#mens bookbag

[rick-ety]

Bet you didn’t know I was into danganronpa GAAAHH Kaede for the soul

[ramblebramblefun]

Izuku bounces on his feet as Kacchan steps off the platform, unable to keep the smile off his face as red eyes catch sight of him. He waves, a tad manically.

"Kacchan!" He yells, ignoring the looks he gets. "Over here!"

Kacchan is followed over by several other, familiar looking people. A man that can only be Chargebolt leans forward.

"Oho! Who's this?"

"My pet stalker."

"Kacchan, that's not very nice," Izuku says absently.

Kacchan ruffles Izuku's hair with more force than necessary.

"I'm not very nice."

"That is true!" Chargebolt grins, stroking his chin faux-thoughtfully.

"So," Kacchan says next. "What's new in nerd-land?"

"Oh! Um, well... Did you read that paper I sent you?"

"That thing on fuckin' Freezerburn?"

"Yeah, about the indicators! Like how you've got your mom's skin-"

"I don't want to hear about my mom's skin." Kacchan groans.

Too bad.

"- Your mom's skin" Izuku continued, "as well as your quirk in your palms and-"

Izuku cuts himself off this time. Red Riot (his hair's not that bad, Kacchan) is waving his hand in the air like a student. So was the Alien Queen, with a shit-eating grin on her face, and then Chargebolt also started to flail about and nearly hit-

"Oh my god! Are you Cellophane?!"

"Not if he knows what's good for him." Kacchan mutters.

"It's an honour to meet you! I'm a big fan! I really loved what you did last week in that fight with Athenium- actually, um, wait, I think I have-"

He starts to rummage through his bag, but Kacchan is faster and snatches his notebook out with a hiss.

"No. They don't know you. We're not doing this."

"Kacchan." Izuku frowns.

"No."

Red Riot seems unable to contain himself any longer.

"Bakubro, who is this guy?" he shouts, at the same time as Alien Queen cheers.

"This must be that guy that Katsuki's always-"

Kacchan whirls around and slaps Izuku's notebook over her mouth, because he is an oaf with no respect for other people or their property. Izuku is what, Kacchan?

Whatever. Izuku brought extra notebooks today, just in case. He pulls one out, and a pen, and then Cellophane takes the pen? And Izuku's notebook? Oh, he's signing the notebook, that's nice of him.

"Here you go," Cellophane smiles, handing it back.

Izuku already has three Cellophane signatures that Kacchan mailed to him through Auntie, because Kacchan is the best but also weird, but this is cool too. Izuku will have to cut it out and paste it in his album later.

What he actually wants to know is-

"Um, what's your name? I can't call you Cellophane when you're on vacation..." He flips open to a new page, ready to start writing...

The silence stretches too long. He looks up to find Cellophane looking at him uncertainly.

"Actually..." Cellophane starts slowly-

"That's what we wanna ask you!" Chargebolt shouts excitedly, and then Kacchan steals Izuku's notebook, again, and his bag, and Izuku has more important things to worry about than social niceties.

"Bakugou Katsuki!" he screeches. "Get back here!"

He starts running after Kacchan, who must have lost his mind on the train ride over if he thinks Izuku is going to let him get away with this. He'll tell Auntie! He will!

Auntie will just laugh at him if Izuku tells her that Kacchan has taken up purse-snatching but she'll laugh at Kacchan too, and then Kacchan will be really annoyed, just like Izuku is right now, and he's taking up running as a hobby first thing tomorrow because he's tired now already and curse Kacchan's longer legs, Izuku is going to cut them off-

They leave the Bakusquad blinking in their dust.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 29 - Kidnapping

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda kidnaps you.

content warnings: kidnapping, possessiveness, stalking

word count: 1.6k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Truly, it was your own fault that you were in this situation. You hadn’t been paying attention, oblivious to the eyes watching you as you made your way home from your job. 

In all honesty, you were the perfect target. You were beautiful and shy, not too sociable. You didn’t have many friends, and you spoke to your parents maybe three times a year. The homely routine of yours consisted of going to work, buying groceries, and spending time at home reading. 

It was a quiet life, and you didn’t mind it. 

Unfortunately, you’d caught the eye of a woman passing through town. Her boredom had become overwhelming, her need for a source of entertainment growing with each day. Well, it was more of a need for obsession, to focus on something that would utterly captivate her, and you were doing a fine job of that.

Wanda Maximoff, recently recovering (sort of) from destroying the darkhold and subsequently any hope of finding her children, had been aimlessly driving through town when she saw you. 

God, you were perfect. You had a charming bookbag around your shoulder, with wired earbuds in as you walked. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone with wired earbuds, or someone who read a book while walking. She was worried that you’d bump into something, but you navigated the main road easily, only glancing up every few seconds. 

Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, the curls a day old as you hurried towards your destination. If Wanda had to guess, you were late to something, most likely a job. Your cheeks were flushed, but your eyes remained on your book, as if unable to tear yourself away from the words. 

Suddenly, Wanda was overcome with the need to read that book. She wanted to know everything about you. What did you eat in the morning, did you thrift your sweater, how many people would look for you if you went missing?

The last question sent a thrill through Wanda, and she could feel a part of her clicking into place. 

It was you. 

You are what she needs. Only you can save her from this dangerous edge she was teetering on. With you in her possession, Wanda would finally find a purpose again. She wanted to make you fully hers, someone who would love her as much as she loved them. 

It wasn’t that hard to book a dingy motel on the edge of town, and Wanda made sure that you never saw her as she followed you. She learned so much about you in two short weeks. You were almost always running late to something, your nose buried in a different book every few days. The only stores you frequented were the grocery store, the used book store, and an antique thrifting shop that had Wanda turning up her nose. 

When you were hers, she would buy you the finest things. You wouldn’t need to shop at secondhand stores anymore. She could tell you weren’t struggling financially, but you weren’t living comfortably either. Your apartment was many blocks from the main road, with broken street lamps around it and an unkempt yard. 

Wanda hated seeing you live in such a decrepit old place. What if something happened to you? Obviously, you didn’t see the lingering looks men and women alike would give you, but Wanda did. It had her fingers itch and her ears burn when she would watch them, your attention elsewhere as you hurried past them. 

On Friday night, after watching you return home to read your book on the couch, surrounded by blankets and a mug of hot chocolate, Wanda decided that you were hers. 

It was laughably easy to follow you in her car, the headlights off as you walked home late the next evening. You had a closing shift on the weekends, but you were blissfully ignorant of the dangers of the world, your earbuds firmly in place as you squinted at the words in your book. 

All Wanda had to do was drive around the block and park her car under one of the many broken street lamps. You didn’t even hear her get out of her car, your attention fully captivated by the book.

She nearly reveals herself too soon, delirious at the thought of being near you. You pass by her, your perfume causing her knees to tremble and weaken slightly before she finds herself overcome with the need to possess you. 

Wanda could have used a spell to capture you, but what's the fun in that? Besides, she really wanted to feel your squirming body against hers. She’s waited long enough. 

“What the fu-” you manage to say, your book dropping from your hands as you feel someone clap a hand over your mouth. You can still hear your music playing through your earbuds, and you resist as one earbud drops out. A woman’s chuckle sounds out right next to your ear, and you feel your blood run cold. 

Who the fuck laughs after grabbing someone? You hope it’s a joke, but the strength in the hands that haul you over to a red car is too much for you to pull away from. The scent of sickly sweet vanilla hits your nose, and you blink in confusion as you’re forced into the passenger seat of the car. 

The woman is too quick for you, shoving you in and slamming the door before you have time to react. You can see her moving around the car, and dive for the driver's seat, your fingers scrabbling on the lock.

You’re too slow, and the woman gives you a withering stare as she sits in the driver’s seat and pulls the door firmly shut behind her. It’s the first time you’ve fully seen her face, and the only thing you can think about is how beautiful the woman is. 

Honestly, she’s god-level ethereal. 

Confusion fills you, your heart beating as you try to undo the lock on your side. Your fingers search the frame, but you find only a hole where the lock is supposed to be. 

“You won’t be able to escape, dear,” the woman says, and you jump at the sound of her low voice. She sounds almost… friendly. What the fuck is going on?

Staring at her silently, you attempt to formulate a plan. It’s almost as if the woman can hear you thinking, because she smirks at you when you consider hitting her over the head with your bag.

“You and I both know that the only things you keep in that bag are a book and a sweater,” she says, her eyes full of mirth. They’re green, you notice, and then admonish yourself. “But go ahead at try, sweetheart.”

God, you wish she’d stop calling you pet names, it was confusing. 

“My name is Wanda,” the woman says, her eyes gazing at you. The expression on her face is unnerving, and you remain silent, watching her as she easily turns onto the highway. 

It’s late, and there are barely any other cars around. Some small part of you knows that you won’t be able to escape. Any attempt you make will be futile, so you just stare at her with wide eyes as your fingers nervously fiddle with your book bag.

What were you supposed to say?

“Typically,” Wanda begins, a soft smile on her face as one hand leaves the wheel. You watch it drift closer, fear and anticipation making their way through you. “When someone offers their name, you should offer yours in return.”

Her hand rests lightly on your thigh, and you feel revulsion fill you. Quickly, you push her hand off, pressing yourself against the door to get as far away from her as possible. Wanda’s green eyes snap to you, anger swirling in the depths as she grabs your thigh again, this time digging her fingers in.

“Do not ever reject me,” she says, her voice tight and low. 

Something sparks in the air between you, and you can practically feel her anger as it fills the car. Nodding quickly, you blink as the suffocating anger disappears in an instant and an easy smile slips back on her face. 

Those fingers start stroking your thigh, gentle and slow. You normally wouldn’t mind it if a pretty woman touched you like this, but you just… you just got fucking kidnapped.

Your breaths come short now, panic making its way through you as you stare out the front window. The woman seems oblivious to the rising emotions within you, her eyes locked on the road as she continues speaking.

“You’re going to love our house, darling.” Wanda smiles brightly at you. “It’s soundproof. And it has a dungeon, can you believe it?”

A choked whimper escapes you, and you remain silent. Wanda sends a sharp look your way, and you realize that she’s waiting for a response. You shake your head slowly. 

“Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

Pretty? 

“Um,” you say quietly, unnerved by the level of attention you were receiving. “Okay?”

Wanda chuckles at that, and you press yourself as far away from her as possible. The door handle digs into your side, but you don’t care. You want out. You want out of this car with a creepy, gorgeous woman touching you and making you feel conflicted things, and you want to go back and finish your book.

“Don’t you understand, darling?” Wanda asks, looking at you with a dark look behind her eyes. Her voice and smile are soft, a direct contradiction to her next words. 

“You are mine. You can never leave. I won’t let you.”

[morose-melodies]

that's what the article said, anyway | yandere! childe/ajax x f! reader

summary: ajax got a bit too engrossed in buzzfeed quizzes and articles telling him how to pull... it seems he can't think for himself anymore

content warning: childe being a weirdo

a/n: IM SO RUSTY I miss my old writing style sm :((

there was an eighty-six percent chance that ajax liked you.

and a one hundred percent chance that you like him back.

that's what the online quiz 'do you have a crush on your friend? made by a female. 100% accuracy' said anyway, so it must be true, it's gotta be.

he'd lay it on thick with you tomorrow- woo you, make you confess your undying attraction to him because that's what the follow-up article 'how to get your crush to want you. made by a female. 100% chance of success' said he should do.

he had a plan.

...

ajax got to school a bit earlier than usual.

phase one of his plan? walk to class with you and potentially hold your bag for you, to show you he was the sort of man you'd want in your life.

he was sort of hiding around a corner, waiting for you to enter the front door, then, he'd casually approach you and make good conversation with you as the two of you walked to class together.

the door opened, and ajax perked up, peeking around the corner... just to see some guy entering.

he sighed, pressing his back against the wall he hid behind. he could feel his heart beating at an oddly fast pace- he had to be cool, or else you'd think he was a total loser who didn't understand women.

but he understood women- he understood them well, too. after all, he read the 'all about women' article three times over while eating breakfast this morning.

at this point, he probably understood you better than you understood yourself.

the door opened again, this time, it was you.

ajax gripped at the strap of his book bag, as he walked from around the corner and towards you, "hey- you're here pretty early."

"yeah."

yeah, that's all? ajax swallowed, his grip on the strap tightened, "you planning on running for class president?"

"nope."

you kept walking! you didn't even stop to pay attention to the conversation. ajax followed after you, "huh, I was thinkin' of running. would you vote for me if i did?"

"I don't know."

were you walking faster!? oh gosh...

ajax sped up after you, grabbing the back of your book bag, "hey, I'll hold your bag for you. we can walk to class together, right?" he was laying it in thick, just like he said it would! women liked assertive men- that's what the article said.

"what- no, I'm fine."

ajax slowly released your bookbag and stopped following you altogether. you're fine? he didn't believe it, not even for a moment. you must be having a bad morning or something. he'd make you feel better, he knew he could.

so he went to class instead and sat down at his desk, which was conveniently beside yours- not exactly, considering he's liked you for a while now and asked his teacher for the desk beside you.

he waited and waited for you.

until you finally got to class. you sat down at your desk, casting a small glance at him before settling down.

ajax tapped his pencil against his desk, occasionally glancing at you for long seconds.

and of course, you took note of this, and soon enough, you were annoyed. "hey," you whispered to him.

"huh?" ajax perked up. you were starting a conversation with him? he stifled a grin.

"do you need something?"

"what was that? huh... oh, no."

"then stop looking at me."

oh.

ajax slumped down in his seat, covering his eyes. his heart was pounding so hard against his chest, he had been so excited that you spoke to him! only for you to tell him off??

you were super stubborn.

Well, onto phase two, it was. buying you lunch and gaining your favor.

so, when lunchtime was near, ajax left class early. women liked food, that's what the article said, so, you'd be real grateful for this, wouldn't you?

he bought himself lunch and scoffed it down before you got to the cafeteria. he got up and approached you when he saw you enter, "lunch on me, okay?"

this had to work, right?

"okay," you nodded at him and got your money's worth of lunch - it was more than you'd usually get; ajax knew that, but maybe you were extra hungry today.

when you went to sit down, he followed after you and sat across from you.

whatever doubt he felt towards that article faded as he watched you eat, chin in the palm of his hand - he was going to cherish this.

"uh..."

"huh?"

"you gonna keep staring at me while I eat?"

"sure, if you don't mind."

from the way you were glaring, ajax expected the worst but instead got nothing. you went back to eating.

ajax smiled - it was worth it, definitely worth it. getting to sit across from you was nice and being allowed to shamelessly watch you was even nicer.

he usually had to be sure you weren't watching before he even glanced at you.

man, was he getting rewarded today!

...

when school was over, the last phase of his plan was in play. he was going to walk you home and sneak a kiss in - women like unexpected kisses, that's what the article said, anyway.

ajax caught up to you as you left the building, his arm grazing yours as he walked at your side, "I'll walk you home, yeah?"

"no thank you."

"huh?" no way you said that not after everything! "c'mon, who's it hurting? let me walk you home, it'll be nice."

you walked slowly, looking at ajax, stifling a sigh, "what's with you? i don't even know... you've been bothering me all day."

his lips parted; he was ready to defend himself, to argue, but he was caught up in what you said. "bothering?" he echoed, his heart slowly sinking in his chest.

"yeah- like, you're being weird. I don't even know your name."

"you don't... know my-" ajax felt shame wash over him. of course you didn't know him as well as he knew you... of course, you didn't...

he'd been watching you for months, like a curios shadow. he was always there, even when you didn't know it.

"that's right... i, uh... must've mistook you for someone else-!" he didn't even believe his lie, "... some other pretty girl, probably. anyway, I'll get going!"

ajax quickly turned and walked in the opposite direction of you. his mind was fuzzy, he couldn't think a coherent thought - it felt as if his life was over.

he'd never get to be with you now... not after this.

what a horrible first impression you must have of him...

[chaoticcupcakeee]

Chapter Two: The Ticket and Your Shitty Car

***THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM/ASK FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst (sorry folks), mentions of anxiety and bullying, cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being sexy, kissing 👀, Reader is in their mid 20s and Steve and Eddie are in their early to mid 40s. Lemme know if i've missed anything.

Summary: After a few weeks of getting closer to Eddie and Steve feelings bubble to the surface

Authors Note: I'm so excited for this chapter and the rest of the series i've been having so much fun writing this! I've never written angst before so i'm interested in the response it'll get! And I pinky promise ya'll are getting smut in the next chapter 😈 7k words

**Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

A couple days had gone by since your first interactions with the two men that have been plaguing both your waking thoughts and your dreams. You’ve woken up more than once this week from your body buzzing and your panties soaked through. Lips on skin, rough hands on your hips, deep voices whispering in your ear. Groaning yourself fully awake and grabbing your vibrator to finish the job, that isn’t nearly as good as whatever was happening in your dreams.

Because of these dreams it made it impossible to look at Steve during class, only looking when you absolutely had to. Avoiding Mr. Munson was a bit easier, he either wasn’t home much when you were with Violet, or he was in the garage. You convinced yourself that you would just eventually get over your little crushes, and if you just avoided them long enough then things would go back to normal, and you’d have your sanity back.

But things didn’t quite work out that way. After you had gotten your ticket on the first day, you decided you would just pay it off yourself, to avoid another possibly embarrassing interaction with Steve. You had your parking pass now so you wouldn’t get another ticket. But you had a busy week with assignments and kept forgetting to take care of it. By the end of the week, you had completely forgotten about it, until Fridays sociology class. It was a normal class; Steve was talking about the theoretical approach to sociology. At the end of class, you were supposed to hand in your paper on Social Darwinism, you had spent many late nights making sure that this paper specifically was perfect. The problem was that when you were meant to hand it in at the end of class, you couldn’t find it, and you were starting to panic. Almost all the other students had left or were in the process of handing in their papers and you were left anxiously digging through your bookbag.

“Oh, how the tables turn, need some help there?”

You freeze, looking up from the familiar black converse that you could see next to your bookbag. Your anxious eyes are met with playful honey brown ones, that make you relax slightly.

“Sorry no I’m good I know it’s in here somewhere,” you reply a little anxious. You didn’t want your professor to think that this was any reflection of you as a student or your work ethic.

Steve watches you dig through your bag for another few seconds when you finally find it, in a folder you don’t remember putting it in. When you get the folder out of your bookbag, the ticket sitting at the bottom of your bag falls out onto the floor right at Steves feet. You’re too busy to notice, trying to make sure all of the pages of your paper are in order, and you have all your sources. When you finally look up from the papers in front of you, you see Steve holding the ticket that you got on the first day of school.

You panic and look up and into his eyes, he doesn’t look mad, but he looks confused. “I thought I told you I’d fix this for you if you ever got a ticket. Why didn’t you tell me?” he said.

“I- I didn’t want to bother with you something so silly, I was going to pay it, but with a bunch of papers due, I just forgot I’m sorry,” you blurt out.

Steve raises his hand to silence your apologies casually, and you’re ready for him to yell at you or at the very least be disappointed in you.

Shit, why did you not just pay it the day you got it?

“It’s not your fault honey, there’s no need for you to apologize, okay?” he says warmly. Your shoulders relax a bit more, his voice giving you reassurance.

“I swear I really did mean to pay it, I just didn’t want to bother you,” you confess.

Steves eyes soften. “Y/N you are never a bother, plus it's my fault for being the worst teacher in history and not giving you a parking pass.” He jokes.

“Steve you’re one of my favorite teachers, nowhere near my list of worst teachers.” You reveal.

He smiles widely and raises his eyebrow; you swear you can feel your insides thaw. With the playful look on his face, he almost seems younger, you could only imagine how attractive he was when he was younger, even just a glimpse is enough to make your stomach do flips.

“Oh so there IS list? Well, I demand to know where I am on your favorite teachers list, maybe it’ll give me motivation to try harder in class.” He winks at you in retort. You swear you could cum in your pants right now, how dare he be so beautiful and perfect, and funny.

You think hard for a second, you can’t put him first you think his ego probably couldn’t handle it, also it would just bring you more embarrassment. But he very easily is your favorite teacher, he makes jokes during class, makes sure his lectures are easy to understand and enjoyable, and seems to genuinely care about all his students, it’s very hard to rank any teacher above him.

“I hope your ego can handle it Steve, but you’re second.” you gush.

“You wound me, SECOND? That’s basically failure I demand to know who could possibly rank higher than me?” he jokingly stands up straighter, adjusts his tie, and holds his hand to his heart.

Damn, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Uh, Professor Buckley, my Gender Studies Professor, I love her class,” you confess.

Steves eyes couldn’t roll farther back into his head even if he tried, you almost worried that they’d get stuck.

“You’re telling me, my best friend has already won you over? I’ve sat in on some of her classes and there is no way that Robin is funnier than I am!” he exclaimed as he puts his hands on his hips.

“You know Professor Buckley.. er Robin? Also, you definitely top her in the funny department, how did I know you wouldn’t be satisfied with second.” you retort easily. You could get used to this, the casual flirting, smiling with your professor, it felt easier than breathing. Once you got over the fact that he was one of the most handsome men that you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

“Know her? She’s been my best friend since high school, and a major pain in my ass. Second place is basically losing, everyone knows that babe.” The pet name slipped off his tongue so effortlessly.

Your eyes must have gone wide because Steve looks slightly embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck.

Babe babe babe babe babe babe babe HE CALLED YOU BABE

“Well then I guess you gotta step it up Professor.” you reply, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He smiles at you gratefully, “yeah I guess so,” he chuckles.

“Anyways I don’t want to keep you again for the second time this week, I’ll see you in class on Monday Steve.” you say as you go to stand up and walk past him. You’re about halfway to the door before you hear him call out.

“Hey, wait up, uh why don’t you come with me to my office so I can get that parking ticket taken care of for you,” he explains.

“You sure? I don’t want to make you late for your next class.”

“I’m the one who got you into this mess, please let me help you fix it?” he asks gently.

“Lead the way professor,”you answer playfully.

He smiles that flashy Steve Harrington smile and shows you the way towards his office.

“It’s just down this hallway,” he shares.

Then you feel him put his hand at the small of your back guiding you into a room on the righthand side, his touch lights your body on fire. It takes everything in you not to lean into his touch. You can smell his cologne, now that you’re so close to him. It’s a fairly clean scent with hints of musk and spice at the end, a more modern scent then you expected from a man his age. It only makes you want him more, to lean in closer and smell his scent mixed with the cologne.

You’re snapped out of your daze when Steve picks up the phone receiver and punches in a phone number. His fingers almost covered the buttons on the phone, and it made your legs squeeze together, thinking back to the multiple dreams you had about those specific fingers all over you. Steve looks up at you smiling lightly, surely just trying to fill the silence that filled the room. You hoped he hadn’t magically learned how to read minds in the short walk from his classroom to his office or you’d be toast.

His office wasn’t anything glamorous, it was an average size, with a nice desk and comfy looking chair, and big window with a view that overlooked the campus. The only thing making it uniquely his are the loads of pictures of him and Professor Buckley, and a few other guys and girls that looked around his age or maybe a bit younger. Documenting various birthdays, weddings, and get togethers.

While Steve is on the phone you take a moment to look at them, you see a picture of Steve being Professor Buckleys best man in her wedding to a pretty woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They all looked so happy, it made you smile, it looked like a really special day. Also noting that there are no wedding photos of him or pictures of him with a girlfriend, making your heart internally soar.

When you finally tear your eyes away from the photos, you hear the end of a conversation Steve is having with someone on the phone.

“Thanks again Reg, I promise it won’t happen again. Yeah, you too, take care. Say hi to the wife and kids for me," he said.

He puts down the receiver and looks at where you’re standing, and gestures to the photo you’re looking at.

“Yeah, Robins wedding! It was a really great day,” he reminisces. He goes onto explain that Robin ended up marrying his ex from High School, Nancy Wheeler. You smile and nod along to the anecdotes he talks about that day, trying to absorb everything he tells you about his life like a sponge.

“And by the end of the night Lucas and Max lead everyone in a impromptu sing-a-long to Never Ending Story, It was hilarious,” He says. You could combust, you can see just how clearly he loves his friends and how much they mean to him. He shakes his head and smiles wide at the memory, his smile being infectious, you smile back at him.

“Sounds like really good time Steve,” you reply.

“Yeah, it was, it really was.” he shares, he seems a little lost in thought for a moment before smiling up at you. “Sorry I don’t mean to bore you with my stories of the old days, I don’t get to gush about the people I love very often, so its nice to have someone listen," He confessed.

Your heart melts, he’s such a sweetheart. “No no please, I enjoy hearing them, makes you more a person than just my teacher. Plus, maybe at some point you’ll slip up and tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Then you’re done for Harrington,” you jab.

     He raises his eyebrows at you and looks impressed. “That’ll never happen, I’ve never done anything embarrassing in my life ever,” he states sarcastically.

     “Well, I’ll just have to ask Professor Buckley, my favorite teacher, about it won’t I?” you interject.

     His face goes from his handsome boyish grin to fake terror in a split second, “I will give you whatever grade you want in my class if you don’t do that, she’d go on for hours, might even keep you after class just to rub it in my face.”  

     You could tell that there was some truth to his words, and you know your gender studies professor well enough to know that she really would just rip him a new one. You giggle back at him, unable to keep it in.

“She really would tear you to shreds, wouldn’t she?” you cackle. His face softens, “Yes she’s evil, just awaiting my downfall I swear!” he smiles softly at you.

You both look at each other a bit longer before Steve clears his throat. “Anyways um, I talked to the guy in campus security and you’re good to go, you don’t have to pay the ticket,” He spoke.

You had honestly completely forgotten that was the reason you were even in his office; his demeanor makes you feel at home in your own skin and were just happy to not have anxious thoughts rolling around inside of your head.

“Oh, right yeah, thank you so much, you really didn’t need to go through all this trouble for me,” you said.

“No trouble at all, really. I should probably get going though, my next class starts soon.” he explained looking at the very expensive looking watch on his wrist.

You try your best not to show your disappointment, wishing to stay in this little bubble with him a bit longer.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you again Steve,” you respond.

He leads you back out the door with his hand on your back again, maybe this time a bit firmer than the last, and you weren’t complaining. You both wave your goodbyes for the weekend before you head out to the parking lot, and he heads towards his next class.

You were relieved to be going home, this first week of school has tested you mentally and emotionally and you were ready for a little break. You hop in your car, and twist your key in the ignition, but to your surprise, instead of your car roaring to life like it usually does. It just stalled, unable to start. You try the ignition a few more times before you rest your head on your steering wheel.

Just your fucking luck

You take your phone out of your jean pocket and call Violet to see if she knows any good mechanics in the area. But you only get her voicemail. “Come on Vi,”you mutter to yourself, trying her cell again and again. Only to get her voicemail each and every time. You couldn’t very well leave your car in the parking lot overnight, then you’d surely get another ticket. But what other option did you have?

You make the decision to call Violet’s home phone, thinking maybe she’s too engrossed in a TV show or something to see her phone going off. It rings a few times before someone picks up.

“Munson residence.” a deep familiar voice answers the phone.

Shit

“Hi Mr. Munson, is Vi there?” you reply.

“Nah she left about an hour or two ago to head to work, everything okay?” he asks a slight concern in his voice.

“Oh uh yeah, my- my car just isn’t starting and I don’t know any mechanics in the area who could come and take a look at it,” you respond anxiously

You hear what you assume is him blowing out some smoke from his mouth, you shake your head trying to stay on track.

“Any mechanic out here is gonna charge you an arm an a leg to come look at your car right before the weekend, let me come and take a look at it myself,” he suggests.

Your body runs cold, you couldn’t deal with another interaction with BOTH of them in the same day again, you’d burst into flames.

“Oh gods no that’s really okay Mr. Munson. I’ll just leave my car here overnight its no big deal, I’ll just walk home its not that far,” You babble anxiously.

You hear him scoff on the other end of the phone, “What do you mean walk home? Where are you Y/N?” his tone getting a bit more serious than the lighthearted goofy tone you usually get from him.

“I’m at school, it’s fine really, my apartment isn’t that far from-,” you squeak.

“Let me just grab my tools and I’ll meet you in the parking lot, which building are you in front of?” he interjects, you can hear some rustling on the other end of the phone.

“I-,“ you think about arguing with him but you know that in the end Mr. Munson is a stubborn man and you will lose. “I’m in front of the Humanities and Social Sciences building, its right by-,“ you confess.

He chuckles “Oh yeah I know the one, be there in a sec, hang tight.” he says before hanging up the phone.

You bring your phone down onto your lap in defeat. You hide in your car until you see his car pull up, you don’t need anyone seeing you, especially a certain sociology professor. His big black truck pulls into the space next to you, and you get out of your car to greet him.

“Hey thanks for coming all the way out here, I hope I didn’t take you away from anything or anyone,” you look up at him innocently. He stands about a foot away from you, but even then, you could see just how much taller he is than you. He could probably use you as an arm rest.

He gives you an easy-going smile, “No problem at all sweetheart, I’m happy to help!” You give him the keys and he goes to try and start the car and it stalls again and he clicks his tongue.

Your mind going back to the dreams you’ve had of his tongue on you, on your skin. You shiver at the thought, and you squeeze your arms around you willing yourself not to fall apart.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with opening the hood and looking inside. He takes off his leather jacket and lays it on top of the hood and rolls up his sleeves. He fiddles around inside of the hood for a few seconds before popping his head around the corner.

“Looks like your spark plug is shot, I have an extra on me in case of emergencies, it’s your lucky day pretty lady,” He announces cheerily.

Pretty lady

“Oh, thank you Mr. Munson, you’re a life saver!” you beam.

He looks at you again one more time, studying you for the second time this week, he looks like he’s contemplating something in his head. His eyes are like lasers on your skin, heating you up from the inside.

“It’s Eddie, you can call me Eddie honey, you’ve known me long enough.” he says as he smiles at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

You can’t help but smile back, “Okay, thanks, E-eddie,” you stammer out. His name feeling so odd on your tongue, he’s your best friend’s dad, would Violet think its weird that you call him by his first name now?

He smiles contently like he made the right decision and goes back to working on your car. You lean against his car just watching him work, seeing how his hands knowingly move on all the parts of your car that you don’t even know the names of, only being able to identify the windshield wiper fluid cap and oil fill cap. You look at his now uncovered arms that you didn’t see the last time you got a good look at him, you could see right near his left wrist Violets name tattooed in beautiful cursive, and D20 right above his left elbow. You see how veiny his hands and arms are, probably due to years of playing the guitar and working on various motorcycles and cars.

“So, what are you going to school for?” he says, looking at you through the corner of his eye while he works.

“Psychology mostly,” you reply easily.

“What do you want to do with it? Your degree?” he responds.

“I’d love to work with kids, I felt like no one ever listened to me as a kid, so I’d love to be able to be a safe space for kids to express themselves.” You shared, this was something you’ve been passionate for a while, wanting to work with kids. Giving them something that you never got when you were a kid, a place where they felt understood even if they didn’t feel like that at home.

He looks up at you from his work with an impressed look on his face, “That’s really fucking cool Y/N, I wish stuff like that had been around when I was a kid. Woulda made Middle School and High School a lot more bearable for me, trust me.”

Your heartbreaks at his confession, you figured that he probably wasn’t always the suave sexy metal head that he is now, and he probably got teased a lot when he was a kid. It reminded you of your own experiences in school, teased and never really fitting in anywhere. Violet went through something similar except it never really seemed to bother her, she was always the type of kid that always knew who she was and didn’t let anyone get in her way. You always admired that about her.

“Honestly me too,” you confess.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you, “No way, You and Vi had loads of friends in Middle School,” he says.

“Yeah, in Middle School sure, but high school was brutal without her there, kids are mean.” You say sadly, rubbing your boot into the asphalt trying to wash away depressing memories of eating in the bathroom and crying yourself to sleep at night.

Eddie scrunches his eyebrows together and nods knowingly, sharing that feeling. “Yeah, teenagers are fucking assholes.”

You nod knowingly, as Eddie steps around the front of your car to get into the driver’s seat, scootching closing to you, grabbing the side of your waist as he passes you. You take a shallow breath, and your mouth runs dry. His hand felt so perfect on your waist, like it belonged there… and then your mind wanders to Steve, his touch felt the same way.

Eddie got into the front seat and turned your key in the ignition, and sure enough your car roared to life.

“Huzzahh!” Eddie cheered, getting out of the driver’s seat and bowing to you. A smile plastered across his face in triumph.

“There ya go honey good as new, although you should stop by the house sometime, so I can put a new battery in your car, it looks like it’s about to take a shit on you, and I want you to be safe during the Winter.” He says casually wiping the oil and grease off his fingers with the rag in his tool kit.

He wants you to be safe

“That would be great, thank you again, honestly I don’t know what I would have done without you. What do I owe you Eddie?” you ask. Surely, he’d want some compensation for driving all the way out here on a Friday, probably ruining his plans to come help his daughters best friend with her car.

“On the house, and don’t fight me on this I’m not accepting any money from you.” He says slightly stern but in a way that makes you smile lightly.

“I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you or something, do you like cookies? I’ll bake you some cookies for all your help,” you insist.

“IF you happen to make double chocolate chip cookies and bring them over to the house, for Violet of course, I wouldn’t say no to one or two,” he says slyly.

“I’ll bring them over this weekend.” you say determined to not be in debt to him.

He packs his tools back into the trunk of his truck and shrugs his leather jacket back on, “I’ll hold you to that sweetheart.” he winks at you before getting back into his truck and waving to you as he drives off the lot.

You get back into your newly fixed car and drive home to your apartment, first thing on the agenda, a very cold shower.

The next few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind of epic proportions. Steve came back with your grades for your latest paper, and when yours got passed to you, at the top of your paper, “SEE ME AFTER CLASS” was written in blue pen. After class he explained that he was “very impressed” with your work and effort you spent on your paper and asked you to be his TA and help him a couple of days a week. Help him with grading papers, answering any questions your classmates had on assignments or class subjects, and help with lectures for upcoming classes. You couldn’t have said yes faster, not only did you have a huge massive crush on him. But you genuinely enjoyed his class and were excited to prove yourself. On those days you spent most of the time after your classes, spent huddled in his office with him grading papers or talking about different upcoming subjects you were going to learn in class. It was becoming one of your favorite parts of your day, you always left his office in the best mood. Plus, the flirting and your attraction to him only grew during this time, you noticed he started going more and more out of his way to touch you, or holding eye contact with you longer than was probably appropriate. You welcomed it, Steve made you feel like you were on cloud nine, some nights the two of you were left in his office until after dark, after all the work was done, just flirting and talking about life. Eating shitty takeout food that he’d grab from the cafeteria or the two of you would order in.

He always treated you with respect letting you talk about your feelings or whatever was on your mind, you eventually opening up to him about why you wanted to go into psychology, and he opened up to you about how he hadn’t always been the way he is now, and how there are parts of his past he’s ashamed of. The two of you bonded over your lack of family you had in your life, you told him about your parents basically ditching you after graduation and he told you about how his parents cut him off when he told them what decided what he wanted to do with his life and hadn’t heard much from him since. He reassured you that the only family that actually mattered was your chosen family and the people who love you that you let into your little corner of the world. You talked about your views on the world and your dreams. You liked that about him, that he listened to you and how modest and genuine he is, you assumed at first glance that someone with good looks like him and his upbringing he’d have an large ego. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but not in a bad way. You’d come to really like Steve Harrington, he had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match.

Which made it even more confusing on the days that you didn’t spend in his office. See you had saved up enough money for school and your expenses for the first couple of weeks, but that money only stretched so far. So, you looked for a job, and you became desperate. Being in a college town, good jobs that weren’t already taken by other college students were far and few between and being a TA wasn’t enough. So, one night after school when you were at Violets, Eddie overheard you talking about your dilemma, and offered you a job working for him. Eddie worked as a record producer and worked closely with a few music managers who were looking for social media manager. Which you happily accepted, there were no set hours and you could do a majority of your work in your pjs at home unless you needed to get Eddies opinion on something then you’d spend time out in the garage with him while he gave you advice or things the label is looking for in terms of the clients image or engagement numbers you needed to hit.

Sometimes you’d even make up excuses just to go over and spend time with him in the garage. He was patient with you while you slowly opened up to him about things that had happened over the past few years that you never wanted to worry Violet with, cheating boyfriends, bad friends, financial problems, and he took it all with stride, listening to and giving advice where he could. He’d spend time reminiscing about the “glory days” when his band, Corroded Coffin, used to play gigs every weekend at the hideout, a small bar on the outside of town. Or when he was in high school, he ran a club in school called the Hellfire Club where all his friends would play DnD, he even showed you that he got Hell Fire tattooed across his knuckles. You’d spend hours over there just tucked away in Eddies little corner of the house, sometimes he’d play songs for you on his guitar, or when he found out you had never played DnD he spent a few nights teaching you all the basics in case you ever wanted to play. You liked the way you felt when you were around Eddie, in a similar way that Steve did, Eddie quieted your thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety that usually swirled around in your head. You really liked Eddie, and it made your feelings even more confused because you felt guilty keeping all of this from Violet. You didn’t know how she would react to you having a crush on her dad, and you never wanted to put your friendship with her in danger. She was basically the only family you had, and you intended to keep it that way, even if it meant keeping your crush on her father a secret.

It all came to a head about a month later. You were staying late in Steve’s office grading papers while he was reading over some scientific studies that he was going to go over in class that following week. You were reading over a specific paper, a girl who sat behind you in class, who giggled at Steve during the first day of class. She had a lot of typos in her paper, and you had a hard time following her methods and asked for Steves opinion. He got up from his desk and went over to the other side of his desk where you were sitting, hovering over you so his face was close to yours. You loved when he did this, being able to see the honey bits in his eyes or the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he was thinking really hard, or how he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them.

 For some reason the air in the room seems extra electrified, the tension being so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your breath hitched as he got extra close to read a specific part in the paper, you could smell his cologne so clearly it was intoxicating. Steve turned to you to tell you what points to dock from her paper, but you didn’t hear a single word he was saying, it was all drowned out by the lust you felt for him. You think he could sense it too, his eyes kept flickering between your eyes and your lips.

Oh gods was this really happening?

You could see his face getting closer and closer to yours, you closed your eyes, bracing for impact. Your heart was beating faster than you ever thought humanly possible. And then, he kissed you. More intensely than you’d ever been kissed before, he started out soft, testing the waters. Slowly brushing his lips against yours, working up intensity until his tongue prodded your lips asking for an invitation in. The invitation happily accepted by you, you welcomed him in with your lips and sighed into the kiss, allowing your hand to grasp at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He held onto the side of your face like if he let go, you’d vanish. You kissed like this for a minute or two, lips melding together and tongues intertwining. He tasted like his spearmint gum that he chews sometimes, and his lips were softer than you ever thought humanly possible.

But as quickly as it started, it stopped. Steve de-tangled himself from your grip and stood back.

“Fuck, holy shit, I- Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your teacher for Christ’s sake… FUCK!” he shouted.

You jump at the volume of his voice, you were not used to this Steve, or the tone he was using. He paced around the room for a few minutes, and you looked at your shoes embarrassed. Embarrassed because you weren’t sorry it happened. You had been dreaming for weeks about what his lips would feel like or what he'd taste like.

“I’m not Steve, you don’t need to be sorry because.. because I wanted it to happen, I’ll only be your student for a few more months and then after that we can do whatever we want,” you blurt out in desperation. Allowing the thoughts and dreams that hide in your head to spill out of your mouth. Steve sighs and sits back down in his chair, taking his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb.

“I- I think you should just go Y/N, I need to figure out what to do. This shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry it did,” he murmurs.

His words act like daggers in your heart, stealing all the breath from your lungs. All the worst-case scenarios that played out in your head when you felt insecure, now playing out right in front of you. You were angry, you know he feels the same way but he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it.

“Fuck you Steve, fuck you!” you bite out through your teeth, not allowing the tears to flow from your eyes, just yet. He just rejected you, the last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry. You pack up all the things that had been splayed-out all over Steve’s desk, shoving them into your bookbag, and storming out of the room.

Before you’re even out of the building the tears start streaming down your face, you choke back sobs as you get into your car. You bury your head in your hands, your shoulders shaking from how hard you were crying. You can’t go home, you thought. Not to an empty apartment where it’s even more apparent just how alone you are.

You put the key into the ignition and go to the only other place in town that you can think of going to, Violet’s house. You prayed to any god that could hear you, that Violet was home, but Eddie was not. You did not want him to see you like this, especially over a guy. He’d heard all the pathetic stories of love that hadn’t worked out you didn’t need to add another to the list.

Somehow luck was on your side with this, Eddie’s car was not in the driveway, only Violets. You get out of the car, not even bothering to lock it and run up to the door and let yourself inside with the key Violet had given you after your first week in Hawkins. Tears still streaming down your face, you take in your new surroundings; Violet was sitting on the couch watching some dumb rom com and eating popcorn. She looks startled by the sudden intrusion and the state you were in. Your mascara all smudged, and you had tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N? What happened?” she coos. She gets off the couch and walks over to you, her face softens when she gets closer to you, her face now shrouded in worry. She pulls you fiercely into a hug and just lets you cry on her shoulder. Eventually she brings you over to the couch and she gets you to tell her the events that have unfolded. She listened intently while you told her about your professor and how you felt about him, and then about how he rejected you after a mind-blowing kiss. She held your hand the entire time, rubbing soothing circles into your hand.

Just as you had finished telling her what happened you heard the familiar jingle of the doorknob and the heavy boots that followed. You couldn’t look at him right now, not when you looked like this.

“Hey, hey party people, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight I shoulda got more beer from the store!” Eddie sang. The closer Eddie got to you he realized something was off and stopped in his tracks.

“Now’s not a good time dad,” Violet said, still focusing her attention on you.

“What happened? Y/N are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen with your car?” his questions flying by you a million miles a minute. Too exhausted to say anything you let Violet speak for you.

“She kissed a guy at school, and he rejected her,” Violet says as softly as she can.

“Y/N kissed a guy at school?” he said, you could hear an edge in his voice that made you flinch slightly.

“Yes, dad god did you have to repeat it? She’s been through enough tonight. Come Y/N lets go upstairs.” She says clearly annoyed with her dad’s lack of empathy.

You couldn’t bear to look at Eddie, so you allow Violet to usher you upstairs into her room. You two cuddle up in her bed, she lets you borrow some clothes to spend the night in and gives you a makeup wipe to wash the mascara and mostly cried off eyeliner off your face. You felt so taken care of by her, you remember you used to do this for her in Middle School when boys would be shitheads to her, it took a lot to break Violet, but boys are the worst.

At some point Violet fell asleep when you guys were listening to a true crime podcast, you felt your tummy grumble and slowly slipped out of her room to find a snack in the kitchen. You were so worked up after the incident with Steve you had forgotten to eat something more than a few handfuls of popcorn. Downstairs was more quiet than usual, you couldn’t hear soft metal music coming from the garage or Eddies light humming. You assumed maybe he had gone out for the night.

     Until he scared the shit out of you sitting at the kitchen table, silently. He looked upset, nursing a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Holy fuck you scared me, warn a woman, jeez!” you say, sounding a little more like your normal self when your alone with him. Usually, Eddie would retort with a smart-ass remark, but instead you got silence and a slight sad smile on his face. You sense he’s not in the mood, so you move farther into the kitchen to grab yourself an iced tea from the fridge and make yourself a sandwich.

It was usually never this awkward between the two of you, it broke your heart a bit. You just lost Steve and now it felt like you were losing Eddie too.

“Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?” he asked quietly.

You jumped a little not expecting him to speak. Trying to word things very carefully so there was no confusion.

“He kissed me and then I kissed him back, and then he broke off the kiss and told me to leave.” You sigh sadly and take a big gulp of your iced tea.

“Idiot.” he muttered under his breath.

You thought that’s what you heard but you didn’t know for certain.

“What?” you question.

“I said he’s an idiot.” he said a bit louder for you to hear clearly.

That made your aching heart flutter inside your chest. Men are impossible to read.

“Oh.” you murmur, not really sure what to say.

“He’s an idiot because I’d never let a girl like you go,” he says calmly.

You heart could beat outside of your chest right now, his words set your skin on fire. But you were simultaneously hit with overwhelming guilt. Violet. Your best friend. The one sleeping soundly upstairs who would never do anything to hurt you.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot more at stake here,” You say trying to tread lightly.

He abruptly pushes out of his chair and heads to the garage door. “Yeah I know.” he says, sounding a mix between disappointed and angry.

You could feel a new rush of tears welling in your eyes, not only did you lose Steve today, but you were going to lose Eddie too. Two out of your three safe spaces, gone in one day. You felt so small, like you were free falling and you couldn’t grab anything to save yourself.

“What do you want from me Eddie?” you say defeated, barely above a whisper.

Eddie stops at your words, opening up the door to the garage, so close to freedom. His eyes now soft, seeing the state of you. “Nothing sweetheart, I want nothing from you.”

You just nod at his words, slouching your shoulders trying to protect your broken heart. Willing yourself to accept the fact that you lost both of them today, and there’s nothing that you can do to change it. You look at the floor, watching your tears slowly cloud your vision. You just hoped he left the room before you start actually crying.

Then you hear the garage door shut and feel the last of your heart shatter with it. You look up to confirm what your heart already knew, that Eddie was gone.

But where a closed door should be, showed the outline of Eddie standing in front of a closed door. You tried to blink away the tears, to try and figure out if you were seeing things correctly. The look on Eddies face was between a mixture of pain and confliction, his fists squeezed at his sides.

“Fuck it.” is the last thing you hear him say before he takes long strides over to you in the kitchen. Now right in front of you he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you firmly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to stay. His calloused hands wiping away your tears. You moan into his touch, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to dance with yours. He kisses you with such passion, showing you with actions he what couldn’t say with his words. You push him impossibly closer to you, willing the two of you to meld into one if that what it took, not letting him have the chance to leave you. He takes that as an invitation to lift you up and put you on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Your legs caging him in on either side of his body.

“Please don’t go.” you mutter wetly between kisses. Eddie moves from your mouth and leaves kisses from the edges of your wet eyes to a part on your neck that made your skin irrupt in goosebumps.

“Never baby, m not goin anywhere I promise.” he reassures nuzzling his nose against a sweet spot on your neck. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling a little better than you did a minute ago. Kissing Eddie made every other rational thought cease to exist in your brain. Just you, and Eddie, your bodies moving in tandem with each other. Harmony.

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400 Lux

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence WORD COUNT: 3.1k

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We're hollow like the bottles that we drain

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we're brave

I love these roads where the houses don't change

Where we can talk like there's something to say

December Continued

Adding an extra dash of cinnamon into the bowl, mom turns to give me a stern look, holding up the whisk in a threatening manor.

“We never add enough.” I complain, pouting my bottom lip. She sticks her finger on a pile of flour and swipes it on my face. I gasp and she laughs out at me.

“We’re following a strict recipe. I refuse to change any measurements!” I huff out, turning my body to the stove, crouching down to check on the cookies we placed in about 8 minutes ago. 

“Second batch of gingerbreads almost done.” I call out as she starts on the batter for our next group of cookies - Jam thumbprints my favorite. 

“Start rolling out the dough for this last batch while I prep the Jam” she instructs. I walk to the sink, rinsing my hands off when the door bell rings.

“LUCY” I call out to my younger sister who is lounging on the couch, munching on the sugar cookies we made earlier this afternoon. 

She takes her time pushing herself off the couch to geto to the front door. I hear faint voices exchange hellos, and Lucy finally says “She’s in the kitchen”

Rafe comes from around the corner and my eyes widen. His backpack is slung over his shoulder, the front button of his uniform unbuttoned. 

“Hi Mrs. Y/L/N, Hi Y/N” He greets us with a devilish smile. I stare at him, my mouth agape at his audacity to be in my kitchen with my mom.

Mom dusts her hands on her apron and walks around the island counter to give him a hug. I internally cringe to see him wrap his arms around her and he sends me a wink.

“Rafe, it’s so nice to see you. You’re so grown!” she compliments, patting him on the shoulder.

“Smells good, what’re y’all making?” he asks, scanning the counters filled with various baking supplies and tools. The dining table stacked with various cookie types and sizes. 

“We’re finishing the last of the gingerbread men right now and were starting our Jam thumbprints. They’ll be our last cookie of the day.” my mom informs in, getting back to making the dough. 

He licks his lips, still scanning the cookies. “Those are my favorite” he says with a smile.

“Y/Ns too!” she says, playfully pushing into my side. I look down at the batter and begin to press the shape cutter into the rolled gingerbread dough.

“So what’re you doin here Rafe?” I ask. My mom tsks her tongue at me, giving me another stern look. 

“Uh I tried callin ya but I see now that you’re busy. I just wanted to come and drop off your stuff.” He puts down his bookbag on one of the barstools, pulling out the study packet and calculator. 

I had been so hyper focused on my exams all week that I honestly forgot I had even given those supplies to him last weekend.

“How’d the exam go?” I ask, continuing to cut out the shapes of the little men on the counter. 

“Think I aced it. Your study book was very … thorough.” he says with a smirk, walking over to stand and inspect the cookies I was working on. 

My mom pokes her head over “She’s always been a great test taker. She has an excellent ACT score.” my mom boasts.

“Mom” I hiss at her.

“Oh really, what do you have?” he asks. I purse my lips together, refusing to give him an answer. Mom chimes in for me “A 33. Isn’t that amazing!” she cries out.

“Kinsey got a perfect score.” I grumble under my breath

“A score like that and she wants to go to NC State.” she says, shaking her head at Rafe. 

“NC State really” he says, raising an eyebrow. I finally turn to look at him after cutting the last cookie out.

“Duke would be a living hell and I would see too many Kooks at UNC.” I say, staring at him with an emotionless expression.

“She’s still waiting to hear back from UPenn though.” my mom chimes in again. 

His eyebrows stay raised. “That’s pretty far.” he states.

“That’s my dads alma malter. I really don’t think I’m going to get in, I only have good grades, I didn’t do half the extra curriculars most of the applicants did. Plus I’ll be fine with NC State. Its the perfect distance that I wanna go.” I start placing each cookie on a baking sheet as Rafe watches me intently.

“Well I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, backing away. “But I also wanted to invite you to the Christmas get-together we’re having tonight at Toppers.” I snort at his choice of words, avoiding his usual vocab of “banger” and “kegger” for the sake of my mother.

“Oh honey that sounds nice.”

“Mom we still have to finish all these cookies.”

“Lucy is perfectly able to help me out with the last batch. When’s your hangout starting?” she asks Rafe, already starting to push me away from the kitchen.

“I can pick you up around 7:30” he says, walking towards the front door. 

“I wasn’t planning on going out tonight.” I say crossing my arms.

“Honey, you should go. And you can take some cookies!” My mom says, giving Rafe a hug goodbye.

“See you at 7:30 then.” he says with a smirk before opening the front door. I turn on my heels and shoot daggers at my mom.

“Hes such a nice boy.” she says before walking into the kitchen. “Go get ready.” she says, more commanding than suggestive. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mom kept popping her head in while I was getting ready, so I kept a robe on, and kept the makeup to a minimum. I pull out a large ugly Christmas sweater from my closet and slide it over my tiny red dress. I was trying my best to keep up the facade that this was a pure christmas hang out to celebrate the end of exams. I slide on a black pair of tights underneath for extra measure. 

The doorbell rings at 7:30 sharp. I apply a few dot of lipgloss onto my lined lips and grab my bag, heading up the stairs.

“Rafe, how you doin?” I hear my dad greet Rafe at the front door. When I come into view of the front door I see that Rafe and I were on the same page. He was wearing a santa hat and an ugly sweater with a reindeer on the front. My mom rushes past me with a tin full of cookies shoving them into Rafe’s hands.

“You kids be good alright?” my dad says, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“What time do you want her home?” 

“No specific time, just get home safe.” my dad instructs, giving him a firm handshake and walking back towards the living room.

“It’s okay if you need to stay at the Cameron estate, we trust you to stay safe and don’t want you drinking and driving.” my mom whispers into my ear.

“I’m sure I’ll get home fine.” I say before giving her a tight hug. We walk out the front door and he opens the car door for me. I hop into his truck and place my bag and the cookies in the back.

“What time does this actually start?” I ask as he turns his head around while backing out of my driveway.

“Not till 10. Figured that would be suspiciously late for your mom. Thought you could come with me on the alc run.” 

“Where do you usually get your stuff?” I ask, slipping the sweater up and off my body, tossing it in the back.

“Mainland” he says, turning the volume up. I groan and pull my tights off, bringing my knees up to my chest.

“Cant use my fake round here, they know ‘M not 21.” I nod, understanding the risk and start to play with his apple car play.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, swatting my hand away.

“Putting songs on queue. If ‘m stuck in this car with you for the next two hours I’d like to listen to my favorite driving songs.”

“None of that Taylor Swift bullshit.” he says, his hand returning back to the steering wheel.

“You’re so reputation-coded.” I laugh at my own joke, putting some songs into the queue. Rafe liked a lot of rap, which I could get down to but I also needed to add my own pump-up songs on rotation.

“Don’t know what the fuck that even means.” he says.

“I’ll play the one that has Future on it.”

“She did a collab with Future?” he asks, turning to take a glance at me. His eyes scan my body up and down, finally taking a peek at the dress I had underneath the sweater.

“You’re gonna fuckin freeze” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel tightly, clnehcing his jaw. I watch as his hands flex and start chewing on the inside of my cheek. 

“This is for you.” he says motioning down to the reusable tumbler in the cup holder. I pick it up and take a small sip.

“Damn this is good what is it?” 

“Apple cider sangria. Rose’s special.” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Figured you would wanna pregame.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I say with a smile. He gives me another quick glance before turning the volume up even higher for the last chorus of a Playboy Carti song. I made sure to leave most of his songs at the front of the queue, trying to not annoy him so early into our drive. He’s surprised when I sign along to a few of them. By the time we reach the liquor store were both shouting at the top of our lungs the chorus to Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi.

“MR. RAGER, CAN WE TAG ALONG? CAN WE TAKE A JOURNEY?”

“You want anything?” he asks, turning off the truck and unbuckling his belt.

“Peppermint Schnapps?” I ask, battling my eyelashes at him. He smiles and nods his head, “I’ll be back. Don’t do nothin stupid.” 

After about 5 minutes He walks out with the store clerk, loading up everything into the bed of his truck. The man daps Rafe up and he walks up to the front of the car.

“You hungry or anything?” he asks, putting Topper’s location into the GPS. 

“I could go for Cook Out.” I say with a smirk.

“That place is foul.” he grunts, adding a stop to Cook Out on the GPS.

“I’ll take a small burger, a small fry and a Cheerwine pleaseee” I say as we pull throught he drive through. He repeats my order, getting himself a corndog and a banana milkshake.

He passes me the food and I shriek out in excitement. 

“You’re cute” he says as I stick a straw into his milkshake for him. My songs start to play and I reach over to turn up the volume. I peak my eyes up at him and he glances down and nods in head, letting me touch the nob, twisting it up.

Lights Up by Harry Styles starts thumping throught he bass of his truck and I sing along with pride. As we pass through backroads I roll the window down, feeling the crisp winter air blow into the car. 

“Take my picture” I say, passing my unlocked phone to him. I push myself up and out of the car, leaning my body out of the window, letting my hair flow 

“Careful” he grumbles, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding my phone up, snapping pictures. I stick my hands out, imagining myself like Harry in the music video. 

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”  I shout into the sky. Rafe pulls me by my arm back into the car and tosses my phone onto my lap.

“Can’t do dumb shit like that when I have alcohol in the back” he growls. I ignore him and go into my camera roll to inspect the picture she took.

“Might need you to be my photographer for the night” I say, flicking throught the images.

He rolls his eyes, slurping on his milkshake. 

We finally roll up to the Thornton estate and Rafe instructs me to head inside and get Top and Kelce to help him bring everything. I follow his instructions and walk in, finding Top leaning over the bannister of the top floor, a santa hat lopsided on his had, a beer bottle swinging loosely in his hand. He catches sight of me and lets out a roar

“Y/N!” making his way down the stairs I greet him with a hug.

“Rafe’s outside with the alc.” I inform him. He pats my shoulder and heads out to help Rafe unload the truck. The living room is already filled, this time with more familiar faces. 

I spot Sabrina across the room with our group of friends and I make my way over.

She lights up when she sees me, running towards me with open arms.

“Did you come with Rafe?” she immediately asks.

“What happened to hello, how are you?” I joke, hugging her back. 

“Topper said you went with him to the mainland for Alc.” she says, guiding me to the couch.

“Yea I didn’t really have a choice. He told my mom he would pick me up and then sprung that on me as well pulled out of my driveway.”

Our conversation is interrupted by cheers as the boys pile into the living room, bottles of liquor and cases of beer in their hands. 

“Lets get this party started” Topper hollers to the crowd. Everyone cheers back and swarm the guys, ripping open into the cases. I pull Sabrina up to the bar where the boys start unloading the bottles and mixers that we got. 

“Lets do some shots.” Kelce suggests. “We do Holiday shots a little different round here, Y/N” he says turning towards the back counter, grabbing bottles of chocolate syrup out. My eyebrows lift and I watch Sabrina hop onto the barstool.

“Why dont you show her how its done Sab?” Topper suggests. She gleams back at him and turns around. Her back against the counter, leaning her head back and opening her mouth wide. Topper props himself up on the counter, a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps in one hand, chocolate syrup in the other. 

“First you give the victim a shot,” he begins to slowly fill Sabrina’s mouth with the clear liquid. She stays still as he opens the lid of the chocolate syrup. “And then you top them off with a little bit of Syrup. He squirts a dollop into her mouth and she closes it, swallowing it all and raising her hands up. 

“We do it this way, or sitting on someones lap.” she says with a smirk, hoping off the barstool.

“Lets see if we can get another volunteer.” Top scans the room and calls over Carissa. I roll my eyes, stepping back against the kitchen wall. 

“Rafe, show her how it's done,” Topper says. Rafe, who had also ditched his ugly sweater, now wearing a dark red polo, waltzes over to the bar stool and pulls Carissa on top of him. Her back is against the bar like Sabrinas was and he holds back her neck, pouring the liquor into her mouth, and then squirting the chocolate syrup into her mouth. A little bit extra lands on her cheek and she squeals, pushing Rafe aggressively on his chest. She hops off of his lap and he and Topper exchange laughs.

“You ready to try?” Top asks, still propper up on the counter. 

“I volunteer” A voice comes from around the corner. It’s Noah. Rafe reluctantly gets up from the chair and pushes past Noah, knocking his shoulder. He stands next to me and I hesitate, walking over. He grabs my hips and lifts me up onto his lap, swiviling in the bar chair to press me against the counter.

I lean my head back and he grabs the back of my neck, pouring the peppermint down my throat. My eyes lightly water and I feel my body tremble beneath him. His hand around my neck didnt feel as nice as Rafe’s and I feel myself clenching inside at the feeling of my legs on his lap. He places a dot of syrup in my mouth and I swallow, Sabrina cheering behind me with a beer bottle in her hand. 

I lift my head back up to meet Noahs eyes and he smiles, leaning up close to my face.

“That was hot.” he whispers. I stifle a laugh and hop off of the chair. Adjusting my dress back down my legs. I look around to see that Rafe left the spot on the wall and was making his way into the crowd. 

Sabrina and I make our way into the middle of the crowd dancing along to the songs booming through the speakers. After finishing a few beers I ask Sabrina if she wants another shot. She excitedly says yes and we find Topper and Kelce maning the station, chocolate Syrup all over the counter, and their faces. 

“We wanna take a shot again.” Sabrina says, tapping Toppers shoulder. He turns and grins down at her.

“Y’all have to kiss after if you want more.” he says jokingly. We exchange a look between each other and I shrug.

“Okay”

I plop onto the stool and Sabrina hops on top of my lap. I go through the motions of the shot, Rafe appears back in the room for the first time since he had left before.

After Sabrina swallows the shot, I pull her neck down to meet my face and we exchange a quick peck, gaining a cheer from the guys behind the counter.

Making eye contact with Rafe, he has a smirk on his face, running his hand over his chin and chuckling under his breath. I can tell Sabrina is drunk by the way she slides off of my lap and wobbles over to Topper.

“My turn.” he says and she grabs his hand leading him from behind the counter. I get off the stool and go over to stand by Rafe, his Santa hat still placed neatly ontop of his head.

“Will you take some pictures of me now?” I ask innocently. He turns his head, bending his neck down to meet my face.

“Where were you thinking?”

“Upstairs bathroom?” I say, holding my breath for his reaction.

“Let's go.”

Previous Chapter | Instagram AU | Next Chapter

[madhatterbri]

Shakedown | Mafia!HOOK

Summary: The Perry family take you from Tyler with help from the inside.

@99hook @shawtys-things

"Have you heard the news?" Taz asked taking a few puffs from his cigar. He placed the cigar on the ashtray and looked at his son. The smoke caused a haze above their table. He noted his son's silence that he hadn't. "Jack and his family of low life criminals have been spotted around New York,"

Tyler tensed at the news. He had been careless the last few days with taking his girl out. He thought about all the places they visited. All the places Jack and his men could have been hiding. He cursed inwardly at his own foolishness. A glimmer of hope cast over him. Maybe they hadn't been around long.

"How long?"

"The boys are saying three days. Could be more or less. He must have drove from LA this time," Taz answered and leaned back in his chair. He stared at his son noting his worried expression. "Where is your name?"

"At school. Anthony is there like usual," he answered feeling sheepish. HOOK knew he messed up. He didn't need a whole ass lecture about it.

"Make sure you alert Anthony that Jack is back. Maybe have them come here right after class," Taz advised. Right now he needed to make sure Jack wasn't poking around where he shouldn't be.

🖤

You smiled seeing Anthony at the car. He always waited patiently for you no matter how long or short your classes ran. He was scrolling through his phone while he leaned against the car. His normal happy expression shrouded in worry.

"Hey, Anthony. Is everything okay?" You asked.

"Bad news. Boss man is telling me to get you to one of the safe houses. New York got a visitor you don't want to be acquainted with," he broke the news to you. You frowned.

"But St. Marks isn't too far from here. Couldn't we go back home?"

"We don't know if any of his men infiltrated the place yet," he answered while opening the door for you.

"Is Tyler gonna visit us there?" You asked hopefully while throwing your bookbag in the backseat. You slid inside the car.

"That's the plan,"

🖤

Tyler noticed the time and immediately started to worry. He couldn't get a hold of Anthony or his girlfriend. A couple of his men drove around NYU but hadn't seen you. They talked the professor who informed them you left with Anthony hours ago.

"Son, this isn't like Anthony. We may have to accept the fact that-"

"He wouldn't betray me. I told him to come here as soon as he got her. Class ran late or something," he snapped at his father. He rested his head on his hands. His fingers pulled his hair as the stress took over.

"You gotta think with your mind and not your heart. Every second you treating Anthony like he didn't betray you is another second your name could be out there in danger,"

🖤

"We are here," Anthony informed you after the long car ride. You kicked yourself for leaving your phone back home. It was weird. You left in on the nightstand last night and this morning it was gone. Maybe it fell under the bed while you slept.

He stepped out of the car and opened the door for you. You thanked him and walked out seeing the safe house.

The house was made of brick surrounded by tall pine trees. There was no windows and lots of security cameras. Several armored cars were already parked near the house.

"Tyler never mentioned this one to me before," you pointed out. You thought you had visited all the ones his family owned. This one was certainly not as modern as the rest but it seemed cozy.

"Come on. Let's get you inside. It's a little chilly out here," Anthony offered while extending his arm towards the house. You walked towards the door with your stomach tied in knots. Something was off about this situation. None of HOOK's men were outside.

You stopped just before the stairs on to the porch. He stopped right behind you.

"I don't think we are at the right place. I want to go to St. Marks. I-" you stopped once you turned around. Anthony's gun was pointed at you. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"Why?"

"Enough. Get up the stairs and knock on the door. He's been expecting you," he ordered and flicked his gun towards you. You turned around and slowly walked up the stairs. Before you could knock on the door a man answered it.

His brown hair pushed back into a bun. His brown eyes stared down at you. You hadn't seen this man before in your dealings with HOOK.

"You must be your name. I'm Jack and I've been dying to meet you," he greeted.

🖤

"I'm really sorry, Taz. We tried tailing them but he used the traffic to get rid of us. They were going out somewhere Northwest," the driver spoke through the cellphone speaker. HOOK slammed his fist in the table. He breathed heavily and crossed his arms to control himself.

"How did your name look?"

"Like everything was okay. I'm sure Anthony was feeding her some mess. We are gonna keep our eyes open. We got an informant telling us where they went. We will keep you posted," the driver assured and hung up. The twisted pain of betrayal weighed heavily.

"Son, calm down. We are doing everything we can to locate her," Taz promised. Tyler remained motionless until his cell phone rang. He grabbed the phone from his back pocket. The screen lit up the last name he wanted to see.

Anthony

"Where the fuck is she?" Tyler barked into the phone.

🖤

Tyler's voice through the phone sprung tears to your eyes. He sounded so upset and you couldn't be there to help him. You looked at Jack as a tear slid down your cheek.

"Now see you are going to make her cry. Is that what you want?" Jack asked with annoyance over the phone. He stared at you. "Tell him you are fine with his friends Anthony and Jack,"

"I... I'm fine, Ty," you stuttered afraid of what he would do if you hadn't cooperated. For now you were sitting on a couch surrounded by Anthony and several of Jack's men.

"Enough games, Perry. Where is she?" Tyler demanded.

"You weren't any good at hide and seek were you? You know you wasted Anthony as a babysitter for your little girlfriend. He really is a jack of all trades," he complimented the man that betrayed the Senerchia family. "But look it's late. Let me call you in the morning and we can settle this like men then,"

"Tell me where you are now and we can settle it when I get there,"

Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Patience, young Tyler. Good night,"

🖤

Once Jack ended the call someone called his dad. Tyler hoped it would be information regarding Jack's whereabouts. Sure enough he was in luck. In a matter of minutes he was driving to her location. The GPS said he would be there in a few hours.

"Just hold on, your name," he whispered as the driver sped through New York.

🖤

Jack left you on the couch while he conducted business. Your hands tied in front of your body. He didn't trust you to be alone by the front door. A man stayed with you to watch you. With no windows the thought of escaping seemed small.

Anthony appeared in the room. Ever since he betrayed you he hadn't been able to look at you. The betrayal ate you up and you had one simple question for him.

"Why?" You asked him. Your voice so small and innocent. That was exactly how you felt. None of this revolved around you. You just happened to be dating the son of a very important man. "Why didn't you tell him you didn't want to watch me anymore? Was it something I did?"

He flinched at your words. You weren't going to understand. This was a man's game and you were just a silly little pawn.

"Shut her up," he ordered one of the men in the room.

"Gladly," the man laughed and placed a piece of silver tape over your mouth.

🖤

"He's here," Jack yelled running through the front door. Tires screeched outside signaling HOOK's arrival. Before you could think Jack was dragging you outside. A gun pointed at your back.

The SUVs parked outside in a half circle. Tyler stood in front of them. Their lights showing him brightly.

"No daddy here to protect you? I'm shocked," Jack announced while grabbing your hair and pulling back. You yelped in pain against the tape as he forced you to walk towards Tyler. HOOK's men raised their guns trying to get a clear shot at Jack but he used you as a shield.

"What do you want Jack?" HOOK asked. "Give her to me and it's yours,"

"I want the Senerchia family to be no more. The Perry family will reign Supreme. My dad couldn't do it before he died and now it's my turn," Jack spoke his terms for your safety. You shook your head. You knew how hard his family worked to build their empire.

"Deal. We will pack everything up here and you will have all our point of contacts," Tyler agreed.

"You think I'm stupid? I want you and daddy swimming with the fishes. I want the Senerchia name gone from the mafia history books. When anyone says your name they will think of me and remember my face as the one that brought you down. You and your daddy are noth-," Jack was suddenly silenced once your elbow connected to his stomach. He doubled over in pain allowing you a chance at freedom. You ran towards Tyler. His arms wide open to grab you.

Before they were able to shoot Jack a reinforced car pulled up in front of him. Anthony yelled for him to get in and they drove off in a matter of seconds. Jack escaped but you were safe. That was all HOOK cared about. You buried your face in his chest and cried.

"Let's get you home," he whispered as he untied your hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you bridal style to the car.

🖤

"We almost had him!" Jack yelled in the car. "Why did you do that?"

"You think he was going to let you getaway with taking his girl? You were going to be gone and the Perry name left in shambles," Anthony reasoned. "Don't worry. I know all of New York like the back of my hand. You'll get your kingdom and I'll get my revenge,"

Anthony stared off into the distance getting further away from his ex best friend.

[moonlightsmasquerade]

Monsters in Mayweather: In The Woods Somewhere

CW: Mild Body Horror, Death

An ordinary camping trip Matt Hill and his father went on turned into a waking nightmare.

Run…

Run…

Run…

Don’t let it catch you

A ringing analog alarm clock blared and Matt Hill’s eyes snapped open. He grumbled, picking up the clock and turning it off, taking in the silence for a moment. Whenever he had a nightmare he would feel clammy and his heart would beat fast, like now, unlike many times before though the memory of the dream faded. He could only remember running from something. Now wasn’t the time to worry about dreams, now he had to worry about the real nightmare: getting out of bed. Matt sat up and stretched, letting out a sigh. He still felt tired. He stood up and dug through his dresser drawers, picking up a long sleeved shirt and jeans to change into for school. 

“Matt!” his mother’s voice called out.

“Coming!” he called back, changing into his clothes and grabbing a hairbrush, brushing through his red hair, picking out tangles, and let his long bangs fall over his face, completely covering one of his eyes. He walked down the stairs to the dining room, his little sister quietly eating cereal while his mother handed him some toast and his lunch bag. 

“Your father’s going to pick you up from school today, so don’t go to the bus stop, oh, and tell Cyrus not to wait for you.” she said. He nodded and took a bite of his toast.

“Don’t forget they’re also doing baseball tryouts next week, put it on your calendar so you can remember to go this time, it's on Wednesday. ” his mother said, Matt cringed slightly, he hoped she had forgotten about that.

“I might be busy.” He muttered, keeping his eyes on his food to avoid his mom’s gaze.

“With what?” 

“Ms Diaz asked if I could help with her lawn after school next Wednesday." He replied. This wasn’t true, she hadn’t asked, he was planning on asking her if he could, if he was doing work then his mom would stop asking him to try out for something he had no interest in. 

“But an extracurricular would be good for you,” his mother started, this hadn’t been the first time she had tried to get him to sign up for something he had zero interest in. Matt had learned to tune it out and let her talk about how he could make more friends (he had plenty of those), and he should participate in a sport, lots of young men enjoyed sports (he found them boring). 

“You’re not bothering him with that again are you?” His father's voice chimed in as he walked down the stairs. He smoothed his work clothes, wearing a tidy button up shirt and plain trousers, completely plain save for the gold cross necklace around his neck.

 “Matt has plenty on his plate right now.” His tone was lighthearted, and he gave Matt a quick pat on the shoulder. Matt took quite a lot of his fathers traits, the most obvious was their shared red hair, though his father kept it short.

"We'll talk about it later then." his mother replied, she handed his father his lunch bag. Matt quickly finished the rest of the toast and grabbed his backpack, ready to get out of the house. 

“Alright let's go,” he said, “Bye Selena.” he ruffled his little sister's hair, receiving a laugh and a “Bye bye!” He was about to leave through the front door when his mother stopped him, “Wait,” she tucked Matt’s loose bangs behind his ear, 

“There we go, now we can see your face.” She smiled and Matt said a quick “Bye!” and walked out, waving to his mother and then his father, who waved back before he got into his car and drove off. Matt headed to Cyrus’ house, which luckily wasn’t a long walk as they lived two houses down from Matt’s. He stopped as soon as he got there, staying at the end of the sidewalk and watching as Cyrus and their mother stepped out. Cyrus in their usual letterman jacket was pushing some of their windswept brown hair out of their eyes. Ms. Diaz handed them their bookbag, and hugged them once they got it on. 

“Have a good day honey! Stay safe! You too Matt!” She said as she waved goodbye to both. Cyrus gave an enthusiastic wave back while Matt just raised and lowered his hand.

“Thanks Mama!” “Bye Ms. Diaz!” both said at the same time. The two continued on their walk to the bus stop at the end of their street, a handful of other teens hung out by the spot. As soon as he and Cyrus arrived at their spot Matt shook his hair out, letting the bangs fall back over his eye. He let out a long sigh.

“The day’s barely started and you already look exhausted.” Cyrus teased.

“I slept like shit and had an awful dream,” Matt groaned, “I wish I was back in bed.”

“That sucks, do you remember what happened in it?”

“I… I don’t remember, I just remember it freaked me out.” Matt replied.

“My dream was lame, I literally had the ‘dream up a day at school’ one, so I wake up and realize that the day isn’t over and I have to do it all over again.” Cyrus exaggerated a sigh and threw their arms down, Matt stifled a small laugh. The bus arrived shortly after, and the two boarded, starting their school day.

…

The day felt like it was never going to end, Cyrus Diaz was thankful it was finally lunchtime. They bought their lunch and scanned the cafeteria, unable to spy Matt’s mop of red hair in the sea of teens. So they headed towards the bathrooms, the bathrooms were next to the back entrance, which after double checking no teachers were nearby, Cyrus snuck through and headed towards the football field nearby, and underneath the bleachers. They spotted Matt sitting underneath, legs crossed and bag lunch in front of him. He hadn’t seen them yet, Cyrus grinned before speaking. 

“Matthais Hill, you should be in the cafeteria!” Cyrus put on a faux authoritative voice, causing a small jump from Matt who looked over and relaxed when he realized who it was. 

“I ought to give you a detention for this!” Cyrus continued as they walked over and sat next to him, receiving an eye roll from Matt.

“You’re a dork.” he said

Cyrus let out a small laugh, then began eating their food, and noticed Matt only picking slightly at his. It was easy to tell when Matt was bothered by something, his whole demeanor would change. This coupled with the fact he only sat under the bleachers when he didn’t feel like socializing with the crowd, it made Cyrus wonder.

“You seemed kinda miffed, is anything wrong?” They asked, hearing him let out a sigh.

“No… it was just my mom,” he let out a disgruntled sigh, “I thought she was over telling me what I should be doing with my free time, but then she goes on about trying baseball again.”

“Baseball? The last time you played baseball you were 5 and you spent the whole game counting the ants on the ground.” Cyrus said before taking a bite of cafeteria pizza.

“I counted 137.” Matt replied like it was an achievement, Cyrus nearly choked on their food to stifle a laugh.

“You can remember how many ants you counted on the ground, but you can’t remember half of your algebra equations. Glad you have your priorities.” They teased. Matt giggled, and his demeanor changed again, looking relaxed. Mission accomplished, Cyrus thought to themself, they hated to see him upset. The two ate their food, trading their desserts, Cyrus giving Matt their packaged cake and Matt handing them his apple slices. 

“I wish they’d stop giving us coffee cake, it's so gross.” Cyrus commented.

“Coffee cake is so good though.” Matt replied.

Cyrus made a sound mimicking an incorrect buzzer before saying “Wrong”

“Anyhoo, are you free this weekend?” Cyrus clicked open the tab of their soda and sipped it while waiting for Matt’s reply.

“Oh shoot, no, Dad’s taking me camping in the woods.” he said, “Don’t wait for me at the bus today, he’s picking me up so we can head out early tonight.” he added, Cyrus’s eyes got wide.

“Whoa!” They cried “You’re so lucky!” Cyrus said, Matt let out a small giggle at his friend's overexcitement.

“It’s just camping, we’re not going anywhere crazy amazing.” Matt replied.

“I know but I’d love to do something like that, my mom would never let me go out in the forest.” Cyrus said.

“I’m kinda nervous, I’ve never really camped in the woods, just the backyard.” Matt said, starting to pick at the skin of his hand.

“Well, the woods are like a huge backyard, with more trees, and animals… like bears!” Cyrus motioned their hands like claws. Matt laughed at Cyrus’ attempt to be scary, 

“I thought you were trying to make me feel better?” he said, his tone lighthearted. The two finished their lunch in their spot before sneaking back to the cafeteria, as if they hadn’t run off, and parted ways to their next class. 

To Matt the rest of the day started to fly by, his mind was focusing less on minor annoyances and was now focused towards the trip, he and his father always had similar interests, both enjoyed the outdoors quite a bit, before their trips consisted of fishing in a nearby lake or birdwatching in the park. Matt always appreciated them, enjoying the quiet of nature. He started to feel more excited as the day went, and even though the excitement mixed with the nervous knots in his stomach he wasn’t going to let that deter him.

The last bell rang. Matt walked out of the school building, waved goodbye to Cyrus, who was jogging towards the bus stop, and headed towards the front of the school where his father’s car was waiting. After exchanging “hellos” with his dad, he leaned his head against the window, feeling his eyelids get heavy. He closed them and then…

…

You have to run!

Run!

RUN!

R U N!

Matt’s eyes snapped open again, He had dozed off, and felt his heart beating fast.

“Hey sleepyhead.” his father said. The radio was on, but the volume was low, so it didn’t overpower his father’s words.

“I didn’t get to hear about your day yet since you took a little nap, how was it?” he said.

“It was alright I guess, kinda boring.” Matt replied, stretching his arms.

“Nothing interesting?”

“Nah, just a normal day.” Matt replied.

“Your mother mentioned Ms. Diaz asked you for lawn help but when I mentioned it to her this afternoon she said she hadn’t.” His dad said.

Matt swallowed a lump in his throat, he didn’t look at his dad, but he could feel the Tell me why did you lie to your mom? Look he was giving him.

“Oops, must have gotten mixed up.” he mumbled

“Now listen, I know you don’t like your mother’s suggestions, but she’ll listen if you just talk to her about it.” his dad said in a reassuring tone.

“Hm.” Matt replied. He stared out of the window watching as houses were slowly replaced by tall trees as they drove by.

“I mean she used to think it was odd I liked painting! She always said she never met a man who thought painting was a good time. She sure changed her mind when we had to paint the nursery.” his dad chuckled, “Point is, a conversation is better than white lies, she always comes around eventually.” his father said. Matt nodded, and felt relieved the conversation was over.

“So, how’s Cyrus?” his father asked.

“Oh they’re doing good… They wished they could come with us when I told them about the trip.” Matt said.

“We’ll have to invite hi- them next time.” his father said with a smile.

Matt scanned the trees they passed by as he and father continued idle conversation, with Matt occasionally looking at the paper map to double check the route. He watched as over the horizon, a tall hill, with a church sat atop came into view. The church had a name once. Matt knew that much from school, remembering the lesson on Mayweather’s history, the records for the original name were long gone and lost to history. Everyone now knew it as the Church on Black Oak Hill, named for the forest that surrounded the town, and its tallest hill. He looked at the stone structure, spying the rusted iron gates behind it that housed graves from years and years ago. It looked out of place completely surrounded by trees and so far from civilization.

“Can’t believe that old place is still up.” his father commented.

“Why don’t they tear it down, no one goes there anyway.” Matt muttered.

“Well it’s a piece of history, it’s the oldest building in town, lots of people would wanna keep it around.”

Matt wondered who would enjoy going to a dusty creepy church, it was bad enough going into a normal one… to him at least. 

“Y’know when I was a youngin’, kids would dare each other to go up to the doors to try to open it. The police had to put a fence around it to stop it after a kid went missing.” Matt’s eyes widened at his father’s statement, he turned to look at his dad,

“Someone went missing?”

“Mmhm. Trevor Davidson, nice kid, but he was a bit of a pushover. His friends dared him to go up and try to open the doors, he never came back down. Half the town searched but no one could ever find him.”

“Oh…”

“That’s one of the reasons you never let peer pressure get to you Matt.” his father added at the end of his statement, and Matt felt like his unease started to rise again, he shifted in the seat and started to pick the skin of his hands.

After a car ride that felt like an eternity they arrived at Black Oak’s Campsite, parking in the lot near the areas, Matt carried the food and the sleeping bags, and looked out into the forest as his father gathered the tent. Matt could still see the top of that church even from there. He decided he would try not to think about it, he’d just have to shift anxious thoughts away and focus on hanging out with his dad.

The area was a wide circular space surrounded by trees, with a fire pit and few picnic tables, and no one else was there that weekend. They set up the tent and ate packaged sandwiches for their dinner. They settled in for the evening and slept, much to Matt's relief he didn’t experience any night terrors, and woke up feeling better about the day, which he and his father mostly spent birdwatching and walking on the nearby trails. Though as the day went on, Matt began to feel like he was being watched, though he didn’t mention this to his father, he thought he had to be overreacting, as there was no one else near them. Then evening came again.

Matt couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling, he laid awake in the tent, listening to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees. He thought about the missing kid again, his mind beginning to spiral into all the possible horrible outcomes. No, no! Stop it, nothing is going to happen. He thought to himself and attempted to reassure himself of his safety, and in pausing he took a moment to listen to the outside again. 

The wind stopped. There was no sound, at all. Matt sat up, and listened intently, waiting for any sound to come back. The only thing he could hear was his own shaky breaths. Then there was a whistle, but not the whistle the wind makes when it blows through the trees.

A person was whistling

He listened to the whistling, it sounded like it was getting closer. It dawned on Matt that he could only hear the whistling, and nothing else, no leaves crunching, nothing. Matt shook slightly, but reached towards the zipper of the tent.

“Matt?” He heard his father’s groggy voice pipe up, Matt jumped slightly and turned to his dad.

“I-I think someone’s outside.” He said, his father sat up, more alert now that he heard Matt’s frightened voice, his father put his glasses back on and watched Matt motion a “sh” with his hand. The whistling hadn’t stopped. 

“How strange.” His father replied, 

The whistling suddenly shifted to a hum, a low voice humming a tune that came closer and closer to the tent. His father looked perturbed,

“This could be someone’s bad idea of a joke.” His dad whispered, and grabbed a flashlight, the two stepping out of the tent to look. There was a silhouette of a person, quite far away, but that was the source of the hum. His father called out to the dark shape, it was hard to see it, even with the flashlight pointed towards him. Matt squinted his eyes slightly, the shape was still getting closer,

“Hello?”

Matt didn’t look away from the shape, it was moving in a strange way. Matt could barely see it but could make out its motions, it looked almost like it was swaying.

“Hey, we don't want trouble.” his father’s voice attempted to sound brave, but there was a twinge of fear, he was nervously rubbing a thumb over his cross necklace.

It moved again, lifting up its head this time. Matt saw two shining white dots for eyes.

The hum rumbled, losing its rhythmic tone, and now was replaced with a laugh. The “person” unfurled, the white eyes moving higher as the torso elongated, gangly arms swaying at its side as its long legs took a step closer. It continued to laugh, with a grin of stark white teeth shining through the dark like its eyes. Matt felt frozen until he realized his father was speaking to him,

“Run.”

“W-What?”

“Matt, run!” His father grabbed his arm, “Run!” Both began to sprint away, the tall man following behind them, laughing.

The two ran away from the campsite, through the woods, Matt couldn’t tell where they were going, his father dropped the flashlight and they were running through the dark blindly. Branches and bushes hit his arms and legs as they ran. Matt’s father stumbled, falling forward. Matt turned to help his father up when the tall figure started to get closer. Matt cried out, his father shouted, “Run! Get help!”

“But-”

“Go!”

The monster grabbed his father's leg and began to pull him towards it. As much as Matt wanted to help, he listened to his fathers last words to him. He turned and ran. His heart beating hard against his chest. Matt didn’t dare turn back, even when he heard the screams. They got quieter and quieter as he ran further and further with tears streaming down his face and the cold burning his cheeks. He stared ahead, there was a light, a streetlight, if there was a streetlight there had to be a road.

A road meant help, he could get help.

He continued sprinting, breathing heavily, his chest burning but he was determined to find help. As he scrambled out of the wood and ran onto the road he realized it wasn’t an asphalt road, it was gravel, leading up a hill. 

The church sat atop it.

He needed to hide, if he didn’t, this thing would kill him too. That seemed to be the only option in his panicked mind, he ran as fast as he could up the hill, ignoring the burning pain in his body, adrenaline was the only thing that was keeping Matt from collapsing from exhaustion.

Matt ran up to the doors, there was a lock, he yanked at it, but it didn’t budge. He decided to go through a window instead. He looked on the ground, picking up one of the larger stones and turned to face the window, prepared to throw it through the glass.

Several faces looked back at him.

He screamed.

The faces screamed, some attempting to mock his voice, some screams devolved into ghastly laughter as the faces twisted into horrible smiles and stared with eyes that were glassy, ghostly, some who had pitch black and others a deep bloody red. Their smiling mouths full of sharp teeth. Some continued tp mock his screams and some spoke the words "Open" over and over. Matt turned to run, only to face the monster chasing him, with those bright white pupils staring back at him.

“Go ahead, open the door.” the tall shadow man said in his creaky raspy voice.

Matt screamed again, this time picking up the stone and throwing it at the monster's head. Sprinting away when he heard it connect and the man let out a shriek. As he ran Matt stumbled, falling forward and tumbling down the gravelly road, pebbles flying up, some cutting against his skin. He looked up briefly and saw the monster was still at the top of the hill. He staggered up and ran down the gravel road until it turned to asphalt, and kept running until he saw headlights, car headlights. He headed towards them, waved his arms over his head, screaming the words help over and over.

…

The Mayweather Police Station was on alert, a call came in, a driver had found a kid screaming, running, talking about how something chased him and his father, and now his father was dead. They sent a car out, and confirmed the worst. The young man waited inside of a plain room, he was told to wait by the officers who had gone out.

A woman with curly dark brown hair entered the room. As she entered she pushed up red framed glasses, the rest of her outfit was nothing like the other officers, instead of a uniform she wore a simple suit. She sat down across from him, she looked at the young man with pale skin and red hair falling over his eyes.

“Can you give me your name?” She asked, her voice was soft, and gentle. 

“M-Matt, Matt Hill.” he replied in a scratchy voice, his throat still hurt from screaming.

“Hi Matt, I’m Detective Phillips, would you mind if I asked you some questions?”

The kid picked at the skin of his hands, nodding at her words. His eyes were still red from crying, and he shook ever so slightly.

“Alright, what were you doing out in the woods?”

“Camping, we were camping.” his voice cracked.

“Did you see who attacked you?” She asked, he paused for a while.

“Y-Yes”

“Do you recall anything about them? Did you see what they looked like?”

His eyes still didn’t look at her, he instead looked to the side. She tried to read his expression, he looked like he wanted to say something but refused.

“You can tell me, I just want to know what you saw, I want to find who did this so I can bring them to justice, okay?” She said, 

“Y-You’ll believe me?” he asked, she nodded, he stayed quiet for a bit before speaking up again.

“I-It wasn’t a human.” 

“What?” Her eyes widened, not expecting him to reply with that.

“It looked like a person, but it-it wasn’t I-I.” He stammered, “It was in shadow, it was like it was made of shadows. It was so tall, as tall as the trees. It smiled at me… but… I-I can’t remember its face. I just remember that awful smile.” Matt’s eyes stared ahead, wide with fright as he spoke.

“I-Is there anything else you can remember, hair color? Or what he was wearing? Do you think he was someone your dad knew?” the detective asked, unsure what to make of what he said.

Matt shook his head, “No… no…I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he continued to mumble ‘sorry’ until he started to cry again. For a moment the woman let her professionalism slip, taking the boy’s hand,

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through.” she said. He continued to sob for a moment until he started speaking again.

“It chased me.” he stammered again through shaky breaths, “It chased me to the church and there was- was-” He stopped speaking again, and hung his head low.

“It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him, “You answered everything I needed.” She was lying, there had been more, but seeing the teen in distress made her stop. Besides, she reasoned to herself, it would be easier to speak with him when he was in a better emotional state. She opened the door for him and took him to the front, where another officer, a man with short red hair and a police uniform waited.

“I’ll come back to talk with you again soon. Officer Howell here will take you home now okay?” she said. Matt nodded, following behind the other officer to his car.

…

Cyrus sat up in bed upon hearing the sound of their mother walking briskly from her room, they quietly got up and followed behind her as she headed for the living room, looking out of the side window. It was barely morning, and they wondered why she was up at such an hour.

“Oh no.” They heard her say with a gasp. They peered over her shoulder out the window and saw a police car parked at the driveway to Matt’s house. Cyrus couldn’t stifle their own gasp at seeing Matt exit the car. Their mother took a quick glance at them, opening her mouth and closing it, deciding against telling them to go back to bed. Cyrus stood next to their mother and watched through the window. A lump formed in their throat. They couldn’t see Mr. Hill, and they knew Matt went on the trip with his dad. They watched Matt walk to the door with an officer, seeing Ms. Hill open the door, her face then turning from frightened to absolute anguish. She wrapped her arms around her son and brought him in. 

…

“Is there anything? Any news?” the shaky sorrow filled voice of Ms. Hill asked the detective.

“We’ve collected all the evidence at the scene, we’re going to do everything we can Ms. Hill, we will find out who did this.”

Detective Phillips kept her word about coming back, she spoke mainly to Matt and his mother, explaining what they had found and asking additional questions to both about anything that might give her a lead. Though Matt stayed quiet, his mother mainly spoke to the detective.

“I’m sorry, Matt hasn’t been doing well, I know you might have questions for him.”

“It’s alright, he can talk to us when he’s ready, your family has been through enough.” she replied before looking at the young man. He looked terrible, he had bloodshot eyes with dark circles like he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“Matt, I mean it, if you remember anything, or need anything, you can come to the station, and I’ll help.” she said, he nodded, his mother turned to head back inside. Matt moved to follow her and shut the door when he heard the detective speak up.

“Oh Matt, one more thing.”

Detective Phillips took the boy's hand and pressed something into it. Matt looked and realized she had given him his father’s cross necklace. He looked back up at her, and she put a finger to her lips. Giving a slight side eye to the police car she came in, another officer inside. She wasn’t supposed to be giving him this. He guessed it was supposed to be in evidence, but felt quite a lot of relief that she gave it back to him. He gave a small nod and put his hand clenched tightly around it in his pocket. He watched her head to the police car in the driveway, pulled away and drove, he finally went back in and shut the door, taking the necklace out of his pocket and slipping it around his neck. 

[hime-bee]

came for leumin, stayed for lucas 🥹🥹 I LOVE OLD MEN OMG

‼️‼️SURPRISE POCKET RAID‼️‼️

What do your OCs carry with them 24/7?

Do they prefer to stuff their pickets with their stuff or use a bag/backpack etc?

If they could bring 1 thing with them to a deserted island, what would it be?

Stinkiest to the least stinky?

AWWWW, I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE THAT OLD MAN!! 🥺 Thank you for coming by and enjoying my OC's, friend! And thank you so much for the ask 💞

These are some really good questions, so lemme answer 'em!

What they always carry:

Lucas: Pens, a notebook (with a cute bear on it), and a tin of mints. He prefers to use an old satchel he's had since college!

Njero: Sweets (for his familiars) and empty vials (for potions)! Njero just uses his pockets to carry stuff and sometimes a magic pocket if there's bigger things he needs to carry

Leumin: Pocket knife, his phone and coffee-flavored gum. He'll use his pockets to carry his things, unless the pockets aren't deep on the pair of pants he's wearing, then he'll use a bookbag!

Flores: He'll always have his flute with him and some flowers! He doesn't have pockets in the fairy world, so magic is normally how he carries things. In the human world, he always carries his phone, some candy and stickers (for his patients), and a picture of his partner in his wallet. He has a briefcase-like bag

Mikka: A journal, pencils, and random samples of sea water (don't ask). He also uses a satchel to carry his things

Vivian: Nothing, poor guy doesn't wear pants because he's a snake 😔 He does have a medium-sized crossbody bag for storage if he really needs it! He doesn't carry anything special, though

Item they would bring to a deserted island:

Lucas: A phone (lmao)

Njero: Nothing, he thinks his magic is more than enough

Leumin: You

Flores: His flute

Mikka: Nothing, he would just swim back home 😂

Vivian: Also you (and maybe a fishing rod)

As for that last question... All of my OC's take great care of their hygiene, so none of them are particularly smelly. There are exceptions, though; Njero will sometimes smell like chemicals if he was working with potions, or Mikka will sometimes smell like saltwater (for obvious reasons), but that's about it!

[s10127470]

X-Men: The Next Mutation Merchandise Ideas (Part 1)

@cheesecakeluvrs @ariel-seagull-wings @soviet-supersoldier

So ever since I've started my fanfiction, "X-Men: The Next Mutation", I've been thinking about what kind of merchandise the series would get if it was an actual series.

And so today, I'm here to share with you all a couple of ideas I have for that merchandising.

Standard Merchandise:

T-shirts, posters, wallpapers, bookbags, lunch boxes, dinnerware, downloadable wallpapers, handbags, phone cases, blankets, bedsheets, cards, sticker books, towels, rugs, puzzles, hats, speciality headphones, and shoes.

However, most of these will share a similar series of design variants.

Those design variants in question.

-X-Men: Features Xavier, Cyclops, Psyche, Beast, Storm, Angel, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Iceman, Wolverine, Shadowcat and Lockheed.

-Brotherhood: Features Mystique, Rogue, Lorelei, The Blob, Avalanche, Sauron, Toad, The Juggernaut, Pyro, Sabretooth and Unus the Untouchable.

-Friends: Features Mariko, Duncan, Taryn, Moira, Thunderbird, Spider-Man, Chat, Deadpool, Captain America, Namor the Sub-Mariner, Quicksilver, The Scarlet Witch, Ka-Zar and Zabu.

-Enemies: Features The Brood, Alexei Kravinoff, Edwin Martynec, William Stryker, Omega Red, Lady Deathstrike, Mojo, Spiral and Arcade.

-Best Friends: Features Cyclops, Colossus and Xavier, Psyche and Storm, Nightcrawler and Angel, Beast and Iceman, and Wolverine, Shadowcat and Lockheed.

-Bitter Rivals: Features The X-Men and The Brotherhood angrily facing each other.

-Lovers: Features Wolverine and Mariko, Cyclops and Psyche, Storm and Angel, Beast and Quicksilver, Nightcrawler and Scarlet Witch, Colossus and Iceman, and Shadowcat and Illyana.

-Cyclops: Flying forward with his ruby glow.

-Psyche: Unleashing a wave of pink psionic energy.

-Storm: A combination form of her electric, wind, water and ice form.

-Beast: A showcase of his forms.

-Nightcrawler: Leaping out of a cloud of black brimstone with cutlasses in hands and tail.

-Angel: Flying forward with light radiating from her hands.

-Colossus: Charging forward with his fists out.

-Iceman: Sliding around on his ice slide.

-Wolverine: Lunging forward, looking ferocious with his claws out.

-Shadowcat and Lockheed: The former holding onto the latter by his tail.

-Xavier: Projecting an astral form of himself.

-Civilian: The X-Men in their civilian attire.

Food:

Note: All these tie-ins will be for limited time.

-Fruit Snacks: Produced by Welch's. Features orange-flavored Wolverine heads, strawberry-flavored optic starbursts, lemon-flavored lightning bolts, blueberry-flavored brimstone clouds, raspberry-flavored psionic spheres, blue raspberry-flavored icicles, and grape-flavored Lockheeds.

-Cereal: Produced by General Mills. Sweetened corn X-Men symbol-shapes cereal with colored shaped marshmallows. Includes red optic starbursts, light blue lightning bolts, yellow bird wings, pink psionic spheres, purple brimstone clouds, blue furry claws, gray fists, and orange Wolverine heads.

-Chocolate Bars: Produced by Nestle. Features scenes from the series craved into the bars.

-Cheez-It: Features crackers shaped like Wolverine, optic starbursts, psionic spheres, furry claws, lightning bolts, wings, brimstone clouds, fists, icicles, and Lockheed.

-Frozen Treats: Produced by Blue Bunny. Comes in four flavors. Psionic Energy (raspberry-flavored ice cream with a strawberry syrup swirl), Elemental Collision (vanilla ice cream with a blue raspberry-flavored swirl), Light and Dark (lemon-flavored sherbet with a blueberry-flavored swirl), and Primal Fury (orange sherbet with a blue raspberry-flavored swirl).

-Pies: Produced by Hostess. Cream and jam-filled hand pies that come in seven flavors. Optic Cherry, Psionic Strawberry, Electric Blue Raspberry, Beastly Blueberry, Teleporting Blackberry, Angelic Lemon Cream, and Wild Peach.

-Kid Cuisine: Has two meals options. First meal has mac and cheese with Wolverine, optic starburst, furry claw, and fist-shaped noodles, corn, and strawberry-flavored fruit snacks shaped like psionic spheres. The second has Lockheed and wing-shaped chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, corn, and vanilla pudding with a sprinkle packet filled with edible indigo dusting sugar and light blue sprinkles shaped like lightning bolts and icicles.

-Mac and Cheese: Produced by Kraft. Features noodles shaped like Cyclops, Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Psyche, Iceman and Lockheed.

-Kool-Aid: Has nine flavors. Optic Punch, Psionic Strawberry, Beastly Berry Blue, Electric Blue Raspberry Lemonade, Angelic Pineapple, Teleporting Grape, Colossal Lemon Ice, Arctic Green Apple, and Wild Peach Mango.

-Frozen Waffles: Produced by Eggo. Features waffles shaped like X-Men emblems. Comes in three flavors. Xavier's Buttermilk, Psyche's Strawberry, and Beast's Blueberry.

-Pop-Tarts: Comes in three flavors. Psionic Energy (Filled with cherry jam and topped with strawberry frosting), Lightning and Ice (filled with blue raspberry-flavored cream and topped with vanilla frosting and a blue raspberry drizzle), and Light and Dark (filled with blueberry jam and topped with yellow vanilla frosting).

-Popsicles: Features Cyclop's Cherry, Psyche's Watermelon, Storm's Blue Raspberry, Nightcrawler's Blueberry, Iceman's Lime, Wolverine's Orange, and Lockheed's Grape.

-Burger King: Features X-Men themed food items. These include The Colossal Whopper (a Whopper with two flame-grilled beef patties, four slices of American and white Cheddar cheese, four strips of bacon, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, pickles, ketchup and mayonnaise), The Dragon Whopper (a Whopper with one flame-grilled beef patty, two slices of pepper jack cheese, three strips of spicy-seasoned bacon, sliced jalapenos, sauteed onions, lettuce, spicy ketchup and mayonnaise), Angelic Chicken Tenders (wing-shaped chicken tenders), Optic and Wild Shake 'Em Fries (French fries that can be seasoned with a either buffalo or cheese-flavored powder?, Omega-Level Slushes (comes in watermelon, blue raspberry, and white cherry), and Brimstone Berry Pies (blueberry pie slices).

-Popeye's: Features Angelic Tenders (wing-shaped tenders), Optic and Beastly Berry Biscuits (strawberry and blueberry biscuits), and Omega Frozen Lemonades (comes in strawberry, blue raspberry and limeade).

-Denny's: Features special meals themed around each of The X-Men (consisting of a drink, an appetizer, an entree with two sides, and a desserts. There's Xavier (iced sweet tea, buttered dinner rolls, pot roast with mashed potatoes (topped with gravy) and roasted asparagus, and a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream), Cyclops (strawberry punch, king crab dip with toasted artisan bread, a salmon burger topped with lettuce, pickles, mayonnaise and Dijon mustard, French fries, coleslaw, and mixed berry cobbler with vanilla ice cream), Psyche (watermelon punch, disco fries, a Sloppy Joe sandwich, sour cream and onion kettle chips, berry fruit salad, and cranberry muffins), Beast (blue raspberry punch, nachos topped with ground beef, Oaxaca cheese, pinto beans, tomatoes, avocados, onions, jalapenos, cilantro and salsa, a double-decker burger with American cheese, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, pickles and special sauce, animal fries, fried rice, and a banana split), Storm (blue raspberry lemonade, mishkaki, goat stew, chapatis, ugali, and coconut macaroons), Angel (mango punch, garden salad, roasted chicken, roasted potatoes, roasted carrots, and chocolate lava cake), Nightcrawler (blueberry punch, a pretzel, schnitzel, bratkartoffeln, karottensalat, and Black Forest gateau), Colossus (coffee, kasha, syrniki topped with sour cream and blueberry preserve, cooked salo, draniki with sour cream and chives, and ponchiki), Iceman (limeade, fried clams, beef hot dogs topped with ketchup, mustard, American cheese, diced onions and relish, baked beans, coleslaw, and Boston cream pie ice cream), Wolverine (orangeade, steak fries, bison ribeye, loaded mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a cinnamon sugar-coated beaver tail), and Shadowcat and Lockheed (grape punch, pierogis, supreme deep-dish pizza, breadsticks, Italian salad, and brownie sundae).

-Dairy Queen: Features special X-Men themed cheesecake Blizzards. These include Energized Cherry (blends cherry syrup and cherries), Mental Strawberry (blends strawberry syrup and strawberries), Shockin' Sugar Cookie (blends popping candy and sugar cookies), Brimstone Berry (blends blueberry syrup and blueberries), and Arctic Avalanche (blends chocolate cookie dough, chocolate chunks, and M&M's).

Well that's all for now!

Let me you what you guys think about my merchandise ideas, and which ones that you would love to see actually be real.

I have some more merchandising ideas in the works, so stay tuned!

[breakfast-cereal]

a cure for monotony

word count: 1.2k

description: Yagami Light was bored

notes: written for Day 1 of @deathnotetober 2024

[main masterlist] [work on ao3]

(c: Yayoi Kusama)

Yagami Light was bored, but not in the typical sense of disinterest. Light cared for various things: school, his parents, his sister, morality, justice. The list goes on. The thing is, life was monotonous. 

Every day, Light suffered the same idiotic ramblings of his peers. Did you hear that Aiko-chan is dating Haruto? I got so drunk at that party last night! Hey, Yagami-kun, do you have the answers to the homework?

It wasn’t limited to school. Wherever Light went, he was tortured with the knowledge of his superiority. These people wasted their time gossiping and chatting about nonsense, living out their immoral lives without a care in the world.

Maybe life was more than monotonous. It was torturous until Light saw the Death Note. 

He brushed it off as chain mail. Idiots loved those things. Forward this email, or you’ll be subjected to Reiko Kashima’s curse. Light scoffed but shoved the book into his school bag anyway. The black cover stained his hands. Call it morbid curiosity.

At his desk, Light flipped through the blank pages, fascinated and disgusted at the effort in creating the prank. He pushed it into his drawer, fighting the itch in his hands.

Light scribbled a few math problems into his workbook, glancing from his neat handwriting to the TV on his side table. He huffed and grabbed the remote. Morbid curiosity.

The news channel broadcasted the face of Otoharada Kurou, an older man hijacking a daycare. Light scowled as glee flooded his body. What depravity. 

In his seventeen years of life, he has heard several arguments against the death penalty but disagreed with all of them. Men like Otoharada deserve to die. When activists say it’s immoral to kill another human being, he nearly laughs. Is it not the pinnacle of morality to remove filth from this earth? The justice system exists to rid Japan of depraved criminals. He has never felt the urge to defend them.

Light scribbled Otoharada’s name, keeping his face in mind like the notebook said. He looked at his watch, noting the seconds ticking by. Forty seconds. In forty seconds, the world would be free of Otoharada. 

Thirty-five seconds passed, and nothing happened. Light flushed. He couldn’t believe himself, falling victim to a stupid prank like a common fool, too stuck in the emotions of it all. He shook his head, returning to his math problems.

The reporter gasped. Light swiveled, jumping from his chair to stare at the TV in horror. Otoharada died. Light killed him. Thickness welled in his throat, black like the ink staining Otoharada’s name on the Death Note’s page. Yagami Light killed a man. He wanted to vomit.

When Light picked up his pencil, his hands shook furiously. The reporter continued in the background, her words rattling between his ears. He couldn’t believe it worked. Was he a murderer?

He ran his fingers along the Death Note’s cover, sliding it inside his desk drawer. For the first time, Yagami Light was no longer bored. 

Light gripped his cram school books under his arm, slinking into the bright 7-Eleven. On his walk home, he watched the degeneracy unfold around him like clockwork. Darkness brought out the wicked, and he began believing the creatures of the night in horror films were nothing more than amalgamations of Tokyo’s midnight streets.

Drunks stumbling out of bars, harassing any woman they can get their hands on. Students around his age, hanging off the arms of older men from the club they got into with their fake IDs. People had no shame, no decency. It revolted him. While they weren’t criminals, Light couldn’t deny the world would be better off without them.

A scream sounded from outside the store. Light looked up from the rows of energy drinks, catching sight of a group of men assaulting a terrified woman. He sneered and ran his hands along the side of his bookbag.

Light pulled a magazine from the magazine stand and slid the Death Note between its pages. On the man’s lips hung his name: Shibuimaru Takuo. He scribbled a few iterations, crossing his fingers the kanji were right. Finally, he etched 渋井丸 拓男 [1] into the page next to plain characters reading traffic accident. 

The woman struggled from Shibuimaru’s grasp, starting down the street, her coat billowing behind her. Shibuimaru followed, revving the engine of his bike with furrowed brows.

Light scoffed. Of course, it wouldn’t work. He was naïve for thinking the first time wasn’t a fluke.  

He returned to the energy drinks, plucking out his favourite flavours. Shibuimaru’s gang shouted. Light stared at the scene; Takuo’s bike was crushed against the concrete. His hands shook, and he forced the Death Note back into his book bag. 

For the first time, Yagami Light killed someone who was not a criminal. Shibuimaru had not faced a trial in court, and he had not been found guilty.

Light stumbled out of the 7-Eleven, clutching his chest. He fell against the brick wall outside the store and felt dirty; his hands soiled with the death of an innocent. But that wasn’t a fair judgement. Shibuimaru was far from innocent. If Light hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve raped that woman. He would’ve been a criminal.

His body sparked with exhilaration. Yagami Light realized the Death Note was what he had been looking for all this time.

After Shibuimaru, Light spent his free nights scanning the NPA’s database and monitoring the news. Every stroke of his pen was liberating; every criminal erased from the world was a step closer to divinity.

The new possibilities unfurling elated Light. A world free of evil, free of cruelty. He held morality in his palm, and it was intoxicating. 

He understood the implications of his actions. Light was smart, smarter than the average person. He knew murder received the death penalty, but he would martyr himself if he had to. 

With the peoples’ interests at heart, Light trudged forward, correcting the NPA’s failures. He left the deaths blank but sensed the ripples of every heart attack along his spine. Light wanted criminals to know they were being punished. 

When he wasn’t studying or correcting, he spent some time on occult blogs, learning the intricacies of the Death Note. To his surprise, no Shinigami came to him. He imagined they observed him and agreed. 

The more he learnt about the Death Note, through use and reading, a strange reverence grew inside him. Not reverence for the Shinigami, but for the notebook itself. The gods blessed him with a tool to rid the world of evil. Light never wanted more. 

Light took his Death Note from his desk, placing it alongside his textbooks and a black pen. He scanned the list of names imprinted on the pages and flipped on the TV.

Morality and justice used to be concepts Light could only ever fantasize about. Now, he held the power to enact them in his fingers.

For the first time in his life, Yagami Light felt true, unequivocal love. 

[1]: The kanji for Shibuimaru Takuo

[drivinmeinsane]

Lights ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Eight ※ Holland March / Jackson Healy

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: While he and Healy are stuck in a rut concerning a case, Holland's daughter suggests that the family go on an outing.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Established Relationship, Mention of Period-Typical Homophobia, Family Fluff, Holly March has two dads now

※ Word count: 1023

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

The sun is about to set, and the two men that make up the Nice Guys Detective Agency are still pouring over a case. March and Healy have been at it for hours now. To Holland, it feels as though they have done nothing but argue around and around and around in circles. He’s on the second to last cigarette in the pack, frustrated by the breeze rustling the papers spread out on the table. Healy had opened the dining room window about the third smoke in. The bruiser had cited not wanting to breathe in all that shit which led to a shouting match between the two of them about how Healy smokes cigars and has no damn right to say anything about Holland’s own smoking habits. 

They took this case on Wednesday. It’s now Friday. At the rate things are going, their relationship, professionally and personally, might be over by Sunday. Both men hear the door open before it slams closed. There’s the crashing sound of a bookbag hitting the floor.

“It’s Holly,” he says pointlessly. He can tell Jack is fighting not to give a sarcastic retort. His daughter comes bounding into the room and scares the shit out of both of them when she slams a piece of paper onto the table.

“Jesus!” Holland yelps, nearly dropping his lit cigarette into his lap. Across from him, Healy hits his knee on the wood and mutters something under his breath.

“Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Mr. Healy,” Holly says before hurriedly continuing. “I want to go to this tonight. You guys have been so busy with Mr. Elmer’s peeping tom, and I don’t think we’ve been getting to do enough as a family lately. There’ll be Christmas lights, hot chocolate, and stuff.”

“Don’t-” He starts. It's a reflex at this point. 

“There’ll be Christmas lights and hot chocolate.” She interrupts, glaring at him. Healy rudely chuckles a little and doesn’t even bother to try to hide it. 

Holland straightens himself up and sighs. “Look, honey, we need to get this case knocked out of the way.”

Looking like she’s about to give him the lecture of a lifetime, Holly crosses her arms. She is about to open her mouth to protest right as Jackson pipes up.

“I don’t know, March. We’re not getting things done sitting here fighting while you smoke like a chimney.”

“We’re not going to by screwing off either.” He snaps back. He immediately wants to suck the words back into his mouth at the expressions on their faces. Holly looks genuinely upset, and there’s a brief flicker of hurt in Healy’s eyes. “Fine! Jesus tap dancing Christ! We can go,” he relents.

Not even ten minutes go by before Holland finds himself sprawled out in the back seat. Healy is behind the wheel and Holly is riding shotgun on navigation duty. He lets himself whistle off-key for the duration of the drive and think. It feels as though he and his partner are right on the cusp of finding the answer to the case. Thoughts of their peeper situation keeps him distracted until they arrive at the botanical garden.

The property is swarming with people, all here to see the dazzling display of lights. Healy pays for the tickets while Holly strains her neck to look around the corner at a truly impressively done polar bear made of string lights. He is starting to feel less irritable. His daughter was right, it had been a long time since the three of them had done anything as a family. 

Almost immediately through the gate, they lose Healy. Holland has his hands full keeping an eye on Holly, but he does his best to scan the milling crowds for his partner. He’s about to snag his daughter and start shouting the other man’s name when he pops up at his side like a jack in the box. 

“Where the hell did you go?” He snaps, clutching at his chest. Were they conspiring together to give him a heart attack before midnight tonight?

“Drinks,” the bruiser says, shoving a warm paper cup into March’s hand. He passes one to Holly as well. Jackson has never been one to turn down chocolate, especially when it’s free.

Holland pops the lid off his cup with a sigh and tips a splash of whisky into the hot chocolate from the flask he keeps in his jacket pocket. He dismisses Healy’s disapproving stare. “This is the first drink I’ve had all day.”

The other man lets it go. March knows he’s been doing a good job at cutting back. He has stopped drinking before the sun sets which has been a massive improvement. The detective doesn’t plan to get plastered here either. Any other refills will be purely non-alcoholic. 

As they roam the botanical garden, Holly is oo’ing and ah’ing at the lights, completely entranced. Both men watch her fondly. Their little family is a happy one despite the baggage that each member is carrying. Holland can’t imagine life without his partner and without his daughter. Most days, they keep him from going under and not coming back up.

While watching his daughter spin around under a canopy of lights arranged to look like dripping icicles, Holland’s fingers brush against Healy’s. He turns to look at Healy, only to find the man looking up into the branches. He has a smile on his scruffy face.

“Sure is somethin’, ain’t it, March?”

The detective  hesitates, casting a quick glance around, no one seems to be paying them any attention in the darkness. He slots his fingers in next to Healy’s, wrapping intertwining them with the other man’s until they’re holding hands for the first time in public. Two middle aged men in the 70s. Jack twitches like he might pull away, but he just grips Holland’s hand tightly. He feels elated and terrified, but nothing happens. He just has the warm comfort of Healy’s hand clasped in his. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He sounds choked up even to himself, but why shouldn’t he be? He’s having a good time with his family and everything is okay.

[tmbgaresuck]

Listen. I am SECRETLY a super TMBG hater, disguised as a TMBGhead...your posts are so true to me!

Real stories that are so horrifying that people think they aren't true!

I just don't know how people get past this! It's like there's

Zillions of terrible things...

Zero things the johns could ever do right!

Please, your word should be spread!

Extraordinary how these things could go under so many noses!

Noses...big, fat, oblivious noses.

Great that you are willing to spread the word of such terrible stories.

Unless...people won't listen. Words are never spread ...but ignored.

I truly believe you should be believed! The Johns literally came to my house last night and stole my turtleneck collection!

Not even to mention what they've done to the poor they/thems of the world...

Spread your word, Tmbgaresuck. You have my full support.

its honestly so disturbing how much TMBG fans are willing to let the johns get away with. They both say evil and fucked up things all the time, and sing about fucked up things (i think hideaway folk family was a warning to the world). TMBG will turn a blind eye to ANYTHING (such as the song when will you die???) and their songs don't make much sense either (what does hoobalicious mean again??). TMBG fans will go to violent ends to protect their music, such as teasing, taunting, and throwing your bookbag in the garbage. They love TMBG so much they can't even realize that it sucks and they should listen to Ween.

I will try my best to spread the word before my inevitable death *cough cough marty beller the hit man cough cough*

As with your turtlenecks, I'm sorry but I don't know if you'll ever get those back. They don't even wear the turtlenecks they steal half of the time, they just steal them to make your life more miserable and bad. Its like a prank thought up by teenage boys but they aren't teenage boys, they are 80 year old men. They should be playing shuffleboard, not Flood! Your police department might do nothing, I know mine doesn't! I make biweekly calls about TMBG and they have started calling social workers on me.

My heart goes out to all the they/thems of the world. I'm sorry your pronouns are being used by john FAILSBURGH and john BIG L. I bet when they introduce themself to a TMBGhead, the tmbghead is all like "they? Iike might be giants?"

signing off,

TMBGaresuck

[pencilpat]

Sanders Sides: College AU - Part 7

Part 1 | Previous Part

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t mind being your weirdo forever, y’know,” Remus says quietly. “Whatever that means, I want that.”

Janus squeezes his calf and stares up at her water-stained ceiling. “Well, if that’s the truth, then you’re not going to be weird alone, at least there’s that. Fuck it, I’ll be your weirdo forever too.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” Remus says jokingly. It makes them both laugh, even if it’s not entirely a joke[...]

We see a brief moment in a long friendship. Virgil has a bad day. Patton lies and then realizes they can't for much longer. Janus and Remus have a good day, and maybe a good... forever. Whatever 'forever' means in college.

[CW: manipulation, implied homelessness, panic-induced dissociation, lying to friend/partner, gender dysphoria]

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

Remus lays upside down on the concrete barrier separating the school’s flower garden and the sidewalk boredly. He’s chewing gum sloppily, biting off tiny chunks from the whole and spitting them onto the concrete so that students will step in it.

“Ugh, nasty,” his friend Janus speaks beside him, her face both grossed out and amused with her lips quirked upward. Remus snorts out a laugh and turns around, laying on his back on the rough stone. Janus is barely focusing on a book. If she were to be honest, which she hardly ever does, she would tell her friend that she hasn’t showered in four days or eaten anything but school food in probably weeks, and it is making her book feel quite insignificant. But some dry shampoo and loose-fitting clothing hide those secrets plenty well.

In the building, the final bell for the day rings and the high school kids begin filtering out of the building to the buses and the student pick-up area. Remus and Janus try to look distracted and unapproachable so that, with any luck, everyone leaves them alone like the freaks they are. However, the only two other students who they do not want to be left alone by exit the doors and begin walking up to them.

Roman is already huffing and puffing before he gets to them. “You guys skipped again, didn’t you!” he accuses.

“No, Roman, we were just faster than you,” Janus soothes falsely, and Remus nods along with a wide grin. Their other friend, Virgil, shifts his bookbag on his shoulder nervously and darts his eyes between everyone, undoubtedly trying to decide if he should allow the two to lie to Roman. A slight raise of Janus’s eyebrow keeps him silent, looking at his shoes.

Roman sighs exaggeratedly. “Okay, fine, fine. Just don’t worry me like that!” He pulls out a brand-new mobile phone, the bedazzled red case making Remus and Virgil exchange a silly glance to secretly tease him. “Anyways, we need to get going if we’re going to beat dinner rush,” he says, starting off towards the parking lot with a wave of his hand. The other three follow behind like sheep to a herding dog, with a few grumbles and eye rolls at being made to move quickly.

Virgil and Janus hop into Janus’s car while the twins both get into Roman’s sleek sports car, much too expensive for a new driver 11th grader to have. Remus makes a face through the window at Janus, who lets out an uncharacteristic snort of a laugh, before clearing her throat and pretending that it didn’t happen as she pulls out of the parking lot. Virgil puts up the hood of his hoodie, the hand-stitched patches across it making him perhaps not as unnoticeable as he would like to be.

“Stupid fancy car,” Virgil mutters as they follow just behind Roman. Janus hums, smiling just slightly.

“Honestly, I don’t think you’d guess our cars were even together. But you know how it is with rich men and their incessant need to gloat their egos about.”

Virgil chuckles, tugging his hood lower to block out the sun as he leans against the window. “I mean, at least we get paid-for dinners as often as we’d like.”

“Oh, how grand and kind of the lovely princes to pay for commoner’s bread and butter!” Janus teases. They both giggle and settle into a comfortable silence. Virgil’s comfort is only interrupted by his usual glances towards the two duffle bags and sleeping bag poorly hidden in the back of her car. Also as usual, he says nothing about it and keeps his thoughts quiet for fear of upsetting her. Upsetting Janus is never a good option. It usually results in either weeks of silence towards him or even being yelled at if it was too egregious an offence.

At their group’s favorite Greek restaurant their cars meet up, parking right next to each other. Remus throws his (much larger) body against Virgil’s back, forcing him to hold up his weight. “Oh, I missed you two soooo much!” he says through a grin. “It may as well have been eighty years!”

Virgil makes a growling sound at him, barely holding him up. “Get off of me, idiot!” he says, though he is also smiling. Remus laughs, a high-pitched cackle of a noise, and picks himself up. Janus and Roman stare on with varying levels of amusement.

“Alright, enough goofing about, I am beyond hungry!” Roman declares, turning and walking towards the door. The other three follow once again, snickering.

They sit at a table in the back corner, a booth, with Janus and Virgil on one side and the twins on the other. The menus are large and everyone fights for space lightheartedly. Janus chuckles and Virgil hums at her. “Oh, it’s just funny that we go here so often even though not a single one of us is Greek even in the slightest, it’s ironic considering both Indian, Asian, and all South American food is, you know, fucking delicious,” she jokes, drawing a smirk and a roll of his eyes from Virgil. Janus looks over the menu. “I’ll order for you,” she whispers to him. “You know you just hate speaking to strangers,” she coaches. Virgil nods, face falling straight with a slight blush of embarrassment, feeling just a tad pathetic. He puts up his hood and sinks down slightly in his seat.

The twins both order gyros, as well as Remus ordering dolmadakis, which Roman makes a grossed-out face about. Janus orders courgette balls and a salad for herself, and keftethes for Virgil to start with. Remus then pipes up and gets himself a coffee, which Roman scolds him for after the waiter leaves; “at 5 p.m. Remus, really?!”  

Virgil is fidgeting with his hoodie strings absentmindedly when Janus’s gloved hand touches his. He jolts and looks at her. “Is something wrong?” she tests, and though her face is straight, Virgil can sense that there’s ulterior meaning to the question even if he doesn’t know what it is.

“Uh- no, I’m good. I’m good.”

She hums. “You just looked anxious-“

“No, yeah, I’m good,” Virgil nods, giving a weak thumbs up. Janus smiles at him a tad too warmly, then turns to join the conversation with the twins.

“I’m telling you Remus, drinking six cups of coffee a day is ridiculous, there’s something wrong wrong with you,” Roman bites at him.

Remus laughs, very loudly for such a small space, causing other diners to glance at their table. “Roman you already knew there was shit wrong with me, don’t pretend,” he says shoving Roman’s arm. Roman shoves back at him, until they’re all but wrestling in the booth.

“The way I see it, speaking objectively, there is shit severely wrong with both of you,” Janus teases casually, leaning on her arm. Hungry and in a lot of physical discomfort in general, she subtly rubs the fabric of her gloves against her cheek, the stim calming her into a small sigh. Virgil glances at her and she nods at him to tell that she’s fine. Happy, even, Virgil, so don’t ask her again.

The food comes and they dig in heartily, all chatting in circles and laughing. The dinner passes fast, and before they know it Roman is paying with their parents’ card and ushering everyone outside. Roman says goodbye a tad dramatically with a bow, and Remus dramatically hugs Janus goodbye, bowing and kissing both her and Virgil’s hands to tease Roman. They all share some final giggles, and part back into the separate cars.

Virgil buckles in as Janus starts the car to drive him home. “So,” he speaks, voice cracking just slightly. “Will your parents be upset about you ruining your dinner or-“

“Virgil,” Janus says sharply, a warning in her voice. Virgil flinches and draws back. Janus sighs. “My parent’s opinions don’t matter, there’s no need to worry about me.” She shoots him a comforting smile in his peripheral, and he nods tautly.

Janus pulls out of the parking lot, sighing, happy to have actually eaten nicely, Virgil’s attempts at prying not spoiling her mood. Virgil sighs as well, subconsciously mimicking her calm mood. When they get to his house, his mothers have left the porch light on for him, and he can see one of them watching T.V. just inside the front window. He hesitates in her car, hand half outstretched to the door handle.

“Janus?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

He glances towards the back of her car one more time, but he doesn’t have enough nerve. “Nothing. Just- Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay,” she says softly, touching his hand with her gloved fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says it as a statement not a question, even though it’s a Friday, so Virgil nods, and he gets out of her car. He watches her leave from his porch, sucks in a deep, deep breath, and slinks guiltily into his warm, happy home.

 --

“Virgil?”

Someone is calling his name, but it’s not yet loud enough to pull him out of his dazed stare, still adrift in his memories with his eyes blurrily fixed on a phone with a food delivery app open that was placed in his hand. He’s just barely registering the food names, chewing his lip roughly.

“Virge!” Roman says again, at a shout this time.

“Huh- whu?” Virgil shakes his head and blinks hard to refocus his eyes. They settle on Roman’s own, right in front of his face. “Oh, sorry. What are we doing?”

“Getting food? Are you okay?” Roman quirks his head at him, frowning.

Virgil tries to block out the memories he was having, taking in a deep breath. “I’m okay, yeah.” His lips press together tightly when he looks at the screen. “Can we… not do Greek food?”

Roman nods in immediate understanding, taking his phone and going back outside of the bedroom to Patton for the two of them to choose new foods. Patton makes a small noise of confusion when he reappears so quickly, tilting their head at him.

Roman sighs, plopping down onto the couch heavily. “Something’s up with Virgil, 100%.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

Roman pinches his lips together, side-eyeing his friend. "I don't know," he lies. "Have you noticed anything?"

"No, maybe just some extra anxious thinking," Patton hums.

Roman's lips squeeze thinner together, alarmed that Patton hasn’t noticed the changes in their own partner’s demeanor, and he licks them to steady himself. "Virgil has been worried about you, I've noticed. He says you've been kind of... distant. Gone most of the time and not spending time with him."

Patton's eyes widen, and they bite their lip, not looking at Roman. "What are you um.. saying?"

"Nothing, bud!" Roman suddenly tries to course correct. "I wasn't trying to imply things."

"Okay," Patton says, putting on a tone of upset suspicion. They need to throw him off somehow, it can't become a common thing to question where they are or they'll end up having to admit to the drinking and sneaking out. Which they absolutely cannot do. "Roman, I'm- You wouldn't think I would lie to him or- or cheat on him, do you?" They let their eyes tear up, touching his leg.

Roman blinks at them, mouth hanging open for a moment. "Pat, no, of course not."

"O-okay," Patton sniffles. "I'm just… under a lot of stress. I didn't realize Virgil was upset with me."

"Oh, he's not! He's not upset, Patton," Roman says, frowning as the suspicion turns to concern. Thankfully. "Virgil has been struggling too and I think you- You sort of accidentally made each other nervous is all?" Roman suggests.

Patton nods, faux wiping at their eyes a bit. "As long as he's not upset." And they mean that part genuinely, even if they are making secret friends and behaving so recklessly, making Virgil upset would make them feel horrible.

"Of course he's not, you're okay. Do you need me to tell him you've been struggling? If it's the depression or the OCD I can call your psychiatrist for you, even."

Patton closes their eyes and lays against Roman's shoulder. "No, I can make the appointments. I- I should do that anyway. Roman, you're a very good friend."

Roman feels warmth in his chest and he smiles, proud of himself. "Aw, anything for you, puffball," he jokes, bumping his shoulder into them. "Anyway, we need to choose a different place for food! Virgil was upset when I went in and asked for no Greek." Patton nods and takes the phone. They feel a worm of guilt in their stomach over Virgil being upset.

"How about I go take the phone to him?" Patton suggests. Roman waves for them to do so. They go to their bedroom, and find Virgil on his stomach under his dark purple weighted blanket.

"Need some more weight, shadow?" they call out to him. He looks up to them miserably and nods. Patton lays their chest along his back, half on the bed half off. Virgil sighs pleasantly, which makes Patton giggle. "What sort of food did you want? Roman told me you said no Greek, why so?"

Virgil sighs shakily. "Bad memories. We... we ate it a lot in high school, the friend group." 'The' friend group, as though separating himself from it, Patton notes. "I was on a thought loop about it all, couldn't get myself to calm down and ended up spacing out. I- I don't know, I could feel her gloves on my arm and stuff. Not good."

"Gloves?" Patton says. "I thought the friend group was here, not in Minnesota."

"Oh, she would always wear them no matter the weather. I dunno, probably a thing with the vitiligo, like how Roman wears them. He gave the idea to her back then."

"Janus had- had vitiligo, and wore gloves?" They feel their heartbeat skip, eyebrows furrowing up.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I know I never tell you anything about her. Just too upsetting." Virgil's chest rises and falls heavily under them. Patton doesn't reply, as the nickname of 'J' on such a similar looking woman turns their gut. J initial, vitligo, gloves. J initial, vitiligo, gloves. There's hardly been anyone Patton's met that fits all three at once. "Anyway, uh, food." Virgil moves under them and they sit up to allow him to turn around before distantly laying against his chest instead, handing Roman's phone to him. J, vitiligo, gloves. Did she know, somehow, or is this town just tiny - is this a scheme or pure coincidence?

"Pat, bluebell?" Virgil looks at them with a frown, turning their face to meet his eyes.

"Sorry-" Patton blinks heavily to draw themselves to the present moment. "I'm more tired than I realized, I think. Hungry still, though!" They laugh and thankfully Virgil smiles at them and playfully rolls his eyes. believing them fully as always.

"Yeah? How about Anne's? You feeling up for some chicken and pizza?"

"You know it," they say, a bit more breathless and exhausted than they would like to hear their own voice ever sound again.

--

Not for the first time since he moved in with her, Janus wakes up in Remus’s bed, with him on the floor of the kitchen. She brushes hair out of her face, blinking in discomfort as she realizes she fell asleep without removing her contacts or even her daytime clothes. They watched movies til the late hours again, and Remus never moves her once she’s asleep. She groans with pain as she sits up; the couch bed really is just awful. She glances over his lower half peeking from behind the island, questioning how he’s been doing it for a month and a half now. She immediately takes out both of the contacts, just in case. Janus gets up, wobbling on her sticks of legs. “Remus,” she says, kicking his leg. “Remus get up.”

Remus snorts awake, blinking at her in the light. “H-whuh?” he says, intelligently. Janus smirks despite herself. His hair is twice as messy as usual.

“We’re going to get breakfast or coffee somewhere, get up.”

Remus sits up, cracking his back with his hands. “Ughhhh, why? You’ve never wanted to go anywhere with me. Even in highschool.” He says it as a fact rather than something he’s insulted by, but Janus bites the inside of her cheek with guilt anyhow.

“Well, I guess you must be special. Enough to be worth my social time and effort.” She examines her nails as though disinterested in him, but he is too busy beaming with a smile as he wakes further to notice.

“Sweet! Fuck yeah! I’m paying,” he says, shimmying to his feet and running around to gather a proper outfit.

“Uh, no, we can both just pay for our own.”

“Janussss!” he whines at her, frowning. “Lemme pay, just one time, please?” He flashes her with very big, watery eyes that she knows are fake, but can’t help listening to anyway. She doesn’t need his money, but… he just doesn’t stop offering. So, she reasons with herself that she’ll have to let him pay eventually, and it may as well be now. She rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Fine. Once.”

Remus cackles with victory and begins undressing, uncaring that she’s here. She feels her cheeks darken with blush despite herself. “Oh, you have way more tattoos than I thought,” she says, trying to keep a breathless tone out of her voice with a more casual topic.

Remus pauses and straightens up to show them off, hands on his hips. There are the typical ones on his arms that she’s seen before, obscene jokes. “Fisting record” in between two solid black lines all the way on his shoulder, the barbed wire above it, and a pair of actual scissors ‘scissoring’. There’s a line of black barbed wire along his collar bone that must’ve hurt like a bitch to get, but that’s just the start. There are two matching barking dogs on each of his hips, and the word ‘wild’ between them on his lower stomach in a cringe inducingly intense font. On his chest and stomach are dotted lines like markings made before a vivisection to guide the scalpel. There’s a large rose on the muscle of one of his pectorals, black with a green thorned stem that traces a circle around his nipple. A butterfly in a particular style on one part of his stomach, most likely a symbol of sorts though one Janus doesn’t recognize. The rest of his stomach is dotted with very amateur looking, upside down stick and poke tattoos. And that’s just the ones on his front side.

“Aren’t they sick as fuck?” Remus smiles, his full teeth showing with the amount of pride he seems to have over them.

Janus clears her throat with a cough. “Yeah, they look very nice.”

“Wanna touch em?”

“Remus, what?” Janus laughs. ”I have tattoos too, they don’t feel any different than skin.”

“You have tattoos and didn’t tell me?!”

“Yes, only two,” she sighs. “They’re kind of known for being expensive, and, well-”

“Show me, show me!” he begs, running over to her and touching her arms. She tries not to let her breathing stutter at him, mostly-naked, feeling just fine to run up and touch her.

“Are you subtly asking me to strip, Carmona?”

“Huh? No, I wouldn’t do that subtly if I was going to!” he says, tone cheeky but honest.

Janus sighs and, thankful to at least still have on a bra right now, pulls up her sweater to show them. “There’s a moth on my hipbone, see, and there’s a snake along my chest. That’s all.” She lowers her shirt to his intense gaze. “Can we refocus on getting food? I’m starving.”

“Right!” Remus says, turning around to hide just how flustered seeing her chest made him. He for once realizes that his nudity might be affecting someone, seeing as her just pulling up her shirt has gotten him so embarrassed. “Where you wanna go?”

“There’s a diner a mile or two away, it’d be a few minutes driving. They’re very stereotypically American but I wouldn’t be one to say no to well-made breakfast food and burgers.”

Remus has pulled on a shirt, a ratty looking band t-shirt specifically, one that she thinks he might’ve had since high school, and cargo pants by the time she finishes the sentence. “I wouldn’t be one either, let’s go!” He grabs her wrist and starts to tug towards the door.

“Remus, wait, I need my glasses, some gloves and probably to change too, I slept in this.”

Remus pauses looking at her. “You look fine though? I don’t see anything wrong with it, you wear that or a similar sweater like every day anyway.”

“Gloves,” she insists, her voice a bit more desperate than she would like it to sound.

Remus pauses, taking both of her bare hands in his. “Jan, look,” he says, gesturing to their hands. She does look, taking in both of their hands splotched by paler patches. “Nothing to be ashamed over, ok?” he promises. “If anyone said anything I’d kick their ass.”

Janus takes a breath in, eyes closing. “I- I can’t, I’m sorry.” She pulls away her hands and walks to her room to grab a pair of her gloves, leaving a slightly dejected looking Remus behind. In her room she stares at her skin, breathing uneven. It’s not that a skin condition should cause, well, anyone shame, it’s that it’s her skin. It’s her. She doesn’t really like any part of her appearance, and that includes the largest visible organ she was saddled with. The vanity mirror catches her face, and she tries to not look at how square her jaw is or thick her eyebrows are or how covered by the uneven coloration she is or how ugly she is without some makeup to feminize her- Catching herself being so needlessly hateful to herself embarrasses her and she shakes her head out, leaving the room and the mirror behind while barely remembering to grab her glasses. Whatever, Remus was always there to make her look better by comparison anyway, she thinks bitterly.

They get into Remus’s truck without many more words exchanged, and Janus leans on the window when they begin to drive after putting the location into Remus’s GPS. Remus looks at her from the corner of his eyes, chewing on his lip and biting skin off of it. She looks so normal, and he doesn’t understand it. She’s so averagely dressed, and so pretty, the only outwardly odd thing to him being her dyed hair, which is cool! She should love how she looks! But he always felt that way about Roman too, and he acts the same over being seen naked or gloveless. Maybe he should get it, being that he has a skin condition too, but he just doesn’t. Uniqueness like theirs is only beautiful to him, and he’s always considered it rather stupid to think otherwise.

“Hey, Janus?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

“Mmh?”

“Why do people think being weird is a bad thing?”

Janus blinks at him, unsure of the right answer to that. “Well, uh… Humans aren’t very nice to each other even among basic bitches, so there’s even more likeliness if there’s specific things to pick on you for – things that stand out, good or bad.”

“Yeah but- but why?!” Remus’s fingers drum on his steering wheel, his face creasing, with worry or anger he’s not certain. “It’s just- It’s stupid to me! Being different is just a fact, like, every single human is different! We’re not clones or mass-produced dolls.”

“People don’t really see it that way, Remus,” she sighs. “Humans tend to group together based on sameness just on an instinctive and community-based level. In group and outsiders.”

“That’s such culty shit though, and not the cool movie kind.”

“It’s just cliques, tribes, groups, packs, herds – community. It’s normal for more species than just people.”

“People are the only ones who are so smart yet act so fucking dumb about it!” he says, seeming more annoyed than angry. “Like animals beating the shit out of each other just happens because they’re entirely instinct and survival based - humans aren’t that! We’ve got so much brain power being used on nothing.”

“People are just like that,” she says.

“People like hurting each other, I know that,” he grumbles. “People have always liked hurting me because I’m so different and weird, and I am different and weird, so they’re right, I guess. I know people just wanna hurt me and laugh at me at this point. People like hurting weirdos even when it’s not right,” he says. Janus feels something painful rising in her chest at how… casually he’s saying this, like they’re factual statements rather than the opinions of assholes. “But I just feel like it makes no sense, to me myself and I.”

He sighs. “Like you, you’re the prettiest most normal looking person ever,” Janus feels her cheeks get hot as he continues, “but because of, what, a skin condition? You’re weird? We both got bullied like crazy even though you’re gorgeous and I’m hot as fuck! They shouldn’t do that to you!”

“They shouldn’t do that to you,” she snaps in agreement, coming out sadder than she intended. “You’re not a weirdo. You’re right, it makes no sense. It- it makes no sense.” She wipes at her face and looks at the floor of his car.

He touches her shoulder, though he’s no longer looking at her. “Glad we agree on that, at least,” he laughs, high and subtly strained, squeezing at her. He pulls the car into the parking lot the GPS tells him to, parking and slapping his own legs, smiling at her. “Let’s go eat, mkay? Anything you want, it’s how I’ll make up for rent since I’ve been here bothering you so long.”

“Remus, you’re not-“

He gets out of the car before she continues, and she huffs and tries to follow him, cursing and struggling to right herself in her crutches from how high his truck is. He seems to notice at the door, and rushes back over to her, reaching to help. She groans, frustrated by herself and her body and her inability to comfort him and fix it for him and be a good person and- and-

“Janus, hey, breathe,” he suddenly mutters at her, his hand brushing her hair out of where it had become stuck to her lip. She looks up at him and he’s frowning in sympathy for her – for her as though he’s not the one clearly hurting so much. She feels herself drawing back to snap at him or reply to the help angrily, but it deflates from her chest before it leaves, her head slumping on his shoulder for a second. He seems unsure of how to respond to that, just going still and letting her rest there.

“You’re smarter than most humans, Remus,” she says quietly by his ear. “Smarter, nicer, and cooler, too.”

Remus chuckles, nervous, patting her back. “Aw, Janus, there’s no need for all that. Let’s just go eat. You said they have food you like, let me buy it for you. You deserve it now especially, complimenting me all sweet.” He helps her get into her crutches more securely, and she silently lets him take her inside.

Both feel better as their meal goes on, talking about nothing at all yet such important things. The food is fatty and filling and salty, which Remus will not stop complimenting, and Janus laughs. She laughs so much around him, more than she has her entire life. She keeps trying to thank him for that, to somehow say it without having to say it – but as she’s driven home with a full stomach, finally fully having let him pay for her and take care of her, even if a small amount, she realizes that it must be said.

“Thank you, Remus,” she says to him.

He hums distractedly, half glancing at her as he drives.

“Thank you. For- for-“ she shuts her eyes, and tries to force words out of her mouth even though her brain wants to shut them down. “Thank you for being here. Making me laugh and trying to make me feel good. Just- You’re so-“ She feels her eyes watering, and looks fully over to him, finding him watching her much more than the road. “You’re a really good person. A really good- good- I- Thank you.”

Remus tries to keep a neutral face and fit with her serious tone, but he can’t help the small bewildered smile that does escape him. It’s the most honest tone he’s ever heard her use, in high school or now. It gives him butterflies and makes him nauseous and makes him happy and sad and every emotion at once. “Janus-“ he lets a tiny laugh out, his chest shaking slightly. “What are you saying right now, you’re acting funny.”

She touches his arm, and he realizes one of her gloves is off. She takes his hand, and they look like they belong there, together. But she can’t say what she wants to, because she doesn’t fully want it to be what she wants. Remus has stopped at a stop sign, and he just stares back at her. Gazes locked and not doing or saying anything but breathing. Janus leans, and pulls him into a hug across the empty middle seat. She hears him exhales beside her ear, and then he hugs back, tightly, gripping his fingers into her sweater.

They just sit there until cars come behind the truck and begin to honk at them, and Remus lets go with a laugh as he rolls down his window and flips the other car off before speeding forward. Janus notices the light hit wetness on his cheeks as she wipes it from her own as well. “Let’s get home,” Remus says, shaking his head and grinning. Home, Janus thinks as she lays back against the window and shuts her eyes. Not just 'Janus's shitty empty apartment' – home.

Remus flops face first on the couch bed when they do get there, Janus pausing at the door to put away her crutches. She doesn’t go to her room, though. She lays down facing the opposite direction on Remus’s bed, their feet and heads on opposite ends. Remus flops his arm over her legs, and when he does, she touches his legs as well.

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t mind being your weirdo forever, y’know,” Remus says quietly. “Whatever that means, I want that.”

Janus squeezes his calf and stares up at her water-stained ceiling. “Well, if that’s the truth, then you’re not going to be weird alone, at least there’s that. Fuck it, I’ll be your weirdo forever too.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” Remus says jokingly. It makes them both laugh, even if it’s not entirely a joke. Whatever. They have forever to figure it out, after all.

[florenceuentin]

April 16: Cottage- I am not having sex with you

Word count: 300

@wolfstarmicrofic

When Remus enters their dorm room, the inside is completely transformed. Where there once were four four-posters now has seven tiny beds huddled together, with Doc, Sleepy, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Bashful, and Sneezy carved on each bedframe respectively. Remus mentally curses Sirius. “Happy April Fool’s Day my ass.”

He throws his bookbag on the nearest bed in revenge.

“Ouch.” The blanket squirms. A very sleepy Peter pokes his head out. He is dressing as, well, Sleepy. Remus thinks he might make a better Dopey.

“Good, you are finally here,” Peter clears his throat. “Oh, the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. Your heart is so kind! Your skin is so shiny and smooth!” He reads from a tiny note Sirius has given him. “Your eyes are so big and dewy! Your lips-”

“I am not having sex with you.” Remus interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Peter.

“What!?” Peter blanches. The note falls to the ground.

“Well, the story of Snow White is basically some pervert fantasizing about underage girls having orgies with old men. And you, my friend, are playing an old man.”

“I’m not trying to have sex with you!” Peter’s face grows even paler.

“Right.”

“I’m NOT!”

“Ok.”

“Sirius is going to kill me if I try anything.”

“Cool.”

They stare at each other.

“You know what? I am not paid enough to do this.” Peter says finally and gets up to leave the room.

“Do your lines Petie boy,” Sirius calls out from behind the bathroom door. “We had an agreement.”

“Or,” Remus proposes. “We can fast forward to the part where Snow White and Prince Charming have crazily good sex and live happily ever after.”

“Yea, that. Definitely that.” Sirius storms out of the bathroom, pushes Peter through the door, and throws Remus onto the bed.

(wrote another one cuz i love this prompt <3 <3 <3

[cheeriecherrymain]

The Bottom Of The Inkwell [Chapter 4]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Chapter Warning: some swearing Proofread: no beta we die like men Chapter Summary: Your classes begin to get stressful, and Viktor does not make it easier on you. However, you finally convince him to meet up outside of class, and you strike a deal with him. 

The first week in class is startlingly stressful. Not because you’re failing to understand the material, or because the curriculum is moving too quickly. No, you’re stressed because you’ve wasted a quarter of your precious project time, trying to get your partner to so much as speak to you.

Every day since being assigned to one another, you’ve asked him to meet up. You’ve been friendly, and you’ve been patient, and Viktor has made excuse after excuse to not continue the conversation.

When you spoke to him at the end of the class, he always says he has somewhere to be in a timely manner - so you’d started asking about it before the lesson began.

But then he would make up other reasons as to why he couldn’t keep talking - needing to go over his notes before the professor came in, or even just outright telling you that he didn’t have the time to talk right at that moment.

And then of course, he’d disappeared as soon as you’d all been dismissed from the lesson.

By friday, you know he’s purposefully ignoring you. You know he doesn’t have any classes after the second, because that’s when the cafeteria was open to everyone attending the university - including professors.

You never saw him eating lunch anywhere, so you wonder if maybe he really does have somewhere to be…but you highly doubt it. Why wouldn’t he just give you a time slot that worked for him, if that was the case? It’s as though he’s not even trying to cooperate with you, and you don’t care what his reasoning is: you’re frustrated.

“Hey, Viktor?” you call his name, while you both pack up your belongings after class.

You can see his shoulders fall slightly when you address him, but he pauses nonetheless, and turns towards you. “Yes?”

“Ah…well. We only have three weeks left until our project is due, and…” you don’t know why you’re suddenly so flustered, “We really need to get started on it. I don’t think we can’t recover from the lost time, but we really, really need to get going if we want to finish on time.”

He stares at you for a couple seconds. His expression is mostly unreadable, though you can’t help feeling as though he’s judging you - it might just be his face, but something in his eyes is screaming disdain, and it fills you with an uncomfortable, simmering rage.

“I’ve already drafted some designs,” he finally replies, glancing back towards his things as he starts to carefully slide them into his bookbag. “So all we need to do is-”

“Pardon me?”

Your overly cheerful tone must take him by surprise, because his entire body freezes as soon as the words leave your mouth. You watch as he processes what you’ve said, and you can see each emotion pass over his face - shock, annoyance, frustration, annoyance again.

He eventually settles for impatience, and glares at you from the corner of his eye. “I drew up some blueprints during the week-”

You’re having none of it.

“That’s what I thought you said,” you interrupt again, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. “You’re aware this is a team effort, right?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you hold your hand up. “No, you’re going to listen. I know we don’t know each other, and I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, but it is what it is. I don’t want you to do all the work, okay?”

But instead of diffusing the situation, your words only seem to fan the flames, earning you a sharp sigh of frustration from your partner.

“Why does it matter?” he snips, “You’d still be getting a good grade, so-”

“Because I want to have an input!” you hiss, knocking your fist hard on your desk. “This is my class as much as it is yours, and I have just as much a right to learn as you do! I’m not going to sit on my ass and ride your coattails while you make all the decisions!”

For a good ten seconds, he looks as though he wants to argue. His jaw is tight and there is a bright fury behind his honey brown eyes - mirrored in equal intensity by your own.

But for the first time since meeting him, he decides not to fight you on something.

“Fine,” he grumbles, standing up and snatching his cane from where it leans against his desk. “I’ll bring my drawings, and we can decide which design to make-”

“That’s not what I-”

“Tomorrow at noon, in the library. Do not be late.”

And then he strides away, leaving you to cope with the aftermath of your anger.

—

By the end of the day, your annoyance has simmered down into pure, unbridled rage. Never in your life have you wanted to yell at someone so badly as you want to yell at Viktor, never have you wanted to knock your fist on someone’s head as you want to do with him. He is, without a single iota of doubt, the most infuriating person you’ve ever met.

You storm into your dorm and throw you bag on your bed, stomping right over to your desk to where you keep your journal.

I’m going to strangle my partner, V. I’m going to kill him, and I’m going to do it with my own two hands.

I’ve never known either of us to be violent people, but I’m inclined to agree with your sentiment. What happened?

You take a couple minutes to work on slowing your heart rate down, taking deep, measured breaths. It takes a little longer than usual, but eventually the tension begins to seep from your shoulders, and you’re able to slouch a little more comfortably in your chair.

He must think I’m stupid, and I have no idea what gave him that impression. He avoids talking to me at all costs, and then he goes and makes decisions on my behalf, as if I’m completely incapable of speaking for myself! Or as if my opinion doesn’t matter! As if I’m just meant to sit there and look pretty!

That sounds concerningly narcissistic. Have you mentioned it to him? Or to your professor?

There’s no point in saying anything to our teacher, since we’re not allowed to change partners. I tried to say something to the guy today, though, and he just. Cut me off! Completely spoke over and me and just told me how things were going to happen. And then he fucked off before I could say anything else. V, I’ve never wanted to hit someone before, but I’m getting real close to popping this asshole in the jaw.

Try not to get too excited about it - physical altercations will go on your permanent record.

I’m calm, I’m calm. Ruining his stupid pretty face isn’t worth losing my education over. Besides, if I get expelled, my parents would have a heyday - they’d be so fucking thrilled if they got to shove suitors down my throat years earlier then they planned. Wait - no ew, that sounds gross, ignore how I phrased that.

Hah. Hold on, though, suitors? You’ve never said anything about your parents wanting to marry you off - I thought you were going to school so you could thrive on your own?

Veeeee, that’s not what I want to talk about. What did your partner do?

Don’t avoid the question.

We can talk about my mother’s desire to hook me up with some snotty prick another time - I want to gossip!

Very well, but I’m putting a bookmark in this conversation. Now if you must know, my partner is an airhead - I told you that already. She’s pushy and noisy, and it’s incredibly frustrating that she doesn’t listen to what I’m trying to say. Like she doesn’t even want to hear the ideas that I have.

I can smack both our partners, if you’d like?

While I appreciate the gesture, I’d much rather get through this semester with as few injuries as possible.

Boringggggg. Still, I’m sorry she isn’t paying attention to you. If we were partners, I bet we’d get along better - we already work so well together in writing. I’m glad we have each other to complain to. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to keep all the stress in.

Likewise - I would much prefer working with you. But it is what it is, so we’re stuck with who we’ve got.

Keep your head up, V. You’re brilliant, and you should be heard - I know your partner will figure it out eventually. She can’t be so clueless, if she managed to pass the entrance exams. Just hang in there.

One can only hope. Talk to you tomorrow?

Of course. Sleep well!

Goodnight, dear.

You carefully clean the excess ink off the tip of the pen, and set it delicately back into its cushioned box. You keep the silver piece hidden within a lockable door in the desk - you’re not entirely sure you were meant to get into it in the first place, but V had taught you years ago how to pick a simple keyhole.

You sigh deeply, drowsiness clouding the edges of your mind despite the fact that the sun was only just beginning to set. You couldn’t go to bed yet - though you’re emotionally tired, you know that as soon as you lay down, you’re going to be wide awake.

The last thing you want to be doing is laying there in the dark and quiet, with nothing but your thoughts to keep you occupied.

Instead, you pull out your other notebooks -the ones you use for class work- as well as a couple loose pieces of blank paper.

If Viktor had some designs already drafted, then you weren;t going to show up to your meeting empty handed. Maybe his ideas were good, maybe they weren’t, but you weren’t going to just sit back and let him decide on something that should be done by the both of you.

You don’t care what his beef with you is: you’re going to get him to hear you, one way or another.

—

When you wake the next morning, it’s to the delightfully awful chirping of your alarm clock. And, as per usual, the moment you reach out to smack it, it quickly rolls away from you and starts dancing across the floor.

You hated that stupid thing.

But you’re thankful for the extra three hours of sleep that the weekend had allowed you, so it’s less of a chore to haul yourself out of bed to chase the contraption around.

Once it’s silent, you wander into your little bathroom to get ready for the day - fixing your hair after a night of tossing and turning, and brushing your teeth to get rid of the film coating your mouth. You decide to opt out of having a shower, since you’d had one the evening prior, and instead slap on deodorant and a couple spritzes of perfume.

You’re excited that you don’t have to wear your uniform for once, though, getting tired of the same outfit after only a week of wearing it. There were only so many skirts and trousers that you could pair with the somewhat unflattering vest, and all the combinations were plain and repetitive.

You’d dearly missed your lavender blouses and brightly coloured shorts.

After dressing, it doesn’t take long for you to collect all the work you’d done the night before, folding each drawing into a tidy square to neatly pack beside your notebook. You toss your pencil case into one of the side pockets, and slide the shoulder strap across your body, and you’re ready to go.

—

You arrive at the library fifteen minutes before you’re meant to be there. 

You had debated being perfectly on time so that Viktor couldn’t say a word against you, but in the end you didn’t want to risk cutting in so close. In the event that you were late, you knew you’d never hear the end of it from him.

It doesn’t take you long to locate him, tucked away at a quiet desk amongst the bookshelves. He’s surrounded by papers and textbooks, hunched forward in his chair and looking as though he’s already been set up there for hours.

“I’m surprised you managed to get a spot so late in the day,” you say quietly as you walk up to him and take a seat at his side. You try to keep your tone light and neutral - as nonthreatening as possible, lest you have a repeat of yesterday.

“I’ve been here since nine,” Viktor says, barely even looking up from his notes as he scribbles down something from an encyclopedia propped up in front of him. You can’t even tell what his letters say, they’re so hastily scratched into the page.

“I could have come earlier,” you mumble, guilt momentarily rising up in your throat. “I feel bad making you wait for so long.”

“I don’t mind having the time to study on my own,” he replies, and finally sets his pencil down to face you.

You set your bag down on the floor by your feet, and pull out your necessary equipment. “We might as well get right to it,” you say, “if that’s alright with you. What did you have in mind for our project?”

To your surprise, Viktor actually lights up when you mention the subject, and something akin to a smile tugs at his lips. He’s quick to pull out several of his sketches, explaining each of them to you as he slides them your way.

And you have to admit, they’re brilliant. Not only do they showcase what you’d been learning in the class thus far, they also had other purposes - things that would make them applicable to daily scenarios. You know that he’s intended them to have a use beyond that of a simple project, and you find his dedication and ingenuity quite admirable.

But…

“What?” Viktor grumbles, when he sees your brows pinch together by a fraction. “Are they not good enough?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” you say softly, trying your damnedest to be patient with him. “I actually think these are incredible ideas, but they’re complex. Not to mention, they’re experimental. Look, here, at these parts you used,” you point to a couple pieces attached to a small motor, “you can’t get these parts in Piltover.”

“We can get them in-”

“The undercity,” you finish for him, “I know. But we’ll get in huge shit for that, and we’ll likely receive a failing grade.”

You lean against the desk, and stare down at the drawings with a sigh. “We only have three weeks left, Viktor. These are fantastic concepts, but the fact is that we don’t have enough time left in order to build, test, and perfect something so convoluted.”

You can see the disappointment in his eyes, though you’re grateful that he’s less hostile than he had been the afternoon prior. You hope that he’d just been having an off day, or an off week, and that things would be turning around - you wanted to be able to work with him as efficiently as possible.

“What do you suggest, then?” he asks, fixing you with a tired look.

You quickly flip through the pages in your notebook, until you come across the detailed concepts you’d written out last night, paired with the drawing that you unfold from your bag. “Something like this,” you say, sliding it towards him. “It’s nowhere near as flashy as yours, but it has the same base purpose.”

And then, all at once, the air between you shifts.

What had moments ago been tentatively inquisitive, is now ostensibly offended.

You have no idea what you said.

“What purpose?” he hisses, glaring at you. “This is a perpetual motion machine - a desk toy. What could our ideas possibly have in common?”

Ah.

You think you get it.

“Viktor,” you murmur, slouching back in your chair, “I know you want to do something big, and important, that will make things better. But we’re first year students. We’re not meant to make waves yet. The purpose of these projects is to show that we understand the material, so that one day we can do big things.”

You scowls and turns his gaze from you, crossing his arms across his chest like some kind of tall child throwing a tantrum.

“I’m not saying you can never build this,” you tell him softly, reaching out to rest your hand on his shoulder, “In fact, I think you should. I think it could be useful for a lot of people in a lot of situations. But there’s a time and place for it, and the first project of our first semester in our first year of school isn’t it. Please, Viktor?”

You stare at him with your most endearing puppy eyes - the very same expression that had made your parents cave into your whims year after year. Adorable, pleading, sweet.

You stare at him until her relents.

Until he sharply exhales and rolls his eyes at you.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “but we’re going with one of my designs for the next project.”

“Are you going to make it overly-” He presses his hand over your mouth, effectively silencing you.

“We go with yours this time, and mine next time. Deal, or no?”

You try to speak around his hand, but you’re unable to utter a word.

“Deal, or no?” he says again.

You know he’s going to make a complete ass out of himself if you refuse his suggestion - he’ll be hostile to work with, if not outright impossible.

So, in silence, you hold your hand out to shake on it, and he finally releases you.

“Deal.”