and play a game.”

Alice perked up. “I love games! What will we play? Cribbage? Dominoes? I’m pretty good at checkers.”

Dalim and Amon exchanged a look that Alice didn’t catch. There was glee in Amon’s eyes and a certain wariness in his friend’s.

“This is a special Cradle game. It’s played with magic.” Amon slid bonelessly to the floor, his back against the couch now. “We’ll teach you how to play.”

Alice helped herself down as Dalim found a spot nearby. “Ok. So what do we do? How does it work?”

“It’s really easy. I’ll use this magic crystal to make a little ball. And you will use your crystal to catch it and toss it to Dalim.” Amon handed her a small, glowing crystal. “On every pass, we’ll make the ball a little bigger until it pops. Whoever it pops on, loses.”

“Ok. I - I never did anything like that before but I can try.” Alice looked at the magic crystal in her hand. It was smaller than her pinky, and glowed with a faint blue light.

Dalim leaned close. “Don’t worry, it’s not hard. When it’s your turn to catch, I’ll help you.”

Amon gave a shrill laugh. His eyes turned red, like a bloody film drawn over them. The crystal in his hands dimmed for a breath and then a crackling ball of lightning appeared in the air just above it. “Impressed yet, Alice?”

“I am, actually. That is amazing.” She leaned closer and felt the hair prickle at the static surrounding the orb. “Is it safe to touch?”

“You might get a little zap if you. I don’t recommend it,” Dalim put a hand on her arm. When she leaned back, he let go. “So - to play the game, close your eyes.”

Alice did as she was instructed, though she didn’t want to. “And then?”

“Focus on the crystal in your hand. See it in your mind. Feel the pulse of magic in it, constrained by the structure. Eager to be let out.” Dalim’s voice was low and easy.

She tried to feel for the pulse, reaching toward a power she didn’t quite understand. For a long moment, there was nothing but her own racing heartbeat. The crystal was cool in her palm, no different than any pebble she might pick up. A tension built between her eyes, and the mental image she had of the crystal wavered. When it did, she felt the first stirrings of the power within it.

“It hums,” she said softly.

Amon laughed again. “Yeah, it is kind of a hum.”

“You’re doing great, princess. Now hold onto to that feeling, and open your eyes.” Dalim guided her to the next step with practiced ease.

Alice slowly opened her eyes while still clinging to the tuneless hum of the magic crystal. Dalim and Amon swam into view. They were both staring at her.

“You got it,” Dalim smiled. “I can tell because your eyes are as red as Amon’s”

“S-so now what?”

Amon answered. “When I toss this lightning at you, you’re going to reach for it. But you’re going to use the hum you’re feeling in that crystal to reach out, not your hands.” He hunched forward, anticipation in every line of him.

“Ready, princess?” Dalim gestured toward Amon. When he did, the pale-haired boy lifted the ball and lobbed it toward Alice.

Her eyes went wide as she saw the roiling, crackling ball of lightning float through the air toward her. It seemed much larger than it had when it was just sitting above Amon’s hands. Her hair crackled with the static rolling off of it, and her skin prickled uncomfortably. She tried to reach with the hum of the crystal, to stretch out that vibration toward the ball, but the magic didn’t budge.

Alice tried again as the lightning drew ever closer to her. She didn’t want to get a painful shock. Whatever she did, her connection to the crystal snapped, the hum disappeared, and the ball was almost to her. Panicked, Alice threw out a hand. “No!”

The ball of lightning winked out of existence.

Amon and Dalim stared at her, open mouthed.

“W-what just happened?” Alice looked from one to the other.

“I told you she could do it.” Amon grinned widely.

Dalim grimaced. “You broke the spell.”

“Is that bad?”

Amon took her hand. His skin was almost fever hot to the touch, dry, and soft as sin. “It’s fantastic. Truly.” His eyes were ablaze with unexpected passion. “You are the only person I know that can break a spell like that. Not counter it. Not block it. But break it.”

“It’s a power from the Land of Reason. I wasn’t sure you could do it, but Amon thought if we pushed you, you would.” Dalim shrugged. “Good job.” He didn’t sound entirely pleased.

“We should test it,” Amon said, his grin so wide it looked like it must be hurting his cheeks. “Practice with it.” He was positively gleeful, and his mood was catching.

“Yeah! We can see what sort of spells I can break. It’s like my very own super power.” Alice was getting excited now. She’d never had any kind of specialness to her - never excelled in anything. And now she had a special power no one else had. Well, no one in Cradle anyway.

Dalim tugged her hand away from Amon’s grasp. “Sure. But not tonight. We need to plan it out. Figure out what we want to test for, what kind of challenges you need.”

Amon’s gaze narrowed as he looked at his friend, but after a moment he nodded. “Fine. It can wait on proper planning. But let’s not put it off too long. We need to know if we can con- if she can control it at will.”

“And we will. Later.” Dalim stood and helped Alice to her feet. “I think this is enough for tonight.”

She nodded. “I am excited but he’s right. Let’s get together tomorrow and decide what we want to test and how it works. I don’t want to be caught by surprise again. If I’m going to be your guinea pig, I get a vote on what we’re doing.”

Amon scowled, but after a moment, he nodded. “Fine.”

“Great. So we’re all in agreement.” Dalim still held Alice’s hand. “I’ll walk you back to your room, ok?”

“I can get there on my own.” Alice grinned. “Oliver helped me with reading the map, so it’s a lot easier to get around.”

“Oliver, huh?” For a moment his smile fell, then it was right back in place. “Alright. Then I guess this is goodnight, huh?” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the lightest breath of a kiss across her knuckles. “Goodnight princess.”

Alice tried to hide the little shiver he gave her. It was really quite unfair, this flirtation. She liked Dalim, but he was too smooth. Too . . . polished. On the outside, anyway. She felt like there was more, but he hid it under this playful guise. “Goodnight, Dalim. Amon.”

Dalim let her go and waved as she stepped out into the hall. The door closed and she was alone again. Well, as alone as one got in a hall of raucous boys. It was quieter than it had been, but there was still plenty of laughter and chatter as she passed on her way back to the girls’ dorms.

Just as she passed from the well-lit and noisy corridor into the quiet stairwell, Blanc came into view. Alice felt inexplicably glad to see him. There was something about him that put her at ease. “Blanc!”

“Alice.” His gentle smile greeted her enthusiasm. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “I was visiting with some new friends. Amon and Dalim.”

Blanc nodded. “Lovely. I am glad you’re making friends.” He fell into step beside her. “I hope you don’t mind my accompanying you? I am headed in the same direction.”

“I don’t mind at all. I like your company.”

“And I, yours.” His eyes glinted in the low lamp light, reflected flames flickering warmly behind the rectangle of his glasses.

Alice had the most absurd urge to reach out and tuck a strand of his messy, pale hair behind his ear. Such an intimate gesture and yet the feeling between them seemed to welcome it. Still, she kept her hands to herself.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward,” Blanc said after an awkward silence.

“No! No, I said it first. I like that you like me too. Or, my company? You like my company. I like yours. Too. Company. As well.” Alice fell silent again, feeling like an idiot. She was babbling and now Blanc probably thought she was an idiot.

Blanc laughed, a soft breathy sound that made something inside her uncoil pleasantly. A tension she hadn’t even realized she had. “Perhaps I can persuade you, then, to join me for tea? I’d like to enjoy your company even more, if that’s alright.”

“I would like that.” Alice couldn’t read the expression he wore when she said yes. A mix, she thought, of delight and some faint melancholy or regret. She wondered why he held onto that trace of sadness and where it had come from. Blanc was a mystery to her, with his reserved politeness and his warm smiles. She wanted to know everything about him.

“Excellent. Then, instead of supper tomorrow in the dining hall, you and I will adjourn privately for tea. Just the two of us.”

There it was again, she thought. That secretive smile that seemed to promise so much without giving away a thing. The sensual curve of his lips, the slight lift of his brows, and the heat in his rose petal gaze made her skin prickle pleasantly. “Alright. That sounds good. Should I bring something?”

Blanc reached out then, his gloved fingertips almost touching her cheek. “Just your lovely self.”

Alice nodded. Somehow, that almost-touch was more enticing than all of Dalim’s obvious flirtations combined.

The door below them clattered open as a group of students passed through the stairwell and onto another floor. The chatter broke the moment, and Blanc’s hand dropped to his side again. Neither said anything as they made their way into the women’s dormitory. Alice wasn’t sure what to say and Blanc seemed lost in thought.

He stopped at her door and she stood beside him, not really wanting to go in yet, but lacking an excuse to stay and talk.

“I believe this is goodnight,” he said, sounding as reluctant as she felt. “It’s silly, I suppose, but I feel as if I could sit and chat with you for hours. We’ve only really just met and I’m already prepared to talk your ear off.” Blanc gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“I wish you would,” Alice said, and then realized how that sounded. Her cheeks went hot as she tried to find a way to mitigate the damage.

Blanc smiled. “I will see you tomorrow, Alice. Until then.”

She managed a passable goodnight of her own and then went in, not staying to watch him leave.

Part 5

#ikemen revolution #ikerev au #ikerev Oliver #ikerev Dalim #ikerev Amon #ikerev Blanc #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #follower celebration

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theshelbyclan · 1 year

Note

Hi! So maybe a little random but you mentioned before something about writing for Enola Holmes and could you maybe just write me a short piece with Enola and Sherlock and maybe him tickling her? I really love how well you write the wholesome family stuff 😊😊

Hi! I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d be the right one to write this one, but a decided to try it anyways, because who can refuse such fluff? Just before I do, maybe check out @astheskycries (I hope you don’t mind me tagging you) for more very similar to what you asked for. Or @cas-kingdom for all the Henry inspired fluff? Hope I did your idea some justice after all 😊

———

Enola sighed deeply, “I already told you, I know I’m right.”

“Clearly not,” Sherlock answered swiftly.

“If he really had been away for two weeks, then why would he not have left his dog with the landlady, as he always does? Explain that to me, my genius brother!”

“Because,” Sherlock took a deep breath and tried his best to keep his face in check. In truth, he loved nothing more than playing these deductive games with his little sister. She’d become quite the formidable counter player in his absence. “Because he left suddenly on a Wednesday. His landlady goes to visit her sister on Wednesdays, everyone knows that.”

“But he didn’t leave on a Wednesday!” She pointed an accusing and fiery finger at him, “He left on a Tuesday, hence the curtains.”

He frowned. He hadn’t thought of the curtains yet.

“There’s a flaw in your reasoning,” Enola remarked triumphantly. “There’s something you’ve missed.”

“I have not,” he almost sulked, “It is you who has missed something. Forgotten about the pie already, little sister?”

“Oh, but that’s nothing. That just means his brother came up from the country.” Enola waved a disinterested hand, “It is you who has missed the blatant obvious.”

“Which is?”

“He’s a man who craves adventure. He is a lawyer, as you mentioned, but one who will only take up cases that lead him into danger. He’s in need of money, did you not see the state of his shoes? Still, he takes cases that don’t pay him as well as they should, but he takes those that require him to visit dark alleyways and grubby little pubs. He is, as I said, a ruffian at heart.”

“A ruffian. Really?” Sherlock scoffed.

A smile formed on Enola’s face, “I’m not surprised you missed it, but I of course did not.”

“And why did you not, but you presume that I did?”

“Well, we’re very different, you and I.”

Sherlock sat down and played a few notes on his violin, absentmindedly, “Indeed, we are.”

“I have mother’s disposition, and am more wild of spirit…”

“…which almost got you hanged!”

“whereas you are more like…”

Sherlock’s head shot up, “I sincerely hope you aren’t referring to…”

“Someone we are both very well acquainted with.”

“Enola…” he warned.

“Mycroft.”

Her brother sprang from his chair and called out, “That is a grave insult, young lady!”

Enola let herself fall down in her brother’s chaise longe, “I’m afraid it’s true. You have no appetite for danger nor fun. Just like him.”

“I’m sorry?”

And for a moment, Enola feared she’d actually gone to far and she had really hurt him. She stared at him and waited.

Sherlock looked down, but his expression betrayed no emotion. After a while, he said, “When you were little, you and I used to laugh together at Mycroft’s expense. You often stole his important papers and I’d make up riddles for him to solve, in order to get them back.”

Enola didn’t remember much about her older brothers, but this bit of information did awaken some memories, and she suddenly felt a warmness towards this one in particularly.

“He’d become furious of course and shout and stomp about the house in anger,” he continued. “And sometimes you’d steal my work too…”

“But you never got angry,” she finished. “You would just play with me.”

Sherlock nodded and walked over to his sister, “I did however chase you all around the house and in order to get my work back…”

Enola’s eyes widened.

“I’d do this!” Suddenly he dove down and started tickling Enola. She shrieked and tried to get away, but it was no use. “Sherloooooock!”

“Ah, not so clever now, are we?” he grinned down at the mess of hair and limbs and drilled his thumbs down at her ribs, which had a particular satisfying effect.

“Hahahaha, I, haha, amahah, not, aaah, a child anymohahahare!”

Moving his hands down to her stomach, Sherlock frowned, “Really? I hadn’t noticed. Seems to me you haven’t changed much at all.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, he stopped and Enola breathed heavily, “Neither have you, brother.”

He stood up straight and fixed his waistcoat, back to his nearly impossible to read face, “You used to think I was fun.”

She tried to tame her hair a little, but not with much success, “Alright, maybe you still are.” Because however much her dignity had been hurt in the process, Enola enjoyed her brother like this immensely.

“Unlike Mycroft?”

Enola smirked, “Unlike Mycroft.”

“Good!” Sherlock walked away abruptly, “That’s the fun handled, now for the danger. I have a case and I would appreciate your help with it.”

“Oh?” his sister sprang up expectantly, “And does this involve any dark alleys or seedy pubs?”

“Indeed it does, dear sister,” he smiled over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, “Follow me. The game is afoot!”

#enola holmes #enola x Sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #sherlock imagine #sherlock x sister #henry cavill #tickle fluff #tickle fic

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boogiewrites · 2 years

Text

Seeing Stars Pt 18

Star shows Eddie the most unambiguous sign of true love his cynical eyes have ever seen. A chapter of fights, revenge, and falling in love.

TW: Use of the f slur by a bully. Canon typical violence, 3-on-1 fight. Panic attacks from bullying/PTSD triggered. Cleaning/patching up after a fight. Snuggling for comfort. Protective Eddie. Major Hurt/Comfort.

Part 1 if you missed it!

Star was sipping her soda, her lipstick leaving a red ring around the straw while she watched the boys she called her closest friends argue about whether the two albums they were looking forward to this month, Black Sabbath or April Wine would have the better record. Eddie was firmly planted in Black Sabbath and damn near screeching with a pointed finger at his bandmates.

The appearance of someone behind enemy lines walking up to their table made everyone freeze and turn to look at his appearance. It was hard to miss the guy, he was a basketball player and one of Jason’s puppies that followed him around.

“Hey.” He got out with a nod, nervous glances at the intimidating mid-argument faces glaring at him. Star sipped her soda and having reached the bottom she broke the silence with a noisy inhale through her straw, eyes up at the familiar face. Everyone stopped to look at each other now, confusion taking over as he wasn’t calling them crude insults.

“Did you come over here to stand and blot out the sun, you behemoth or are you gonna say something?” Eddie asked the large athlete.

“Uh, no I came to talk to her.” He nodded to Star whose chin pushed into her neck in surprise.

“She’s got a name you know.” Eddie spat back out.

“Yeah. Star.” He looked at Eddie with genuine puzzlement. Eddie’s tone surprised no one, even if this hadn’t been the guy that had slipped notes into Star's locker all year that she’d been avoiding, he would’ve been just a bitey.

“What is it?” She asked with a neutral voice, sitting her empty can away.

“Could I talk to you?”

“You are.” She stated plainly with a nod.

“I mean can we go somewhere and talk?”

Eddie's eyes shoot to Star dissecting her every reaction. Star narrowed her eyes, but subtly. She let the question hang in the air, long enough to make him squirm.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your friends. I’m not going to go anywhere alone with you. So you can ask what you want here or wait.” She shrugged casually and the guy started to sweat. His face went through stages of grief and landed on acceptance as Star openly stared him down.

“Okay.” He said with disappointment clear in his voice. He cleared his throat, hand to his mouth before shoving them in his pockets. “I uh-have seen you dance before.” Star blinked and awkward judgemental smiles started to sprout among the guys around her. “And you’re good at it. And…” his eyes shot to Eddie who had sat back and crossed his arms, legs spread to take up space as the tiny in comparison man intimidated the much large one with only a look. His eyes switch back to Star as he scratched his head nervously. “And I think you’re hot. And-“Star's mouth rolled into a tight line, holding in a laugh. She couldn’t believe the guy was going through with it. “And there’s the valentine’s dance coming up and I wanted to ask you to go with me.” He said quickly to get it out and over with.

Star sucked her teeth and let out a loud sigh, pity on her face.

“Oh hun, no. That’s not gonna happen.”

“You like to dance. It’s a dance.” He said as if that should change her mind.

“Brandon, let me be clear. No.” She stated with praying hands that chopped down. “I’ve avoided you and your notes all year because the answer is no. I’ve been subtle and that isn’t your strong suit. Your consistent insistence that you liking me is a reason for me to give you a chance is very stalker-esque and not to mention sexist. I owe you nothing. I won’t go to any dance with you or date you or give you a drunken hand job out of pity. Let it go, big guy.” She pat his arm condescendingly and shooed him away with her hand. He turned bright red and watched the other guys covering their mouths to not laugh.

“Why do you give them a chance and not me, huh?” He motioned to the table.

“They’re my friends. They’ve had more interactions with me than writing poorly edited notes and telling me I’m hot. They know me as a person, not some predictable weird girl fetish they think they want. They aren’t trying to fuck me to fulfill some misogynist fantasy. I trust them. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your friends. I trust mine.” She stated again. Not raising her voice and sticking to facts but it still bruised his ego.

“W-well what about him?” He pointed to Eddie like a child and he noticeably sat up and back in retort.

“What about him?” Star became louder and more challenging.

“You’re fucking him.” He blurted out.

“And?” She said confirming and challenging someone 4 times her size.

“Why him? He’s a fuckin freak and I’m a nice guy and -“

“Imma stop you right there you numb nuts Clydesdale.” She had a single finger pointed at him and the guys shared a sibling-like grin of watching another kid get in trouble with your mom. “You answered your own question in 3 sentences.” She snapped. “He’d never call someone a freak like that.” She glared up fearlessly into the overgrown toddler's eyes.

“What’s he got that I don’t have?” He asked genuinely and angrily. She shook her head and frowned.

“Do you really want to do this to yourself in front of everyone? You’ve got an audience now.” Her tight expression, not overly emotional scared him.

“Yeah, I wanna know.”

“Fine. He’s the opposite of you. Is that what you want?” She leaned forward. “I like him. I don’t like you.” She tapped her finger to her palm to emphasize her points. “He knows no means no and consent isn’t a big word he doesn’t understand!” She raised her voice. “If those words are all too big for you, I want to fuck him and I don’t want to fuck you. Since sex seems to be all you cavemen give a shit about.” She sat back and huffed out an angry sound.

“You’re a-fat ugly bitch.” She sputtered out. “Jason was right about you. I was just trying to be nice.” He turned and stomped off.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone called me a fat ugly bitch I could buy a damn house, am I right ladies?” She raised a brow at the group of girls sitting at the table next to them and a giggle ran through them.

“Tell me about it.” One snorted out in agreement.

“Just another day living as a woman.” She turned and put her elbows on the lunch table.

“You’re not gonna punch him?” Dustin asked, knowing she fought a guy almost as big before.

“No, he’s not worth it. He’s stupid as shit.” She chuckled.

“You’re not a fat ugly bitch by the way,” Gareth added in without eye contact but feeling bad for her.

“Don’t go pretending to be sweet on my behalf, I’m fine.” She smiled.

“You might’ve got insulted but I think you complimented Eddie so much his ego is gonna make his head explode.” Mike grinned.

“I mean.” Eddie shrugged and let out a genuine bashful laugh as he looked to the table to avoid eye contact. “That was very nice of you Star.” He swung his head her way and she rolled her eyes but the smile told him she meant it.

“It was all true. Guessing stroking your ego is natural to me now since I’ve been stroking your-“

“Hey! Oh!” Eddie tutted and covered her mouth. “Children are present let’s not.”

“We know she meant your dick dude,” Dustin said deadpan. It sent the older friends into a cackle.

They were already healed and back to enjoying their lives again. But across the lunchroom, a wounded group of jocks was stewing in their not-so-stroked egos.

If there was one thing Star wouldn’t miss about high school it was gym. She hated everything about it. No amount of naked girls in the locker room could make up for the loathing the rest of the experience caused her. She wasn’t a gifted athlete. She couldn’t hit a ball with a bat to save her life. She couldn’t remember choreography. And her aim was self-admittedly shit. So when dodgeball was announced as the game of the day she groaned into her hands amongst the cheers of the rest of the class.

Star was jumpy and paranoid without the threat of balls being launched at her face. And this was in no scenario in which that statement could be interpreted as fun. The only time she wanted balls hitting her in the face was during a sloppy blow job.

She’d tried to purposely get hit at first. But the gym teacher caught on and made her get back out on the floor unless it looked like she was trying. So she was. She was avoiding a ricocheting ball by running toward the middle of the court. A vengeful Jason, angry at her for making his friend look bad had been watching her, waiting for an opportunity. He ran forward as she was distracted, and when he was within arm's distance of her he yelled her name, causing her to turn to look his way before he pelted her right in the face as hard as he could.

Those balls seem like they wouldn’t hurt that badly. Their big and bouncy and make a fun noise when they hit something. They seem innocent enough. But anything when hurled at your face from 3 feet away by someone who handles balls for a pastime. Insert joke here. It’s going to ruin your day.

Star got knocked flat on her ass as she felt her nose throb. Everyone let out a mix of amused and concerned ‘ohs’ when she hit the ground.

“What the FUCK?” She shouted and put her hand to her nose. Jason strutted up to her and looked down at her.

“You’re out.” He smirked.

“Your balls are gonna be out of your mouth.” She growled. He had enough time to look confused before she used her angle to her advantage and kicked him in the balls. He doubled over and there they both sat on the shiny hardwood floor, each holding their injuries.

Jason groaned and gritted out strings of half-words that were all insults. Star sat and watched his friends try to help him up but his knees wouldn’t work yet. It was no surprise to Star that no one had come to pick her up.

“If you want to be able to have kids. Don't fucking hit me, dude. I didn’t do anything to you, you asshole.”

“You’re a bitch.” He grunted.

“Again with this? I haven’t even talked to you. What the hell is your problem?”

“Brandon.”

“Oh come ON.” She groaned loudly. “You hit me because I turned down your friend? That’s fucked up man, even for you.”

“He was trying to be nice and ask you out. The guy likes your weird ass for some reason.” Star was standing now and Jason wasn’t risking being left on the floor, his friends trying to help him up.

“I told him no. I gave him reasons. I answered his questions. What more do you fucking want from me?”

“Go out with him.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” he took a deep breath. “He’d be good for you. You’re a mess star. You’re with the wrong crowd.”

“Again. Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

“I hate to see a pretty girl with so much potential have such a nasty mouth.”

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck.” She bit back.

“Munsons a bad influence. You’re gonna catch something you know that?” He was standing now but still bent.

“You’re one of the most ignorant brainwashed people I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“You’re the one who’s brainwashed! Those guys, that club, they’re no good.”

“They are good which is ironic. They were my friends when no one else would be. They don’t hit me in the face and insult me. Why would I hang out with people who want to hurt me when I have a group of good people I trust? What don’t you get?”

“C’mon. Good? Them? Munson?” He scoffed. “Kids a freak. He kills cats you know.”

“He loves cats!” She screeched defensively. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“You expect me to believe a guy that looks like that is good? That he’s worth your time? I don’t know what you see in him, Star. You need to ditch him. He’s got a reputation. His whole family does. His dad's in jail. His mom was an addict. He sells drugs. Lives in a trailer park? I mean come on the guy's a loser.”

Star got so close to Jason that he stumbled back and put her nose right to his.

“You keep their names out of your fucking mouth you ignorant piece of shit.” She reared back and spit on his shirt. “Eddie’s a better man than you could even think of being. He’s smarter than you. He’s funnier. He’s kinder. He's more of a man than you ever will be.”

“Aw, the freaks are in love, you guys.” They all mockingly awed.

“And what if we were? It has nothing to do with you! What we do affects you in no way. Why do you care? We don’t care about you!”

“Yeah, you do you’re getting all emotional right now.”

“Have you ever noticed how we never go after you guys? We’re always acting in retaliation to you? Happy people? Us? They don’t go around worrying about what other people are doing and wanting to make them feel bad for no reason.”

“People like him don’t deserve to be happy.” Star blinked in shock at the honesty.

“You are pathetic. Brainwashed. Pitiful tiny little shadow of a person. I feel so bad for you.”

“I feel bad for you! That’s what I’m saying!” He entirely missed her point. “You need someone like us to make you see you’re the one that’s brainwashed! And it’s okay, you're a girl, it happens. But Munson? He’s a born-and-bred loser. You need someone like Brandon, who’s from good parents, and has real moral values. He can set you straight.”

“I don’t need your help. I sure as hell don’t need Brandon. I have what I need. And that’s Eddie.” She said it without thinking. Talking straight from her gut and trusting it would tell her what she needed to hear. It delivered. “I would choose that so-called loser over you any day. Every time he wins. In any scenario. He beats you. Always. He’s better than you in every way. And that kills you. Eats you up inside. Because you’re scared and you’re afraid of things that are different from you. And that’s why he’s better. Because he’s everything you aren’t. Everything you wish you could be but are too afraid to because what would other people think? What if people see the real you and realize you’re nothing? An imposter. A bunch of hot air inside with no real value. Nothing of worth. Not worthy of love or friendship. You envy Eddie. Who is openly himself. He has friends that love him. The real him. He has the love and the freedom you wish you had. You’re so fucking predictable. All of you. All the same. Enjoy these last months of high school because this is your peak. This is as soon as it gets for you.” She spits out the venom with her words and said them so close to his face he could feel the heat from her breath. She knew guys like Jason. They were all the same. She cut hard into him and it felt so good to see the spark of worry that she might be right in his eyes. The fear of how did she know that’s what I’m scared of.

“She’s hopeless.” Jason blurts out, defensive, voice cracking under someone getting into his head.

“Then leave me alone,” she growled before storming off.

Jason was a little spooked by Star’s words. He didn’t like that someone knew his weaknesses and that they said them out loud so other people could hear. He had heard she was a witch and being who he was, he fueled his anger with a sense of righteousness. He broke away from his group, following out to the parking lot to see what Star did after their altercation. What he saw only made him angrier. He saw Eddie sweep in with the caring face that she had claimed he had. He held her face and pulled her towards him, a hand to her cheek as she sighed and explained, her fingers stroking the fabric of his jacket on his biceps where they held him back. He saw the tenderness, the kindness, the love between them. They shared a kiss they both laughed through as Eddie stroked her face and hair, kissing the tip of her nose where it was starting to bruise. They held each other for a moment, he saw Eddie’s face hold both anger and softness and Jason grew angry that he could feel both at the same time. The fact that they were just as happy as she claimed made him furious. Eddie Munson was beneath him. He didn’t deserve to have someone love him like that. Especially not someone that was conventionally attractive. Guys like him didn’t deserve it. That’s what he’d been told his whole life. He was compelled to do something to take it away. What he didn’t know, however, is you should never seek vengeance against a witch who knows how to protect herself and those she cares about. Because it will backfire. Jason was going to learn that soon.

Eddie was swearing and catching all the shit falling out of his locker like it did almost every time he opened it. He caught the slide of stacked books in his arms, noticing a note that sat on top. He grabbed it in his teeth and shoved the books back inside forcefully. Turning his back to his locker, he opened it to find it was from Star.

“Meet me after work out back. I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” it was signed with a sloppy star and a heart. He smirked before chuckling. Babe was new. Was she trying to flirt? Set a tone? The heart made him annoyingly hopeful. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and headed home to be anxious the entire evening.

It was late, Eddie was wearing the mix of oils and cologne Star loved. He was looking forward to having her bury her face in his neck, comedically inhale and groan and bite him. He itched for her touch the whole evening, stomach fluttering with nervousness he couldn't explain.

Star was woken up out of her nap by a wave of nausea. She curled up and groaned, feeling nothing rise in her throat but the pain in her stomach stayed. She got out of bed and had tea as the sun set, sitting on her front porch, overlooking the treeline and field but the usual calm that it brought wasn’t coming. It stayed with her all evening, sitting in the doorway of her small bathroom and sucking on peppermint sticks to try to ease it, but it never manifested into throwing up and never went away. If anything it got worse. She started sweating, not even the January air stopping it as she let herself get too cold outside in an attempt to ease it. She wondered if she had food poisoning for a moment, but she’d been emptying out in one way or another if she were. She decided to call Eddie. See if he felt bad, if he did maybe they were getting sick. Or maybe he could come over and be a distraction. She felt compelled to be with him when she felt bad. The phone rang to no answer. She even left a shouting message, thinking he was asleep or in the bathroom, and still, no one picked up. She became restless, well into the night now she paced, feeling like she might crawl out of her skin. She decided to take a drive, letting her intuition take her where it wanted. She felt better in the car, the window cracked and the radio on. She headed towards town with no real idea of what was up with her.

Eddie didn’t see Star’s car when he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. The diner was dark inside as he pulled in. He saw Steve’s car on the street outside Family Video. He thought maybe he’d given her a ride. Eddie trotted up the back alley of the diner, that nervousness building again. He stood under the street light where he’d watched Star argue with the line cook. Eddie lit a cigarette and shifted his weight from his heels to his knees. He heard footsteps from the other end of the alley, expecting Star or Steve to appear, maybe both since his car was still around. The silhouette wasn’t familiar and Eddie felt a shiver come over him. Jason came into view with a smug smile on his face.

“I see you got my note.” he stood confidently with his hands on his hips.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said under his breath.

“For once we agree, Munson.” two more silhouettes began to grow in the distance and Eddie felt his stomach drop out of his ass.

“So you wrote the note?” his voice gave away nothing, a plume of smoke escaping in the exhale after.

“Of course I did, why would Star want to see you?”

“Because she likes me.” he gave a cocky smile, eyes bright in the shadows as he let the cherry of his cigarette light up his features with an eerie orange glow in the low light of the alley. “And I think that really chaps your ass, Carver.” he chuckled.

“She doesn’t like you. I’ve heard her say so.”

“That’s interesting because when she’s begging me for more in bed she says some very, sweet things to me. I bet you can imagine.” Eddie was terrified, but he wouldn’t lose the mental game. That was something he refused to do.

“I don’t know why she’d even touch you.” his cheeks began to grow red.

“You wanna find out big boy? I’m very good with my hands.” he winked.

“Don’t even joke about that faggot shit.”

“I don’t think I could handle all three at once but, your boys can watch like they usually do.” he grinned.

“I said shut up!” he moved towards him now, trying to intimidate him. When Eddie remained relaxed, appearing unbothered and looking Jason up and down it made him start to sweat.

“What’s wrong Jason? What’s got you wound so tight?”

“You.”

“Little 'ol me? Well, I didn’t do nothin’.” he flicked his cigarette away. “Except Star.” he turned with a villainous charming smile. He started to laugh as Jason's nose twitched. “You HAVE a girlfriend Jason. Your little Chrissy. Why are you trying to intimidate me over a girl?” his easygoing laugh burned Jason's cheeks. “Oh. Oh, no does SHE like me too? So you wanna take my girl away? As cute as Chrissy’s little ass is I still think I’d stick with Star, thanks though.” he patted him on the arm and Jason grabbed his forearm hard. It hurt, but Eddie didn’t show it.

“You don’t talk about Chrissy.” He growled.

“I could tell you to shut the fuck up about Star too.” Eddie straightened his posture. “What the fuck is your problem, man? You’ve got yours. Just let me have mine.”

“No.” he snapped. “People like you don’t get to be happy.”

“Well shit, tell me how you really feel.” he snorted.

“You’re going to learn that people like you don’t get what they want. You don’t get Star, you don’t get your friends. You’ve been having it too good lately Munson.”

“Yeah, I thought it was going pretty good myself.” he nodded. “You think beating me up is gonna stop that?”

“Y–yeah.” he stuttered. “If you’ve got the shit beat out of you maybe it'll knock you down a few pegs. You won't be able to protect Star or your friends. She’ll see you’re a loser who isn’t as big of a man as she thinks.”

“If you think beating me up will turn Star away you’re a fucking idiot. It’ll do the opposite. And then she’ll come after you.”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of her?” he laughed.

“You should be.”

“She gonna put a spell on me?” he cackled.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered without an ounce of laughter. That did scare Jason a bit.

“You’re all freaks. You deserve each other.”

“Do I deserve her or not here, dude? You’re giving me whiplash. I’m starting to think you don’t even know why you’re doing this.” he laughed and shook his head.

“You don’t deserve to be happy.” he gritted out.

“Listen, if you’re gonna beat my ass just get it the fuck over with. Because I’ll go to Star and she’s going to wait on me hand and foot like a fucking baby. She’s going to be so mad she’ll rain down hell on all of you. It’ll make us closer, she’ll love me even more. And I think you know that. Deep down. That you can’t do anything to take that away from me, so you’re resulting to hurting me physically because you can’t hurt my feelings.”

“Maybe so. But she’s not as good as you think she is. Do you think she’s going to stay with you here? She’s not from here. Nothing is keeping her here. She’s smarter than you, she’ll go to college and leave your dumb ass here to rot in that trailer. I think she’s with you because she feels sorry for you. You know how girls are, they see a hurt dog and they want to help it. That’s you. You’re the dog.” For the first time, Jason hurt Eddie’s feelings. It was only for a moment, tapping into a worry he’d had from the moment he laid eyes on her.

“I think we’ll leave together. And pursue the things we want in life. And we’ll be successful because we’re good people who work hard. We’ll be happy. We might do the whole, marriage and kids thing. Who knows? And I think you’ll still be here. You’ll probably marry Chrissy and have some kids. Close to 30 you’ll start losing those boyish looks. You’ll lose your hair, you’ll get fat, and spend your time rehashing the glory days and being miserable. Chrissy won’t love you anymore, because you’ll hate yourself. Because one day you’ll wake up and realize you never made a single decision in your life for yourself. You only did what other people wanted. You’ll have a crisis and maybe buy a car you can’t afford because you’re not as smart or talented as you thought you were so things aren’t turning out how you wanted. You’ll drink too much, you won’t know how to relate to your kids. They’ll probably be the opposite of you. They’ll be like me. And you’ll hate them for it. And they’ll hate you because they know their dad's good-for-nothing bully who doesn’t know how to handle his emotions. One day you’ll have had too much to drink and one of them will say that. And you’ll hit them. And you’ll regret it. You might get divorced, or put a gun in your mouth about it. You’ll wish you were dead.” Eddie, like Star, could read people. And people as transparent as a high school jock weren’t hard to know how to scare them. Because it’d been done so many times. He probably just repeated to him his own father’s life. And of course, he wouldn’t want to be like his father. But deep down he knew he was. “And there I’ll be, miles and miles away. Happy. Loved. Successful. Not having thought about you since I left this podunk town. You’ll have been dead to me for years.” he grinned. “I’ll have the life you wish you had. And you’ll be here, alone or dead. And either way, everyone around you will be better off for it.”

Jason landed the first hit. He’d made sure that point was made before they started this plan. Eddie, being the unhinged person he was laughed at the knock on the cheek.

“I think I struck a nerve.” he touched his cheek and laughed. Jason hit him in the stomach.” You’re so cute when you’re mad, princess.” he kept the smile on his face until he’d taken too many hits to count. -

Star was headed downtown, her heart racing, feeling on the verge of a panic attack. She wondered if she should stop and if she was finally going to be sick. She wished she was because then she could shake this looming feeling something bad was gonna happen. She’d rather have food poisoning.

She saw the diner in the distance, her focus on it, dark as she approached. She saw Eddie’s van first. She turned the wheel so hard the car made a noise of protest. She swung into the parking lot, swerved with a squeal, and gassed it when three Hawkins letterman jackets came into view. She made a line straight for the guys and slammed the brakes just as she got near them. The thunk of hitting one of them who had been frozen in fear by the headlight's appearance let her know she’d hit them. She launched out of the car, she was moving so quickly on instinct alone she blacked out. She saw the one who was hissing and clutching his leg, the others now stood and gawking, stuck in processing what was happening. She knew who they were. She made eye contact with Carver and launched herself at him. He ran, the other guy getting away, but she grabbed Jason by his jacket and was on him like a piranha in a flash. She had no idea what she said, she knew she used her long nails to try to gouge out his eyes. She failed but left scratches all over him. She’d gotten a few good hits in using surprise to her advantage. She kneed him in the crotch as she hit his head into the pavement by his hair. The other injured guy booked it out of the alley past them. Star looked at him for split second and Jason hauled back and slugged her in the face. It knocked her off him, the already sore and bruised nose now thoroughly split open.

Eddie hadn’t frozen like the three guys beating him up at the sound of Star’s tires squealing into the parking lot. He took the chance to pop his head up from his protective curled position. The headlights blinded him, but he saw the bright yellow paint glint and knew in a heartbeat who it was. He felt his body relax, seeing one guy now on the ground, his leg having taken the hit of her bumper against it. He lay hissing in pain as the others ran. He saw Star in a blur and knew from the fading blonde hair bouncing and the banshee screams that ripped into his ears that it was her. He sat up, letting his head rest against the brick wall. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him, he felt sleepy, his entire body twitching from strain. He heard her growling and screaming, a guy's voice shouting back at her, pleading. Eddie knew he was in no shape to help her, but it sounded like she wasn’t being hurt, so he let himself sit there in the wet gravel and close his eyes. She was there, everything would be okay. His guard dog guardian angel had swooped in and he could rest for a moment.

She let out a frustrated sound as he scrambled away. She quickly turned, to her hands and knees before running and stumbling back to the hunched form against the alley wall. He was lit so beautifully like a baroque with her headlights. She choked out a sob, seeing his eyes fluttering about, closed.

“Eddie!” she squeaked, her throat feeling sore and raw. She hadn’t known it but she’d been screaming. He made a sound, she knew he was alive but that was all. “Eddie, baby, please.” hot fat tears built and fell in an instant. “No, no, no.” she cradled his head as her hands shook to wipe away the fresh blood on his face. “Not you, Eddie, no.” she kept chanting and repeating her words as they came to the forefront of her mind. “Eddie, baby, please. Open your eyes. Look at me, sweetie please.” she begged, a light slap to his cheek as she held his upper body in her arms.

“MMnnrrrggg.” he managed, eyes rolling in their sockets.

“C’mon Eddie, baby. Wake up for me. It’s your Star. It’s me, please. Look at me.” she rasped out crying.

“Ugh. Shit.” a little clearer, his brow furrowing before he hissed at the pain.

“Oh thank you.” she sobbed, holding him to her chest, her clothes covered in blood. She didn’t realize that most of it was hers. She looked up at the sky and thanked the bright moon. “Eddie, baby. Can you hear me?”

His eyes focused, one then the other as he looked up at her. She was silhouetted by the car lights, but he knew her touch, her smell, her shape through a veil of blood and tears. She smoothed his hair out of his face, in an attempt to soothe him.

“There he is.” she cried through a smile. “There’s my pretty boy.” The light hit his eyes in a way that made them warm amber. They glowed from within as they tried to focus on her face, feeling his hand reach up to hold her forearm.

“Star.” his voice was a whisper, trying to get his bearings but he was dizzy.

“Yeah, baby it’s me.” she leaned her nose to his so he could hear her. She wanted to squeeze him so tight their bodies fused into one, her whole body was alive and on fire, tingling and burning like her lungs.

“MMm.” he smiled and let his head rest in her hands, his cheek mushed. “Baby does feel nice,” he muttered and she giggled, wiping away at her tears as they started again.

“You silly man.” she kissed him, she didn’t care about the split lip and the blood. “We’re gonna get in my car and I’m gonna take you home okay?” she promised with her nose to his.

“Kay,” he grunted out, his hands slapping out to find purchase.

“Put all your weight on me, I’ve got you, don’t worry.” she touched him as gently as she could, thankful to not see any blood anywhere besides his face. She felt like the stories of mothers who suddenly have the strength of ten grown men when their child was in danger. She managed to get her car door open, Eddie let himself weigh against the car on his arm as she did so. He was slowly realizing he could use all his limbs and that even though they all hurt, they didn’t seem to be broken. He got into her passenger seat and looked at his hands. They were a bloody scraped mess, one finger looked a little crooked and he was concerned about that.

“You okay?” she shut and locked her door, turning to help him with the seatbelt. She wanted him upright.

“I mean… define okay,” he mumbled and touched his face, only finding more blood. He finally looked at her with fully open eyes. “Oh fuck, Star.” he reached out to her face and she jumped.

“I’m fine.” she gently took his hand and put it down.

“Have you seen your face?” he asked and she flipped down her visor.

“Shit.” she hissed. “Doesn’t matter.” she sighed and smacked it shut. “Do you need a hospital?” she looked over his legs, they were both moving, just like his arms.

“I'd rather just go home,” he admitted with a defeated exhale.

“Home or my place? Do you want Wayne to-”

“Yours.” he nodded and let his head rest on the seat. He wouldn’t want Wayne to see him like this until he had it all cleaned up. Star by far had the superior first aid setup out of the two of them.

“Can I drive? Are you okay?”

“I’m… here. Promise. Drive.” he sighed and let himself slouch. As soon as she was out of the parking lot she took his hand into hers. She held it tight and shuddered the whole ride home. He looked at it, a smile on his face. He knew he was right. Doing this would only make her care more. He lifted it and kissed it before putting it back onto his thigh with a rather content-sounding sigh, putting his other over it.

“I’m so sorry.” he heard the tears in her voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t been so mean to him maybe he wouldn’t have-”

“This didn’t have anything to do with you.” It was partially a lie to make her feel better but he also knew Jason’s real issue was with himself, not anyone else.

“I don’t believe that. It was at my work. Why?”

“He left me a note pretending to be you. Told me to meet him here after work.”

“Motherfucker.” Star gritted out.

“I said much the same.” Eddie groaned. “What I’m more curious about now is how you knew where I was?” He saw her eyes squint and her head tilt as if she were weighing her options.

“I don’t really know how to answer that.”

“That cryptic answer makes me nervous so could you try?” he asked nicely.

“I didn’t know where you were. I woke up sick from a nap. I felt like I had food poisoning but I wasn’t getting sick from it. I tried calling you because I felt bad and you weren’t home. So I went for a drive to clear my head, and get some air and I didn’t think about it. The closer I got to town the more my stomach sank. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack, you know that feeling you get when you’re like, something bad is going to happen even if you don’t know what it is? That’s what it was. And I went into town and saw your van at the diner and I just…” she stopped and took a breath. “I just knew somehow. And there you were,” she said in a raspy whisper. She felt him squeeze her hand.

“My little witch.” he grinned and hummed. “First the shower. Now, this.” she felt his thumb rub comforting on her hand. Star was still twitchy and looking distressed. She was scared of the connection between them and what it meant.

“I’m… I’m still shaking.” she took in a deep inhale to steady herself. “I didn’t know if you were … fuck. That must’ve been what it was like finding me,” she whispered, he saw fresh tears rolling down her cheek. “Baby, I never wanted this to happen to you. I’m so sorry. I don’t care if you don’t want to hear that I’m sorry. I am. I don’t know why. I just am. These things aren’t supposed to happen to you. Nothing bad isn’t supposed to happen to you!” her voice cracked as her chest tightened. He felt warm and fuzzy from the outpouring of emotion trapped in the small space between them. How many times had she called him baby? He felt selfish wanting more.

“I’ll be okay. Shhhh.” he squeezed and kissed her hand. He brought a hand up her shoulder to rub it comfortingly. “We’re fine. I mean, not fine but we’ll be fine. Breathe.”

“I know. I’m s-.” she stopped herself and bit her lip. “I just don’t want anything bad to ever happen to you,” she whispered and another tear fell. He felt the burn, the threat of tears in his own eyes at the sight. He reached her cheek with his knuckle and wiped it away.

“Baby. I’m okay. Get us home. That’s all you have to do.” he said with that burn in his chest appearing again. She had thrown herself into a fight with three men, all bigger than her. She hit one with her car. She did not hesitate. She was willing to sacrifice herself, and her safety for him. That was the most unambiguous sign of true love Eddie knew of.

Star quietly cried the whole ride home, squeezing his hand. He wasn’t the only one that felt it. Her chest burned for him in the same way. The thought of losing him, or having something bad happen to him had been the kick in the ass she’d needed. The universe isn’t one to be sorry. But it wasn’t particularly glad it had to hurt Eddie in such a way to get it through to Star that she loved him. That she was in love with him. But it had worked. She knew. She was in love with Eddie Munson.

“Oh fuck.” Star said loudly in surprise as she saw the state of herself in her bathroom mirror. She’d looked up from getting a warm washcloth for Eddie’s face.

“Told you.” Eddie smiled to himself, sitting on the edge of Star's bed.

“I’m gonna get the blood off me, I’ll be a minute.” She insisted.

“I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”

When she appeared the damage was more clear on her face, scratches covered her chest, neck, and face. Her nose was darker now, looking a little crooked and swollen.

“You should see the other guy.” She gave him a soft smile, putting on a kettle as she dug out her first aid box. She’d taken her now bloody clothes off and had pulled on a big loose sweatshirt. She kneeled in front of Eddie and he saw the wince she tried to hide as her scraped knees weighed on the floor. Her shoulder was bare from the old sweatshirt falling off it when she hunched over the kit.

“Who did that to you, baby?” his crusted hand took her by the chin and saw her eyes swollen from crying and red. A wet shine still to them as they brightened at his touch. She blinked as if she forgot how to speak for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, affected by his tender tone. She felt the heat burn from her chest to her stomach as he stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“I only managed to get ahold of Jason.” She whispered, looking away as if she was ashamed.

“He did this?” Eddie’s brows raised.

“He…” she stopped and an odd smile moved across her face. “He had to.” She let out a quiet laugh. “I was on top of him and I wouldn’t stop hitting him. I don’t know that I would’ve stopped if he hadn’t punched me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“Being on the ground and hearing the tired squeal then being blinded by a light and seeing someone hit the ground and the others run. I think I saw you running down the alley. But there was blood in my eyes and I was feeling light-headed.”

“You didn’t miss much then.” She shook her head and laid everything out next to him on the bed. “Can you strip for me?” She asked casually, clicking the space heater on.

“Huh?”

“I want to see what the damage is.”

“Oh.” He laughed nervously, grunting to take his shirt off. She leaned up on her knees to help pull it over his head. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’m up for it sweetheart.” He joked, wincing through the ache. She undid his jeans, his fingers throbbing from defending himself. They were pulled off with his socks to check for broken toes. Her hands were light and cold and felt nice on his hot, angry skin. He let out an audible sigh as she softly rubbed his back before wrapping a blanket around him. The kettle sounded with a scream and she raised to switch it off.

“Nothing seems broken. That’s good news.”

“I guarded my ribs like a mother fucker. Didn’t want to deal with that. But that means my arms took most of the hurt.” She had a mug made and sat on her bedside table for him after he was finished.

“You’re going to be covered in bruises for weeks.” She said, sitting back on the floor with a grunt on impact.

“Good color study huh?” He smiled at her and she stopped after clipping back his hair and looked at him for a silent moment. Her eyes danced over his face and he felt self-conscious suddenly, she seemed so somber but her eyes were so bright.

“It will be a beautiful color study.” She whispered and kissed his cheek.

She whispered apologies as she cleaned him up. Hurting him to find out what was blood and what was injury. Sweet apologies and gentle touches were all he knew from her. After she had a pile of dirtied cloth and tissue she deemed him finished. She bandaged what she could. It seemed mostly superficial but he knew it was going to hurt. “That’s all I can do.” She said with sorry eyes. “I’ll give you some of the pain pills I have for my period. That’ll take the edge off.”

“You’ve done more than enough already.” He took her hand and she stared at it, quiet again. “Do I get to take care of you?”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head and smiled at him, holding his hand back. “He only hit me once.”

“One too many.” He said with a deeper tone as he touched her face. It was as if she startled herself, looking down at his hands.

“I might’ve really hurt Jason.” She whispered.

“He ran away, didn’t he? He hit you. He can’t be that bad.”

“I blacked out. I knew it was you they were hurting and I just-“ she swallowed audibly and looked as if she might cry again. “I hit his head on the pavement. I saw red. I didn’t think. I just did. I didn’t care if I killed him at that moment. I wanted to. Just thinking that they hurt you I-“ tears started to fall again and he pulled her to him despite the pain.

“You did nothing wrong, okay?“ he said into her ear as she cried in his arms. “I’m… flattered honestly. I’m… more than thankful to have you give a shit about me at all, let alone to the point of…. What went down tonight.” He pulled her away to meet her eyes. “Thank you.” He put his forehead to hers. “From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for doing what you did.” She felt it ache, but it was overtaken again as she let out a sound of pain.

“I’m going to make them pay, Eddie.” It was a gravel-filled rasp and he felt a cold hit his spine. “No one gets away with hurting you. You understand?”

“We can’t go after them Star. They’ll expect it and I’m in no shape to-“

“No. No, we won’t. She’s going to take care of it.” She gritted her teeth and stood, she grabbed an empty jar from the cabinet and slammed it onto the counter. “I’m going to ruin his fucking life.” She was spitting fire as Eddie watched her, timid from the energy coming off her. She put sloppy pinches and pours of oils and herbs into the jar. She ripped a piece of her notebook out. “What are their names?” She asked with a white-knuckled fist holding her pen. “Their middle names too if you have them.” She didn’t look at Eddie, she stared at the paper. He didn’t dare disobey. She scribbled furiously. She put them into the jar, she was repeating things over and over, about how they’d pay and hurt and grieve their choices. She threw in things Eddie never would’ve thought of. Nails, chilis, vinegar, and dirt. With an almost full jar, she turned to him with her eyes as dark as he’d ever seen them. “Don’t do what I’m doing right now.” She told him. The eye contact was intense but he wasn’t afraid of her. He knew anyone else should’ve been. She went into the bathroom and had a jar now full of a familiar colored liquid in her hand. “I shouldn’t be doing this like this but I’m too angry to take my time. Always protect yourself.” She held the jar up. She grabbed the star he gave her around her neck. “May their words come back to haunt them.” And she added the last ingredient of spit and sealed the jar. Eddie knew black candles scared him. She lit incense and sat at the kitchenette. She sealed the jar shut with wax. He couldn’t make out her words but it sounded like something a villain of his campaigns might do. He was inspired, fascinated, and also a bit uneasy. She put out the candle and shook the jar in both hands as hard as she could as she let out a roar of a scream. After she looked like it all caught up to her fast. She stood against the counter for a moment, the jar on the kitchen table directly her opposite. She panted as if she'd ran and slumped, her head hanging down. He sat in silence and looked on in awe. She was terrifying and also the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. With tired eyes that were a serpentine stone color, she came back to herself and turned to face him. She studied him for a moment before coming over and kneeling again. She felt so tired, he could feel it coming off her as she touched his face. “No one hurts you.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. He felt the prickle of tears threaten him. He’d never felt so defended and supported before. Not as an adult anyway. It felt similar to how Wayne had been when he was young. He felt loved. “No one will hurt you and not feel pain from it.” She was protecting him, promising him. “They’ll see the error of their ways quickly. And be better for it after. They will not hurt you again. Any harm to you is a lesson they’ll learn the hard way.” He felt as if he was being blessed by a goddess. She sounded so sure. He didn’t know where to start. Did he thank her, tell her he’d do the same for her? He didn’t know. So as she rest her forehead on his, he kissed her. He felt her smile against him. His worry turned into a memory. “Would you stay with me tonight?” She asked, pulling away and taking his hands into hers.

“Of course.” He barely spoke the words. Her asking was a courtesy more than anything.

“I don’t want to be apart from you right now.” She admitted and kissed his hand. “I’m still scared.” Another quiet confession.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He sounded so sure, she thought. She let it bring her comfort. “Let’s get in bed.” He suggested and she nodded. Silently they stripped down and got between the sheets together. Feeding their touch-loving selves seemed most important. Instead, she held him. She kissed his face and hair. He took her hand into his and held it between them to his chest until he started to fade. She brought up his hand to explore the minute details of it. She kissed his fingertips and palms and let the warmth of him soak into her face. She watched his lashes dark and long fan out over his cheeks. He’d swell more and look less angelic tomorrow. But she knew he was okay.

She didn’t feel okay. She felt more terrified than ever. She’d blacked out. What if it happened again? What was this love going to make her feel next? She didn’t know how to navigate it, how to feel it properly and it terrified her. She’d never felt this before. Realizing she’d never been in love before was another revelation that weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t tell him. That would make it real, make it have consequences. Make her face her issues with no brakes on. She couldn’t do that. She was afraid it'd make her lose her mind.

She heard her ex’s voice in her head telling her she was alone in the fact of being in love and being childish. That she was a terrible person and partner. That she was selfish and annoying, and bringing anyone into her life would be a burden to them. That as soon as she tried to be with someone else they’d see right through her. They’d see she wasn't worth it. That she couldn’t be what they wanted. She still believed that. She hadn’t allowed any evidence to the contrary to be felt. To do that she’d have to be vulnerable and honest. She’d killed that part of herself to survive her ex. And she still hadn’t been able to revive her. Being in love was the best feeling she’d ever had. Especially looking at him like this, kissing his bruises and hands, holding him, and being useful. It was a double-edged sword. As she felt the sting of self-sabotage inside her.

It was all too much. She would have to figure out how to deal with being in love tomorrow. Tonight she had done enough.

School the next day was interesting. Three basketball players showing up, one with a black and blue face and one with a major limp was fuel for the rumor mill fire. Star and Eddie had stayed home to sleep it off. That Friday they returned, swelling subsiding and makeup helping cover a good amount of Star’s bruising. Eddie however, refused and wore his with an odd sort of pride. He was still sore, everything still hurt, he figured his ribs were bruised since his arms, covered with the layers of his clothes were turning a gnarly watercolor mix of bruise shades. Once they both appeared, the rumors swelled again. Star set anyone straight who had the balls to ask. No, she and Eddie weren’t in some domestic violence situation. Jason was a jealous asshole who tried to hurt Eddie and Star intervened and beat his Ken doll face into the asphalt. She was starting to understand why Eddie lied to people so much, when you have a weirdo reputation, no one believes you even if you tell the truth. So Star decided to have some fun with it.

“Can we switch seats?” she whispered to Gareth from across the lunch table.

“Huh? Why?” he drew his face back and glared.

“She wants to sit next to me.” Jeff wiggled his brows and a chuckle moved through the group.

“That and Gareth has a straight line to Carver. I have my back to him. I want to mess with him.”

“You two look like you got hit by a bus are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dustin hissed, Steve’s influence coming through.

“Yes, Dad I do.” she snarked back.

“Anything to mess with that guy,” Gareth said giving up his seat.

Eddie’s bruised face, a busted lip, nose, and brow watched Star as she settled in, taking a giant crystal out of her purse.

“What the hell is that?” Mike asked.

“It’s a rock, what’s it look like dummy,” Jeff added.

“No shit I mean, why do you have it?”

“Trust the process.” Eddie let out a raspy chuckle.

Star hovered her hands over the stone and started saying nonsensical words. Not loudly, just enough to show her mouth was moving, shutting her eyes. She did this for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Is he looking?” Eddie somehow knew she was asking him.

“Go for it.”

She snapped her eyes open to stare directly into Jason, not stopping the words. She jolted to put her hands on the stone and Jason jumped. Eddie covered his mouth and hid his laugh.

“It’s too easy,” he said quietly, shoving a fry into his mouth.

“She’s freaking him out.” Jeff snorted.

Star took a deep breath and rolled her eyes back then slumped, a very stereotypical movie performance of someone casting a spell. She sat back up slowly to blink her eyes open and put the stone back into her purse. She leaned in like nothing ever happened.

“He’s gonna piss the bed tonight.” Eddie grinned.

“If he hasn’t in his Levi's already.”

“He’s leaving.” Jeff was shaking holding in a laugh.

“It’s too easy sometimes,” Star said with a smile.

Eddie had taken them to school and taken them home just the same that day. They hadn’t parted since the incident. Star was feeling a new neediness she was afraid of. She didn’t want him to leave. At first, she put it to worrying about his injuries but now she knew that wasn’t true. They were both in bed, in next to nothing as they had been for a few days. Star split a pain pill with him, and they smoked themselves out. They lay in bed, Star’s hands moving carefully through Eddie’s hair, being sure not to bother his sore spots.

“I think your bruises have peaked,” she spoke softly, her thumb light on his temple.

“I’m still so sore.” he confided to her with tired eyes.

“The pills not helping?” she asked, concerned.

“Oh yeah, they are, right now. But without them, I can feel everything. My arms especially.”

“Your tattoos are mixing in with the bruises.” she mused, fingers touching the bats on his forearm.

“I hope it doesn’t fuck with them.”

“It shouldn’t. Don’t worry.” she kissed his forehead. “Just enjoy it not hurting for now.”

“Are you?”

“Very much so.” she smiled, having her nose not hurt when she moved her face.

“This is nice.” he sighed. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, the mix of pills and weed softening them both to mush.

“Me too,” she whispered, taking his hand and bringing it up to kiss the busted knuckles. “You got more hits in than I thought. I saw all three of them today. They all had something going on.”

“I think they got more,” he answered pitifully but it made Star laugh.

“But you’re still pretty and they look like busted orcs.”

“Orcs are already ugly.”

“That’s my point.” she felt him chuckle. “But you’re still elf pretty. You get hit in the mouth? Your lips are plusher. Hit in the nose? It gives it a new angle. Brow? Suddenly you’re super intimidating.” she kissed his face, and a happy hum from Eddie as she rolled him out of her chest and kissed every bit she spoke of.

“I got hit in the dick too,” he muttered and she fell into giggles, burying her face into his neck. He wrapped his creaky arms around her to keep her close. “Does he get kisses?”

“No.” she smiled and raised to see his eyes shut and an impossibly soft sleepy expression on his face. “You’re still hurt. A pulled muscle isn’t something I’m interested in adding to your injuries.” she kissed his cheek. “Plus my nose is busted. Gotta breathe to do that.”

“I was joking, sweetheart.” he yawned and opened one eye to see her gazing down at him, stroking his hair back. He knew they were both not sober but he swore she was looking at him differently. “What?” he decided to ask.

“You’re pretty,” she said with a smile. A light kiss to his lips. “I like looking at you.” she snuggled in and let him hold her this time. Face to face they touched noses and look each other over.

“That’s me. Your pretty boy.” his eyes shut when his cheeks rose in a pronounced grin.

“You are.” she leaned in to kiss him again with a content sigh. “You’re my pretty boy,” she whispered into his mouth. Another kiss he pushed back into. He squeezed her tightly to him, despite them both knowing it hurt. She let herself curl up into him, entangling their legs together and nuzzling like a kitten against him. They kissed with no intention to take it further for the first time. It was gentle hands in hair and caresses over bruises. Brushes against barebacks and fingertips to faces. There was something there in the haze of intoxication they were both too weak to fight. They floated together in the warmth of being someone else’s under the covers. Neither wanted to pry and take away the good feeling when both were already worn down from pain. They lazed together, kisses intermittent and spurred on by nothing but unspoken affection. As they fell asleep, one would kiss the other in the rounds of waking through the night. They would smile in their sleep, knowing the touch was safe and wanted, and pull the other closer. It was what they both wanted every night together to be. They wanted this every night. They wanted it forever. But both were too afraid to admit it.

Star woke to Eddie’s concerned face over her, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She gasped out of unconsciousness, feeling the warmth of tears on her cheeks. Her eyes darted and lolled as she came out of her dream.

“There she is, hey sweetheart. You were having a bad dream.” he cooed at her, petting the sides of her face to steady her.

“Yeah.” she rasped out, throat thick with sleep. She swallowed and caught up her breathing, having been thrown into a heaving pace from the moment she woke. “Sorry I-”

“Shhh.” he insisted with a creased brow, leaning on his side and pulling her in. He’d heard her ex’s name cried from her trembling lips in her sleep, she didn’t need to explain. “I wouldn’t have woken you up but you were upset.” he rubbed her back as she let herself wrap her arms around his waist. “Didn’t like the thought of you trapped in there with him,” he said barely above a whisper and he felt her shrink and squeeze him tighter. It hurt, his body still sore and bruised but he didn’t let it show.

“It was bad,” she muttered into his bare chest. She had flashes of the dream come back to her, all flickering an old fear in her head.

“I know, I heard.” he kissed her head and she nuzzled into the barely-there hair on his chest. “But you’re safe now. You’re here with me. And he’s far, far away, locked up. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” he softly said in her ear, trying to reassure her. She knew all these things, but hearing it from him made her chest hurt.

“But I do.” she whimpered rather pitifully. It helped her release a pinch of the pressure she felt from having his voice in her head so much since realizing she loved the man holding her in his arms.

“I know, baby.” he sighed, feeling the exhale slump his shoulders at the weight of the statement. He wanted her ex to be a bad memory and nothing more. He wanted that so badly. The guy had been out of the picture for a long time and he was still messing with Star’s life. Eddie didn’t want to feel impatient, but it was hard not to at times like this when emotions were high.

Eddie woke from a dream, hands fumbling on the soft bed around him as he recalled where he was. He had fallen asleep in Star’s bed. He’d come over, fed the cats, and settled in with a book, resigned to wait on her to get home from work. He felt a cold chill cross him, aware of the sweat that covered his skin, and an odd feeling that he had been having a bad dream he’d already forgotten. He laid back, body stretched out as he watched the single streetlights' fuzzy light fight through the darkness to glow shapes onto the ceiling through the curtain. He was in an unpleasant state of half awake and sleeping when the phone rang. He nearly jumped out of his skin, his hands jolting to his chest as he looked in its direction with a high-pitched shriek he was glad no one was around to hear. He mumbled and cursed, sitting up at staring at the phone on the wall. He wasn’t sure if he should answer it. It wasn’t his phone or his house. But something whispered into his ear, telling him to.

“Hello?” he decided on, Reynolds residence felt silly, too formal even if it was factual.

“Ugh, thank christ he’s there.” he hear a muffled familiar voice. “Hey, Eddie, It’s Steve.”

“Uh.. hi?” he tilted his head despite no one being there to see it. Steve calling Star didn’t seem that weird, but the fact that he knew who he was coupled with the formerly mumbled words didn’t sit right with Eddie. “Star’s not here, she’s working tonight. She should be home soon though,” he said, sleep still heavy in his voice.

“I know, she’s here with me.” Eddie’s brow lowered at the news. “We’re at Family Video, are you in any shape to drive down here?”

“You think I’m just high all the time?” Eddie deflected, looking at his watch to verify that it was in fact past closing time and late.

“Do you want me to answer that?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Besides, this is serious. Those guys that she went after pulled some fucked up shit on her at work. She can’t drive. Or I won’t let her in this shape. She needs you.” Eddie’s heart fluttered, happy at the statement, but his stomach also dropped at the news that something had already happened in retaliation.

“Yeah, I’ll leave right now. Is she okay?”

“She’ll be okay she’s shaken up. No need to drive any more recklessly than you already do.”

“Sure. Be there in 5.”

The diner was dark, and Star’s car was still in the parking lot. Family Video was closed, and the sign turned as Eddie jogged up to it. He saw the familiar trio inside, sitting on the countertops of the checkout. Steve jumped down to let him in, Robin was trying her best at being comforting and failing to Star who looked beyond exhausted.

“She’s-” Steve began as Eddie shoved past him, ignoring him. He shrugged, not insulted due to the circumstances. Eddie leaped over the counter, forgoing walking the distance around and making a straight line to Star who had already held her arms out to him.

“You okay baby? What happened? You hurt?” he blurted out after they pressed against each other for a heavy moment. Robin gave a sympathetic smirk to Steve at the pet name.

“I’m okay. I mean, I’m not hurt I’m just… so tired. I had a panic attack.” there were dark circles under her eyes, and her mascara ran down her cheeks. Her usual neat bun was loose and tilted on top of her head.

“What happened?” he asked, holding her cheeks to look her over to make sure she wasn’t downplaying her situation. She looked over to Steve who had already heard it all. She was so tired she didn’t have it in her to go over it again.

“Can you fill him in? I don’t have it in me.” she exhaled and let her shoulders slump, her head landing on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I was out back and heard screaming. I saw her run out of the diner to her car and she was in a full-blown panic attack. The not talking, crying, hyperventilating, the whole 9 yards. So I ran over and tried to do… something. Anything you know?” he shrugged. “They turned the gas stove on and held the door shut on her, while one lit it from that little window where they keep the order tickets. It flamed up really big and she…” he held his hand out toward her. “Understandably blacked out and went full-blown PTSD soldier.” Eddie frowned at the insensitive description. “Her words, man.” he held his hands up to show he wasn’t at fault. Eddie’s face softened again, having now perched up on the counter next to Star, his arm around her, rubbing her arm as she let herself lean against him. She stared at the floor the entire time.

“Was it Jason?” he asked her, looking down at her.

“I assume. I didn’t see anyone. Just a guy's arm come in the window. They got scared when it happened, I heard other guys’ voices shouting and they ran. I heard the back door slam.”

“How’d they get in the diner?” his voice was angry, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. She was too tired to be angry and was thankful someone could be on her behalf.

“No idea. I thought the back door was locked while I cleaned up. John left, he’d cleaned the kitchen, and I was finishing up everything else before I headed out.”

“That’s that line cook isn’t it?” Eddie didn’t hide the disdain in his voice. “I bet he did it.” Steve shrugged. “Did he try something again?” Eddie asked, holding Star’s face up to his to look into her eyes, making sure she was telling the truth. Her brow furrowed at his suspiciously.

“How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“Steve and Robin told me he hits on you all the time.” Star let out a huff of a laugh.

“I set him straight a little while ago. Yelled at him and told him to fuck off. All that shit. He’s not done much since then.” she shrugged.

“It was multiple guys though. She said she heard more than one voice.” Robin pointed out.

“I’m thinking he might be how they got into the diner.” Eddie elaborated and Robin nodded slowly in understanding.

“That guy has bad vibes written all over him,” Steve said with an assertive hand. “I wouldn’t put it past him to let those guys in.”

“That’s what I’m thinking too.” Eddie let Star’s head rest again, rubbing on her back now. “It had to be Jason. He’s been the one messing with us. He’s hurt he got beat up by a girl. Two of the three that came after us had to sit out on one of their games so they’re pissed about that too.”

“Jason’s the one that knows I’m scared of fire,” Star said quietly.

“Wouldn’t anyone just assume you were from the scars?” Robin asked obviously.

“Jason threatened her at the Halloween party with it though.” Eddie backed up Star’s statement.

“A lot of people don’t even know they’re from fire,” Star added with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s fucked up,” Steve said with sympathetic eyes Star didn’t mind at the moment.

“We can’t just let them get away with this right? It’s not just some fight or bullying. This was… yeah... fucked up.” Robin said, chewing on her nails.

“It feels personal.” Steve winced as he and Star looked at one another and she gave a small nod.

“We can’t go beat them up. It won’t work. That’s clear now. We have to do something different.”

“You won’t be doing anything,” Eddie said, looking down at her. “We’ll handle this. You can’t be attached to this. If they know it’s you, or us they’ll keep coming back and this won’t end. We need a plan.”

“Something sneaky,” Robin added.

“Something that can’t be traced back to you.” Steve tapped his pronounced cupid’s bow, his eyes tight in thought.

“We need to scare them.” Eddie’s already dark eyes were black with vengeance. If they put their heads together. They could figure this out.

Star sat out the next Hellfire meeting, she was exhausted still from the panic attacks. Eddie didn’t give her any shit about it. It gave him a rare moment to get people together without her involved.

The appearance of Steve and Robin at Hellfire confused the hell out of the club.

“Tonight’s session will be delayed. One of our own has been personally attacked and we’re going to brainstorm a way to ruin these guys' lives.”

“But no amateur shit, alright?” Steve said forcefully. “We aren’t talking fights and rumors. We need a solid plan of attack.”

The combination of Steve and Eddie and their rage fueled their leadership. With the addition of multiple points of view, the genius of Dustin, the insider knowledge of Lucas, and Mike’s ability to get access to what Nancy had access to they formulated a plan.

Steve pulled Eddie aside, his face and tone still serious.

“I know you aren’t going to agree but I think if we talked to Hopper-.”

“The cops? Are you fucking kidding me? No. Absolutely not.” he shook his head and motioned in the negative dramatically.

“Listen. We can trust him. You saw how he let Star go. He’s not as big of a piece of shit as you think. I know him. We can trust him.”

“I have a lifetime of experience that tells me otherwise, Harington.” Eddie snapped back.

“Hopper and I…” Steve sighed and rubbed his face, he couldn’t tell Eddie the truth, so he had to try to find a way to convince him. “Hopper and I have been through some shit together okay. I mean, life-changing, government-level shit. I got involved when Barb went missing. When Will went missing. Do you remember? The chemical leaks and all that shit? I was there. Hopper and I went through hell trying to figure that shit out.”

“You were involved in that?”

“Yes. It’s complicated. I got involved because Will was missing and Nancy was helping Jonathan look for him and he was friends with Mike and all the kids and that’s her little brother and their friend and it all just got….complicated. So if I talk to Hopper, maybe we can get his help. Or at least an idea or two.”

“The Chief of Police is gonna help some shithead kids take revenge on some other shithead kids?” Eddie said with no belief in his eyes.

“Will you go with me? Can you trust me? You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’ve taken care of Star before right? You know I care about her too. I’m not going to make things worse. Can you at least trust that?” Eddie groaned. Steve had a point.

“What the hell are you two doing in my office so damned early?” Hopper groaned, sitting down at his desk.

“We needed some advice.” Steve started, Eddie had promised to keep quiet. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing while in a natural mode of defense in a police station. He’d never been in one for any good reason. “About Star.”

“Are you two a little old to need advice on girls?” Hopper grinned and laughed in amusement at himself. Eddies brow quirked up at the odd friendliness he was showing.

“Not like that. We have reason to believe that Carver kid and some of his friends, maybe the line cook at the diner is involved too, attacked her to scare the shit out of her.”

“A prank?”

“She’s deathly afraid of fire. You saw the scars on her arms. They lit up the gas stove in the diner’s kitchen and held the door shut and it sent her into a full-blown PTSD flashback and she nearly had a heart attack from a panic attack.” Eddie blurted out, still hurt over the fact that it happened.

Hopper blinked, seeing the Munson kids' passion for the situation. He sat back and Eddie watched as Hopper's face contorted, not happy about the information he just blurted out.

“You have any proof?” was the first question.

“I saw her run out of the diner screaming and hyperventilating. She was still freaking out by the time I got her into the store. Robin was there. Is that a witness?”

“Did you see who did it? Did she?” he clarified.

“No.” Stever frowned and slumped noticeably.

“She said she saw a guy's hand light the stove through the window. And it had to be someone strong holding the door to keep her from opening it. You saw her take that giant kid down, she’s not weak.” Eddie added.

“She heard more than one guy's voice when it happened. It scared them too. They didn’t know it would be that big of a fire cloud, I’m guessing.”

“They could've killed her,” Eddie said, his voice cracking.

“I know that old place doesn’t have surveillance. There was that weird incident with the car and blood everywhere a little while back. Are these things related?” Hopper eyeballed Eddie who still had an inkling of bruising still left on his face. Eddie looked at Steve nervously.

“I told you. You can trust him. Tell him.” he offered earnestly.

“I have no reason to be a dick to you kid. I get pranks and the dumb shit you kids pull. I was an idiot once myself. But terrifying a poor girl who’s already clearly been through a lot isn’t acceptable in my book. I’m not here to give you shit for getting in a fight.” Eddie shifted uneasily.

“Jason Carver and two of his basketball team members faked a note from Star and jumped me in the alley. I thought I was meeting her after work. Star showed up and she got ahold of Carver and beat his face in. He looked rough. She got me and took me home. We think that them scaring her at the diner was retaliation for her fighting back.”

“Unfortunately that makes sense for that kind of person,” Hopper mumbled.

“I can’t press charges without evidence. And you don’t have any. I know that’s not what you want to hear but that’s me being straight with you.” He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

“We can’t let them get away with it. But we need something to get them back, that can’t be traced back to us.” Eddie, although more at ease, was still tightly wound and surprised by Steve’s willingness to be so direct.

“Sorry, kid I’m not gonna pull some Lone Ranger-type shit on a bunch of high schoolers.” he chuckled and paused, then leaned forward on his desk and motioned for them lean in too. “But… there are plenty of ways to very quickly make a car not run you know,” he smirked. “I’m sure you can use what you know about cars to figure something out, Munson.” Jim gave him a nod. “Keep in mind what I said about evidence.” he sat up with a grunt. “It can be used for people besides you. A well-placed piece of evidence can be very damning in the right circumstances.” Eddie’s eyes went wide as he blinked at Hopper in disbelief. He was being… helpful. “I’m just saying this to warn you of course. This isn’t me giving you any ideas.” he winked and nodded.

“Shit. That’s a good idea.”

“What’d I just say?” Hopper grumped at Steve.

“You’re right. Thanks. We just needed some…guidance on what NOT to do.” Steve gave an overly performed wink and Hopper groaned.

“Don’t get caught,” he said as they stood to go to the door. “Don’t. Get. Caught.”

Star sat back, each unfortunate accident a surprise to her and she relished in each one. In the next few weeks, things moved fast. Star didn’t mind the nights alone when she knew her friends were out raising well-deserved hell. Cars started mysteriously not working. Whole engines needed to be replaced. Mike, pleading for the sake of revenge got Nancy to let an embarrassing typo at Jason’s expense into the school paper in the name of justice. However, she might’ve chosen the least flattering photos of him for the ones used in the paper for the rest of the year. Jason and his friends suddenly were failing their classes on their midterm report cards. Thanks to Dustin’s girlfriend, Susie. Dustin messed with the tech at basketball games. The scoreboard would miscount, creating arguments and distractions to make them perform poorly. The cameras would just so happen to stop recording from time to time. Enough to make Jason miserable, missing out on having his top performances lost to memory as they weren’t recorded. Star’s personal favorite was an anonymous call being put in for a health hazard at Benny’s, the abandoned building the jocks partied at was suddenly boarded up and covered in caution tape for the second time in its history. This time, a big poison sign was plastered to the front. They no longer had a place to party. The boy’s favorite was the senior prank gone wrong. Steve had been blamed for spraypainting things before but never had. Eddie had a hard-on for vandalism he rarely indulged in due to always being the one that got blamed. But with the help of the club, too many of them to catch them all, and a shit load of spray paint and spray foam insulation, not only did they get two days off school for the subsequent cleanup, they got Jason suspended. with a well-placed receipt for the purchase of the two products used in the vandalism and the spray paint can used under his bed he couldn’t deny it. It was labeled a distasteful senior prank gone wrong. A disgrace they called it. He was now an outcast, his parents deeply disappointed, grounding him for a month, and the church ripe with rumors of the downfall of a once-promising young man. They dare not even speak the words spray painted all over the school inside and out. It was beautiful to the perpetrators, seeing some justice in the world for the first time in a long time.

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Part 19!

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nirikeehan · 10 months

Note

❛ i’ve formed the habit of liking you. ❜ from F. Scott Fitzgerald prompts and 'exulansis n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.' from Obscure Sorrows for Thalia & Metrion

*DEEP BREATH* All right, fine.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 2232

CW: Discussion of sexual abuse/exploitation

Also major major spoilers for Metrion's storyline in Curse of Strahd: Twice Bitten if that's something anyone cares about

---

“Metrion? Are you up there?”

Some indistinct mumbling as a reply. Thalia sighs, shifting her weight at the base of the tree. The afternoon is damp — it’s always damp, always overcast in Barovia.

He’s stormed away after an argument. Another argument, the kind that seem to brew out of nowhere and rip the party in two, becoming more and more frequent. The origin point is always absurdly small. This one, it seemed, came from Pravin and Blackwall’s disapproval of certain methods employed to procure supplies in Vallaki. Was it that Thalia’s face was flushed with success, the thrill of some forbidden pleasure? It’s not her fault that she can play off Metrion’s silver tongue so easily, nor that the markup at the Stockyard is so absurd as to drive desperate travelers to employ underhanded means.

Unkind words bandied about, more innuendo than outright accusation. Seniority amid the older men asserted, at which Metrion balks. (He hates authority with a burning passion, Thalia has noticed.) Crude but accurate insults levied, Hawke standing by trying to mediate — and then.

What had Blackwall said?

You seem to enjoy thievery a little too much, my lady. You and your boy whore.

Words aimed to cut, and so they had. Thalia reeled as if slapped, but as she rushed to defend him, Metrion whirled on the heel of his boot and took off.

How dare you, Thalia said.

Blackwall spat in the dirt. Sounds an awful lot like an admission to me.

Well, yes. That’s why it hurts, doesn’t it? Metrion, who will argue about grass being green just to get a rise out of someone he dislikes, has no words against such an accusation. A cultivated accusation, built by a number of incidents, including some off-color jokes, some nervous laughter. (When she’d leaned against him and he’d done nothing — just tolerated her, like medicine. Like someone who hasn’t properly paid for his time. Maker, what has she done?)

She eyes the trunk of the tree. “If you think being up there will stop me, you ought to know I’m quite adept at climbing.”

Silence. Uncharacteristic for him, usually so garrulous. The lad can probably talk his way back from falling off a cliff, Hawke observed at one point. Thalia sighs and grabs a branch, hoisting herself up.

She finds him midway up the tree, nestled in a crook of branch and leaf, staring off at some indistinct point. She is relieved he has not seemed to have broken out the wineskin. This will be much more difficult if he’s drunk, which seems to be a nightly occurrence. Thalia settles at a safe distance, a yard or so away, arranging herself as gracefully as she can on an adjacent branch. He doesn’t look at her.

“It’s sort of nice up here,” she observes, hoping to crack the ice. “Safe from any wandering wolves or undead, at least.”

Nothing.

She sighs. “You’re lucky I’ve formed the habit of liking you, Metrion. You can make it difficult to be your friend sometimes.”

“Right,” he sneers. “I’m the one who’s so bloody lucky.”

Thalia will take venom over silence. “I came to apologize on behalf of my retinue. Blackwall was way out of line.”

Metrion shrugs. “It’s clear what they think of me, ain’t it?”

Thalia bites her lip. Say it isn’t true, Metrion. Tell me he got it wrong. She finds it difficult to breathe. She wants to touch him and make him look at her, but doesn’t dare. “They don’t speak for me.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, though nothing is funny — the small, brittle giggle that makes him sound so young. Younger than her, maybe. He told her once he doesn’t know his own birthday. He swallows, painfully. “Why not?”

She flexes the hand with the anchor, its magic grown so dim and ethereal in this strange realm. If not for the gash on her hand, she’d still be locked away in the Ostwick Circle, a caged bird singing for her supper. Perhaps not so different from a street magician — someone whose livelihood depends on his performance. Her stomach twists. “At the Circle, we supposedly wanted for nothing. Everything was to be provided for us. But it never was, not really. There was never enough of anything to go around. We were fed enough, and clothed, sure, but there’s so much you’d never think would be difficult to get until someone withheld it from you. Extra quills. Parchment. Little trinkets like hair combs. Just… things a free person would never think about twice.”

He’s turned toward her, head cocked slightly, lips pursed. He’s listening. At least there’s that.

Thalia takes a slow breath. “There were rumors, of course. Things a mage could do… favors. For certain Templars. In exchange for special items.” Her hands are trembling. She’s never told anyone this. It has seemed impossible to voice before now. “In a storeroom, usually. Or some back corridor no one used.” She sighs. “They were always men.”

Metrion is looking her full in the face, slack-jawed, gold eyes glittery with an unexpected fury. “And?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Thalia confesses, chest tight. “I thought about it for awhile. Thought maybe I could handle it. Thought it wouldn’t be so bad. But I didn’t want any Templar to know who I was, for any reason. It’s dangerous to be singled out like that. In the end, I wasn’t brave enough.”

Again, that sad, knowing laugh. Metrion averts his gaze. “It’s not bravery, love.”

That’s confirmation enough. Thalia closes her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? That sounds like a real shit place you were in.” He’s angry, really angry, on her behalf.

“Metrion.” She sighs, exasperated as much as sorrowful. “I don’t mean for this to be about me. I just wanted you to know — whatever circumstances you’ve been in, I understand. And I’m not going to judge you for it.”

Metrion mumbles, “Yeah, well, maybe you should.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Thalia demands, aghast.

“Just that — look.” A strange statement, as he’s looking anywhere but at her. His hand is in the pocket of his oversized leather coat, drawing out the wineskin. “Your story’s very sad, gets me right in me heart. But you were in prison, yeah? Mage jail or whatever. You didn’t have much choice.”

Thalia reaches out and slaps her palm over the lid of the wineskin before he can drink. “And you’re saying you did?”

He meets her gaze, finally. He is quite handsome, in an exotic way, with the olive skin and messy hair and unusual eyes, the elongated incisor tipped in gold. A bit too slight, perhaps, for her tastes, and she’s gotten the sense his eyes linger less on women than on men — but deserving all the same. Her stomach clenches, thinking of people who would see these qualities as a commodity. Who might get angry if he didn’t perform as promised.

He pulls away from her grasp, scowling. “Maybe once I didn’t.” He takes a hefty swig. “But how many times do you have to keep at something before it’s sort of your own doing?”

Thalia looks from him to the wineskin. “There’s reasons why it’s more difficult to stop some things than others.”

Metrion smirks and shakes his head. “You do what you’re good at, you know? I’ve tried other things, don’t get me wrong. We had a real go of it in the shop, you and I. But when the coin’s so easy, and the other hustles are hard…” He shrugs, drinks again. “Your fake warden’s right, is what I’m saying. Guilty as charged.”

“All right. Okay. I don’t care, Metrion. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Thalia watches him sadly. “But you do. I’m not sure why.”

He snorts, affecting the posh accent he saves for marks — and perhaps other sorts, she realizes, anguished. “Grand lady inquisitor and her loyal attendants: the Champion of Kirkwall, a Grey Warden, the most renowned thespian on the inner continent… and this.” He gestures to himself with a sweep of the hand.

“Metrion the Magnificent, celebrated magician and my friend,” Thalia cuts in, stubbornly. “We don’t have to tell anyone the other part, if you’d prefer.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” His voice has taken on a vicious edge. “There is no other part. I’m not that person at all. My name’s not even Metrion.”

Thalia opens her mouth and closes it again. She had assumed all along Metrion is a stage name, but that’s not what he means. “You told me,” she says slowly, “you had a magic act. You were traveling to a new city for a patronage, and then you woke up in the mists.” She swallows hard. “Is all of that a lie?”

“Metrion had a magic act.” He drinks and he drinks. “He was just a lonely old man, looking for company.”

A flash of anger hits her. “Paid company.” Thalia huffs. “Don’t make him the victim in this.”

“And if I stole from him when he was asleep? Took the money, took his cart, took his whole livelihood, so I could have a cover and get out of town? Who’s the victim then?”

“I’d still say it’s you.” Thalia crosses her arms. “You want to talk about choices? It sounds like he had a lot of them, and you had very few. Am I wrong?”

He pauses, glancing sideways at her. “D’you always go out of your way to give excuses for shit people?”

Thalia bites her lip to keep from smiling, in spite of herself. “I’m told it’s a weakness of mine, yes. The problem is, I don’t usually see them as shit.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes staring, unseeing, at a far distant point. Then he looks at her and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you curse, m’lady.”

Relieved, Thalia laughs softly. “I think maybe you’re rubbing off on me, whoever you are.”

“Morninglord forbid.” He joins her in a hesitant chuckle. “’S what they’re scared of, innit? At the end of the day. That my wanton ways will sully you by association. High class fucks always think like that, but they’re often real quick to sneak in the back and pay extra for your silence.”

“I think you’re right,” Thalia says. She leans back against the trunk of the tree and thinks of Blackwall’s smug face, and the way Pravin had sided with him for once. “And they’re jealous,” she realizes. “I’ve relied on them both for so much for so long. That I could have a friend like you… I think it threatens them.”

“Sure it does.” He smirks. “We could have a whole con act going if we wanted. You’re not bad, you know.”

“Neither are you.” Thalia ponders that for a bit. “It might be easier if I was the one who offered you a job, though.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I’m usually more of an independent contractor, if you catch my meaning.”

“Not that sort of job,” Thalia cries, a little flustered. “I’m just saying. Your skillset would fit what my spymaster is looking for.” Leliana would be impressed, of that she has no doubt — if she could keep Pravin from going apoplectic. “And you wouldn’t have to do— any of that other stuff anymore. If you didn’t want to.”

“You want to hire me as a spy?”

“Why not?” Thalia asks. “I think you’d like Skyhold. There’s a well-stocked tavern there, for starters.”

“All right, now you’ve got my attention.” He straightens, taking a deliberate sip from the wineskin. “One problem, though. We’re in here and your Inquisition is out there.”

“Yeah. Minor obstacle,” Thalia concedes. “It’s nice to think about, though. It’s really beautiful there. When you’re on the battlements and the afternoon sun hits the keep from above the mountains, you can see for miles.”

“Heh, yeah. Never thought I’d miss the sun so much.” The man who isn’t Metrion sighs, stowing the wineskin back into a coat pocket. “I’ll think about it, I guess. Assuming we don’t die here. Or your retinue pulverizes me at the suggestion.”

“I don’t think they need to know about it yet.” Thalia smirks. “Can I ask one thing, though?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs noncommittally.

Thalia clicks her tongue at his cheekiness. “If your name isn’t Metrion, is there something else I should be calling you?”

He goes quite still. “My given name ain’t very flattering. I don’t really like it. Other names have come and gone; I’m not much attached to those neither.” He shrugs. “Metrion’s fine for now.”

“Well, if you think of something better, let me know.” She smiles tentatively.

“You’ll be the first, love.” He leans his head against the tree trunk, closing his eyes.

Thalia chews the inside of her cheek. “I can leave you alone now, if you’d like.” She has to face the others, sometime.

“You can stay,” he mumbles, and for a second she’s not sure she’s heard right, until he peeks at her from behind the trunk between them. “If you want.”

A bit of warmth spreads across her chest, a welcome respite from all this damp chill. “All right.”

She settles into the crook where the branch meets the tree. They sit there for some time, in silence.

#thalia trevelyan #metrion the magnificent #curse of strahd au #i should probably make that first bit a whole scene but i wanted to get to their convo *shrug*#shady besties #this au will never be written in order #but this is the deep shit i can't get out of my head #it's fine it's okay thalia is going to hire metrion and they'll live happily ever after at skyhold #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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dayfalwastaken · 1 year

Text

Mrs. Afton's blues...

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“-Oh, I would. I will if you corner me. Don’t put me in that position, Laura. Believe me when I say that hurting my children is the last thing on my mind. I do not want to do that, but I will if I have to.” The sheer determination she felt from him as he spoke instilled a weak laugh in her chest. Tears begged to spill but she was way past those, so instead she bit her lips, glaring daggers at the monster before her.

“If that’s what it takes to stop you from going to the police, or crying to anyone we know about this- that’s what’s going to happen. Elizabeth will never walk again for the rest of her life. Neither will Evan, neither will Michael. And their blood will be on your hands.” He pointed a finger at her, stepping closer. “You think about that, dear, before you do something you shouldn’t…”

Almost on instinct Laura took a step back, finding herself with the back against the wall. In spite of that, she did her best to hide any semblance of fear even though William walked closer still.

“I don’t want them to get involved. I really don’t, but I can’t let you talk. If you manage to twist up a story about how bad of a father I am, and how much I’ve scared all of you just by sleeping under the same roof as you, even though I think we can both agree I’ve been anything but- if you can play the victim card and convince anyone of something so- outlandish…” Another step. This time he was close enough that if he leaned down their foreheads would touch. “There’ll be nothing left for me to lose.”

The urge to spit in his face and slap him clawed fiercely at her, and it took everything she had not to. Worse, the horrid stench of alcohol to burn her lungs made her want to puke.

“You pig…” Her tongue slipped, and for a moment she was worried this would be it for her, but William didn’t seem to have heard the insult. If he did he chose not to acknowledge it, thankfully.

“And if I’m not there to raise those three, who will? What good are they to anyone, without me? They’re brats, and that is all they ever will be without someone to make sure they don’t end up dead in some godforsaken ditch- or, or- or having to live from one day to the next, spending their entire adult lives wondering how they got there! Unhappy, frustrated with themselves and feeling like they have no one to turn to. Having to-...!” William cut himself off, dragging his palms across his face in an exacerbated manner.

The veins in his neck pulsated faster, but when he opened his mouth the words came out calm.

“I can’t allow them to be like me.” He said it in a self-affirmatory kind of way. On that they could agree on. “They’re brats, but they’re mine, and I love them. I’ll do anything it takes to protect my children. Even killing them, if I must. As regrettable as that would be.” Not one ounce of emotion was present in his voice as he uttered that.

Laura inhaled despite the smell, praying to God she’d break before he did. They were so close that all it would take to incapacitate him was a knee to the groin. After that a straight kick to the sternum would take away his air and another, well placed one to the back of the head might just do the trick.

“I’m extending an olive branch here, Laura. Even after everything you’ve done. Leave, and you can rest assured that the children you gave birth to will be safe and happy. I promise you they’ll be okay…” She wished she could o chuckle at that, but the more she looked into his eyes the more she found that he was dead serious. “But if you stay… I told you what happens. I can’t make myself any clearer.”

It was frightening how a person- dog like him could go so long without blinking.

“You have until tomorrow morning. Pack your things and leave. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. You have my word I won’t bother you, but only… for tonight. If you’re not gone by seven when I have to wake up to get ready for work- I don’t like repeating myself. I want you out of my house, away from my children and preferably out of the state. No goodbyes. Those would be too good for you.” He growled harshly, now refusing to look at her as he did so.

“How am I supposed to do that?!” She bit back, unable to think of anything else to ask.

William snapped his head in her direction, barely stopping himself from shouting.

“Pack your things, walk to the main road- it’s barely two miles away from here, search for the nearest telephone booth, order a cab.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You figure it out from there. I’ll leave some cash on the kitchen counter.” He breathed out, slowly leaning back. “I don’t have it in me to strangle you in your sleep, Laura.” He admitted like it was a Sunday morning. “You’re still the mother of those little shits, and I haven’t forgotten our fifteen bloody years together, but I can’t ever look at you the same way I did before. And they deserve better than some unfaithful whore incapable of raising them.”

“Like you’re one to talk… I don’t know how I’ve never noticed it before. Just how much of a self-obsessed, narcissistic piece of filth you are. You think yourself a father?? You deserve to burn, you stupid bastard.” She barked bitterly, wanting nothing more than to dig her nails through his skin for everything he’d said. To cause him the same amount of pain he’d caused their children.

The fact that he had the dignity to act like he’d been right to- she would’ve said more had the disgust not gotten to her.

“The feeling’s mutual, don’t worry `bout it.” He made a move to turn around after that but then decided to face her once again. “Get to packing. You try anything and I break your legs.”

There was nothing behind those silver eyes as he stared her down, his face still feral with rage much like hers. Laura struggled to keep herself from shuddering as she caught sight of his arms twitching. The fight going on inside over whether he should lunge at her then and there was more than obvious. The grim irony that she was thinking the exact same things as him… For Laura anyway, the only thing standing between her and his throat being squeezed to death was the sad reality of having very little actual chances of winning a physical fight with him. That, and their children.

They should be preparing for bed right about now.

“Trust me when I say I will know if you speak to someone about this. Oh, and… dear? Before I forget. If I get a call from either one of your parents asking me to take you back in instead of wanting to know where you are, everyone’s already going to be dead and buried before you come back.”

He let the threat linger for about a minute, neither one of them saying a word. Then, he smiled, and just like that he turned away, walking into the living room as if nothing had happened.

Laura closed her eyes for a second, allowing a single tear to roll down her left cheek before she pushed herself off the wall.

So be it. She silently thanked her former husband for reconfirming to her what she had to do. Taking a quick glance at the kitchen, her gaze fell upon a rolling pin that was sitting very closely near the sink.

There was no going back after this, but she didn’t care. The only thought running through her mind was what would happen to her kids if she allowed this monster to take another breath.

Laura waited until he was completely out of view to go and pick up the rolling pin. As quiet as she could be on heels, she followed him into the living room and raised the pin high above her head. William must’ve sensed she was there, but she moved too fast for him to react. After all, if she failed she wouldn’t get another chance.

Having gathered all of her strength, Laura swung the roller down as hard as possible, hitting William right over the head with it. He fell face first without much protest and in response she let out a sigh of relief. Judging by his still expanding upper torso however, there was no way that had killed him, but she didn’t need to do that to get her children away from him.

Absentmindedly she dropped the pin, holding her hand to stop it from trembling.

Right. The priority was to get those three as far away from him as she could before he woke up. But where could she even take them at this hour?

As if a higher power had heard her inner question, she spotted the framed picture of Henry and William on one of the emptier shelves of their bookcase, over by the sofa.

“No time to lose…” She whispered to no one as she approached the telephone.

(Something to come in the near future. Hopefully around chapter 27.)

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unhingedselfships · 1 year

Text

Kimi got drugged at the club and flips out

CW : involuntary drug use

She could feel herself wobbling, more than she thought she should.

Thoughts were slipping from her fingers and the edges of the world felt like they were fading.

Everything was spinning, swirling, spiraling.

Something was wrong.

A laugh, to her side, and a hand at her back, “Have a little too much?”

Kadokura was having fun at least. She shot him a wobbly uncertain smile and the heat of his hand sank through her skin. She froze, breath in her throat and eyes wide.

Their eyes locked, his starting to twist to confusion and hers-

Panic.

She bolted.

Kadokura narrowed his eyes, and eased off leaning into the high. He could still be functional. Probably. He stalked after her, sitting somewhere between confused and irritated and concerned.

She flew into the bathroom, and with a sigh he resigned himself to hair-holding duty.

“I didn’t realize your tolerance was this ba…” he trailed off mid word, head tilting. She wasn’t in a stall, but pressed into a corner and trembling. Wide eyed. Gasping.

Was she having a panic attack? He wondered what set her off.

Crouching in front of her he gave her a closer look over. He reached out to grab her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!”

He withdrew as though burnt and blinked at her. His back stiffened and he was ready to snap at her when she cut him off.

A choking pained noise, “I’m sorry- I can’t- I- Please-”

He narrowed his eyes as hers overflowed. Heavily dilated he noted. More than they should have been, he thought.

“I want- I don’t-!”

She shook more forcefully than he was used to seeing from her 'fits'. The flush was irregular and sweat beaded more than he thought the temperature really warranted.

“Spit it out, Kimberly,” he was sharp with her, impatient.

“I want you to touch me,” she gasped, sobbed, “I want to be touched so badly.”

He froze. This was… Unprecedented, with her. He shifted on the balls of his feet, debating leaving her there. He was growing vaguely uncomfortable with this new development. This wasn’t the nature of their relationship, or at least, he hadn’t thought so. It didn't really matter, he supposed, it was just. Unexpected. He didn't like feeling off kilter. It was settling in that he didn't like feeling unsure of where he stood with her. What she expected from him.

He chose to ignore it.

“But I don’t! I don’t want- I never wanted- It hurts!”

He shifted again as she curled further into herself and keened. Absently a thought shifted through the fog and he blinked, face clearing slightly.

“My drink- I don’t- I think-” she mumbled half coherently.

So she’d come to the same conclusion. Someone had given her something. He had a few ideas on what it could be but it didn't really matter.

Stupid girl should have paid more attention to things. He ignored the twinge of not-guilt-damnit that thought triggered.

So it wasn’t about him, he was just closest and easiest. He wasn’t sure if he was insulted or relieved by that. That she cared about his preferences even in this state, yet. Well he was attractive, wasn’t he? He chose to ignore it altogether. For now.

She had slipped into distressed mumbles, barely registering in his hearing.

“You don’t want me, he doesn’t want me, I don’t want- no no no” a stream of quiet affirmations. Reminders to herself. A focus point. Her thighs ground together and her fingers dug into her ribs. Much more pressure and she might break skin.

What a mess.

“I’m going to call Daigo-chan,” he informed her, despite no certainty she could even hear him at this point.

#yakkimi #kadokura kenshi #kadokura-verse #drabble #one shot

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simmetrycal · 1 month

Text

that’s what i like ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis

a glimpse into chantelle and oaklynns relationship, accompanied by ash who’s got nothing better to do than to third wheel.

word count: 5.7k wow

a/n: i just be writing! (not proofread) ((asher solace of solace enterprises is my very best friend))

chantelle tapped her foot against the glossy marble tiles in front of the cafe “Little Dove”. for a coffee shop that is owned by and literally on the second floor of the company, the service still isn’t quick enough. and the coffee itself is mediocre at best. there was a line of about seven people in front of chantelle, all waiting to pick up their drinks.

chantelle knew all of the employees in front of her. some worked in the call center, some in finance, some in marketing. even a fellow secretarian. she looked around, more of her colleagues at the tiny tables with their laptops and cups.

she noticed hans working silently to himself before agnes comes up to him. they spew insults at each other, aiming to offend and hurt.

the scoop on agnes and hans is always fresh on everyone’s ears. their drama never ceases— the rivalry still and perhaps always will be a flame that never goes out. it isn’t a romantic flame at all, don’t get it twisted, they fight because they’re after the same person.

rahim abboud. he’s from syria and he’s in tech support. he’s probably the funniest guy chantelle’s known at the company (don’t tell ash.) everytime she has trouble with hers or ash’s computer, he’s there. he does a silly accent to mock stereotypical tech support scammers, who tend to also be brown men.

none of which look like him of course— rahim had a smile that makes crowds literally buckle at the knees. his chiseled jaw and perfect skin and hair could also be that of a model. he almost looked a little too handsome in chantelle and ash’s opinion. though, he did own quite a nice mercedes.

hans o’neil is absolutely nuts for him. he’s not allowed to have water on his desk anymore on account of how many times he’s “spilled it” on his computer just so he could call rahim to him. agnes does the same shit only with the marketing teams phones and answering machines.

point is; they both fight over him like he’s a piece of meat and they’re starving hyenas. the two are always at each others throats.

like right now.

“run out of dry shampoo, grease trap?” hans snides at the auburn haired woman who was across his little cafe table. chantelle pursed her lips closed as she tried not to laugh, moving up in the pick up line.

“oh yeah you’re one to talk, you probably used it all on your dry ass white hair.”

agnes’ comebacks weren’t super great but she spits them with such venom that it’s enough to be hurtful.

everyone used to think hans has albinism but it turns out he’s just very, shockingly platinum. he reminds chantelle of those beautiful white hares with the red eyes. anyhow, agnes’ comment flew right past hans as he pretended she didn’t exist anymore. the classic ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

she interpreted that as her winning, so she sashayed away confidently with a hair flip over her shoulder and a “hmph!”

someone cleared their throat in front of chantelle, surprising her. she was at the wooden counter, finally.

“good morning, what can i get you?” a blue haired individual with a visor and apron asked.

“morning, pick up order for chantelle?”

the barista’s eyes widened. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! you’re chairman solaces’ secretary! let me get that for you right away!” they scrambled around, looking for the order for their utmost superior- hoping this wouldn’t get them fired.

chantelle politely urged them it was no rush, even though the more she thought about it, she realized she’d been in this long line for about thirty minutes now. the barista came back with a paper bag and a drink holder.

chantelle tipped and took the bag that had her boss’s bagel and the drink holder, making her way back up the elevator, away from the pity little dove establishment this company owns.

right as she got in and the doors were about to close, she saw hans running up to her with his closed laptop and to-go cup, his blue-strapped lanyard dancing with his jogs.

she stuck a foot out to stop the door sensors to let him in.

“phew! thank you.” he says breathlessly to chantelle before using his knuckle to press the floor number he was on his way to. floor 29, finance.

“good morning, hans.” she replies gracefully. chantelle and hans have gotten to be better acquaintances now that ash has been barking up raymond’s tree about the whole mystery girl situation. ash and her have frequented the finance floor more these past few weeks than ever.

“can you believe that trifling skank?” he runs a hand through his perfectly neat and short powder white hair.

“pardon?”

“agnes thinks she’s hot shit. but really she’s just a dirty bitch.” hans rolls his eyes and sips his warm drink.

“mhm, tell me about it.”

“oh! i’ll tell you about it!”

chantelle chuckled, she was merely playing along but she knows this shorter boy is about to open a can of drama in this elevator. who was chantelle to be opposed to hearing it? so she avidly tuned in.

at her big, beautiful mahogany desk, chantelle ate her breakfast burrito and checked her emails, waiting for ash to return from his meetings.

many people assume ash goofs off all day, and while that is partly true, he does actually maintain his duties of a chairman. he keeps up with all his responsibilities and he attends all the mandatory meetings.

she knows he’s upstairs in the board’s conference room playing one sided footsies under the table with the unsuspecting ceo (who is always being replaced). he calls all the chair members “The Bored” instead of the board. it makes chantelle laugh.

she took another bite of her burrito whilst looking at her itinerary for the day. her heart warmed when she saw a particular reminder.

today is her and oaklynn’s four year anniversary!

this morning she stopped by jerichos place because the two had a family night there yesterday. it was a bit of a drive but she didn’t mind. she delivered yellow tulips to a groggy jericho as apparently the princess was still getting her beauty sleep. chantelle couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she got in her car and came to work.

tomorrow was a national holiday, so no work and her and oaklynn were going to make the absolute most out of it. they had reservations to go to a lavish new italian restaurant “Casa Bellissima” which took months to get a spot.

she texted ash the other day saying thank you. it was him after all who pulled some strings for them to get a reservation for tonight.

then after dinner, they were going to the movies to catch challengers again. oaklynn was extremely excited but chantelle, after seeing it once, was simply only going for the sake of her happy girlfriend.

and finally, at chantelle’s apartment tonight, they both know exactly what sort of late night activity they’d do. eager to go for however long they want and sleep in the next morning.

chantelle snapped out of her rose colored daydreaming when she heard the familiar ding of the elevator.

“good morning, sir.” she stood up and greeted, watching him make his way to the giant doors to her right- his office. he didn’t notice her at first and changed his resting face to something high energy.

“oh my gosh! i had no idea you were here yet!” he said excitedly, knowing it’s her big day. but like a dog, he spotted treats, “is that for me?”

ash hurries over to her desk to grab his bagel and frappe, setting down the heavy binder that was in his hands. it was surely filled with new tasks wayne gave him at the meeting.

sometimes chantelle didn’t speak until spoken to, and ash knew this. a trait about her he was desperately trying to bend, even after all these years. he does this by asking her as many questions as he can.

“how do you feel?”

“good,” she says simply. “really good.”

his face warms with a genuine yet goofy smile. “yeah? did you see oaklynn this morning?”

“well, i tried to go see her but she wasn’t home. then i remembered it was family night so i went to her cousins house and she was still sleeping. i delivered some flowers.” she blushed. hard.

“awwwe!! that is too cute!” ash gushed, leaning over to mess up her hair. something she hated.

her blonde bob was back, per ash’s request. he loves choosing her hair and as a white man, he feels like he’s apart of something bigger.

chantelle always lets him and she’d never tell him it’s not doing what he thinks it is. at least, not again— she told him once.

“the black community is not going to give you a medal for knowing these hairstyles.” she blurted once when ash said something about her getting goddess faux locs for her next hair appointment.

he was sad and didn’t come out of his office all day out of embarrassment. chantelle ended up getting her hair done on company hours to come back and surprise him at the end of the day with the exact style he was talking about. it occurred to her then that ash was actually fashion saint and knew what he was doing. she never doubted his advice ever again.

he was overjoyed and gave her a big hug. he even took pictures of her because of how lovely he thought she looked. later they went on her instagram.

chantelle smoothed out her shiny bob that ash just ruffled, laying her hands down over it repeatedly.

ash giggled and made his way to his big office with a cityscape view. chantelle followed in suit with a clipboard of his printed schedule.

she noticed he had a meeting today in 45 minutes with finance’s director. wondering if it was actually to see reports or to have another chitchat with raymond.

“oh! guess who i ran into today,” she starts.

ash sits in his spinny chair and turns to look at her with surprise. “who?” he was probably expecting something crazier than she was about to say, palming a fidget toy.

“hans.” she explains, handing him a tiny paper cup of water and his adderal pill.

he downed it in a second and tossed the cup into a little trash receptacle. “oh. oh…! did he have anything to say about agnes?” ash is hilariously obsessed with the whole hans-agnes-rahim love triangle. it’s been going on for a while too.

“did he! oh my lord,” chantelle chuckles and takes a seat on the opposing couch to tell her boss everything hans spilled in the elevator earlier.

all about the weekend lake party that marketing threw to celebrate their new manager. the funniest part to chantelle was the fact that the team fully didn’t invite the manager.

she laughed hard when hans explained it. apparently the guy is old and grumpy and wouldn’t approve of a party. but the team threw one anyway for morale.

anyhow, agnes invited rahim and in turn rahim brought along hans. it was a shit show, hans said. but the lake was absolutely stunning. he recommended it to chantelle.

(i’ll write the lake shit show separately)

˚ · .

“what time is your reservation again?” ash said as he watched chantelle clock out. he clocked out himself twenty minutes ago but he likes to walk her to her car when she parks outside down the street. the sun will set soon and he doesn’t like women walking alone in the city.

why she doesn’t just park in the underground garage baffles him.

“uh, at like 9:30.” she looks at her watch. it was four hours til.

“i was thinking..” he says, hesitating because he doesn’t want her to freak out. “hear me out.”

“..okay?”

“can you and possum come with me to visit the lake?” he refers to oaklynn as “possum” because he thinks she looks exactly like one.

she scoffed and clicked auto start when they got close enough to her camry. “why?”

ash tsked. explaining how sad and lonely and bored he is, and that the idea of going to the lake told by hans retold by chantelle sounded intriguing.

it’s true. lately he really has been sad and lonely and bored.

especially lonely.

caroline, a friend of a friend invited to one of ash’s parties, got tangled up in bed with him. ash, abandoning his celibacy, fell for her hard after mere days of them getting to know each other.

she wasn’t into relationships but ash didn’t get the message right away. not until she had to spell it out for him. needless to say he ended things, despite being completely head over heels over her. he can’t allow himself to fall more in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.

he’s called many of his girlfriends and boyfriends “the one”. caroline was no different. he heals and copes in his own way and soon enough, the ash we all know and love will bounce back.

chantelle knows all about ash’s recent heartbreak. he won’t shut up about it, at least not for the next week or so. and he’s been filling up his schedule 24/7 so he doesn’t have any time to linger on emotions. which, granted, is unhealthy to do.

chantelle thought about it for a moment as she got in her car and rolled down the window to look at him.

“fine. but only for an hour. and pick us up.”

ash moved aside her pointed, manicured finger in his face with a wave and laugh. “you have my word.”

˚ · .

the lake was huge and beautiful and vast, just like hans made it out to be. much more vast than any of them thought.

the half hour drive there was pleasant too, ash played music he knew is favorite lesbians would love. he brought chairs and firewood and swim trunks. hoping he could speedrun all his fun in the short hour deadline chantelle gave him.

he parked and the girls got out, taking a look around. it was getting pretty dark already and with darkness came the cold.

surely, the lake had cooled down to a temperature that none of them would like, but it didn’t stop ash from zooming past chantelle and oaklynn with light speed toward the water. he ran onto the wooden platform and jumped dramatically in.

ash surfaced immediately, comically freezing. if it were a cartoon he’d be blue and icy, bobbing in the water with his teeth chattering.

“jesus!” he yells, swimming around to try to get used to it but the water was just too nippy. oaklynn was cackling at the whole scene but chantelle was just irritated.

she went back to his car to find the foldable chairs and brought them out. placing them upright in front of a firepit.

she chuckled but it was more of a scoff— even outside of work chantelle found herself assisting her boss. she also brought ash’s towel and laid it out on a chair to get warm by the fire oaklynn began to make.

oaklynn is very outdoorsy. she used to be a girlscout and her favorite hobbies are hiking and mushroom picking. not to mention she’s a florist.

ash tried swimming around for at least a few more minutes but before he knew it, he was running out, frigid and shaky. he darted to his fluffy blue towel that was warm and cozy and started to smell like campfire smoke. he wrapped it around himself and sat down with satisfaction and comfort.

“knew that wasn’t a good idea.” oaklynn said with a giggle at ash.

“what.. do you.. mean? i.. had.. so much.. fun!” he said between teeth chatters, his cheeks and eyelashes glistening with drops.

they all chatted there around the fire for a good amount of time. well, chantelle was mostly silent while her chatty girlfriend conversed with her boss.

oaklynn and ash are well adjusted friends now, they’re past all the formalities. ash used to talk so much about professional subjects like work and networking and whatnot, but he dropped the act once he realized oaklynn wasn’t for it.

she’s into genuine, real conversations about things like hobbies and shared experiences. her storytelling is unmatched, going on and on about every little detail about childhood or trips or mishaps. the way she can entrance and keep someone on the edge of their seats, eager to hear her next words, was something chantelle wished she had more of in her.

ash developed love for the two being together and would be absolutely heartbroken if they ever broke up. more heartbroken than either of them maybe.

once ash was dry and clothed again, he got out skewers and a pack of hotdogs from the trunk.

“did you bring buns?” chantelle asks, looking around and seeing just the skewers and sausages.

ash was speechless, his mouth hung open a little as he remembered he completely forgot to bring the hotdog buns he left on the counter.

“um..”

“of course you didn’t.”

“hey..” oaklynn says, extending her little hand out to touch chantelle’s shoulder. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“yeah tellie don’t worry about it!”

something about ash, especially when he called her that, made chantelle even more irritated. she looked at the time on her phone.

8:01 pm

she tsked and tried her best to remain unaffected. “we should probably head back soon.”

“nah,” ash says, also noticing the hour. “we have plenty of time! here, let’s make these weenies!”

ash loves hotdogs. even when they don’t have a bun or chilli slathered all over it, he still enjoys them. but often times, he drops them. if the floor or counter is his own, he’ll 5 second rule it. but, here, on this sandy, dirty earth floor, he doesn’t risk it.

one fell after another, making oaklynn lose her shit from laughing at him across the fire. the hotdogs covered in dirt and twigs and soot rolling away from him on the ground took her out.

his fourth hotdog dropping was chantelle’s breaking point.

“just fucking-“ she grabs the pack of hotdogs from him, rips open the plastic, and stabs a skewer through one. handing that to him before she stormed away to sit in the car by herself.

…“what’s got her so worked up?” was the last thing she heard distantly from ash’s mouth to her girlfriend as she slammed the door shut. it irritated her even more.

“i-“ oaklynn says, turning to ash from staring at the car. she had no idea if chantelle is looking back at them, the windows are tinted probably an illegal amount. they’re completely opaque black. “i don’t know. she’s never usually like this.”

“everything ive been doing since we got here has pissed her off. i mean, this morning she was so happy.”

oaklynn shrugs, worried about her girl. after all it’s their anniversary, you’d think she’d be super joyful and laid back today. but, come to think of it…

“do you remember last year?” oaklynn asks ash, recalling their last anniversary. ash wasn’t present of course but he knows what happened.

one of chantelle’s brothers showed up at her place asking her if he could stay with her. he isn’t the best person, though. his lifestyle is extraordinarily different than hers. chantelle, strong and intelligent and passionate, found her way in life by hard work and honesty. her brother jamal however, has gotten by with many.. many cut corners. he’s no stranger to the streets and he’s been on parole more times than you can count on one hand.

chantelle didn’t know how to react when she opened the door to jamal. he just stood there, chin up acting like he wasn’t in desperate need of her help. acting like a thug even though chantelle knows deep down he isn’t one. she’s known him so well ever since they were little.

oaklynn was in the kitchen at a barstool, unbeknownst to what was going at the door. she didn’t even know who was there. one moment, her girlfriend is cooking a loving homemade brisket dinner for her, the next she’s yelling at someone behind a heavy, shut front door.

when she came in again, her older brother trailed behind her, following her into the nice apartment.

“wow.. this what you been doing away from home?” he said, his way of complimenting. “you makin a bag, huh?”

she never responded. not wanting to even remember her old life with her family in miami.

“oaklynn,” she cleared her throat, looking anywhere but her girlfriends eyes. “this is jamal, my brother.”

“what’s good?” he says, giving her a head nod instead of a handshake, even though oaklynn tried greeting him with one. her pale hand dropped to her lap when she realized he wasn’t going to extend his.

the whole night chantelle was tense. nothing happened, but she still cut the food with frustration. still eyed the door like some other man she used to know would walk in. the stress displayed on her face the whole time they ate their anniversary dinner. which was odd, because the year prior they did the same thing but they were excited and happy and free. oaklynn swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed away the mere idea of the tension being related to their relationship. she was and is and forever will be in love with the woman that is chantelle.

jamal’s presence brought chantelle’s entire mood down, replacing her fluffy white cloud with a dark, rainy one. despite it all oaklynn still kissed her goodnight when the two parted, and she told her how much she loved her. how much she’ll always love her- stressed out and all.

ash bit his lip as they talked about it. feeling like an asshole. this was their day, and while oaklynn certainly doesn’t mind company, it’s apparent that chantelle does. he gave her his word that it would only be one hour.

she was being kind and polite coming here with him because of how alone he’s been, but the way he prolonged their hour into now two hours was wildly inconsiderate of him.

he dug around in his athletic shorts pocket for his keys. after finding them he clicked the button, starting his car from all the way over by the fire.

only, it didn’t start.

that’s odd..

he’ll start it when they pack up and put the fire out he guesses. but once they’ve done that and theyre all packed into the audi, his start button just won’t turn the engine over.

he kept pushing it and the car sounded horrible.

“wait right here.” he says and exits the car, coming up to the front to pop the hood.

when he does he realizes he has no fucking clue why did that. he knows absolutely nothing about engines. nothing about what he’s looking at. the whole reason why he bought a luxury german car was so that he didn’t ever have to worry about the engine. it’s meant to be reliable.

but at the end of the day. it’s a car. it’s not never going to break.

oaklynn comes out and quietly stands beside ash. they’re silent for a moment while he pretends like he knows what he’s looking at, his hands planted on his hips like a concerned father.

“..should i call jer?” she says after a long moment of them staring at the engine.

“your mechanic cousin?”

oaklynn nods, “mhm! he actually lives outside of town too so he’s in the area.”

ash bit the inside of his cheek after he agreed. he’s never met jericho but he’s heard about him. oaklynn has tried to get them to come to a few of ash’s parties but he never showed up.

“i’ll call him,” oaklynn says as she pulls out her phone, walking away to get a smidge of privacy.

ash shuts the hood and sighs, thinking of this mystery mechanic.

if all goes well, maybe ash could become this jericho guys’ new regular. he had a tiny crack in his windshield he was hoping to get fixed soon, that’d be a good opportunity for a potential return.

oaklynn came back, crunching the gravel with her yellow flip flops. she told ash he was on his way and will be here in a few minutes with tools.

“he must be quite the gentleman. i’ll have to pay him generously.”

“oh don’t bother,” she waved it off. “they won’t accept any money, especially if the situation has anything to do with me.”

“doesn’t except money huh?” ash wiggled his brows. “i’ll have to pay him in another way.” he joked, pushing his tongue to his cheek and moving his balled up hand back and forth.

oaklynn laughed her cheeky, loud laugh and slapped his arm playfully at him mocking a blowjob. “you fucking freeeakk!” she yelled.

ash squinted with his smiles and held his arm, acting like her short frame could ever do any real harm to him. in fact he barely even felt her slap at all.

he noticed oaklynns grin fade away and he followed her line of vision. it was chantelle- she was out of the car and walking to the lake in frustration.

the time was 8:38, they’d surely miss the reservation and have to give up their table. not to mention it would set back the time they set aside to go to the movies.

“you should go talk to her.” oaklynn says.

“what? no, she doesn’t want to deal with me right now, i can tell. you go possum, you’re her partner.”

“ash.”

he turns to look at her, prying his eyes away from chantelle’s moody silhouette at the lake. “yeah?”

“go.”

it didn’t take much convincing, plopping his jingly keys into the little hand of the woman beside him. as he walked up to his assistant he heard the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel.

it took everything in him not to just ditch chantelle and run up to the gorgeous, glossed, blacked out car with a wing that just arrived. he didn’t even know what kind of car it was. he had to force himself to turn his head away as a boy in a black hoodie stepped out to greet their cousin.

right now, his focus was chantelle, and nothing else. he willed the world to fade away around them so he could comfort her. because at the end of the day, she was not only his secretary but his real friend.

it didn’t look it though with the way she glared at him through wet lashes. “what?” she grunts, keeping her composure the best she could.

“i’ll get you another reservation at casa bellissima.”

she doesn’t reply.

not even after a few minutes. ash struggles to find the right words, getting distracted every other second because he so desperately wants to look behind him and see this mysterious mechanic cousin of oaklynn’s hook up jumper cables to his audi. he oh so wishes he could help.

“it’s not about the restaurant.” she finally speaks, waking him out of his daze.

“what’s up then?”

chantelle sighs. “i just wanted this night to go perfect. to spend time alone with oaklynn..” she says, gesturing her hands.

“the way i see it,” he treads carefully, knowing he isn’t the best with reassuring words. “this night hasn’t been so bad. i mean yeah my car died but you’ll still get to go home with her. look, we’re saved.” ash motions to jericho. “you’re not stuck here with your obnoxious boss all night.”

“you’re not obnoxious,” she replies with a slight laugh.

“don’t lie,” he chuckles back, skipping a smooth stone perfectly across the lake. it goes for nine jumps.

he hands another smooth one to chantelle. hers only skips for two jumps before failing and drowning down to the bottom.

another sigh escaped her, this time more relaxed. “i was.. going to propose tonight. i have the ring on the dresser next to the dress i was going to wear.”

ash’s jaw drops and he finds her hand immediately, squeezing it. “oh my god, are you serious?”

she smiles and her free hand goes up to her teary, mascara ruined bottom lashes.

ash wipes them for her with his thumb. “i’m so sorry, i would have never kept you guys like this if i had known.”

“i know, i know.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“because..” she looks at the lake again and takes her hand away from his loving yet tight grip. “i know how you are. you’re going to want to pick my hair and pick my ring and pick everything. sometimes i just have to tell you after it’s all said and done because that way.. you’re happy for me with no conditions.”

“i’m always happy for you, chantelle.” he shakes his head and shuts his eyes. “god, im so sorry and you’re right. i know i unintentionally micro manage.”

“it’s in your nature, you can’t help it.”

it’s silent for a moment before she restarts. “that was rude- i didn’t mean it that way. i meant to say i would never ask you to change. you’re yourself, and i love you, asher.”

he swallowed and laughed as he realized a tear fell down his cheek. “i’m supposed to be comforting you, girl. come here.”

he pulled chantelle into a movie-scene like hug. it was long, and warm, and strong. only pulling away so that ash could scrub his face- getting rid of his teary eyes so he could walk up this gravel with chantelle and meet this guy.

“she’ll say yes, by the way. i know it.” he whispers.

as they walked up, ash’s heart took a nose dive straight to his dick after seeing oaklynn’s cousin, completely taking him out of the warm, platonic moment just shared second ago.

he made a noise to which chantelle got startled by. it was like a shocked gasp-laugh.

“how long has oaklynn been concealing this absolute stud muffin?!” he whisper shouted to her. chantelle just hit his arm, her way of silently telling him “shut up!”

“hey!” jericho waves, one of his hands wearing a black rubber glove, the other bare. “sick a4 you have here, what’s her name?”

ash winces in embarrassment. “name?”

“don’t you name your cars?” he smiles. ash feels himself fold at the sight.

“n-no.. should i?”

“absolutely. this is cobra, for example.”

oh my god, ash thinks. it’s even cooler up close. there’s a few dents in the body but since it’s black it’s hardly noticeable. the shape was so fluid and compact and looked vastly different from his own, heavier sedan.

“what is it?” he wonders out loud, taking it all in.

“a ‘95 rx-7. she’s a little dinged up,” jericho rubs the roof of it lovingly, it’s definitely his daily. “you should see my supra, it’s a beast.”

this guy is totally carsexual. he’s got more than one? and ash has no clue what he’s talking about. “supra?”

jericho purses his lips together to not smile. ash was a complete noob. “i’ll show you sometime.”

they introduce themselves and shake hands. to which ash forgets to let go, too focused on looking at the scar running through his eyebrow as he’s close enough to see it. it was jagged but long since healed over— totally badass.

meanwhile jericho took in ash’s appearance. sapphire eyes, inky black hair, and a single mole below his bottom lip to the right. handsome was an understatement.

once jericho finally got ash’s car started, they bid their adieu. but not before he smoothly gave ash the address to the shop he half owns and works at. “in case anything else happens to your cruelly unnamed ride” they had said.

ash put his hands on his cheeks. treating his fingers like water and his face was fire— attempting to put out all this heat. he wasn’t used to being the one getting talked up.

he typically did the talking. he was the one who was supposed to be charismatic and charming and smooth. but here he was, driving his friends back without a word out of his usually chatty mouth.

“you should bring jericho around more often so ash stays quiet like this,” chantelle said to oaklynn who was sat in the backseat.

“oh shut up,” ash managed to get out, pulling into chantelle’s apartment complex parking lot. he parked in the handicap spot effortlessly and got an earful from miss righteous planet-loving 5 foot nothing. how’s the weather down there? is his go-to response with her.

as oaklynn headed in, chantelle got hung up by ash. his tinted window rolled down and her leaning into it. “are you going to do it tonight?” he asks.

chantelle avoids his gaze. she shrugs and smiles, “if the timing is right.”

“oh cmon, the timing is always right. you guys are meant to be.”

chantelle said goodbye after ash told her he better see a ring on her finger the next time she clocks into work.

he hopes it’s a large shiny rock but knowing chantelle, she’ll be wearing a simple gold band on her own finger. it’s oaklynn who’ll have a little beautiful stone.

on his drive home, ash daydreams about getting a ring for someone one day. how he’d go all out and spoil the shit out of some lucky person. he’d drop a brick on something so extravagant just because he can and it’d put everyone else to shame.

coincidentally the radio began playing that’s what i like by bruno mars and he started laughing. this annoying ass, corny song was ash’s anthem he thought. or would be his anthem if he had a special someone to spoil.

he finds himself also thinking of names for his audi, just so he could see jericho again.

˚ · .

as always jericho copyright dylan :-) TY for reading!

#simmy writes #oc #friendship #oc fic #office #oneshot #romance

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hellmouth-manor · 8 months

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i don't patronize bunny rabbits (just you) || arisa || re: LOL LMAO LOL LOL

Well, would you look at that. Her dorm mate that even she thought had an ego that needed squashing was the one behind it all. Didn’t those conversations about knowing best and being the only people who could do what was right for the people they cared for ring all the more hollow now, thinking back on them? Those conversations where he dared to ask if Mitsugi and Akio were happy–if what she’d done to them was truly right if there was the potential for them to be broken by her actions.

As if her actions were the thing that was popping their bones from their joints like abused Barbies. As if her leaving wasn’t snipping the plastic twist ties that bound them to their boxes.

There are hundreds of thousands of insults and barbs that she would love to throw at him, but where was the point in that? Egos like theirs craved attention. The only negative attention that would likely do anything to him was anything that came from the ones he thought would smile and clap at his reveal. No, instead, she forces down every single hot brand she wants to press onto his flesh, and just stares at him with mock apathy.

That, as a being of Pride just like him, she knew would hurt more than any insult.

Or, well, maybe whatever Hisashi’s doing is even worse.

She turns her head to look at him, wondering what the hell he’s laughing about since, apparently, his little group of explorers got turbo fucked over and that’s what they were so mad about, but his sudden change in demeanor makes her look at him and Olwin once again. He’s right. There’s a surprising lack of blood that isn’t blue or black, which means…

The horn clatters and slides against the wood of the table, and he revels in Alou’s confusion and righteous indignation, proclaiming his role in yet another blood-soaked homicide all while calling the guy she hates more than anyone else in this room right now a “dumb motherfucker.”

Veronica Sawyer was spitting truths when she said, “Damn.”

She’s shaken from her moment of…admiration (if you could call literal hair twirling and lip biting “admiration” over, y’know, another homicide) by Micah filling in the rest of the story that they didn’t know until now.

When she looks at him, she’s still unable to not see the pathetic little man who would probably give half of his life savings to a scammer pretending to be Hello Kitty over a chainmail, but the beautiful thing about people, Arisa has found during her time here, is that they’re a patchwork of parts. His is dollar store cotton blends, but it’s, surprisingly, stitched together with Kevlar thread. Who would have thought, huh? Micah “VTuber fanboy” Linne, man of the hour.

What a shame. All of the admiration that her dorm mate almost certainly craved more than anything else on the planet was going to all go right over his head and into Micah’s proverbial pocket. Really, she’s crying rivers over here.

To showcase her empathy for Alou’s plight, she says to Micah:

“I’d offer to give your cash back, but I’m taking that as a down payment for the ‘making up for the helping with the murder game in the beginning’ thing that this whole stunt’s paying off the rest of the way. You understand, right? But I’ll still let you keep my Hell-o Titty concept, on the house.”

Sure, he might have orchestrated the saving of their souls or whatever, but…she has a reputation. Even if it’s hard to take her nonchalance as serious when there’s a jitter to her voice that’s not dissimilar to what you’d hear from someone about to go down their first water slide. Or, more accurately, someone, apparently, about to get her fucking soul back from literal Hell.

Now, her eyes slide over to the Game Master, and a cat-like grin overtakes her face as she crosses her legs, lacing her fingers together as her elbows prop themselves up on the table. She rests her chin in her hands, raising both eyebrows and, rather unapologetically, laughs in a way that makes this banquet table feel more like a wobbling, folding table in the grimy cafeteria of Small Town High School, USA.

“Some Crowning Game, huh? Don’t worry, I’m sure someone’ll drop by Burger King to grab one of their crowns for you.”

Her expression drops to something innocent, wide-eyed and so mockingly oblivious it stings. With a sweet voice, she calls back to their last conversation together.

“You said the only time you can understand me is when I’m ripping into your throat. Mind if I do it literally? Might finally understand you, too. Better late than never, right?”

With a wink and a grin, she loses interest in the deposed king, choosing instead to fix her attention on a different serial killer, batting his arm incessantly until he looks at her and whispering excited, rushed words at both him and Olwin.

(It’s about the murder, if you needed a reminder that she sucks and should probably just stay in Hell. But, well, “everyone’s souls” means everyone, and she is part of everyone.)

#mm trial #heather

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jawritter · 2 years

Text

You’re Enough

Summary: Dealing with anxiety can be tough, and sometimes thoughts can be louder than someone screaming at her, but Beau is there to pull her out again.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Word Count: 1914

Warnings: Anxiety, Self-Hate, Somewhat Suicidal thoughts and Tendencies. Self-Conscious Reader. Reader is just not in a good mental state. Fluff.

A/N: This fic is completely unbetaed, please do not copy my work. Feedback is golden! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Masterlist

The house was quiet. The only sound that filtered through the dark living room was the sound of the television playing softly in the corner, something Y/N wasn’t even paying attention to. At this point, it was just on for the background noise. She had been far too caught up in her own head to even register what the man in the suit was saying.

What was loud and obnoxious were the voices in her head. The ones that repeatedly screamed insults at her from everything that had to do with her weight, from her hair color and length, all the way down to her personality. The very same ones that told her she would never be good enough to make Beau happy, or to keep him, because Jenny and Cassie were so much prettier than she was. The one that said that the only reason Beau was her boyfriend in the first place was because he needed a rebound to distract him from the ex-wife drama he was having when he first got to Big Sky. That he’d never love her, and never would, because no one ever did love her, everyone hated her, and she was nothing but the butt of everyone’s joke.

She picked up her phone for what felt like the millionth time in an hour, noticing that it was after 10 PM, and she knew that Beau would be coming through the door soon, or at least, he was supposed to be if nothing at work went extremely backward, which lately it had the tendency to do. He was getting home later and later at night, and when he did get home, he was tired. He didn’t need her anxiety and self-hating depression issues weighing him down. That would run him off faster than she was probably already going to lose him.

She knew that she should probably just let him go, but honestly, she love him, and she was selfish, and no matter how much it hurt, no matter the damage it would cause in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to let him walk away, or tell him to leave, so she’d hold on to him as long as he’d let her, because what choice did she have really?

Beau was a good man. He was strong, sensitive, handsome, everything she felt as if she didn’t deserve. Surely, he would get tired of her eventually. Hell, she didn’t even want to live with herself at this moment, why would he want to keep coming home to her? Eventually, she knew he’d stop showing up, she just knew it, and she was more and more afraid every night since he’d taken over working as Sheriff that tonight was the night he’d never come home.

Unable to sit and look at the door and wait for it to open any longer, or sit and stare at the phone, she turned the television off with a huff, and let her dragging feet take her to her bedroom, where she’d planned to collapse on her bed, and just wait in misery, and hope that, if for some reason there was a God that was merciful out there, she’d just go to sleep and never wake up, because Beau and everyone else would be better off if she weren't around.

Cassie always made him laugh, they were friends before Y/N and Beau had even gotten together, bonding over a loss she didn’t understand, that was a part of him she’d never be able to relate to, no matter how much she tried. Surely, he’d be happy with her.

Or maybe even Jenny. She was a strong, attractive woman. Definitely more in his league than she’d ever be. Maybe he’d be happier with her? Jenny was a mom, Y/N wasn’t. She could relate to some of the things Beau had to deal with and was feeling concerning his daughter and past marriage. Y/N couldn’t relate to that. She’d never had any children. Fuck, she was fourteen years younger than Beau was. To him, surely, she looked childish most of the time. Those women were more his age.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Beau come in the front door, or even in the bedroom, until she felt the bed dip, and she jumped and turned quickly to see Beau freeze on the spot, apparently, he’d even snuck around and took a shower, and she hadn’t even heard him, she was to in her head.

“I’m sorry,” Beau said before settling down and pulling her into his warm embrace. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you were asleep.”

It was too late to hide the wetness that dampened her cheeks when he pulled her into him, and he froze as soon as he noticed that she’d been crying, hell, she didn’t even remember noticing that she had started to cry, it was such a natural state lately.

“Hey,” he said, turning just enough to flip the bed side lamp on so that he could get a better look at the state she was in, concern filled those apple green eyes that she loved so much, and fuck if that didn’t just make her feel worse, he heard enough stress in his life, he didn’t need to carry her shit too. “What’s wrong sweetheart, why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to brush it off as he quickly worked at whipping away any lingering tears with the pad of his thumb. “Guess I’m just really tired, and hormonal or something, it’s close to that time of the month and—”

“Bullshit,” Beau cut in, and Y/N looked down immediately as a fresh wave of emotions hit her in her chest that already felt too tight. “Darlin, you’re looking at the King of making excuses to downplay shit right there. I literally ended up having to go to grief counseling because of it. Don’t downplay it. Talk to me. It’s why I’m here. I love you, and if there’s something wrong, I want to help. That’s part of being partners, in a relationship, when things get too heavy for you to carry around on your own, that’s what I’m here for.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, doing her best to keep her emotions under control, but it was a losing battle. Everything she had felt so far. The anxiety, the depression, the body image issues. It had all been bottled up for so long, it was going to come out one way or another, and Beau was asking her to be honest with him, he said he loved her, she could see the obvious concern in his features, she owed him at least her honesty. He was always open with her. She knew she needed to do the same but getting that first word out when it comes to talking about your feeling is always so fucking hard. Even if she knew once she started, the rest would come.

“Beau…” she tried, swallowing back against the tightness that wrapped itself around her throat like a vice, and Beau pulled her in closer, tucking her into him, and just held her there as tightly as he could. Instantly she felt safe. Instantly she felt not as empty and alone. “I just… I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you. I see you with Cassie and Jenny, and you’re so fucking far out of my league. I don’t deserve someone like you. I don’t really have any friends to speak of other than you. I’ve always been the odd man out. I know it’s only a matter of time before you see it too, and I’m just sorry I’m not what you deserve. I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry I’m a burden to everyone.”

“Hey,” Beau voiced, leaning her head back and brushing her hair away from her face where she’d hidden herself in the crook of his neck. “Where’s this coming from? Darlin, none of that is true. You’re more than enough. You’re more than enough for me. Honey, you're more than what I deserve. I never thought you’d actually like me back, that’s why it took me weeks to even get the balls to ask you out on our first date! Cassie and Jenny are awesome, and they’re talented and they’re my friends, but baby girl you’re the one I wanna come home too. They don't hold a candle to you. You’re smart. You’re funny. You put up with my shit when I promise you no one else would. There’s never been a moment when I felt like you weren’t there for me. I’ve never wanted more than what we have right now. I’ll never want more than this. It’s everything I’ve always wanted and never could have; you are everything I will ever want. I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough, but baby I love you. I love you, not some other women. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’re all I’ll ever want to see.”

Beau reached up and wiped the tears away that made their way down her cheeks before pressing his lips softly to her own, and just like that, the tightness melted, the shaking stopped, with one kiss, he was able to wash it all away and put her back together again. He was all she’d ever need. He was all she’d ever want again. It was a comfort to know that at least one person out there had her back, even if no one else did, and she’d rather no other person than Beau Arlen. In her eyes he was perfect, and in his eyes, she was enough.

Sure, those old thoughts and fears would come back, they always do, but he’d be there to pick her up again and again, no matter how many times it took. Because he did love her, and he did want to spend the rest of his life with her. She wasn’t perfect, but it’s the imperfections that make one beautiful. What they had was real, and no matter what it took, no matter how long it took or how much time it took out of his day, from then on Beau made a vow to himself to never go to bed at night without telling her he loved her, or how beautiful she was, or how she was more than enough for him, because sometimes, a person just needs to hear that. Sometimes, you just have to help one another carry the weight when it gets too heavy

“I’m gonna take a vacation next week,” Beau announced as she laid her head on his bare chest in the dark, safe little cocoon of covers they had created for themselves. We’re gonna get out here for a while, drive out to California, watch go see the coast, just spend some time with each other, just me and you, how does that sound?”

“You could take me to a tent in the middle of nowhere and as long as you’re there with me, that’s all I need,” she answered, and Beau laughed, throwing his head back against the pillow before turning and capturing her lips again in a sweet, lingering kiss. The kind that always stole her breath away.

“Then it’s a date,” he said, resting his head against her own, and holding her tightly to him, determined to never let her go.

“It’s a date.”

Forever:

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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Jensen’s Babes:

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#you're enough #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #beau x y/n #bea x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #big sky fanficiton #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fanfic #jawritter

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pa1nkill3r · 3 years

Text

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

#george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #oml this is long

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

It's Only Temporary

Feyre Archeron x Rhys - Tattoo Artist Oneshot

After losing a bet, Rhys gets a new tattoo

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Tattoos

2492 words

*******

“Fey!” Cassian’s voice boomed through the glass door as he grinned and waved to get her attention.

Looking up from her sketchbook, Feyre watched as Cassian tried to open the locked door again, shaking the wood so hard the bell hanging above it started chiming frantically.

She rolled her eyes and walked out from behind the counter she’d been working at, quickly getting to the door before his enthusiasm ripped it from its hinges. Feyre had barely flipped the lock when Cassian swung it open and immediately wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, lifting her off the ground as she laughed before setting her back down and ruffling her hair. Then he strutted through the dim lobby of her tattoo parlor taking his time to survey the walls of designs, the colorful crushed velvet couches, and the small rack of t-shirts and stickers she had for sale with the shop’s logo printed on them.

The Rainbow was Feyre’s baby. She’d saved almost every penny from the time she’d gotten her first job in order to afford her shop. After studying art in school and apprenticing for a few years, she’d finally been able to buy a small storefront in Velaris and built her business from the ground up.

It didn’t hurt that most of her friends liked tattoos and were always happy to be her canvases and subsequent advertising.

Shaking her head at Cassian who’d made himself at home near her front counter, Feyre returned to her spot with her sketchbook, now open to display a howling water wolf, and raised a brow, “Can’t you read? I’m closed.”

He scoffed, grinning, and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Not for me, Archeron.”

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help her smirk when she told him, “It late and I’m busy. Care to tell me why you’re here?” Feyre looked at him expectantly.

Cassian just grinned. “Do I need a reason to visit my very successful, very talented friend?”

“Wow, such flattery, Cassian. What exactly are you trying to get me to agree to?” She raised an eyebrow, trying to reign in a smirk.

He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Convince your sister to go out with me.”

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think you’re Elain’s type.”

“You’re hilarious, Archeron.” Cassian deadpanned and rolled his eyes, “Come on, Fey. Talk me up to Nesta.”

Feyre sighed, closing her sketchbook, and resigning herself to not getting anymore work done tonight. “Cass, I’ve done all I can on that front, believe me. You’ll have to win her over all on your own.”

“Been trying that for years.” He grumbled then ran a hand through his hair.

“I know that isn’t why you’re here,” Feyre insisted, “you ask me to do that literally every time you see me, so I know you didn’t seek me out for that. What’s up?”

He shot her a grin that made his single dimple stand out as he glanced at the door to the parlor. “Az is on his way over with Rhys and we were hoping you would do us a favor.”

“A favor?” she asked skeptically.

Cassian kept grinning. “You see, baby Arche,” Feyre snorted at the nickname. “your idiot boyfriend made a bet that he never stood a chance of winning, and he lost. Horribly.”

“Okay…” she rubbed at her face, trying to steel herself for whatever she was about to hear. Cassian’s shit-eating grin wasn’t making Feyre feel any better.

“Az and I want you to tattoo a little something special on Rhys for us.”

She paused, halting her shuffling of her sketches and furrowed her brows. “You want me to tattoo something on Rhys…because he lost a bet?”

“Yes.”

“Does Rhys know this?”

A slow smirk spread across Cass’s face, “He knows he’s coming to see you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Cassian, why would I agree to tattoo something—you haven’t even said what it is, by the way—onto my boyfriend when he obviously doesn’t even know what’s happening?”

“Well,” Cass pointed out, “I’d hope he’d realize what was happening once you sat him in the chair and got your needles and ink out.”

She snorted, “You know what I mean.”

“Because, Fey,” He sighed dramatically, “Little Rhysie is a punk and lost a bet so now he has to get a tattoo of our choice. And who better to do it, than his wonderful tattoo artist of a girlfriend?” his grin came back, wider than before.

Feyre said nothing for a moment as she stared Cassian down. Then she asked, “How drunk is he?”

Cassian chuckled, “Very.”

Feyre smiled slowly, “And how drunk are you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her but lifted his fingers to show a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. “Just a little bit.”

“So, a lot.” Feyre corrected

Cassian was silent a moment before grinning, “Rhys bet that he could outdrink me.”

Feyre blinked, then clutched the counter as she bent over laughing. She heard Cassian’s loud chortles next to her a moment later. When she stood back up, she wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head.

“Oh, my gods,” She was still chuckling, trying to picture Rhys go shot for shot with the mass of a man standing in front of her. “I love him, but sometimes he’s such an idiot.”

“I think you mean all the time.”

Just then, the bell on the door jingled again and Azriel held it open with one arm as he gripped a stumbling Rhys with the other.

“Hi, Feyre.” Azriel nodded at her as the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Az” She chuckled and walked towards the pair. “Can you lock that? Thanks.”

“Feyre, darling!” Rhys suddenly beamed and stumbled towards her, stepping close enough that she could smell every shot he’d taken on his breath. He used both hands to gently cup her face, squishing her cheeks in little and pressing a sloppy but sweet kiss to her lips. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him but stepped back to avoid his breath. “I saw you a few hours ago.”

He pouted, “That’s too long. I’ve had to look at those two ugly faces all night when I could’ve been looking at your dazzling one.”

“Why does he have to insult us when he compliments her?” Cass grumbled to Azriel who looked mildly amused.

He snorted. “Perspective.”

Feyre removed herself from Rhys’ grip only for him to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side. She leaned into his touch, and helped keep him standing, as she rested her head on his shoulder as she faced Azriel.

“Az, can you fill me in? Cassian tried, but I don’t know how much I trust his story.”

Cassian feigned hurt and shook his head. “Fey, I am wounded that you doubt me.”

Azriel’s explanation had been essentially the same as Cassian’s with a few more details and a little less slurring of words. She’d rolled her eyes but told them to wait in the lobby while she took Rhys back to her studio.

Feyre had no intention of actually tattooing her very intoxicated boyfriend just because he and his brothers had made a stupid bet. He’d have to be completely sober before she agreed to that.

Guiding Rhys into her back room, she waited until he was sitting on the edge of her large, leather chair before moving to stand between his spread legs. His hands instantly found her waist and she rested her palms on his thighs.

Quirking a brow at her boyfriend, Feyre asked, “Did you actually think you could out drink Cassian?”

Rhys scoffed, “I’m just as big as he is, why shouldn’t I have been able to do it?”

Feyre smirked as Rhys pouted. “Babe, you may be fit,” she huffed a laugh at his raised brow, “okay, fine, extremely fit, but Cass is a tank. And he’s a bartender. There’s no possible way you could’ve won that bet.”

Rhys kept pouting, flexing his fingers over her hips, “You’re supposed to be on my side, Darling.”

She laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “I am, always.” She kissed his lips for good measure. “But I’m going to tease you when you’re being an idiot.”

He used his grip on her hips to pull her towards him for an actual kiss. Feyre stayed wrapped in his arms for as long as she could stand his horrid tequila-drenched breath. Letting her arms loop around his neck and her fingers tangle in his hair, Feyre pulled back.

Rhys let his forehead droop onto her chest and Feyre had the distinct feeling that it was less about the warm comfort of her skin and more about an excuse for Rhys to press his face into her breasts.

“I don’t hear any needles buzzing back there, Fey!” Cassian bellowed from the lobby area. She snorted at the clear sound of a hand hitting someone’s head and the following curse.

She rolled her eyes but kept playing with Rhys’ hair as he mumbled something too muffled for her to understand.

“What was that?” she asked.

Raising his face, he looked at her and winced. “Are you actually going to tattoo me?”

She snickered at the disdain on his features.

“Maybe I should,” she teased, “to teach you a lesson making ridiculous bets.”

Rhys winked. “you can teach me a lesson anytime, Darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and was about to retort back when Cassian yelled again, “Baby Arche! We’re not paying you to make out back there!”

She snorted and hollered, “You’re not paying me at all! I’m getting there, don’t rush me.”

Azriel’s voice came next, “We didn’t bring your intoxicated man-child here so the two of you could get it on in the back parlor.”

Rhys snorted and replied back, “You say that like it’s never happened.”

“Rhys.” She hissed, smacking his arm as he chuckled.

“Gross,” two voices audibly gagged from the other room. “You’d better sanitize back there!”

A pause, then a disgusted Cassian said, “You’ve tattooed me on that chair, I don’t want to know what you sickos have done to it.”

Feyre and Rhys snickered before she said, “You might want to avoid the front couch then, too.”

Rhys, still grinning, added, “And the check-out counter—”

“—and the bathroom sink!” Feyre finished.

“Heathens.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys and Feyre laughed at their friends’ obvious disgust.

“I don’t need to hear any more of this,” Cassian insisted. “Ever.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned on her machine, allowing the steady buzz of the needle to flow into the waiting area; Cassian’s loud whoop telling her the sound was loud enough.

She carefully set the device on her counter and let the buzz echo through the room as she turned towards a small drawer and pulled out a colorful packet.

Rhys raised an eyebrow at the needle she clearly wasn’t prepping to use on him and watched as she flipped through the pages of whatever she was holding.

She paused on a page and grinned, flipping it around for him to see.

“Do you want a flying bat or one that’s hanging upside down?”

Rhys blinked. Twice. He slowly grinned back at his clever girlfriend as she handed him the sheet of temporary, press-on tattoos.

They were cartoonish-looking designs; the ones made for children that you could use a wet cloth to press onto your skin. He flipped through the rest of the pages to see a variety of other animals and plants, all ready to be cut out and used.

“Is my only choice a bat?” He grinned, looking back up at Feyre to see her already grabbing a scissor and paper towel.

She snorted. “That was what your brothers insisted on.” She took back the packet and carefully cut out the two bats. “They may be drunk enough to think a press-on is a real tattoo, but I don’t know if they’d accept anything else.”

When she held up both bat options for him, he nodded towards the one with outstretched wings. Feyre wet the paper towels and pushed his sleeve up to reveal his toned forearm. After making sure his skin was clean and dry, she gently pressed the bat onto his skin and covered the design with the wet paper towel, allying pressure to keep the image steady.

Rhys reached over with his free hand and grabbed the packet again. “Why do you have these? Besides for saving your boyfriend from a stupid bet?” he finished with a wide grin.

She laughed, still pressing firmly on the tattoo. “I keep them for the kids.”

At his raised brow she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes my clients can’t help but have their kids with them, so I keep the press-ons for those who see their parents and insist they get a tattoo, too.” She snorted at some memory. “I used to have washable markers for them to use but then a few of them would walk out of here looking like some avant-garde painting, so I switched to these. It’s adorable when they hold their cartoon dragon next to their parent’s actual ink.”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre lifted her hand, slowly peeling back the sticky paper to reveal a cute, flying bat.

He flexed his arm, grinning as the movement made the bat’s wings look as if they were flying. “How do I look?”

She leaned in to inspect the bat, making a show of darting between the cartoon and his real tattoos trailing down his arm. “Hmm, I think maybe when you’re sober, I should actually ink this onto you.”

Her grin made him laugh. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss next to the bat, careful not to brush it, and he smiled as she looked back at him.

“How’s it going?” Az’s low voice carried from the front room, making Feyre chuckle and Rhys huff.

She leaned over and expertly turned off the still-buzzing needle before calling back, “Just finished!”

Rhys brought his arm up and laughed again at the small, cheery bat placed between his darker swirls of years-old markings. He locked eyes with Feyre again as she put her supplies away and moved to stand once again between his legs. “You think they’ll buy it?”

She snorted, “Probably not.” She laughed again at his sullen expression. “But I don’t think the bet ever specified the tattoo having to be real.”

Rhys’ grin returned in full force as he brought his hands to Feyre’s face and guided her lips towards his. “You, Darling, are spectacular.”

Laughing again, Feyre leaned out of his reach. “And you, babe, still have horrible breath.”

Rhys rolled his eyes but loosened his grip as she stepped out of his arms, taking her hand as she led them back towards the front lobby.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, winking, “let’s show them your new tattoo.”

*****

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