#it catches me off guard EVERY TIME and it's ALWAYS HILARIOUS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superblysubpar · 1 year ago

Text

masterlist | the music

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for the movie franchise Star Wars | mentions of the holiday Halloween being celebrated by others and reader enjoying it | Leigh is not my character creation, a shared character who @sweetsweetjellybean originally created & I put a little twist on for this story with her permission.

Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

9.4k words | A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude for those who've read this story & those that helped me get through writing it, especially my beta extraordinaire @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz for helping me break that pesky wall of self doubt and writer's block always. I have a big long A/N on the epilogue that's posting right after these two chapters with more sap. Thanks for being here, I love you immensely if you've made it this far from the beginning or you're just arriving 💛

In the movies, they like to make those big plot twists drag out for the protagonist to let it really sink in. Or maybe it's more for the viewers. Special effects, camera angles, flashbacks, and poignant music playing - all to make seconds feel much longer than they are.

In your experience, these plot twists are usually predictable. Of course that guy’s the villain, it was the best friend all along, he’s Luke’s father, et cetera, et cetera. You’re utterly baffled every time by a character’s lack of intuition to see it coming. You’ve booed at writing and acting and told yourself that in real life, it’s so different.

Sure, surprises happen. Reality does not care about predictability, the fragile state of the human heart, or what’s fair. You get that. People cheat, they make mistakes, they die, they lose - and there isn’t some fade-to-black-happy-ending guarantee when they do. There isn’t a countdown on the bottom of a screen letting you know there’s still time left to make it all back from whatever happened, no assurance that it’ll all work out.

To call something real - something happening directly to you - a plot twist, seems horribly wrong though. Is there another word for it? Those moments that manage to catch you off guard, that come without warning or a build up. Moments that hit you repeatedly like a knife to a chest in a slasher flick. Or feel like the instant demise of oxygen leaving your lungs as a door opens to space. That sucker-punch from a red glove to the jaw when you think you’ve just won the big fight.

What do you call that shit?

Robin’s voice is an echo, muffled and distorted as if you’re deep underwater. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, you are so much prettier than Steve mentioned.”

Who is with Steve?

Robin keeps going, putting her entire foot in her mouth, oblivious to the way Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. You only stop staring yourself, after what feels like hours, to finally take in their intertwined hands as Robin babbles. “Wait, I mean…no, see…alright, he told us you were pretty is what I’m trying to say, but like you’re even prettier…”

Who the hell is with Steve?

Her laugh cuts through the fog and your eyes finally focus on the woman attached to the sound.

She’s pretty, just like Robin keeps saying over and over again.

Dark, shiny hair, piercing eyes that you can see - even from this distance - are a hazel to almost match his. A hypnotizing smile, curves and a confidence radiating off of her… everything you wish you were but aren’t.

She laughs again, assuring Robin she gets it (in an infuriatingly humble way), introducing herself as Leigh Kensington.

Nancy perks up at the name when Robin gasps and shouts, “Oh my god! Nance!” Robin looks back, waving her over, “Just like Legally Blonde!” Her voice attempts to lower as she sighs to Leigh, “She loves Reese Witherspoon. It is Vivian Kensington right?” The question louder and directed at Nancy again. Robin doesn’t even take a breath to let her answer though, “Which is hilarious because Steve’s mom’s name is Vivian and you’re dating Steve and you work in legal, right? And-“

Emerald glass shatters around your feet as the bottle of beer falls from your hand, the sharp shards scatter quickly, too broken to ever be put back together. Your legs turn to lead and muscles are no longer in communication with your brain as it finally makes the connection to what you’re seeing and hearing and what that means for you.

“Shit! Jesus, woman-“ Eddie jumps back from you as the glass skirts across the pavement further.

Robin finally turns in your direction at the commotion, her brows knit together in worry. Face progressively getting more concerned as it tightens. Her hand lets a bean bag fall to the board with an echoing thump. “Hey, you look-“

Not waiting to hear the end of her sentence, you will your legs to work and spin, taking off in search of literally any place that isn’t there. Your feet pound against the pavement, thuds that vibrate through the rubber of your soles all the way up to your eardrums.

It’s seconds, less than a minute, and it’s as if the entire stadium - hell, your entire world - has spun upside down. Roars to your left, the rumbling of fan’s excitement from the nosebleeds down to the field mingle and harmonize with the rapid beating in your chest. As you keep running with no real destination other than away, your shoulders bump stranger’s, meeting their frowns and scoffs with whispered and rushed apologies. The familiar sting behind your eyes forms, eyelashes growing damp as you suck in a sharp breath. No more running, you need somewhere to hide.

You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not. How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?

The familiar long line all women are accustomed to grabs your attention and you’re off again. Disgruntled and shouted annoyance from everyone in line echoes across the dull gray tile as you rush past them, yelling something about an emergency. You slam a turquoise door, sliding the silver latch with shaking fingers as your forehead rests on the cold material of the stall. You focus on breathing through your nose and out your mouth, this is fine. You’re fine.

A buzz in your pocket once, twice, and then a third time, and you don’t have to pull your phone out to know they’re texts from him. Despite your better judgment, you look:

It buzzes a fourth time and you lock the phone, debating just chucking it into the toilet.

The sleeve of your sweatshirt presses to your mouth as you clear your throat. No tears are falling for him, not today, not ever.

You hate Steve Harrington.

This was always the plan.

You hate Steve Harrington.

It’s not like you were in love with the guy.

Even as you think it, the panic turns to defense inside of yourself - scrounging around for rocks and bricks, reinforcing the wall around your heart you had started to let crumble for a boy you thought was worth it.

“Girl, what the hell?”

A familiar pair of red converse with writing and doodles covering any space they can, mirror your feet at the base of the stall. You step back, fingers hovering over the latch, ready to tell her it’s fine. Robin isn’t an idiot though, and you’re certain that despite your denial, she’ll take one look at you and make you spill your guts.

Her feet move closer, the familiar clink of rings meeting metal hits your ears, letting you know she’s pressing her palms to the door. Robin’s voice is softer and for one brief, horrible moment, you think she knows. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The guilt that’s hovered over you for months like a storm cloud, releases, engulfing you completely, the promise of sunlight no longer on the horizon. Funny how just hours ago, you were thinking about Robin finally knowing, about how she couldn’t be mad, not when you were both so happy. Your gut twists. You’ve lied to your friend for so long, and for what?

“Just, um, cramps.” The lies keep on building, pushing at the dam you’ve created to keep it all from her. You’re just buying time now, the pressure is going to reach its breaking point soon and you’re worried your friendship with Robin will be washed away when it does.

At the mention of cramps, the disgruntled voices of those in line turn to understanding - muted solidarity in the form of tampon and painkiller offerings.

“Robin, why don’t you grab her some food or something? Maybe a ginger ale? I’ve got stuff in my bag and we’ll meet you all out there,” another familiar voice suggests.

“But I can-“

“That would be really great, Robs,” you interrupt her protest, pushing out the words to sound as eager as you can.

A pair of white tennis shoes sneak between Robin’s and the stall door - like Nancy is trying to put space between the two of you, shielding her girlfriend from any more of your lies.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Robin starts hesitantly, “I saw this gourmet grilled cheese stand thing and-“

“No!” Fingers curling over your mouth at the severity of your interruption, you take a beat before quietly continuing, “Uh, um, actually, just some chips please?”

Your eyes close, willing the memory of your last grilled cheese away. Now is not the time to remember the man you shared it with.

How he looked at you.

How he asked you to open up, how it made you feel when he said he knew you.

How he kissed you.

You hate Steve Harrington.

The initial shock has stopped sizzling and is now a full burn, anger releasing over your frazzled nerves. What else has Steve claimed, what other things could be ruined when all you can do is relate them to him? But as quickly as the anger for him forms, you have to glance down and realize there are three fingers pointing back at yourself.

Why did you give him the opening?

“Roger that, kitten!”

You’re sure she gives a salute to your closed stall door, the red sneakers turning on their heels, her footsteps fading away. The pristine white of Nancy’s twist slightly towards the door. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Can I come in there?”

Clearing your throat once more, you try to brush her off, “Nancy, really, I’m fi-“

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it’s the way she says the word - that a girl you don’t know all that well can see through your lies, be so sure you’re not fine. Maybe it’s because you desperately wish that you could have opened the door for Robin, to leave the football game and go drown in margaritas and dissect every little thing that led to this moment and let her tell you it was all going to be okay and boys are stupid. Or maybe, it’s the fact that you’ll never get to do that, never allowed to tell Robin, that makes you slide the latch unlocked for Nancy Wheeler.

She slips in quickly, her brown curls that are clipped in a half up-do bounce as she tilts her head quizzically at you. Her arms cross over the embroidered team logo on her sweatshirt, her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She’s got this way about looking at you that, without saying anything, makes you want to tell her everything. An energy radiates off of Nancy, a quiet curiosity bubbling under the surface - or perhaps it’s frustration. You’re being studied, a puzzle she can’t crack.

Her lips twist as she clearly debates her words before she finally settles on a simple, “You didn’t know?”

Nancy’s question makes your stomach drop, solidifying that she not only knows about you and Steve, but that Leigh is not a new or unknown development. Your mind swirls to their argument on the beach, Nancy finding you in the bathroom - how long has Steve been seeing Leigh?

“No,” your response comes out in a half laugh, trying to cover up any feelings that attempt to sneak out and reveal too much. The toe of your sneaker scuffs at a knick in the tile as you avoid her eyes.

She tucks a curl behind her ear and sighs. Her face pinches into that quizzical look again, huffing, “He’s an idiot.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. You don’t want to dwell on how she connected the dots about you and Steve or how you’ve all been lying to Robin, and you especially don’t want her pity. “Nancy, I really don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine. Can we just go?”

At the clamp of Nancy’s mouth shutting and the purse of her lips, you regret the icy tone almost immediately. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try again. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” trailing off because where do you even start? You’re mad, hurt, confused, blind-sided, the list could go on and on and you don’t care to reach the end at this moment. You force a smile, changing the subject all together, “Don’t you want to get out there and hear how incredibly little Robin truly knows about sports?”

Nancy’s lips twitch and her arms drop to her sides with a sigh. “Right, well, if you change your mind, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Sometimes, people say things to say things - like they feel as if they’re supposed to say a certain thing when a certain situation calls for it. One look at the kindness in Nancy’s eyes, the small smile on her lips, and you know that is not the case right now. She genuinely, truly means she’s there to listen if you need it. Despite lying to all of them, despite barely knowing her, and the realization has tears forming behind your eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier.

“Thanks,” the word leaves you quietly. It feels small and inconsequential in return for a gesture you’re not even sure Nancy realizes the weight of.

That is, until she turns from the door, her hand hovering over the latch as she faces you again. “I should mention though, that one of you is going to have to tell Robin. Sooner rather than later. And I make no promises it won’t be me, but she should hear it from one of you.” Her tone is adamant with absolutely no room for arguing.

Your guilt tugs you down harder now, only able to nod in response.

Nancy’s head bobs once in return, silently agreeing to drop the subject unless you bring it up again, and she leads the way out of the bathroom.

You hear Robin before you see them. She’s passionately arguing her case about a new musical group that Eddie is scoffing at. Leigh holds her hand up at Eddie’s argument and begins agreeing with Robin, who beams before sticking her tongue out at him.

“Hey.”

The word freezes you and Nancy clears her throat as she makes her way towards the others. Steve pushes off from the brick wall as you turn to face him.

You’ve seen many looks in his eyes before now. When they glint with mischief and charm as he flirts, how they soften as you tell a story. When they’ve turned darker as clothes are shed and they get to roam freely over your body, taking you in like an artwork. How they seem to melt like honey all over you when you’ve found them staring and they don’t care to appear ashamed he’s been caught.

Now, they’re looking at you with far too much pain behind them that doesn’t seem fair. He shouldn’t get to look at you like that, he shouldn’t get to look sad.

Steve extends his hand, a green can with beads of condensation running down the sides of it in his palm. You ignore how your fingers touch and they way his try to linger as you take the soda from him.

When you don’t say anything, he pulls the sleeves of his maroon sweater over his fingers, the toe of his boot scuffing the pavement as his brows meet in the middle. Several pieces of hair fall over his forehead that’s wrinkled with concern, letting you know he’s run his hands through it too many times to have already broken whatever products he’s put in it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk for a sec?”

A sec.

A quick conversation, one he just wants to get over with. To tell you what? Things you’ve already concluded from his surprise today? That he’s with someone. He wants to stay friends. He never felt the way you were starting to feel for him. This was always the plan.

You’re not interested in anything Steve has to say any more.

“Game’s about to start, Harrington, maybe later.” Your tone is clipped and short, smile forced.

His brows pinch closer together as he tilts his head, the harsh line of his jaw flexing. “Really? Cause the way you ran off and that tone could have fooled me.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know exactly what you’re hearing, but if you have something you’d like to say, by all means Steve, let’s hear it.”

Steve closes his eyes and a long breath leaves his nose, “Please-“ his plea is cut off by her.

“Hi, I’m Leigh. It’s so nice to meet you, Steven’s told me so much about you! I hope everything is okay? Everyone was so worried…”

She reaches forward, arms wrapping around you and your stiffening body.

She’s fucking hugging you.

“Uh, yeah, you…too. And yes, thanks, I’m fine. This will help.” Untangling yourself from her, you hold up the can and force another smile. “Thanks Steven.”

Leigh beams at him, grabbing his hand and you just can’t help yourself, turning to him again. “Actually, Steven was just letting me know he had something to tell me, what was so important, buddy?”

Eddie coughs as Steve narrows his eyes. Nancy claps her hands, interrupting the tension filled moment, “Alright, ready guys?”

Robin points towards the bleachers. “I’m ready for tip off! To our seats!”

Nancy gives you a look, some sort of attempt at bringing light to the moment in front of her, before she wraps her hand around Robin’s arm and starts to walk away. “It’s kick off, hun.”

Leigh laughs as Robin lets out a long ‘Oh’, Steve and her following. When Steve glances back over his shoulder at you, the full can of soda meets the trash as you turn towards Eddie. Stealing the fresh beer from his hands, the plastic cup tips to your lips, foam slowing you down as you chug.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy killer.” Eddie tugs on the cup, pulling it from your mouth. “From my understanding, football games are long and we need to pace ourselves. Stevie is not worth a two in the afternoon black out.”

Your mouth opens to protest and he waves his hand in front of your face, “Ah, ah, ah, you can squeeze my fingers or something whenever you feel like punching him instead.”

“Ed-“ you begin, adamant you need another drink (or twenty) to deal with the day you’re about to have.

He begins to walk away, waving his hand dismissively, “No really, I’m a secret masochist, I’ll love it.”

Your eyes narrow, hating the way your lips fight a smile that wants to meet his mood. Despite everything, you’re grateful for him and Nancy. Unsure of how to even attempt to show them how much you appreciate them. Especially after Nancy’s reminder that someone was going to have to tell Robin eventually, and these two had been lying for the both of you, keeping your secret when they didn’t need to.

Up ahead, you hear Leigh laugh, catching her head thrown back and his smile, the squeeze of her fingers on his bicep and you gulp. Your feet plant to the ground harder and you tug on Eddie’s wrist. As the group rounds the corner, heading to their seats, he turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

Eddie must see something in your expression because he mumbles, “Such a fucking idiot,” before he turns to the nearest vendor. “Yeah, hi, I need four very large beers. And I’m talking take your idea of large and triple it.”

This time the smile wins just a little. It’s quick to fall though, when Eddie taps his cup to one he hands you and proclaims, “If you can’t date ‘em, drink about ‘em. To the losers who break our hearts.”

“I-“ ready to tell him that’s not it at all, but his look makes your mouth close.

You don’t say it out loud, you don’t dare to speak it into existence - Eddie is wrong. You’re not broken hearted, you’re just mad Steve didn’t tell you. You’re mad that clearly they all knew, so why not you? That’s all.

Your cup taps Eddie’s again and you let the beer wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Screw Steve Harrington.

As the third cup of cheap beer hits your lips, you risk a glance down the line of your row again. Immediately regretting it like you have every other time. Leigh pushes the loose strand of hair on his forehead back and your eyes return to the field quickly. You’re sure your skin is turning just as green as the artificial turf, the beer making it a little easier to admit to yourself that you are jealous of the intimate moment. Your gut twinges slightly at the remembrance of only a few short weeks ago when you purposely tried to make him feel what you are now. You have no right to be mad at him.

The players blur as they move in an intricate dance only they know before anyone else. You’ve always liked sports, but today has been a good reminder as to why. Players and teams practice and memorize skills and plays that work - but there’s no guarantees. They need intuition to know when to use certain moves, to have a good defense and follow their gut and deviate from the plan when they think the other team is pulling a new play.

It’s all predictable, but not at the same time. Risks and playing with the odds, yet revolving around something incredibly low stakes like a ball in a net or getting past a painted line on fake grass. It’s also realistic. Sure, there are once in a lifetime passes like the Minnesota Miracle or a ball sinking into the net from a distance unfathomable as the final buzzer sounds - but most of the time, it’s just about who’s the best that day. Who ran faster, who slipped through someone else’s mistake. You like that the players can pour themselves into it and it’s still not going to be a win every time, because it’s just not sometimes, and that’s okay. They lose and they get up and they do it all over again. They also know that if they win, it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing so without hard work and dedication.

Poetic to your circumstances, really. Steve was just better at the game, and you knew the eventual outcome of your deal with each other. So really, is there anyone to be mad at here other than yourself?

Steve’s laugh echoes down the line and your jaw clenches, because maybe Steve was better at the game, but he certainly wasn’t playing fair.

Yeah, you can still be mad at him.

Your eye twitches as Robin and Leigh gush over horror movies they both love, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving you when they head off together for a bathroom break.

His eyes actually burn your cheek from the way they stare down the row in your direction now that he doesn’t have her to focus on. Clear to you now that all you are - all you ever were - is an afterthought, something to pass the time.

Refusing to look his way, you try not to feel bad about the sigh you hear all the way from five seats away.

Oh, I’m sorry Steve, are you mildly upset that I don’t want to talk to you after you got me to open up just to blindside me?

You’re not surprised when a dark denim leg presses against your shoulder, his large brown boots landing on the open seat next to you as he climbs over. As he sits, you stand, quickly making your way down the row, occupying Robin’s empty seat on the other side of Nancy.

Steve stands, hands on his hips as he frowns. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

Turning your attention back to the field, your knees bounce with restless energy, anticipating his next move. An intricate dance just like the players below you.

Steve climbs back over, and you can’t help but relish a little in his groan and mumbled comment about being twelve under his breath as you shimmy between Eddie and Nancy, shoving Eddie into your old seat, ignoring his grunted protests. Unable to help yourself, you smirk into your beer, watching out of the corner of your eye as Steve’s jaw clenches. Making him irritated seems only fair under the circumstances.

You’re ready for his next attempt, sure he’s going to make Nancy swap with him or come up behind you. So when he puts his foot on the chair, you move to the edge of your seat. Steve pounces, tumbling over the back of the row in front of you instead. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed pink as his hands land on the armrests of your spot. His arms cage you in as he leans over the back of the blue metal chairs, ignoring the grumbled complaints of those he bumped out of the way in his pursuit.

His face fills your vision, freckles that dot the sharp slope of his nose, the light scruff he’s let grow more highlight’s the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cupid’s bow. For a second you forget you’re supposed to be mad when you finally meet his eyes. They steal all of your attention and you hate that you can’t look away.

You hate him.

“We’re gonna talk,” he huffs, catching his breath.

“You should hit the gym.” A sad attempt to change the subject, to hurt him a little. Your eyes flit down to his lips in a mistake. You can’t look at his eyes again so you settle on his cheek, trying your best to ignore the endearing pair of freckles.

“I know you’re mad, and if you just let me explain, I-“

“You’ve had plenty of chances to explain before today Steve!”

The hush of the people around you makes your eyes close, taking a moment for a calming breath. Eddie coughs into his fist on your left and squints at the field, Nancy scratches the denim on her thigh and clears her throat on your right.

Steve’s eyes narrow, his top lip pulls in, tongue licking over it before he lets out a cold laugh, “Jesus Christ, what was I supposed to do, tell you while we’re fucking? Or how about after you told me about your parents? I-“

The beer in your hand splashes across his face as he coughs and sputters. His fingers wipe over his eyes and you stand, pushing past the gawking crowd and down the stairs.

Nancy and Eddie were right.

Steve Harrington is a fucking idiot.

You’d rode the train past your stop twice, both your airpods in and a look about you that dared anyone to even glance at you the wrong way. At the sight of the sun sinking past the horizon, you bite down on your cheek, willing your gut to stop twisting as it attaches a thing you love to him. Steve Harrington was not going to ruin sunsets for you, you draw the line at fucking grilled cheese and football.

The flick of your entryway lamp illuminates your place, the lyrics “You call me strawberry wine…” drift out of your airpod as you remove it from your ear. You’ve had enough of the universe’s poetic irony today. Tossing the case and your keys into their dish as you turn the lock on your door.

The sunset is the least of your worries, what didn’t he touch here? Your door, the coffee mugs he proclaimed as his favorites, the counter, the fire escape. You reach for the bottle of wine on top of your fridge as you click on the Instagram notification.

A caption reading ‘We just hope both teams had fun🏈 ’ below her photos. A selfie first, Robin’s bashful face filling the screen, getting her cheek kissed by Nancy. Another, this one with you - she must have caught it during bags - a shot of Eddie and you mid-laugh. The last one clearly taken after you left, the group in the stands, Steve’s sweater gone, replaced by a dry light blue t-shirt. You click your phone locked again and drink straight out of the bottle as you walk down the dark hallway. Old wood floors creak underneath your feet as you make your way to your room.

Fuck, your room.

It’s a moment that perhaps you should be crying during, do normal people cry when boys like Steve Harrington blindside them? When a man you start to break down for was spooning you fully clothed at the start of the day and getting a beer tossed in his face by the end, shouldn’t some sort of despair come out in the form of dramatic tears? Nothing leaves your eyes though as you strip the sheets off of your bed. Steve’s not worth any. No guy is.

Tugging harshly at the last corner of the fitted sheet with a frustrated grunt, you throw all of your bedding out into the hallway and slam the door. The flutter of paper on your desk as the door swings closed catches your eye, your chest tightens at the realization of what you left there.

The glow from the setting sun outside washes over the photobooth strip as you walk towards it, lit up in a perfect square of tangerine. Your thumb brushes the last photo as you pick it up, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

It rips easier than maybe it should have, diminished to something small and as broken as you can make it before you toss it in the trash in your bathroom. Your eyes linger on the shower curtain and then your shampoo. The wine bottle presses to your lips again as you make a mental note, adding those to your list of things to replace tomorrow as well.

Your phone pings again, the group chat you’ve just been recently added to:

Your thumb presses the lock after turning it to silent, the dots from Robin appearing letting you know you don’t want to keep reading all of them talk. Your bare mattress stares at you as you drink more wine. They’re home. Together? In his apartment? In his bed?

It doesn’t matter, good for Steve, hope he’s happy. Good fucking riddance, right?

Opening your bedroom door, you sigh at the pile of bedding, stepping over it and making your way to your couch. Your protective wall is still standing, your armor dusted off and polished once more. It’s time to pick up the pieces, replace what’s broken, and move on from what others like Eddie may want to tell you is heartbreak, but you would argue is just called life.

And life is pain, and anyone who tells you differently is selling something, right?

Halloween season used to be one of your favorite times of the year. Parties and opportunities to dress up like someone you’re not. Evenings to be a character in a story far different than the one you were living, with lines already planned for you to say, an ending meticulously thought out. Now, however, the red fabric that clings to your body serves only as a reminder of how your life is the furthest thing from picture perfect.

Originally, when you found the dress thrifting with Robin, it had felt a little like fate. A tiny and gentle nudge from the universe in the right direction - a sign. Now, you’re sure it was actually some twisted joke. Someone, somewhere out there, is laughing it up as they play with you like a plastic doll. Because even meeting Robin, a thing you were positive was divine intervention, is now wrapped around him. Some evil force at work as they had you meet her, then him, while they cackled and said ‘Ha! Watch this! This one’ll be good.’

Your costume now a cruel oxymoron - a girl who resents love dressed as someone who cherishes it. Pretending to be a girl who loved a boy endlessly, so devoted, she claimed to die the day he supposedly did. A girl who-

“You know,” a finger pokes your cheek, “For a princess, your sour look is not very princessey.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at you, hands on her hips, orange fabric of her skirt swishing around her thighs as she turns. Her sparkly red turtleneck and shine of her black mary jane’s glint in the strobe lights that are making sweeps over the room.

You try to smile, if only for the fact that Nancy actually got her to wear the costume. Crossing your arms, your eyebrows raise as you respond, “Well, you must be a detective or something, Miss Dinkley.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but fights a smile, fiddling with the magnifying glass in her hands. When you don’t say anything more though, her big blue eyes soften as they glance up at you through fake glasses, and she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, is everything okay? I feel like…” she trails off, shaking her head, at a loss for words it seems - an unusual thing for her.

The line for the bar shifts forward and you nod, that terrible feeling still sits heavy in your stomach like a bag of rocks - you’re weighed down, to be left at the bottom of your guilt to drown. “I’m fine, Robin,” it slips out when you repeat the words quieter, because maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aha!” She points a finger in your face, “You just said be fine, implying something is in fact not fine currently and-“

“Robin,” your laugh is unconvincing even to yourself. You rub your temples as you face the bar. “Quit being a meddling kid.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out with a little more bite than you intend and her mouth shuts quickly. It’s silent for only a few seconds though, before her shoulder bumps yours. Her question quiet, “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

Your head rests against her shoulder in a silent ‘I’m sorry’, hers against yours in an equally unspoken ‘You’re forgiven’ as you sigh. “Oh, just since you put on the costume.”

She hums and then lifts her head and faces you. “Last thing, and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

Facing her, you swallow harshly as she stares at you with eyes that feel like they can see everything. Even more so when she says, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re important to me. And if there’s something going on…” she trails off before smiling sadly and continuing, “You can tell me, okay? You can open up and I’ll probably talk too much and offer too much advice, but comes from a place of love and-“

You hug her tightly, Robin wraps her arms around you just as fiercely as her sentence breaks off. Your response sticks in your throat, an alarming hope of ‘what if I told her?’ rising in you that you need to squash down quickly. She can’t know, despite Nancy’s warning that she should. If she did find out, you’re not certain she’d be on your side anyways. It was all your idea to lie to her, it’s selfish of you to ask her to comfort you in this situation.

Especially after you made her practically drag you to the party tonight. Eventually giving into her puppy dog pout (for a girl who easily falls for it, she has a pretty convincing one herself), your guilt all but consuming you at this point. You could put on a smile, a brave face - you could pretend to be someone you’re not, just tonight, and just for her.

You haven’t seen Steve since the football game, ignoring any sort of notification related to him in your phone. But in the process of trying to remove anything Steve from your life, you’ve removed Robin from it as well - a packaged deal. Each ignored message, each call you watched ring and left unanswered, every dodged lunch, were just more punches to your gut, pieces of your heart ripped off and stepped on. You missed Robin so much, one night out, forced to make small talk with him, was a fair price to pay for the deceit and lies - if it meant you got to see her again.

When you break away from the hug, it’s your turn for the bar finally. Both of your eyes widen at the sight of the specialty drink menu. ‘Bootini’s’ and things like a cocktail called ‘Vampire Kiss’ making both of you frown at the dollar signs next to each. You’re suddenly grateful for the tequila that’s still filling your stomach with warmth and Eddie’s insistence on taking the shots before leaving Nancy’s.

“They do have like, a regular bar, right? Cause your girl is on a budget and…” your sentence trails off as Robin smiles at something, someone, over your shoulder.

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.”

His voice alone is enough to make your shoulders go up, to cause your stomach to twist, but when you spin to see him, you know it’s not the tequila making the room feel fuzzy and your stomach heave.

He can’t be serious.

He is not wearing that. He’s not.

“Come up with that all by yourself, did ya?” Robin pats Steve’s shoulder and before he can reply she’s holding up a hand in front of his face, letting out a low whistle. “Hoolly cooww.” She motions for Leigh to spin who blushes and laughs, but obliges as Robin keeps going, “Miss Morticia Addams, if you wanna ditch Dingus here…”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, an edge to his tone you may have found amusing if it wasn’t because of his best friend hitting on his girlfriend. “Seriously, Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him and Leigh laughs more, squeezing his shoulder. “I should be the one saying holy cow! Look at you two! Y/N, where did you find that dress?”

God, you hate that she’s nice.

Her dress is phenomenal. The low cut, black fabric that hugs her curves and drapes over her flattering in a way it simply wouldn’t be on you. She’s got the perfect gauzy sleeves, the rings and red lips and nails, she’s even got a rose and scissors in her hand.

You hate that you want to like this girl.

Your smile is tense, “I, uh-“

The bartender clears her throat and you point, saved by the bell, turning your back on the group. A name of one of the drinks leaves your lips and you’re vaguely aware of Robin saying something about finding the others and to not order her something with whiskey in it because he remembers what happened last time.

The deep breathing through your nose is a sad attempt for composure when you get a longer chance to take Steve in. Even with the dim bar lighting, the mirror behind the shelf of various liquors gives you a perfect view. You’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him.

Steve’s dressed in all black, head to toe, the v-cut of the flowy top revealing quite a bit of his dark chest hair and you swallow, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. You always hated how Buttercup couldn’t tell it was Westley, in fact, you hate it in any movie when a character has a mask over their eyes and suddenly everyone is unable to tell who they’re dancing with, hell who’s kissing them. If anything, the black band of fabric across his face only makes the lips below and the eyes underneath it stand out more - the curve of his top lip you can still feel under your tongue. The colors of his iris’ so distinctly Steve that you’d recognize anywhere - instead of a sea after a storm, a forest. He really went all out, even his scruff shaved to have a thin mustache, he’s wearing the black cap pushing down his normally styled and perfectly messy hair, and when you glance down, you’re not surprised to find matching pirate boots standing next to you.

His hand reaches across your chest with a matte black card - that kind that isn’t glossy like a normal one and you quickly hand the bartender crumpled bills instead, earning a sigh from Steve.

“You’re not seriously wearing that.” Weeks of no contact, and you hate that your voice doesn’t come out strong and confident when that’s all you can think to say.

Risking a glance his way, you find his eyes are already on you, his jaw clenching before he asks, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Your inhale is sharp - how can he be this cruel? How can he act like that costume means nothing, or like the last few weeks weren’t awful? Weren’t they awful for him? To go from talking almost every day to nothing?

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?” Gesturing up and down his body as you ask. He truly can’t be this much of an asshole, he can’t-

Steve shrugs. “I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Turns out, he can be.

Before you can even start to formulate something nasty to respond with, a person walking by shouts out, “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!” Clapping Steve’s shoulder as they waltz past like it’s the 90’s and people still say ‘dudes’ to strangers.

Dude did just make your point for you at least, though.

You hold your hands out to the retreating body in a show of ‘see?’ and then childishly flip Steve off. “The case rests, your honor.”

“It was last minute and I didn’t-”

His weak and pathetic attempts at excuses fall on deaf ears as you push your way through the crowd towards the beacon of red neon announcing an exit for this god forsaken bar.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you don’t think it is - screw Steve Harrington for ruining a fucking bar, for ruining the word dude, for ruining The Princess Bride, for ruining everything.

Screw everything.

The sting of rejection and the quiet anger that’s been sitting at a simmer since the game rests over an open flame now. Your insides quickly grow to a rapid boil. Apathy and anger rage for the top spot as everything you’ve tried to keep under a lid steams, ready to overflow and burn.

Ignoring the calls of your name, something still makes it past your seeing red rampage of an exit, connecting the voices, aware of Steve saying something to someone, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care who or what. The cool air hits your body as you push outside, stinging against the damp skin under your eyes.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, his voice quiet, “Y/N-“

“Don’t touch me, Steve,” you warn, taking a step backwards after yanking your shoulder from under his fingers. Your hands balled into fists as you spin to look at him.

He runs a hand through his now uncovered hair, face fully revealed without a mask too. He watches you closely, his voice gentle, as he raises his hands up, “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-“

“You don’t get to check on me anymore, or worry about if I’m okay, you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone scathing.

Steve’s gaze bounces over your face, his jaw hardens as the vein in his forehead dances. Somehow his voice is soft despite the bite to it, “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I am your friend, and I -“

Your laugh causes him to break off. You gesture inside and then to his outfit. “Friends don’t treat each other this way, Steve.”

He drags his palms down his face, his own disbelieving laugh echoes against the brick of the bar. “Are you kidding me? I have been nothing but your friend! I am sorry about what I said at the game, but really, when was I supposed to tell you? And this costume…I…” He shakes his head, licking his lips as he takes a step closer to you. “Look. I should have told you about Leigh sooner, but if you would have given me five minutes to-“

“Five minutes. A sec.” Your hands move in quotation marks as you recall the conversation he wanted to have at the game too. Your face pinches into an irritated scowl as your hands drop in front of you, palms open. Exasperation laced around your words, “What the fuck is there to explain anymore, Harrington? You’re dating her and you didn’t tell me - the story is over.”

Steve stands just in front of you now, that gravitational pull at silent work again, even weeks apart unable to switch it off. Your bodies move with each other, your voices rise in sync, your chests fall with shared breaths. A different sidewalk, that same feeling of flight or fight, but you know that it’s too late this time. Even turning the heat off isn’t going to fix the damage that’s been done.

Another laugh huffs out of him, “You’d like that, right? That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything.” He shakes his head and points to his chest, towering over you, “This is all such total bullshit. You’re mad at me for something that was your idea, because you didn’t get to decide when it was over.” He shrugs, waves of nonchalance carrying his words through the air to hit you hard like a slap across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

Any maturity you attempted to have towards the situation has evaporated.

“Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

Your chests almost touch with each ragged breath as his hands run through his hair and he pulls. A frustrated groan at your words, while the volume at which his come out becomes louder, “I’ve got plenty of fucking mirrors, why don’t you take your own advice! You’re a hypocrite. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you didn’t ask me for this arrangement. Tell me that the words ‘no feelings’ and ‘just sex’ didn’t leave your mouth. Tell me what you have to be upset with me for then!”

Your chin quivers at his words, the truth of them daring the tears behind your eyes to fall.

Steve gulps, his fingers dance on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes shine with his own held back tears, like he regrets how he said it but not that he did. His voice quiets as he pleads, “Tell me.”

He doesn’t get to look at you like that. He doesn’t get to say those things to you and then look at you like that.

What happened last time Steve Harrington asked you to open up and tell him something?

Tequila lingers on your tongue, aiding in the formation of words that are meant to sting - you want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. You bite down on your jaw, the anger and pain ready to fall down your cheeks as you remove yourself from him.

Your hands press against his chest, “You’re bullshit. This is bullshit.” A small shove as you practically growl the next words, “I’m a hypocrite? How about the fucking bathroom at that party where you told me I couldn’t have it both ways, but then you’re dating someone while getting all jealous?” Another shove, this time his fingers brush your wrists, a halfhearted attempt to get you to stop. “Begging me to open up to you? For fucking what, Steve? This costume? You…” you close your eyes and let your hands drop, letting the words do all the work now, “You’re a liar. You’re an asshole.”

Steve’s head ducks down, his fingers brushing his nose before he rolls his shoulders back. When his mouth opens, you step backwards, shaking your head.

“Lose my number, Steve.”

His eyes roam over your face, waiting, searching. He only nods once and takes his own step back.

“As you wish.”

Your breath sucks in sharply, a sob you’ve been holding in since the moment he said the words ‘Sorry we’re late’ threatens to finally crack out of your chest. You wish you had another beer to toss in his face for using those words at this moment.

It’s not said with the kind of reverence of the movie. There isn’t a narrator to let you know what he actually means by the phrase. But you know. It’s not an ‘I love you’, not like this. No, it’s merely a promise to do as you asked.

All you can do is turn away from him, hold your chin up and roll your shoulders back as you walk down the sidewalk.

There is no hopeful glance back over your shoulder, no loud smacks against the pavement made by his feet chasing after you like in the movies.

Like you said, your story is over.

'One New Voicemail':

“Hey, just thought I’d try ya, I know you’ve been busy. Um, well, Steve and I are heading to the Rocky Horror show tonight and I know he’d love someone to aid in his teasing of how totally into it I get. Right Steve?”

[muffled sounds of movement and whispers]

“Hm…yeah, I uh-”

[a clear smack to his shoulder]

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you or we’ve done something just the three of us! Anyways, call me back, text me…beep me if you wanna reach me…ugh, sorry that was so lame, okay bye. Love you!”

If you were surviving before them, you could survive without them. It seemed simple enough.

You’ve never stayed in one place for long, friendships like Robin, Eddie, and Nancy had been left before. Friendships that were never given a chance to really even start before you were gone. The promise of any relationships packed into boxes and off to the next city. Addresses and phone numbers and notes of ‘Keep in touch’ left to collect dust until forgotten about completely.

So, it should have been easy to continue to ignore their messages. To ignore the holes in your chest, to ignore the want to call or text one of them when something happened as mundane as a stranger calling another stranger ‘toots’ in your mailroom. If Steve touched things in your life and now caused them to wilt in your memories and sights, the other three made things bloom. They breathed life into you again.

You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington take something like that away from you.

Which is why you found yourself curled into your father’s sweater for courage, walking down the sidewalk towards the cemetery with a promise to meet them there.

Orange and brown leaves crinkle underfoot before they blow across the pavement. The moon is full, the sky that deep indigo it seems to only get this time of year. Both a perfect backdrop for the bare trees that dance in the wind and the blocks lined with homes with glowing porch lights. Orange buckets overflowing with candy rush past in a blur, laughter and squeals of children echoing down the street past you.

As you make it to the black iron fence, your eyes roam the blankets and patrons occupying them in the park next to the cemetery. Apple and brown sugar meet your nose and you take special note of the mini donut booth attached to the scent. Which is where you see Eddie, shoving two in his mouth and rolling his eyes at Nancy. He spots you and grins around the sugary dough, nudging the shoulder to his right and nodding in your direction.

Robin spins and you see her shoulders visibly fall and a grin spread across her face. She says something to the other two who head in the direction of the blankets and she races through the crowd. Muffled oofs and sorry’s meet your ears as she dodges and spins around people balancing concessions.

You reach the front of the line, a sandwich board proudly displaying the original ‘The Evil Dead’ poster sits next to an older woman on a stool at the gate. She smiles at you, holding a flashlight towards the ground. “Ticket, dear?”

“Rose! Rose, she's my girl!” Robin shouts, breathless as she makes it to the gate.

“Oh!” The elderly woman smiles wider, ushering you through, “Have fun ladies! Tell Edward I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robin salutes with two fingers and then grabs you in a hug. “Jesus Christ I missed you!” Her voice is loud and she shrinks in your arms as the lights of the booths go out and the crowd surrounding you turns and shushes. Her voice shifts to a whisper, “Whoops. Come on, we’re towards the back and we still have all the commercials to chat without too many nasty looks.”

Robin holds your arm in a death grip, a silent promise to not let you out of her sights and clutches so long as she can help it again it seems. When you reach the blanket, Nancy and Eddie’s conversation stops abruptly and their smiles seem painted on as they look up at you.

It’s one of those moments, those silences that are too stilted and too abrupt, letting you know exactly what was being discussed just seconds before. You wave a little, ears burning since you have no doubt about who the subject of their interrupted conversation was.

“Eddie,” Robin begins, huffing as she falls to their cushy spot with extra blankets, trays of drinks, and several bags of sweets littered around them, “Rose is fiending.”

“Oh shit!” Ducking and wincing when someone turns around and glares at him. He grabs one of the cups with a big R on top and squeezes your shoulder as he stands, “Be right back! Glad you came!”

Sitting as Robin pats his now empty spot next to her. “Can I get you anything? We have cocoa and cider, donuts, popcorn, candy corn, caramel corn, basically any kind of corn and-“

“Robin,” Nancy hums, almost singing, as she sips from a cup. She squeezes her fingers. “You have to actually take a breath to let her respond.”

“I’ll never say no to a cider or donut,” you point to the items with a laugh.

Robin grabs them and hands it to you. She whacks pillows and squishes around, rolling and frowning and readjusting.

Eventually, she sighs, content, and grabs Nancy’s hand and then a donut from your bag and knocks it against one in your fingers before taking a bite.

“Happy?” Nancy asks as Robin hums around the sugar she licks off of her lips.

“You know it. Only thing that would make tonight better is…” she trails off with a grin.

You take her words as a warning to look around, wondering where he is and mentally preparing yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you though.

It happens quickly and yet not at the same time.

Your head turns to see them walking hand in hand. A swing of fingers as they walk past twinkling lights, the breeze blowing her hair perfectly.

Nancy says “Shit,” under her breath as she sits up. When you turn to look at her with a frown, she opens her mouth but no words come out.

The movie starts.

Eddie slows down as he makes his way back towards the blanket, looking at Nancy then over his shoulder then back at you.

Robin waves her arm too much and you turn to look again, trying to figure out what you’re not getting.

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he stops, tripping over his own shoe.

Leigh waves and something sparkles on her hand in the moonlight.

Robin beams and squeezes your wrist. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe they actually came! I figured with the whole engagement thing they wouldn’t. Now it’s all officially perfect. All my favorite people together on my favorite day.”

Plot twist: Steve Harrington is engaged.

WCIL taglist:

@loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

#steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #we'll call it love

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chaoticklesblog · 2 months ago

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TERRIFIER TICKLE HEADCANNONS BC I AM OBSESSED...

Where to begin... So recently, I've become obsessed with the idea of Art the Clown being a RUTHLESS tickle monster to his victims. Can you blame me? On with my HC's. *I don't own rights to the franchise, characters, etc. I love the shit outta these movies, though! Art is definitely my favorite slasher.

Warning for vague spoilers of the movie series, violence, horror related content, and headcannons that can be viewed as slight NSFW (nonsexual) that have nothing to do with the movie in itself.

Art looooves a good game of chase. Stalking his victims, chasing them, building up anticipation for whats to come, you name it! He loves putting on a good show. Rather than killing his victims in violent, bloody ways, he intends to tickle the snot out of them. (He is a clown, after all, and most clowns normally want to get people to laugh). AND LAUGH THEY WILL OMG.

Needs a safe word his victims don't even KNOW. When he captures his victims, he fully intends to tickle them stupid. Begging, laughing, screaming, pleading for mercy only encourages him. He's definitely a ruthless tickle monster. (Don't ever let him find out you like it).

Carries around various tickly objects like feathers and brushes in his bag rather than his usual tools and weapons of mass destruction. He's seriously into the torturous aspect of things.

He absolutely laughs with his victims. More so, at them! Silently, of course, but it definitely feels teasy. He loves making his victims blush by making it as embarrassing as possible.

Definitely utilizes the psychological aspect of tickling against his victims. Will use blindfolds and gags depending on the mood he is in. Isn't opposed to binding his victims in order to make the torture much more unbearable. I can't stop imagining him honking his lil bicycle horn at victims before he tickles them. Ahhhhh.

Will 100% tickle his victims until they pee!! Lol. He finds it to be hilarious every time! And he'll never let you live it down either.

Art definitely loves the idea of tickling people on vulnerable areas like their necks and ribs and stomachs (usually where he cuts/stabs people) as he finds it endearing humans are ticklish where they're vital organs are.

Don't let him find your worst spot. Literally. The torture will NEVER stop. Especially the more you beg or scream.

Art definitely is also ticklish. Not growing up with any kind of affectionate contact, it's a new concept for him, which is why he tends to go overboard with tickling. He's not used to the sensation, and tickling him is possible if you can catch him off guard, but be careful... Art will always get revenge on those who dare to tickle him, and his payback will be a thousand times worse. Seriously. He takes being tickled as a challenge and will stop at nothing to make sure those who even try to learn their lesson.

Behind the scenes: I'm a big believer that there is a lot of goofing around between takes and such during the production of horror movies such as this one. And the premise of the protagonist actors being chased, cornered, jump scared, and wrestled etc, sometime, somewhere, someone is BOUND to be tickled either by accident or on purpose during the making of these scenes. And because Art's actor seems like a loveable goofball in real life, it makes me think these are that much more likely to happen, not only behind the scenes, but even in character since David makes Art so loveable even though Art is also a completely demonic little shit.

#terrifier #terrifier movies #terrifier headcannons #terrifier tickle head cannons #tword blog #tickle content #tword content #chaos says stuff #tword post #tickle fic blog #art the clown #horror movie head cannons #horror movie tickle head cannons #slightly suggestive #head cannons where the villain is actually a tickle monster #just some of my own silly goofy thoughts #can you blame me tho #been watching the first 2 movies to prep for the 3rd one lolololol can you tell

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Jungkook:

𝐄𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Intro

Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Jungkook, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, human?Reader, Fluff, Courting, MC kinda wary of kook at first, but he's cute give him a chance pls

Length: ~2k

-> Masterlist

"Look at you! All the new color suits you well!" Seokjin laughs, commenting on Jungkook's tattoos which had been changing over the course of the year since he's seen his friends last festival. The younger dragon simply shrugs, though he can't help but stand a bit more proudly at the comment, considering that his body ink is a visual representation of his identity within the Clan up to this point.

It's all part of the tradition after all; as soon as a dragonkin turns 21 years old, they're considered an adult, officially on their own and ready to build their own families and futures, and while not all do it, he likes to wear his identity openly like this.

Even though in the modern world, his dragon blood isn't seen as something to be proud of anymore. In fact, it's treated as nothing more than a simple remnant of lost times, outdated and no longer of any importance.

It's why most members of the dragon bloodlines tend to stay amongst each other, most of their social circles consisting of other dragons, just like he himself tends to do. A lot of his friends have been finding their mates recently, and while Jungkook is happy about that, he himself isn't really interested in that- at least not right now. He's doing good all by himself at the moment, so he doesn't really see the need to settle down right now. He's also not yet found anybody he'd really honestly see himself wanting to settle down with- so for now, he just attends the traditional festivals every year to reconnect with his friends and family, let himself go for a little while and leave all those expectations of the modern world behind for at least a small amount of time.

"Are the rest here too?" Jungkook asks Jin as they both walk into the Hotel close to the festival spaces, many already setting up their tents and booths for tonight.

"Taehyung is coming a bit later, he said the whole trip is taking a bit longer now that his mate's pregnant." He says, making Jungkook nod next to him, greeting some elders along the way. "she's not even properly showing, yet he's already all scrambled up in the head." He jokes.

"I've heard about that! Yoongi owes me a hundred bucks now." He laughs, remembering the bet he'd made with the older dragon last year when Taehyung had announced his engagement to his mate. He'd always dreamed of a big family- so it wasn't surprising to Jungkook that his friend already had the first child on the way.

Maybe one day he'll have his own, too.

"I remember when Yoongi of all people attended the hunt and actually caught his mate too!" Seokjin laughs. "Remember that? It was honestly hilarious to see him so desperate. The old slow guy all out on the fields." He teases, as the man in question walks into view.

"At least I've caught something. Not like mister forever virgin over here." He teases, laughing when Jungkook growls offended, mumbling something about that 'not being true at all hyung.!' Under his breath as the older one walks alongside them.

It's when a giggle catches him off guard, the sound accompanied by what he can only describe as a small bell faintly in the background.

When he looks for the source of the sound, he finds your eyes pretty quickly- gaze hauntingly beautiful as he doesn't even realize he'd just stopped walking for no reason, one of his friends bumping into him the only cause of distraction for him. And for a second, he looks away, only a small but of time - and suddenly you're no longer there, disappearing as quickly as you've appeared in the first place. "Who was that?" He asks no one in particular, Yoongi shrugging as he tries to find what his friend seems to be looking for.

"Who was who?" He asks, before everyone walks away with him to greet Taehyung and his partner who'd just arrived.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He spots you again as you tie your hair up, elastic in between your lips where you hold it while your hands collect all your hair. It's a normal thing he's seen a lot of people do- himself included, considering the length of his hair these days- and yet when you do it, it looks like Aphrodite captured in marble, details enchanting and intricate.

He almost feels like he shouldn't watch.

And yet he does, even continues to look your way with his hand around his glass of water, small leftovers of his meal completely uninteresting compared to the sight of you walking closer to the older women to help with washing clothes and other things in the riverbed. He can spot Jimin and other male dragons between them as well, and he wonders if you enjoy those tasks.

During this time of the year, everyone is pulled back to the old ways of living. From using almost no electricity to trading things instead of buying it with money, things work simply differently during these next few days, and he personally enjoys this more simpler way of living to the fullest. There's no space for boredom or anything like that- always something to do for him, never an empty second.

Even now, as he watches you.

For a while, you seem to not notice him until one of the women taps your shoulder, talking to you for a few words before you turn your head to meet his eyes. Surprise is written over your features, especially when he boldly pats the spot next to him at the table, silently inviting you to sit with him, maybe even share a meal.

You wonder a little. Does he know that offering a meal is one part of courting a fellow dragon?

He probably does, considering his appearance. He does look like you'd expect a modern dragon to carry himself; from the wyvern tooth necklace around his neck, the colored tattoos under his skin, even the challenging fire behind his eyes. He surely knows his heritage, which makes it even more odd to you.

Though you wouldn't ever pass the chance of getting to know someone like him.

He's well known in the community of female dragons- mostly for his lack of interest in anybody when it comes to actually finding a mate. For a long time, there's been a rumor going around that he wasn't simply interested in females in general- but that was quickly debunked after it got known that he does, in fact, seek out pleasure without any long-term relationship in mind. It makes you wary of his intentions right now though-

Because that's not what you're seeking here, or at all.

You sit down across from him at the table, having dried your hands before joining him, his eyes friendly as they watch you, someone already next to you asking what you'd like to eat. As soon as that person leaves, it's Jungkook's turn to talk to you. "I've never seen you around here before." He tells you, arms now on the table as he's got them crossed in front of him. "I'm Jungkook."

"I know." You nod. "Both of those things." You shrug, looking around for a moment before you spare him another look. "I'm not interested."

"I haven't even proposed anything." He counters, head tilted a bit as he's internally confused as to what you might've heard about him that could make you so wary of his intentions. In his world, he's not done anything questionable, ever- he doesn't fuck around, never broke somebody's heart, is always pretty clear and honest with whomever he crosses paths.

"But I know what guys like you want." You simply say, thanking the young dragon who puts your plate down in front of you. "And I'm not offering that." You tell him without looking, simply starting to eat instead.

"What do I want then?" He asks, moving one of his arms so his chin can rest on his palm. "You got me curious."

"Sex." You bluntly tell him, reaching for the large water pitcher standing somewhat closer to Jungkook than to you- something he instantly notices, lifting it for you instead to fill your cup. "Thanks." You offer quietly, and he nods at that, putting it back down.

"Interesting." He just shrugs after he sits back down in front of you. "That's not what I want though. I mean- you're attractive, don't get me wrong- but I'd like to get to know you first, if anything." He proposes, and you narrow your eyes at him.

"That sounds like you're aiming for my heart." You accuse, pointing your steak-knife at him. "And that's even worse." You say, making him laugh.

"No, I promise. I really just.. think you're really pretty, and from what I can tell, you're also exactly my type- but if you want me to leave you alone, I can totally do that too." He offers politely, and you chew on your food in thought before you rest your cheek on your palm, poking at some vegetables.

"How am I your type?" You ask him, curious to know what makes you stand out to him. It must be something at least- because if he's never wanted a relationship with anybody before why pursue someone as boring as you for that role of all things? You know you're a good friend, but a girlfriend? No, you're lame, and you've come to accept that after all those failed relationships.

Your question makes him light up visually, as he sits up straighter with a bit of a smile on his lips. "It's hard to explain. You're cute, but I like people who have their own mind." He shrugs, explaining his view on you while you don't look at him. "Visually, you check all my boxes. If your character does the same thing, I guess we just have to find out." He tells you, and you look at him now.

"What if you don't check any of my boxes?" You ask him, looking for how he's going to react. "You're too tall for me, for example. And your muscles scare me a little." You jab at him, cutting your food as if you're talking about the weather. "You seem like someone obsessed with working out. I'm not. In fact, I don't ever really work out. I don't really look at what I eat in general, to be honest."

"That's fine by me." He simply answers when you stop talking. "I don't really watch it that much either- only if I have a shooting or something alike." He explains, making you nod quietly. "But if I don't check any of your boxes, like you say, why come over and sit with me then?" He teases, leaning in over the table a little bit.

You shrug. "Your tattoos." You simply tell him. "They're pretty good. Who made these?" You ask, and he looks at them for a second, before he moves his gaze back to you.

"Min Yoongi back in Seoul did most of them. He specializes in dragon tattoos." He explains, and you nod at that.

"I thought I remembered the artstyle." You say. "He's always been very neat with his work." You mumble more or less, before you sigh, putting your cutlery onto your empty plate, pulling your glass of water closer. "Alright- do you want my number now, or.?" You ask, suspecting that he would maybe ask you on a date or something after the whole festival is over. But he genuinely surprises you, when his eyes narrow in a challenging manner, the dragon peeking through in a way as he leans forward over the table, standing up.

You're wary- and he assumes it might be because you've never truly experienced anything good when it comes to finding partners. He can relate to this; and he can also gain power from that simple fact, simply because now more than ever, he wants to prove himself to you. He wants to show you that he truly is different from what you might believe.

"I'll just win you over, easy." He tells you, promises almost, as he pulls the wyvern tooth from around his neck, and leaves it close to your hand- an offering of sorts, a first step at trying to impress you, even if small. "The traditional way." He finishes up, leaving you alone at the table, simply watching as he walks away and merges with the crowd.

Maybe you've underestimated him.

Maybe he's not who you think he is.

Maybe you've finally found your match.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine

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pandorasfavorite · 1 year ago

Text

Keep teasing

AN: THIS IS SMUT👀👀👀. Do people care if I wrote longer fics? Am I overthinking? Also hey guys.

“Do you like when I show you off? Does that turn my girl on?” he whispers to you only a few feet away from the rest of The Judgment Day. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin and you straighten up for a second not excepting him to whisper in your ear from beside you. Dominik’s hand lingers close and your shoulders are almost touching, he’s always close but out of reach. BUT he is in reach, you push him away jokingly not far, not even hard enough for him to move his feet “No” you answer.

Dominik smirks all he wants to do is tease you all day, just to get you worked up. He leans over again, “The way you were rubbing you’re thighs together says another thing”he laughs a little. Your cheeks go aflame or maybe it just feels like that but Dominik knows. He knows each and every inch of you. His teasing isnt rare but usually he doesn’t keep it up for too long, but today he’s using everything to his advantage. You glance at Dominik from the corner of your eyes intrigued by his actions, your eyes fall short and him arms and the glimpse of his chest. Even the slightest bit of skin showing on him is just as sexy as without any showing at all. “See something you like baby?” He questions and you know the answer.

“Yea, you” he smiles nodding and he turns his head to seem like he’s paying attention. Your eyes fall onto him again, Dominik can feel your eyes on him. Dominik whispers to you once more, “I know how bad you want me”. Without time to let you think he walks out of the room announcing that he will back. You collect yourself realizing you are standing alone in the middle of a room. You stand closer to the rest of the group waiting for Dominik while talking to Rhea.

"Well, I think that would be a good idea too. Plus your Women Champion Rhea", you reassure her in these rare moments of self-doubt. You continue talking to the rest of the Judgment Day not paying attention to anything around you; you've let your guard down. No one pays much attention to the door opening; this group is transparent. Dominik walks inside quietly slipping behind you, without you noticing. His hands find your hips and he holds them from behind firmly. You gasp in surprise feeling someone pushing against you but the smell of Dom's cologne and the familiar feeling of his hands brings you back to your senses.

His grip is so strong that you wouldn't be able to move even if you tried. He pushed up against you, his bulge right against your ass. Dominik pulls you up against him by the hips and he puts his chin on your shoulder. Your voice flatters and the conversation you were in is completely lost in your brain, "What were you saying? You were just talking" Dominik says swaying your bodies side to side. You can't concentrate on anything but Dominik and what's up against you "Uhhh, I'm sorry guys I forgot" You kindly apologize.

Finn thinks that's hilarious, "Oh yea you 'forgot'" he says in air quotes. You puff up in defense looking at him with a playful scowl, "I really did Balor". Damian thinks the small feud is even more amusing, "Oo Balor your in big trouble buddy", you point your finger at Damian as a silly warning. Rhea chastes at the boys for teasing you and while they are distracted with their own conversation, Dominik begins to kiss your neck. Behind your ear, along your jaw, the side of your neck where it feels best. You crane your next to the side giving him more room, you put a hand in his hair urging him to go on.

But its always something, Rhea interrupted and told you and Dominik to get a room. You roll your eyes knowing that you would never do nothing extremely gross in front of then, “Give us 5 minutes” you request with a smile and Rhea waves you off and just says to catch up later. As the door clicks closed and the rest of the group leaves Dominik moves swiftly. He gets so close, close enough for you to see all the details on his face.

His lips are close to yours: only a centimeter apart. You can feel him exhale against your lips, drawing you in. Your eyes flutter close on instinct and you think for a moment that Dominik was going to meet you in the middle. Time ticks by like it’s going in slow motion, after what feels like hours you open your eyes to see Dominik backed up partially and smiling teasingly. You can’t control yourself, you feel the twinge of anger hit you because Dominik has been at this all day.

Dominiks teasing face flatters just a little when he sees that you are about to get worked up. Dominik reaches to hold you by the arms in a almost hug, but you pull away pushing his hands away. “Mhm no you don’t get to touch me anymore” you say taking a mad but playful approach. Dominiks heart skips a beat at the possibility that his girlfriend truly mad but your hand running down his arm shows that your less than mad. Dominiks eyes follow the movement of your hand and he feels himself get excited for a split second, but Dom knows what he was trying to do today. Now your turning this around on him.

“I think it’s the other way around mami” he mutters pushing you back against a wall with his fingertips. You feel the words clog up in your throat and you don’t know how to express what you are feeling. What you do know is that Dominiks knee pressed against you feels euphoric. Dominik holds the side of your face while dragging his thumb down your lips, his other hand supporting your hips. You hold back from letting out a slight moan when he moves his knee enough to hit your clit.

Dominik caves and his plan failed but his baby looks so good. “Jump”, his hands grasp the back of your thighs and you try and rock against him to feel anything. Dominik smacks your ass still holding you up, he rubs the area with only the pad of his thumb not wanting to drop you. He coo’s at you still rubbing the area, “Be a good girl for me and you’ll get to cum”. The throbbing ache between your legs is only getting more urgent, and this view of Dom’s body is even better. You nod into Dominiks neck holding still just a moment longer.

Dominik pulls down his pants and sits down on the edge of bed with you in his lap. He then takes off his shirt and does the same with your clothes, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples as soon as he could. He kisses your boob muttering praises, “So fucking beautiful baby. All mine”, you nod agreeing; words failing you. Dominik moves his hands to rest in the arch of your back gliding down it, his mouth stays connected to you drawing pornographic moans from your lips.

His hands guides you to rut against him, your pussy bumping against his hard cock. You moan out loudly finally feeling his dick hit your sensitive clit that was begging for attention. You try and speed up as much as possible but Dominik tells you no and moves your hips to a slower pace. You groan, Dominik stops his movements and picks you up again walking around and laying you in the middle of the bed.

You attempt to run your hands down Dominiks chest or even his arms to persuade him to touch you. Before your even able he grabs your wrist and holds them together with his hand above your head. “Dom please” you trail out your back arches in need and Dominik refuses. “Not this time Mami. Lay back” his voice is stern but always still loving. You relax your body and Dominik let’s go of your hands trusting you enough to keep them to yourself.

Dominik is between your legs and his cock is rubbing between your folds and you restrain yourself from thrusting upwards. “Fuck, your soaked” he circles his cock on your clit his tip coated in your juices. He taps your clit a few times listening to your rythmic moan. No one can make you feel this good but him. “This okay baby?” He looks up you sigh out a yes in pleasure , “Please”. He kisses your lips before sinking into you bottoming out, “So fucking good. Making me feel so good”.

You grip the sheets beside you moaning each time he hits deep inside of you. “Faster please. I need to cum” your back arches up a little and Dominik has to push your hips down. He starts to feel you clench around him making him breathily moan in ecstasy. His thumb meets your clit and he thrusts into you faster rubbing you. “I’m going to cum! Don’t stop!” Your hands grasp ahold of his arms now for support. “Gonna cum for me baby? Gonna be a good girl”, his thrusts start to stutter when his dick twitches inside of you.

You nod “ Mhm” before arching even more but getting restricted by Dominik. He keeps moving holding your legs down and drilling into you, his hips jolting while he cum. His head loolls back as he curses in his after glow.

Dominik moves to hover in front of your face cheesing, he kissing your nose then mouth before removing his body. He leaves to come back with a rag to temporarily clean you up. He wipes you down and does the same to himself. Being as supportive as he is he also gets you fresh clothes and puts the others in the hamper. He peels the blanket from under you and replaced it before finally crawling into bed and laying in bed beside you with the light off. Feeling full.

#Dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dom dom #dominik mysterio x you #dominik my bbg

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bigball-thefrog · 7 months ago

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The Mighty Sand Dragon And The Maiden:Crocodile X Reader pt3

______________________________

Pt1 Pt2

The third and final part of the dragon Crocodile series. This was probably one of my favorite things to write. I hope everyone enjoys it and I'll be back again next week

Warnings/Tags:

Fluff

Mentions of blood and injuries

Mentions of cauterization

Fantasy AU

______________________________

Reader POV

It had been a year since I first fought Crocodile and I have been training hard to finally take him down. I have been thinking about our previous fights to try and think of what his weakness could be and I think I might have figured it out. It must be water! Because of his powers as the sand dragon, he can turn into sand, and water makes sand clump together and makes it harder for the sand to move around so freely like it does when the wind blows! It must be he weakness as well. So for my journey I packed my usual supplies but this time I also kept a secret bottle of water under my clothes so I could catch him off guard.

I made it to the entrance of his cave and put my bags down, gripping my sword and keeping the bottle of water strapped to my leg I walked closer. I was about to call out for him when I heard sounds of a struggle coming from inside the cave. I put away my sword and walked inside. Not too far from the entrance I saw Crocodile on the ground, bloodied and bruised, and a knight standing in front of him. I walked closer and spoke up, "What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted at the knight. He was startled with my sudden presence behind him but spoke, "Ah, young maiden. I am just slaying this dragon that has put you under his spell!" "Spell?! What spell??" "Oh, you poor thing. Everyone in town has noticed your disappearances every couple of months and everyone has noticed that you always leave in the direction of the Sand Dragons cave. So you must've been put under his evil spell and for he past year, have been forced to do his evil bidding!" "BULLSHIT!!! I'VE BEEN COMING HERE TO DEFEAT THE DRAGON MYSELF BECAUSE I WANT TO CHANGE MY OWN DESTINY OF BEING A POOR HELPLESS MAIDEN!!!" The knight was shocked at my reason for coming here. He then started laughing right in my face, "That is hilarious! See, you are clearly under the dragons spell, no maiden has the strength to defeat a dragon!~ Worry not maiden, I shall defeat the dragon and escorts you back home safely, maybe you can even reward this handsome knight by being my little bride~" The knight winked at me and held up his sword to deliver the final blow to Crocodile. Quickly taking out my sword, I got in front of him and blocked his attack. The knight looked shocked again and became frustrated, "Stand down maiden, stop defending this evil creature and let me kill it!" "No! This is my destiny and I am not going to let you take it away from me!" "This behavior is traitorous! I'll have you executed with this dragon!"

Crocodile POV:

I layed on the ground, holding my wounds as I watched the maiden take on the knight. They are a brave one for risking being a traitor to their kingdom just to kill me. Something in me felt uneasy seeing them in a serious battle this time, all the times I fought them I just did it to amuse myself, but now this was an actual battle, one that could end in their death. I didn't like the fact they could die but the pain from my own injuries prevented me from getting up and helping. But then that damm knight raised his sword and slashed them across the face, and that made me see red...

Seeing the maiden fall to the ground and crying out as they held their bleeding face gave me a burst of rage fueld adrenaline, I got up and growled. Sand surrounded me and I transformed back into my dragon form. Once the sand disappeared I roared loudly and caused the ground to shake, the knight fell and looked up at me in fear. He didn't even have time to gain his confidence back before I stood on him and crushed the lower half of his body. He screamed in pain but I didn't move, I began to use my powers to suck every last drop of moisture out of his body. His body slowly began to shrivel up, all the moisture in his body gone like rain on the dessert sand. Within a matter of seconds his body was nothing but a husk and armor, I stood over him and this time I completely crushed him, when I moved my hand there was nothing but dust, I bent down and huffed and the knight was gone...

I looked back at the maiden, still bleeding and my face softened a little and I turned to them. I transformed back to my human form and knelt down next to them, I used my hand to hold them up and wiped their little tears away with my thumb. I looked down at the injury and smirked a little, a scar right across the face, just like mine.... Hearing their soft cries of pain snapped me out of my thoughts and made me start to think of how I could help, I looked at my hook and got an idea. I brought the hook up to my face and gently began to blow fire on it to heat it up. Once it was red I looked back at the maiden, "I'm gonna help, but it's going to hurt like hell, do you promise to try and keep still while I stop the bleeding?" the maiden nodded and gripped onto my arm for support. I carefully placed the tip of the red hot hook on the cut and started to cauterize the cut. They screamed and cried more but thankfully didn't move much as I continued to stop the bleeding. I managed to stop the bleeding on her face and removed the hook. They stopped crying and was just breathing heavily now. Seeing them no longer injured I let out a sigh of exaust and collapsed next to them.

Reader POV

My eyes widened when I saw Crocodile collapse next to me, they look exhausted and were still injured as well, if he didn't receive any medical attention soon he might die. Remembering my supplies I brought I quickly ran out the cave to grab my bag. I kneeled back down next to him and got out all the medical supplies I brought. I took the water bottle out from under my clothes and used a towel to clean him, ironic that I brought this extra water to kill him and am now using it to save his life. After cleaning him I took out a needle and thread, disinfecting ointment and began stitching up what I could. He grunted, feeling the needle piercing his skin and looked up at me, "What on earth are you doing? Isn't this what you wanted? For me to die.." "Well yes but I wanted to kill you myself remember? I didn't want some stupid knight to do it... So I'm saving you know so I can kill you properly later.." He chuckled and leaned his head back to try and relax while I stitched him up. "Thank you... For rescuing me from that knight." "No problem. He had no right to injure a maiden such as yourself.." I smiled a little and spoke again, "Kind of ironic that it was the dragon that saved me and not the knight." we both chuckled and went quiet again. After patching him up he sat up again and we just stared at each other, eventually I got the courage to ask a question I've always wanted to ask, "Why is it that dragons always kidnap maidens? And they usually come back unharmed, even after days of being with the dragon, why is that?" Crocodile pondered for a second then sighed, "Truthfully, we're lonely. Creatures are scared of us in our dragon form, and in our human form we're still fear because of the wings and tail. Other dragons are assholes and we don't get along with each other.. We're usually just looking for a companion that won't leave us... That's why we go after maidens because they're usually described as kind and loving creatures..." my heart went soft and I got closer to him, "How come you haven't taken a maiden? Aren't you lonely?" He scowled, "I don't need a companion. I've learned to not let people come close to my heart..." I frowned and looked down, "How about I stay with you?" He looked at me confused and was about to say something but I cut him off, "I stay here and train to fight you and you don't have to worry about getting close to someone because you already have a heads up that we're going to fight. That way you know not to get attached and you have some company!" Crocodile looked at me still skeptical so I added in, "Also, if I go back home without the knight, I'll probably be executed so you're stuck with me." He rolled his eyes and sighed before muttering out, "fine..." I raised my hand to shake his and he gripped my hand tightly and shook it, "You have now officially been taken by the dragon, it is now your duty to set yourself free from my clutches or else you'll be mine for the rest of your life, deal?" He asked. I nodded, "Deal!"

And so started my new life with the dragon I was going to kill..

______________________________

I'll post next week and to those that have made requests I'll get you next week probably but I promise you I will write your request and post it, it just may be a week or two before I get to it. I love you all and see you next week

Kelly🐸

#one piece #one piece anime #oneshot #crocodile one piece #crocodile x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #op crocodile #crocodile op #one piece crocodile #sir crocodile #crocodile x you #crocodile x y/n

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callsign-rogueone · 4 months ago

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been enjoying your writings and I had a thought from the Bodhi/Darling line. And you don't have to give too much detail if it is included down the line in their story. But when Bodhi told Violet that he defend himself from an assassin butt naked in the showers, in your cannon would Darling have been with him In there? Maybe just so they can protect each other? Or would she have learned about this the same time that Violet did? Low-key I kind of hope she was in there cause personally I would have asked if he was ok, then been a little turned on after. Just saying, after reading that in IF I wanted more details... But in your universe how would this have gone down?

oooh I love this ask! I love talking about all the gfs of course, and I’m always happy to answer questions like this so thank you 💗

I saw a theory the other day that Col. Aetos is the one paying these people to keep trying to kill Bo, since canonically he’s the eldest / “most important” marked one that was at Resson (bar X/G who are graduated) and has the closest ties to Xaden. I like it. and I’m gonna roll with that theory for some of the girlfriends… hehe >:)

anyway, I had to think about this one… it might make an appearance in their storyline at a later date, but I don’t know when I’ll have time to write it all the way out so. some thoughts under a cut, since this got long.

I’m gonna say no, Darling wasn’t there.

she doesn’t see 100% of the bad stuff coming, because then we wouldn’t have a plot. more often than not she does get unexplained, impending-doom, spidey-sense type feelings when herself or one of the gang is in imminent danger, so that could have happened here. maybe she’s across the hall in the girls showers and feels it, but doesn’t know why, or maybe she doesn’t feel it at all.

either way: Sìoda and Cuir are homies. they’re the ones bonded to mated humans, not the other way around 😅 so there’s gonna be some relay there, like for all the couples (minus Peach, sorry girl): human to dragon to dragon to human communication, especially in times of urgency. so Darling could ask Sìoda to let the gang know to be on their guard, or Sìoda could casually tell her via Cuir that yeah, your man is fighting some guy in the shower, buck-naked. aaaaand he just won. all clear.

OR, her finding out when Violet does would also be a good possibility. sitting at breakfast or whenever it was (I really need to reread IF) and she takes a bite of her toast then Bo just lays it on her all casual-like. hilarious, but she’d also be upset by it. Darling feels incredibly guilty when she can’t see harm coming to her friends in time to stop it, so even though Bo handled it perfectly, she’d still feel bad, because what if… 🥺

he’d have to do some sweet-talking to comfort her, reassuring her that he’s safe. and he’d definitely bring humor into it, making some inflated remarks about how good of a fighter he is and how nobody is catching him off guard, etc. and I’m 10000% sure he’d drop some playful line like… “Y’know, if you’re worried about it happening again, you could start showering with me every day. Safety in numbers. Buddy system!” <- this said in a playful tone with a lip bite or a wink and some suggestive, not-sexy-at-all eyebrow wiggles. that’ll get a laugh out of her and have her start to feel better.

she’d decline, of course, because she’s a wingleader now and can’t break rules like that, nor does she want to shower in the boys bathroom, and she’s sure as hell not bringing him in the girls one. she might make him start bringing a knife into the shower, though.

but on that note, I do have some shower fun planned for them. Bodhi has his own room (shared with Darling) at Riorson house, with a private bathroom attached. and I bet that the shower in there has excellent water pressure.

#liz.txt #answered #bodhi and darling

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lookingforafalseprophet · 5 months ago

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For a Moment (I Knew Cosmic Love)

A Jegulus au in the setting of Call Me By Your Name, a book by Andre Aciman, and an adapted movie by Luca Guadagnino.

Synopsis:

It's 1983 and professor Alphard Black has chosen James as his mentee for the summer, invited to stay at the Black family chateau in the south of France. It will be three months of dig-sights, thesis-writing, and academic discussions. Little does James know, it would also be 3 months of swimming, eating the best food he'd ever taste, falling in love, partying, and getting his heart broken. That's if Alphard's nephews have anything to say about it, at least.

Read Chapter 1: Staring at the Sky below the cut.

Chapter 1: Staring at the Sky

James arrived on a hot day in mid-June, one of the sort where you could feel the sun shining onto your skin and soaking in, all the way to the soul. The days previous had been nice, but this one held a particular precious and dream-like quality to it. Even when experiencing it for the first time, it felt like you were living through a day that you knew you’d never forget. Everybody felt it, even the mean old cat, Pepper, stood guard at one of the towering front windows. It was like she was waiting.

The chateau was warm. The early summer air breezed through the halls through open windows and the sun bathed every room in the southern French countryside sunshine. Alphard was determined to make spaces as cozy as they were chic and effortless. He’d lived in this house since the early 60’s, and over the years had collected the most exquisite antique furniture to fill every room. He’d told them all, when they were children, that what interested him more than any visual aesthetics was the energy that came off of his things. He made them crouch and put their ear up to the newly acquired couches, chairs, and tables to tell them what they felt. Regulus, even at that age, didn’t have much as far as an imagination. He usually just complained about the smell of old people and dust. Sirius grinned widely and jumped up and down when he claimed to feel true love radiating off of the new chess table. Alphard had been proud.

“Very good, Sirius. This table belonged to very, very special people. I think you’re right about true love.”

The day James arrived found Regulus sat, bored, on the reading nook across from the chess table. He had his knees folded up to his chest, crossing his arms in front of them, and scowled at it. Sensing an object and any feelings associated with it was complete hogwash, there was no proof, nothing that indicated it was real or possible. It perplexed him how Sirius always seemed to be right. Maybe Alphard was lying. Whatever the case was, it never failed to make Regulus peeved when he thought about it too hard.

So he sat and eventually tried to read. He was trying not to get anxious. He typically hated Alphard’s students. Nine times out of ten they were stuck up, know-it-all Brits with no respect for a precedent. They always ruined plans, threw off the house dynamics, talked too loudly; you name it. Sirius loved having them, but that was mostly due to the fact that it was easier to get into trouble with a guest around. Alphard was busy with mentor duties, and even when he did catch Sirius trouble-making, he was always made softer and more lenient by his enthrallment in his summer work. It had him in jollier than average moods. Sirius always liked to meet new people, too, and sometimes he even befriended the students. This one student, Peter, who’d spent summer there a couple years back, was more reserved than usual. Sirius found him hilarious. He’d really brought Peter out of his shell over the months, bringing him around to see the sights and party whenever his studies allowed it. That year had been even more unbearable than usual for Regulus. He’d never liked Peter and he suspects Peter never liked him.

He was reading when he heard a car pull into the driveway and three doors being swung shut. Sirius’s voice rang out muffled, growing louder as they approached the front door.

“Our home has two small and angry guardians. They both hate strangers, are always watching, and always judging you. Try not to mind them, and let them approach you first!” Sirius clapped James on the back, shuffling behind him to enter the house first. Regulus rolled his eyes, shutting his book and setting it down. He didn’t have the energy to pretend to care about meeting the new student. He left his book behind and escaped up the stairs.

“I thought you only had one cat, Professor.” James questioned Alphard as he walked in, a duffle bag in each hand.

“Yes,” Alphard sighs, exasperated. “Sirius is joking. He refers to Pepper, and my other nephew, Regulus.” Alphard smiled despite himself. James gave a small laugh. He walked through the entry room to a sitting room where Sirius had unceremoniously flopped on his back onto a reading nook built into one of the walls.

Sirius Black had midnight black hair and stark gray eyes. He had girlish looks, with long curled eyelashes, shoulder-length hair, and a smaller frame. He didn’t look anything like a girl, however, his broad shoulders making way for muscle that was neither too much or too little. His jawline cut in a handsome way. James was not above admitting he was an attractive man. More so, even, was his larger-than-life personality that was quick to smile and even quicker to a joke. He had a French type of looseness to his body, slinging his arms around James, and kissing both of his cheeks to say hello when they’d first met. James wished that people were as affectionate back home in England. He loved it. Sirius, on the drive to the chateau, gave him a rundown of all the fun things to do around the grounds as well as in town, which was just a 20 minute bike ride away. Sirius bragged that on his motorbike, he could get there in five minutes.

In the car they had talked about France, which before now James had only ever been to once, with his parents years and years ago. Sirius raved about the cities he loved and hated, the must-see locations, and his favorite patisserie in all of the country (he always got the dulce de leche croissant). They talked about England, too. Sirius shared that he’d studied abroad there from 16 to 18, and loved it. He still had loads of friends there that he wrote to. James told Sirius about his friends from home, and how one of them lived in France part-time that he’d like to see sometime this summer. Sirius insisted he tag-along with James to meet them, and he happily agreed.

It was easy with Sirius. They got on swimmingly. Alphard had let them get on for most of the drive while he drove the car, staying quiet except to laugh when James or Sirius said something especially funny. Sirius made James sad that he never had a brother growing up, because surely it felt a bit like this. The longer they talked, the more his fondness grew for Sirius Black.

(Secretly, Alphard let himself hope that James might keep Sirius out of trouble. It was a pipe dream.)

“Ouch,” Sirius struggled, pulling something out from underneath him. “Regulus and his bloody books, I swear, they trail behind him like crumbs. You could forget he’s around sometimes if he didn’t leave these everywhere he goes. Where is that kid, anyways?” He called out that last bit to Alphard, who was standing in the doorway behind James.

“He’s around, I'm sure. Leave his book there, you know he’ll come back looking for it once we clear out.” Alphard looked out the window to the picturesque day.

“Like a cat.” James commented, amused.

“Like a cat.” Sirius echoed, and James might have thought Sirius was making fun of his brother, but there was a sort of undertone of endearment in his voice that made James smile.

He breathed in the grand house–no, chateau–and looked around at all of the pictures and decor. A vast amount was paintings, but a few family photos were scattered around in old frames. The photos showed the children, assumingly Sirius and his brother, Regulus, at no age younger than 11 or so. They were all taken there at the chateau. The one exception James could see was beside the window and showed the three of them at a beach, Sirius caught in a sprint in the background running toward the camera smiling, and Regulus closer to the camera giving a much smaller smile. They looked to be in their early teenage years. James liked how in that one it felt like you were there with them.

James crossed the room, picking up the book Sirius had placed to the side where it didn’t inhibit his comfortable sprawl over the cushions. The book was a collection of Mme. D’Aulnoy’s fairy tales, and a dogear marked a story towards the end of the book. James read the title, L'Oranger et l’Abeille. He personally loved Perrault, who he fancied to think of as Mme. D'Aulnoy’s counterpart. Some saw them as opposing forces. Different, but equally passionate about the same matters. They loved their fairy tales in different ways. Each of their works bloomed even more beautifully for it.

James found himself excited to meet this person.

Regulus, he tested in his head. It was an odd name, though perhaps not odder than Sirius. James had never really taken to astronomy; he was much too busy learning about everything that had, did, would, and could happen on Earth.

“He won’t miss lunch. You’ll meet him then.” Sirius assured him, popping off of the cushions to his feet.

“Very well, then. Where should I put my bags?” James held up his duffle bags with a grin, excited to see more of the house. From here, he could see a magnificent staircase with a gilded bannister and tiled fronts to each stair. It reminded him of Spanish tiling, but the colors and style was distinctively nothing he had seen before. He made a mental note to ask the professor about them later.

“Follow me, guest of honor!” Sirius clapped his hands together, and led the way to the tiled stairs.

The second story had a long hallway with doors lining each side. The art was magnificent. Romantic oil portraits, marble busts, and small artifacts that were more than likely priceless lined the walls and hall tables. One of the doors that Sirius seemed to be heading toward opened slightly, then after a moment of being open, shut again with a decisive thunk.

“Reg! Nope, I know you’re there. Come out here.” Sirius called after him, snapping James out of his all-consuming awe of the artworks.

“Je ne vais pas bien, laissez-moi tranquille.” A mellow voice called back, deadpan. It was the kind of voice that showcased the true beauty of the French language.

“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling good, Reg. Maybe some good ol’ social interaction will perk you up.” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes to James.

“It’s alright, Sirius, I wouldn’t want to put anybody out. I’ll meet him at Lunch.” James offered. Regulus didn’t respond. Sirius huffed.

“Yes, yes, well you better be packing up in there. We’re coming in.” Sirius waited for the shuffle of his brother’s feet. A door shut quietly from inside the room. Sirius then pushed open the door, revealing a modest sized bedroom. It was cozy and lived in, which James was delighted by. The bed was made perfectly, corners tucked in tight and blanket methodically folded. The pillows looked so fluffy…

Before James could even think to appear grateful and polite, the hours of travel set in and he collapsed onto the bed after dropping the duffle bags at the foot of the bed. His eyes felt so heavy, lulling him to give into sleep.

“Seems about right. You were a good sport for staying awake for the drive here, anyways,” Sirius laughed. “Lunch is in two hours. Regulus is one room over. You’ll have to share a bathroom, sorry. This is his room, usually, but it’s yours for the summer.” He explained.

“Thank you, Sirius. It’s all perfect. This bed is heaven, truly.” James turned his head lazily to look at him as he spoke.

“Yes, my brother’s old full mattress is practically fit for royalty.” Sirius grinned, leaving after flicking the lights off.

James slept hard.

He only woke to the sound of somebody in the room and a door creaking shut. James shifted to regard them. His eyesight was shit, and he fumbled for the glasses that had been scattered carelessly somewhere on the bed. When he found them, Regulus Black came into focus. They stared at each other for a beat.

James studied him like he studied art. The first thing that caught James was Regulus’s nose. He was looking at him at a three quarter angle where James couldn’t help but admire it, grecian, with a small bony bump halfway down. It harmonized with the rest of his face like a beautiful sonata. Regulus had (what he was now realizing was signature for the Black family) gray eyes. Where Sirius's were sharp siren-like, Regulus instead had big and bright eyes that started right back at James. He looked wide awake despite the smoking of purplish-red around his eyelids; it was perfectly human of him. It made his eyes stand out especially so. He had freckles; not a million dotted wash of them, but instead small, dark ones that looked closer to paint splatters across his face and arms.

Where Regulus lacked bulk he made up for in a toned, sleek physique. He was wearing a white button up with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There was no undershirt, and with the top couple of buttons undone, James could see a bit of his lightly freckled bare chest. Regulus didn’t feel quite real.

“Hello. I’m James,” James started, breaking the heavy silence in the darkened room. “Je m’appelle James.” He added, suddenly paranoid that Regulus didn’t speak English and he’d just assumed. Regulus seemed to be thinking.

“This is my only way out.” Regulus said flatly, in English. James mentally sighed in relief. His French was okay at best. Regulus’s English was great. He had the tinges of a lilting French accent, but only noticeable if you—like James—clung onto words like they were magic. It was hard not to when studying phonetics and language.

“What do you mean?” James looked confused.

“The guest room I'm staying in is only accessible through your room. I’ll have to walk through this one to get in and out.” He said. Without the muffle of a door, James could hear the quality of his voice much better. It had a certain smooth timbre to it, where you could tell he’d have a good singing voice without having to hear him sing.

“Right, yes. This is your room, right? It’s a great room.” James nodded in understanding, adjusting himself to sit up and face him properly.

“Yes.” Regulus said shortly.

“I like what you’ve done with the space.” James looked at the wall behind Regulus. It had a mural of a lake scene.

The mural was a credit to whoever had painted it, with decisive brush strokes and colors that danced together. The other walls were a powder blue, but here in the dark you wouldn’t be able to tell they weren’t white. The furniture had the same antique nature as the rest of the house did. There were multiple quilted throw blankets, one folded over the end of the bed, and another two folded tidily and sitting on a shelf below the bedside table. There was a chair in the corner with some books piled on top that looked like it could be a hundred years old. The desk, tucked up next to the bed in the far corner, was neatly organized, books lining the back and a pen sitting perfectly next to a blank piece of staff paper. The lamp was gilded with a gold gooseneck that let you bend it around to get it shining at whatever angle you wished. You’d only need to use the light in the evening, though, because there was a huge window beside the desk that, had the curtains not been drawn, light would be pouring into right about now. It looked like a nice place to work.

“I spend a lot of time here,” Regulus replied, then changed the subject. “Lunch is ready.”

“Um– I’m still exhausted, do you mind covering for me with your uncle?” James smiled, hoping he wasn’t coming off terribly arrogant as his whole body begged to lay back down. Regulus did not smile back.

“Whatever.” Regulus said, leaving the room. James flopped back in the bed, actually getting far enough to get under the blankets this time.

“Later!” James called after Regulus. He gave James a look before slipping through the door, shutting it with a small click.

He got a very overdue night of sleep, deep and dreamless.

Regulus had no opinion of James. He seemed fine. It could be worse. It had been worse before. They had stared at each other for a good ten seconds up in Regulus’s room. He liked somebody who could live in silence, and didn’t jump to fill it. James immediately countered the points gained there, though, by skipping lunch. Regulus found that exceptionally rude. It was his welcoming meal. Kreacher had prepared for it. Instead, himself, Sirius, and Uncle Alphard ate their lunch together like normal. So, really, Regulus didn’t mind at all. Maybe James would stick entirely to himself and not bother his familiar routine with his family, their carefully crafted balance they’ve built over the years.

“So… James?” Sirius started, wiggling his eyebrows.

“He’s a nice boy. Smart as they make them, too. He’s the first double major I've invited.” Alphard said, taking a sandwich from the tray at the center.

“Him and I are going to have loads and loads of fun this summer, I reckon.” Sirius bounced his leg excitedly under the table, peeling an orange. Alphard scowled at Sirius, which made him throw his hands up in surrender. Once Sirius looked away, Regulus caught his uncle smiling to himself.

“I met him. Upstairs, on my way down.” Regulus said, nonchalant. Sirius’s leaned forward in interest.

“What’d you think, Reg?”

“Don’t call me Reg, and I'll tell you,” He shot back bitterly. Sirius didn’t move, still waiting for him to go on and give his first impression. No matter how much venom he loaded his words with, Sirius never backed off. It was their dynamic. Regulus rolled his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know? Alphard, do you hear him? I thought Reggie here knew everything!” Sirius acted like he could faint from shock, the sarcastic bastard. Regulus threw a peel of his own orange he was working on at Sirius’s face. Sirius tried to dodge, but it hit him on the cheek and he looked back at his brother smiling.

“Shut up, Sirius. I do. I’ve just barely spoken to him, yet, is all. He was still tired.” Regulus said.

“It was a long day of travel for him. He’d come from New York.” Alphard commented.

“New York? God, the music scene there is so cool. Did you know–” Sirius started going on about venues and indie bands, then, something Regulus had heard about a hundred times. He could recite all of the facts right back to Sirius at this point. Instead, Regulus thought about James. This summer was going to be interesting.