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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

Text

It All Comes Crashing Down

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon.

A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?

Masterlist

She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.

"Bomb my location."

The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.

An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.

It was a win-win for everyone but her.

And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.

"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."

"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.

It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.

Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.

It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.

She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.

Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.

Unreachable, untouchable.

She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.

Everyone but Ghost.

She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.

"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"

"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."

"I'm going to-"

"Set off the charges."

There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.

"Copy."

A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.

It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.

"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"

"There's no replacing you."

There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.

It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.

A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.

Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.

A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.

Just once.

Just one more time before she-

"Charges setting off in 5-"

How cruel was the world?

She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.

Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.

If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon."

The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.

Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.

"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.

Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.

Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.

"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.

"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret

"I-...ou...Simon"

"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.

He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.

Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.

Good fucking riddance.

He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.

The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.

When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."

Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.

"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.

"Aye." Soap chokes out.

Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.

"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.

"What?"

Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.

Bury...?

There's only one woman in their team.

There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.

There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.

The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.

"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.

Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.

"Was."

And it all comes crashing down.

He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.

Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.

"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.

Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.

The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.

His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.

They blew the charges.

The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.

No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.

There was no other fucking option.

The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.

She had to be okay.

Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.

Not her.

He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.

Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.

It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.

Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.

Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?

Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.

The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.

"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.

Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.

Alive.

But still alive.

And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.

With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.

Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.

"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"

He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.

A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.

"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?

"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."

It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.

Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.

"I-...ou...Simon"

Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.

She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.

When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.

She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.

It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.

Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.

Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(12/08/2023)

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forcebewitht · 8 months ago

Note

Hey, since book 6 has been out in English for a while, could we possibly see an Overblot!Idia x reader? I really love the idea of him dramatically taking off the mask he has on to kiss the reader.

A Dance With Death (Overblot!Idia Shroud x MC!Reader)

(Artwork by: Trashochist on Deviantart, X (Twitter), and Instagram)

(Possible TW: Slight yandere implications, stalking, manipulation, branding)

…The time had finally come. All of the trials and tribulations that you had gone through. The pain and strife that had overtaken you in just a few short days. It had all led up to this. The kidnapping of your beloved companion, Grim. The destruction of the Ramshackle dorm. The kidnapping of those who had Overblotted that you had helped through their trauma and developed bonds with overtime. The kidnapping of even the Headmaster of Night Raven College himself. The entirety of these events had thrown Night Raven College into turmoil.

And that was just what excited Idia even more. He had been watching curiously since the very first moment you had arrived at the institution. I mean- a student that didn’t have any magic? Yet arrived within a coffin here to a school of magical students? It was unheard of- and just that alone excited him. This excitement only grew once the Overblots started. His family and organization, S.T.Y.X., had been all over the research of Overblotting for years. But now, after all of this time, someone so close to him (in the school, that is-) was at the forefront of a handful of Overblots? It was far too perfect of a chance to pass up with that new Ramshackle prefect. The plan was sprung, footage and data gathered. He knew that they were going to come for their beloved friends- they were just so cool like that. Literally a superhero in disguise, an underdog that soon had risen to be one of the top dogs within the school. There was a lot of promise with them- no. Not a promise. This was the work of the Fates themselves, he believed. The Fates themselves had led someone to him. Someone powerful. Someone strong. Someone capable of protection. Someone…that could get him back what he had lost all of those years ago.

There they were. Descending down to the depths of Hell that he himself had wrought. They looked horrible- worn for wear, really. To think, these oh so powerful figures from Pomefiore, Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, and Octavinelle, alongside the hero of the school themselves, would be bashed and broken already from mere secondary bosses? They wouldn’t stand a chance against this final boss. Idia grinned beneath the mask that he wore, his arms folding over themselves as the Blot around his figure billowed with every breath he took. He could feel the immeasurable power coursing through his veins- and the normally pessimistic male found himself growing rather cocky the more they walked forward. His golden gaze soon landed upon his hero- his knight in shining…well, uniform. He soon was speaking, his arms outstretched as the flames protruding from his figure began to blaze brighter- hotter.

“Bum bum buuummmm~! Our heroes have finally arrived to the final boss battle! But uh ohhhhhh~ looks like they didn’t level enough, now did they~?”

You found yourself gritting your teeth at Idia above. Already, Vil, Rook, and Epel were readying themselves at your side. The rest soon followed, the weapons they had gained during their prior fights with the Overblot Beasts being raised and ready to overwhelm Idia’s Blot. Idia began to cackle, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Uh ooohh~! Eheheheheheheeeee~! They found the special gear~! But that’s really not gonna do much, you guys! Totally on top of my game, y’know~? These HP and attack stats are through. The. ROOF!”

With his words, Idia’s Overblot Beast, Ortho, began to unleash a flurry of attacks upon you and your party, forcing all of them to scatter across the area. The Beast seemed to know precisely what to do- orders most likely given before this entire fiasco began. You began to find yourself being slowly but surely separated from everyone else thanks to the Beast’s targeted attacks. This separation was key- this was what Idia wanted. He watched as you eventually were cornered entirely, exactly where he wanted you. Once more, a grin spread out under his mask. You looked so cool and tough despite all of this neverending pressure, still shouting out commands for the others to work together to defend themselves, each other, or deflect the attacks his Beast was allowing itself to barrage them all with. He soared downwards until he was finally just before you. You had jumped back slightly upon noticing him approaching, but there truly was nothing that you could use at this time to defend yourself with. He leaned forward, his clawed hands now pressing themselves to either side of the wall beside your head.

“There you are~! The hero themselves~! The shining star of the hour- no, the entirety of Night Raven College~! This is our final stage, (Y/N)! Isn’t it thrilling~?”

“Idia, this is absolutely crazy! You are going to wind up killing us all with thi-”

A clawed finger pressed itself against your lips as he shifted, shushing you gently as he rolled his glowing amber eyes.

“Okay, listen- babe. (Y/N). Baby. Babycakes. Sweetheart. Sweetie pie. Wonder Student. I’m gonna stop you riiigghhtt there, actually- because I know. I know about the whole thing. But you’re gonna be my hero, you know~? You are going to save a life- just like you’ve been doing! So, it’s all good, ‘kay~?”

You began to attempt to protest, but you soon found yourself being swept into Idia’s arms and pulled about. The crazed Overblotted Idia now began to waltz with you despite all of the destruction around the both of you. He sighed blissfully, his eyes burning ablaze with a fiery passion- it was unnerving. He leaned forward once more, now beginning to hush into your ear through that glowing mask he wore.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, (Y/N). The countless hours I have spent watching and studying your damn near every move…I know your exact schedule bit by bit, y’know, ehehehehee~ I mean, with you and your coolness, you never know when you’re gonna stop another Overblot, honestly. But that coolness that you have doesn’t matter down here- and y’know why~?”

Your eyes soon widened considerably as you felt Idia grab onto your arm. One of his clawed fingers now was set ablaze with a small, blue flame. His grip was tight- commanding in every sense of the word. The flame began to trace itself upon your flesh as he continued to speak- ignoring your cries and attempts to struggle away from him.

“I know everything about you. I have seen your struggles. Your pain. I mean, separated from your home, whatever friends and family you had before…and thrust into a world of magic without any magic yourself. You have been left in the cold by the Fates themselves to fend for yourself. You struggle simply to survive from day to day without any money here…you struggle to maintain your cool and calm composure and keep people like those Heartslabyul first years and the little guy in line…and you then have to deal with the rantings and ravings of spoiled brats like those that Overblotted and, despite wanting for it all to just end, have to buck yourself up instead and keep them from ending it all? It is just an endless cycle of pain, regret, and a loveless life that you have fallen into.”

The more Idia spoke and you felt that flame burning upon your arm, the more you found yourself getting lost into the swirling golden pools upon his sleek, pale, oddly handsome face that were his eyes. For the first time since you had arrived here…you actually genuinely felt seen. You felt heard. Oddly enough, from someone that you had truly rarely seen outside of his own room within the confines of the school itself. Your own gaze finally shifted down to your arm as his finger retracted. He had burned the insignia of his family’s company, S.T.Y.X., onto your flesh. He blew out the fire on his finger, now grinning once more wickedly beneath his mask as his clawed hands now seized you by the waist once more, pulling you into his deadly embrace.

“I know, I know. I know it hurts. All of that going on and absolutely nothing to ever truly be gained from it all…well, my Wonder Student…that’s gonna end for you right now. With what I just gave you…you are mine. And when you’re mine, you have a purpose. You will be protected, provided for. No longer shall you be within the confines of a cage and hidden away in the shadows- you shall be the bright and shining star in our tale- and properly get those monetary stats and all of that raised~!”

Idia’s hand whisked over his face- where that mask was nestled. The mask faded away, revealing his pearly white, razor sharp teeth. They glistened at you as it felt Death was grinning at you- which it essentially was. His royal blue lips curled upwards into a wicked grin as he tugged you even closer to himself, now leaning all of the way forward towards you.

“C’mon~”

He began to pull you with him once more, twisting and turning your body with himself. His clawed hands trailed up and down your figure within your shared dance of destruction, his thoughts split between what he would do with you now that you belonged to him…and that of his brother’s life that you soon would pull up from the depths of the Underworld for him. You all would be a family together- and that only seemed to excite him further as his motions grew swifter, yet sly. He soon had you dramatically dipped, and his lips captured yours in a warm, passionate kiss…thus beginning your true dance with death.

~End~

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney #twst #twistedwonderland #twst x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twst overblot #twst idia x reader #idia x reader #overblot idia #overblot idia x reader #yandere idia shroud #twisted wonderland yandere #yandere idia x reader #yes i gave him a few more hades-like vibes #force writes

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honeekyuu · 4 months ago

Text

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter one.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: i have a lot of feelings about these two. welcome to those feelings.

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Caught in Heated Argument with Fan

Sendai’s Tsukishima Kei Breaks Paparazzi Camera

Sendai Frogs Player Threatens Reporter Outside Home

You sigh, scrolling down the list of news articles that had populated when you’d entered his name into the search bar.

“This fucking guy.”

The top links are all reports of his most recent altercation, his newest scandal, the next thing he’s done wrong. Only a few talk about his performance during a game – luckily, he’s beyond talented and had drawn in a substantial amount of the Frogs’ fanbase, so his… poorer points have been overlooked by their management.

Until now.

You sigh again, remembering the text you’d woken up to this morning.

[5:07 AM]

Tsukki: im fucked

Tsukki: management called me in for a morning meeting

Tsukki: come over tn?

You’d groaned, instantly exasperated. You texted back that you would expect him to have dinner ordered by the time you arrived and left it at that, going about your day with a feeling that this had been the last straw for him.

Because Tsukishima Kei had always been trouble.

The boy you’d known in elementary school had been sweet and playful, but he’d had a mischievous streak. It had paired well with your general tendency toward chaos, and your friendship had been built on shared scoldings from teachers and parents.

The boy from middle school – the one who’d learned about betrayal – had been snarky and bitter, tongue sharp and words crafted to draw blood. Stones pelted at those who’d ever spoken ill of you – you, growing into wider-set hips and chubbier thighs than the other girls. You, who’d always hid your insecurities behind Tsukki, your wild smile and silly demeanor keeping others from seeing how painful stones could truly be.

He’d been almost imperceptibly softer with you – just a bit gentler, lacking the same heat that had scared others off – but he’d still cut you a handful of times. Retorts thrown too quickly in times of high stress, sarcastic comments snapped at your heels a little too thoughtlessly. But you’d always been tough — turned by the cruelty of a few mean boys and girls into something just sharp enough to handle his temper — and he’d learned that he should take care not to cross any real lines with you.

He’d still managed to cross a few in high school, and you’d taught him that you hadn’t been joking. He’d had to learn that the words ‘ I’m sorry ’ were hard to say, but that having you ignore him was harder.

And one day, those words had stopped working, too. Because a friend shouldn’t lash out enough to need them as often as he always had.

Tsukishima Kei had learned – in the middle of your third year at Karasuno, when a fight had gotten to a point worse than things had ever been between you – what it might mean to lose you. You’d walked away from him that day, and you’d gone weeks without speaking to him. He’d finally shown up at your door after a home game, drenched in the torrential downpour that had started so suddenly that you’re still convinced the universe had put you in a dramatic movie moment on purpose.

But he’d stood there anyway, waiting you out until you’d be willing to talk. Because you’d never once missed a game of his, and because – even if he’d been trying everything to get your attention since your fight – it was starting to feel like this was the nail in the coffin of your friendship. And he simply couldn’t have that. You could yell at him – bicker and snap and fight – but your silence was unacceptable.

He’d stood there at your door, blond hair plastered to his forehead and rain-covered glasses hiding his eyes completely, as you’d beaten his walls down to nothing. Screaming, you’d gone on and on about his lack of consideration and care for you – about every moment that had felt like a punch to the gut when nothing of the sort should be allowed in a friendship – until you’d run out of breath. Until all you could do was stand there on your doorstep and sob, the storm drowning you out to everyone but him.

He hadn’t said a single word, only stepping up to you once you’d stopped and wiping your snot-covered face with the front of his drenched volleyball shirt.

“ Okay, ” He’d finally mumbled, voice thick with regret as you’d cried into his chest. “ I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. ”

You two hadn’t had a single problem since. Things had gone back to normal, with Tsukki toeing the line but, without fail, never crossing it.

You’d been secretly glad he hadn’t changed all that much. He was still the same. He was still Tsukki.

The rest of high school had passed by in a series of rolled eyes and exasperated comments. College had started just the same, with new friends made and roommates come and gone, but Tsukishima Kei right where he’s always been. People here were less rude, less judgmental of your size and the unapologetic demeanor that had been built because of it. You’d made friends here, although never ones that could compare to the Karasuno Volleyball boys, who still float in your social orbit even now. Shimizu Kiyoko floats closer still, one of your dearest friends to this day.

And, still , already three years into college, Tsukki’s what he’s always been.

Brutally honest and annoyingly coarse.

Sarcastic at best and a cloud of misery at worst.

Immovably loyal and at your side without question.

He’s the same as always, if not a bit more mature with age. Your relationship’s developed into one of constant exasperation, witnessing his every moment of idiocy into adulthood. He’s a nightmare to have a serious conversation with, but you’ve learned that he always listens, even when he wants to do anything but that. Your arguments are frequent, but never serious.

Any hint of a real fight is always squashed promptly under his feet, his hands calming on your shoulders and his tone losing its edge the moment he’d spot the telltale signs of your anger – he’d always give in first, even with a personality as stubborn as his. The balance between his commonplace sarcasm and something more serious is a delicate one, but he’d managed to find it with you.

The issue, however, is that you are the exception.

Tsukishima had been recruited by the Sendai Frogs in your third year, playing successfully and renewing the year-long contract for the following school year – the unspoken agreement being a full-time professional contract with them after graduation. He’d been sheltered, in a way, last year, because it had been a soft launch – a trial run to see how he’d do, how the Frogs fans would take to him.

As it turns out, the road to going pro comes with as many problems as it does benefits.

Upon signing the contract for this year, the Frogs management had officially introduced their It Boy to the world.

Tsukishima Kei – 21 years old, Middle Blocker.

He’d been thrown into an unending schedule at the beginning of the year – any time outside of practice and games is taken by interviews, sponsorships, media promotion. His face and name had been plastered over billboards and brand collabs, the Sendai Frogs’ Middle Blocker a player slated to bring the volleyball world to its knees.

But the most important, truly – the thing that had started all his problems – is the invasion of privacy.

He’d managed to make it to the start of summer vacation while juggling the newfound fame, but – with the halfway point of his temporary contract approaching quickly – the Frogs fans had recently become rabid. People clambering over each other in classes to get a better look at him, baristas writing their number on his coffee cups at cafes (and then posting his coffee order online, of course), and his face posted all over the internet. Every miniscule move he makes is posted to Twitter – his class schedules, his mealtimes, his practice hours. Paparazzi at his apartment, at his car, at his classes.

He’s everywhere, and that’s too much, even for him.

He and Yamaguchi had had to move to a gated, private townhouse together, unable to stay in their dingy off-campus apartment anymore – too many people had tried the locks and camped out in front for a single glimpse of the up and coming star athlete.

You hadn’t escaped the public eye unscathed, either. You’d seen enough comments about yourself online – what your relationship with Tsukishima Kei might be, and why it always seemed just non-platonic enough to be questionable but completely unable to be pinned down. What you may or may not be gaining from hanging around this rising heartthrob, and – notably – how you could possibly think he’d be interested in you, given your… physical attributes.

You’d learned to be good at ignoring those comments, but it hadn’t come without damage. Damage that had taken the form of quiet arguments with Tsukki about not wanting to go out into the world with him, irritated demands that you not let the irrelevant comments of a few internet trolls affect your friendship. More than a few instances of Tadashi and Kiyoko showing up to your door with takeout and some reassurances, Tsukki’s barrage of whiny texts set aside for a night.

It had gotten easier over the summer, your ability to ignore the public’s opinion not necessarily stronger, but your ability to hide the effects of it certainly solidified. You manage to shake off the minor stress that comes with leaving your little studio apartment every morning, and you’re happy with the balance of your private and public life by Tsukishima Kei’s side.

What you’re not happy with – very crucially – is his inability to keep his name out of the tabloids for picking fights with paparazzi.

–

By the time you make it to his townhouse, it’s well past 5pm and you’re nearly dead on your feet from the full day of work and classes. School’s just picked up again, and your professors seem to not know the meaning of ‘syllabus week’.

Tadashi answers the door, glancing over your shoulder at the poorly hidden paparazzi across the street before gesturing you into the house.

“He’s not here.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” Where the hell-

“I am now.”

You turn, finding Tsukki just behind you in the doorway, a bag of takeout in hand and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He shuts the door and kicks off his shoes, eyeing the narrow glare you’re giving him.

“Got something to say?”

Your tone is sharp. “Did you really break a reporter’s camera last night?”

He nods, not even a little bit ashamed. “He was sitting on my car after practice, waiting for me. And then he wouldn’t get off of it.”

You sigh while Yamaguchi nods understandingly.

“Yeah, alright, that’s annoying…”

“ Annoying isn’t enough to justify my reaction, apparently.” He shakes his head, following the two of you into the kitchen. He leaves the bag on the island for you to unpack and disappears down the hall toward his bedroom to change. You withdraw containers of curry and set about serving three plates of it, navigating their kitchen without issue.

Tadashi mumbles quietly beside you. “How fucked is he?”

You shake your head, sighing again. “Infinitely fucked, I’d say.”

“You saw the look in his eye?” He cuts a questioning glance at you, his concern apparent. You just nod, pouring out drinks for the group.

“He’s not telling us something.”

“ He’s right here.”

You both look up, finding Tsukki in the doorway with a pinched scowl and high, tensed shoulders. He lifts a brow at you.

“I’m fine. ”

You and Tadashi make brief eye contact before snorting in unison and pushing past him to the living room with the food. You take a corner of the couch, and Yamaguchi occupies the armchair beside you.

“So, what’d they say?” You ask.

“Off the team yet?” He follows up with a joking smile.

No one acknowledges the underlying nerves you’re both displaying when you look Tsukki over. As much as he needs to get his attitude in check, neither of you can fathom a world in which the Frogs had let him go.

Tsukki flops down on the other end of the couch and breathes out a quiet sigh, slumping back into the cushions. “Management is unhappy with the reputation I’ve created for myself.”

You nod, taking a bite. You’d expected that.

“Okay…?” You draw your knees up under yourself, watching him stare up at the ceiling.

“They have asked-” He lifts his brows, considering something. “-well, more like threatened – that I make a major change to my lifestyle in order to fix the growing impression of me before it becomes ‘solidified’,” He quotes with his fingers, smiling mirthlessly. “Or my full-time contract’s on the line. They want me to find something to make me seem more…” He trails off, staring off to the side now, in your general direction.

“Pleasant. Approachable. Relatable. Soft.” He shrugs. “That kind of thing.”

Months of watching Tsukki adjust to the celebrity lifestyle makes translating this a breeze.

“They want you to get a girlfriend,” Yamaguchi concludes, spooning curry into his mouth.

He laughs bitterly. “And they want it fast.”

You take another bite, shrugging when he looks over at you. “Better get to downloading dating apps, then.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.” He tugs his phone out of his pocket, anyway, glancing briefly at his roommate. “You’re both enjoying this.”

“Well, you didn’t get kicked off the team, so-” Yamaguchi relaxes, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Mm-hm-” You agree. “You did this to yourself.” And then you scoot in, watching him download a few apps. “Cast your phone to the TV so we can watch.”

“You’re funny- hey- ”

You snatch his phone away, connecting his phone to the TV and projecting his open Tinder screen. You slap his hands when he reaches for you, setting his profile up for him in a matter of minutes. He snorts.

“Experienced in online dating?”

“Gotta do something to pass the time in between classes.”

You only realize how it sounds when they both eye you in amused surprise. Tsukki sits up to look at you properly, scandalized and face split in a wide grin. “Gotta do what in between classes, exactly?”

“Wait-”

Tadashi giggles into his hands, sinking low in the armchair, and Tsukki shakes his head, tutting in disappointment at you.

“That’s a crazy thing to admit out loud, Y/n-”

“Shut up ,” You shove him, tossing his phone back and then pointing at the TV. “Start swiping.”

He relaxes back into the couch with a laugh, and the three of you eat your dinner with the entertainment of the night.

–

“Pass.”

“Aw, she’s cute.”

“Exactly. Girls who are cute usually can’t handle me.”

“...Was that a reference to his personality or to sex?” You ask, eyeing Tadashi fearfully.

He shakes his head beside you. “Better not to ask, I fear.”

Tsukki’s suspicious grin is enough for your lip to curl in disgust.

“Ew.”

“I’m just being honest,” He shrugs, unapologetic.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, speaking down to him like he’s a child. “Well, if you don’t start swiping right on cute girls, your contract’s going up in flames, sweetheart.”

“ Ugh -” Tsukki groans loudly, throwing his phone down on the couch. “This isn’t working. None of these girls are the right fit.”

“Then maybe your standards shouldn’t be literally impossible to meet!” Yamaguchi throws his hands up in exasperation. “We’ve been at this a whole hour, and you’ve only swiped right on one girl.”

“Yeah, but she had nice tits,” He admits plainly.

You and Yamaguchi stare, deadpan. “You’re terrible,” You say eventually.

“Yeah,” Tsukki sighs. “I know.” He takes a breath, and then he’s turning to you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! You have nice tits, too – you be my girlfriend.”

Yamaguchi promptly chokes on his drink, and you reach to yank the pillow out from under Tsukki’s head.

“Stop-” You smack him in the face with it repeatedly. “-Being. Gross.”

“It was a compliment!” He laughs, blocking his head and then catching the pillow with ease. You enter into an unwilling match of tug-of-war. “And I already know our personalities work together, so I don’t have to go through the pain of a talking stage!”

You eye him with suspicion, pulling the pillow toward you. “You’re not actually considering this.” You look back at Yamaguchi. “He’s not actually considering this, right?”

Your friend just stares, shocked.

Tsukki pulls hard on the pillow, catching you off guard and launching you toward him. “Oh, I most certainly am.”

“Tsukishima Kei-” You tug, hard. He resists. “Get that thought out of your head right now.”

“Come on-” He argues. “We are clearly a match made in Heaven.”

“In Hell, you mean!” You laugh. “There’s no way!” You look at Yamaguchi in panic. “Help me!”

The man just shrugs uselessly. “This conversation wasn’t on my bingo card for the year. I’m stumped.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/n. It’s not like you’ve got guys lined up outside your door-”

“How would you know?” You snap, a little offended. “I could be going on dates every night-”

“When would you have time for that? You’re with me most nights.” He leans in, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Even more evidence that we should just date.”

“Get away from me-” You push him back with your foot, putting distance between you. He just grabs your ankle and pulls you toward him, and you scream as you’re dragged down the length of the couch.

Tsukki starts to clamber over you, but that finally sets Yamaguchi in motion, the boy standing quickly and yanking Tsukki by his hair back to the other side of the couch.

“Play nice, you freak,” He says, smacking the blond hard on the forehead. Tsukki just laughs, one of those rare laughs that makes you forget why you were ever mad in the first place.

“Okay, okay!” He yells, struggling to be freed from Yamaguchi’s torture.

You crawl back to your corner, kicking him for good measure while you go. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Tsukki argues, still smiling wide. “This is literally a win-win.” He fixes himself, keeping an eye on Yamaguchi while he talks, because the freckled boy is grabbing a magazine off the coffee table and rolling it up. “We’re good together.”

“This is only a win-win for you,” You fight, listing things off and ticking them on your fingers as you go. “You’re annoying, arrogant, have poor impulse control and a short temper, and– importantly – we don’t even like each other!” You throw your hands out as best you can, emphasizing it. “Why would we date when we’re not attracted to each other?”

He doesn’t answer, only flicking his gaze down the length of your body appreciatively before meeting your eyes again. He sees that you’ve seen it, your gaze wary, and he grins wickedly.

“Who’s ‘we’?”

That earns him a rolled magazine to the head.

“I’m just saying,” He laughs. “Just think of how much Management would like it if I found a girlfriend right away, and one that they know is good for me-”

“Alright-” You plant your feet on the floor with an irritated sigh, suddenly tired of this conversation. “-don’t bring them into this to guilt-trip me.” You stand, clearly making to leave.

Tsukki’s smile drops, and he stands quickly, his jokes forgotten. “What? Wait-” His eyes are wide, betraying genuine surprise. You frown, and his eyes track it. He gauges your annoyance, seeing that it’s starting to tip into something more.

“Okay,” He breathes, suddenly quite serious. He holds his hands out toward you carefully, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you back to the couch with him. Yamaguchi perches on the arm of the couch, observing quietly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tsukki tries. “I actually kinda do think we’d be good together.” When you don’t seem to believe it, he tries again. “And I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I do think Management genuinely knows that you’re good for me-”

You know that, too. You know that Management has always liked you. That’s why this idea scares you just a little bit.

Because it’s feasible.

“No one’s going to believe that we’re together if we clearly-” You swallow hard and gesture between you. “-don’t have that kind of kind of chemistry, Tsukki.”

He shrugs. “It’s not that hard to act. We have the friendship chemistry, so we’re not uncomfortable. We would just need to add-”

“Holding hands? Kissing? Entirely different body language? Clear physical attraction?” You argue, lifting your brows.

He nods like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Yeah. That’s not that bad.”

You level him with a meaningful look. “Tsukishima.” You smile bitterly when he blinks at the use of his full name. “ Look at me.”

Tadashi makes a noise of protest over Tsukki’s shoulder, clearly disapproving of where you’re going with this, but the blond just stares.

“I am looking at you.”

You laugh, shaking your head and standing again. “Good luck with Tinder, Tsukki, but I’m outta here-”

There’s a 6’3” wall in your way when you try to leave.

“You really need to get over that shit.”

You whip your head up to look into Tsukki’s eyes, affronted.

“ Excuse me?”

He’s unyielding, golden eyes hard on yours. “I’m not taking that as a valid reason. Come up with something else if you really don’t want to do this.”

“Tsukki-”

“Give me a better reason, Y/n.”

“It makes no sense, Tsukishima!” You scoff, all but laughing in his face. “Not a single person is going to believe that we’re together. We’re going to look stupid together-”

“I don’t think we look stupid together,” He cuts you short, turning to Yamaguchi. “Do you think we look stupid together?”

Tadashi flicks his gaze back and forth from Tsukki’s to yours, clearly torn. When he sighs and it becomes clear he’s about to take Tsukki’s side, you gape at him.

“Yamaguchi!”

He gives you a regretful look. “It’s not unreasonable , Y/n. People already wonder what you two are, anyway.” He rolls his eyes when you stare at him in disbelief, lifting his hands helplessly. “We all know you balance him out. Think of the good you could do, whipping this idiot into shape.”

Tsukki turns to you with a victorious smile, eyebrows lifted. “Consider me whipped.”

You groan, snatching your bag off the floor and pushing past them. “Goodbye.”

Tsukki’s slipping his shoes on at the door with you, only snatching his keys from the bowl when you shoot him a questioning glare.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says as he props the door open for you.

You’re about to remind him that 7pm in the summer is not that late, but the flash of a camera catches your attention. You turn, shielding your eyes from the paparazzi snapping pictures at the end of the driveway.

“Don’t you have a family to spend time with or something?” Tsukki says over your head, his voice tense.

You elbow him hard. “You really gotta stop giving them what they want,” You grumble, stomping down the front steps. The blink of Tsukki’s headlights and the gentle purr of his car remote-starting is the only response he gives you, and you trudge over to the passenger-side door. You wave tiredly at the cameraman standing just past the gate and give him a smile.

“I’d love to say he’s above hitting you with his car, but he’s having a bad day.”

The man chuckles at your joke. “I suppose I shouldn’t take any chances, then.” He takes a few more photos, but he steps out of the way regardless.

Tsukki stares at you when you settle in next to him with a sigh.

“How do you do that? I had to break a guy’s camera to get his ass off the hood of my car.”

You shrug, closing your eyes and leaning against the headrest. “It’s not groundbreaking work, Tsukki. Try being nice once in a while.”

He drives you home in silence.

You keep your eyes on the sideview mirror, watching the unmarked van that’s trailing the car the whole way there.

What would be the difference, really, if you pretend to date Tsukishima Kei? You already get followed home and to classes. You already hear all the whispers when you walk anywhere with him. You’re already all over the internet, comments about your body plastered everywhere for the world to see.

It doesn’t really matter that you’re not interested in Tsukki, does it? It’d be laughable for anyone to question that you could fall for him – he’s tall and objectively gorgeous. Everyone wants him.

The issue is you.

You’ve seen the girls he goes home with at parties.

Your eyes shift from the unmarked van to your own reflection, and you chuckle under your breath.

Yes, you’re good for Tsukishima Kei – you manage his unacceptably short temper. You support him unconditionally and keep him in check. You always have. You’re everything Management needs from him.

But the issue is still you.

“Would you cut it out?”

You blink, turning to look at Tsukki’s side profile while he drives. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on the middle console. He shifts his eyes briefly in your direction before lifting them to watch the van behind you, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“What?” You say, the silence in the car a bit suffocating.

“I’m asking you to cut it the fuck out. Whatever’s going on in your head – cut it out.”

You lift a brow. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t know, Y/n – whatever insane shit you think about yourself.” He shakes his head, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex. Thankfully, it’s a big one with hundreds of units, and the paparazzi have always had the sense not to follow you in.

He pulls up to the main door, putting the car in park and leaning back in his seat with a tight sigh. You both watch the van pull up in front of you, the man on the passenger’s side hopping out and snapping photos of the two of you staring back at him.

“Look,” He says quietly, in a way that reeks of an oncoming argument. You can see him gripping the middle console like he’s stopping himself from getting out of the car. “I know what people say about you. The comments they make about your body and your looks and everything else.”

You stare out the window, nodding. It’s amazing how desensitized you’ve become to the barrage of flashing lights that comes with Tsukishima Kei. “I’ve been hearing it since we were kids-”

“Yeah, exactly. Since we were kids , Y/n. Are you gonna let this be an issue for the rest of our lives?”

You look at him, your skin flushing with anger. “What are you trying to say? It’s not like you have the same problems I do.”

He meets your eyes, gaze burning. “I’m telling you to get the fuck over yourself. Are you gonna listen to a bunch of assholes who don’t matter? Or are you gonna listen to me ?” When your jaw drops, he pushes. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. I’ll let it go. But not if this is your reason.”

“My reason, Kei -” You spit, matching his anger. “-is that I don’t feel like being the laughing stock of your little fanbase.”

“And you think this is gonna stop them?” He smiles, but it’s irritated. “You want me to find some supermodel to date? You think they won’t make comparisons between you and the girl on my arm?”

You hadn’t thought of that.

That you wouldn’t be the pathetic, pining girl trailing after Tsukishima Kei anymore.

You’d be the jealous friend.

Pathetic, pining, jealous little Y/n.

A light flashes in your periphery, and a headline flashes with it – a week from now, when the Sendai Frogs have confirmed his new, unnamed girlfriend to the public.

Tsukishima Kei and Friend Y/l/n Y/n Seen Arguing – New Relationship the Cause?

You’re unable to stop the aggravated growl that spills out when you sigh through your nose.

“They think they know who you are, Y/n. But they don’t. They fucked it up.” Tsukki keeps your gaze locked on his – his eyes are dangerous, like he’s predicting the headlines, too.

He leans toward you. “So show them,” He says. “ Show them who you are.”

You lean forward, too, your face a little too close to his.

“And how do you suggest I do that, Kei?”

The camera flashes, and your chest flickers with some unknown excitement.

His smile is wicked, mocking.

“ Fix me.” He lifts a brow when you glare, doubling down. “Or be the girl that watches someone else do it.”

You kind of want to kill him.

–

You lie facedown on your bed for hours that night, listening as Kiyoko laughs on your couch. She lives in the same complex, only a few floors above you, and she’d made the long journey all the way here just to laugh at you.

She stays with you the whole night, laughing until she cries. And then she laughs some more, because that picture of you in Tsukki’s car is already circulating the internet.

“You’re so fucked,” Kiyoko heaves between breaths, sometime around 2am. She’d moved to the bed with you hours ago, scrolling through Twitter and showing you some of the more unhinged reactions to the photo.

[12:24 AM] TsukkiFan0927 : no because they MUST be fucking????

[1:07 AM] user9329348 : those two have always been so shady together,,, no way that this is new

[1:46 AM] TsukkiYnShipper : TSUKKIYN NATION WE RIDE AT DAWN

You just groan, dragging your phone out and pulling up your text thread with Tsukki.

[2:09 AM]

You: my life would be so peaceful without you in it

He responds immediately.

Tsukki: ill pick you up tomorrow <3

Tsukishima Kei is nothing but trouble.

–

There are an unusual amount of paparazzi outside your apartment complex the next morning.

You stop short when you exit the building, taken aback.

Everyone stares back, no lights flashing. They just stare.

“Uh-Good morning?” You say, blinking at the group of about 15 people. One or two wave in greeting, but no one else wants to break the seal.

No one wants to ask, not yet.

You pull out your phone, about to text Tsukki to hurry the fuck up before things get weirder, but you hear the purr of his car pulling into the lot before you can send it.

The seal breaks all at once.

You lose sight of the car, flashing lights all going off at the same time and effectively blinding you.

You hear your name, over and over again.

“ Y/n, is it true? ”

“ Over here, Y/n! ”

“ What did you two talk about in his car last night, Y/n ?”

There’s a hand on your arm, wrapped tight around your bicep. You inhale sharply, worried that you’re about to be mauled on the very first day of dating Tsukishima Kei.

“ Move your feet, dumbfuck. ”

Oh. It’s him.

“ Mm-kay ,” You mumble, letting Tsukki drag you to his car and all but throw you in the front seat.

Somehow, the lights are worse in here, and you can’t tell if your name is still being called or if that’s just an echo ringing in your ears.

Tsukki climbs in beside you and slams the door. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Why?” You ask, already grabbing for it.

He shifts gears jerkily, and you go flying against the door as he peels out of the lot.

“Tsukki!” You scold, hearing his tires squeal against the pavement.

“You were too slow,” He jokes, eyes on the rearview mirror. You turn, spotting the army of vans that are following behind him.

“Dude,” You breathe, sinking down into the seat. “It was one picture .”

“Regret anything yet?” He says, catching the light just before it turns red and leaving all the vans behind.

“I regret everything,” You say without hesitation. “All of it. Every second.”

When he doesn’t respond, you turn to him. He’s got his eyes on the road and the mirrors, seemingly calm. But his teeth wear down on the inside of his lip, and he’s not sparing you a single glance.

You sigh, nudging him gently. “I’m kidding.”

He gives easily, lip released from its torture. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Tsukki. It’s fine.”

“We’re good?”

“We’re good ,” You say, smiling when he scoffs. “It’s better than me being labeled the sad, jealous friend while you date some airhead that’s after your fame and fortune.”

He grins then. “Aw, you’re not that much of an airhead.”

“Let’s break up.”

He laughs the whole way to campus.

–

You finally understand why Tsukki snaps at the paparazzi.

They’re everywhere – outside your classes and at your favorite cafe. Just two of them, but you’re uncomfortably familiar with them by the end of your second class. You’d given up sometime around lunch, turning in place on your way to the dining hall and asking if they just wanted to walk with you instead of trailing behind.

You eat your lunch with Hiro from SMZ and Nariko from Sendai Sports that day. You don’t answer a single question of theirs, just smiling and spooning rice into your mouth as you ask about their lives instead.

They’re bemused at your strange approach, and you play this game all afternoon with them – by the time Tsukki’s practice is over, you’re hoping you’ve gained at least some of their favor.

Hopefully, they’ll post nice things about you. Only the good photos, maybe.

Still, the air shifts when they realize you’re heading for the university’s gym – Tsukki practices on campus with a private coach in the afternoons, going to the Frogs’ gym to practice after classes are done.

You can see them itching to lift their cameras, itching to ask the same questions again.

When did it start? Are you official? How did it happen?

The building comes into view, and you spot his blond hair near the entrance. You clear your throat.

“So… I think I’m gonna have to leave you here,” You say, gesturing around you now that you’re at the base of the stairs.

They both look dejected, like they were hoping for an introduction. You just give them a thin smile and turn, hurrying up the stairs before they decide to stop being respectful of your boundaries.

Tsukki’s got his eyes over your shoulder as you approach.

“What’d they want?”

“To know my regular order at the dining hall,” You say simply. You stop a friendly distance away, seeing when he eyes the space between you. His smirk speaks before he does.

“You forgot a few feet.”

You grimace, taking a single step toward him. He takes the rest, his body brushing briefly against yours.

You look up at him expectantly. “How should I greet you?”

“However you want.”

“I wouldn’t suppose a friendly hug would do.”

A light flashes when he smiles down at you, and you’re wondering if the world’s ever seen it before.

“No,” He says, humored. “I don’t suppose it would. But a not-friendly hug might.”

You stare down at your shoes, thankful your back is to the cameras.

It’s a bit strange to realize, but you’ve never hugged Tsukki before. Not really.

A casual pat on the back, yes. The occasional side-hug, maybe.

But a hug – despite its simplicity, its lack of meaning – is not something you can ever remember doing with him.

You think of how you hug Tadashi, how you’d hug Hinata or even Kageyama after a game in high school. It’s so easy with them.

The idea of Tsukishima Kei wrapping his arms around you is… odd.

Very odd.

Still, you’ve wasted enough time already. It’s the only option.

You lift your arms, wondering if you resemble a petulant child, and Tsukki just grins and bends down, his bag slipping off his shoulder when he slides his arms around your waist. You’re pulled onto your toes, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

Hugging Tsukishima Kei is not what you’d expected.

You’d always seen him as some cold wall of annoyance – a big, dumb athlete who was always a little painful to smack on the chest after a crude remark. A boy who’d always been rough, who’d grown strong and become some untouchable statue made of cold marble.

But he’s not cold at all.

The air around him is warm, smelling just slightly of sweat from practice but more than anything of that scent that’s distinctly Tsukki . That clean smell that you’d unknowingly grown to associate with comfort. That unplaceable warmth that smells like your childhood.

His hands are bigger than you’d realized, fingers long and warm against the small of your back. His chest is just as hard as always – that unmoveable wall that towers over you – but it feels weird against yours. It feels weird to feel his heartbeat – have you never felt his heartbeat before? Has he always had one?

You wonder if he can feel that your cheeks burn against his neck, if the heat is notable in this little pocket of quiet you’ve found. If your skin warms under his fingers, which rest strangely against the spot where your shirt’s ridden up a bit.

“ How was practice? ” You mumble shyly against his throat, feeling when he swallows hard. You can’t decide if it’s his heart or your own that you’re hearing right now, pounding somewhere near your ears.

“‘ s fine, ” He says, and you hear the hitch in his breath.

This is weird for him, too, then.

Good. That’s good. This is weird for both of you. You’re not alone in this.

You pull away, clearing your throat quietly. Tsukki lets you slide carefully down to your feet, his fingers skimming the skin under your shirt just before he pulls away, his movements rushed and sharp.

Your skin burns where his fingers had been, and trying to ignore it only makes you more aware of it.

You glance briefly up at him, unable to control the double-take you do when you see him. He won’t meet your eyes, but his face is radiating heat, a blush high on his cheeks and his ears a rather interesting shade of red.

You watch him glance at your ears, too, and the tiny smirk he suppresses tells you that you don’t look much better.

You swallow, wondering where the hell this humming under your skin’s come from.

“Uh-” Your breath catches when his golden eyes meet yours, and you recover clumsily. “I have-”

What do you have?

Class.

“I have to get to class,” You blurt, blinking rapidly.

He just blinks back, as though he’d also forgotten why you’d met him here.

“Right,” He says. “Class. I’ll walk you.”

“Okay,” You respond, turning on your heel and heading down the stairs. You hear him follow after you, but then there’s a hurried shuffle behind you, the lights of the paparazzi flashing in a frenzy.

You turn back quickly, finding Tsukki tripping over his own feet to get back up the stairs, his bag left abandoned at the top.

You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face, and you know the flashes that follow are for you.

Tsukki snatches his bag up and turns to you, spotting your teasing grin before you can smother it.

He rolls his eyes, stomping to catch up with you.

“Shut up.”

You laugh the whole way to the crosswalk.

–

Kei doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t understand why he feels so skittish, why his fingers are a bit numb. He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you, what he could possibly be searching for when he watches you.

His eyes scan you while he walks you across campus to your next class. He barely notices the people whispering around you, his gaze tracking the uneven rise and fall of your chest and the white-knuckled grip you have on your bag.

Okay. So you felt it, too.

Good. He’s not crazy.

The memory of your skin under his fingers flashes through his mind. You’d been so soft – he hadn’t realized how soft you are. He’d never even considered it. Soft and warm, heartbeat racing against his chest and arms wrapped tight around his neck. Breath shaky and fanning out over his skin when you’d whispered something about practice.

His fingers itch to touch you again, because he’d never thought to do that, either.

Fuck. He probably is going crazy.

He clears his throat, watching when your fingers twitch on your bag in response.

“We, uh-” He lets out a breath, seeing your building come into view and wanting to say something – anything – to smooth this silence over before you leave. “-probably shouldn’t do things for the first time in public like that again.”

It works. You laugh under your breath.

“Why? Scared to look like an idiot again?”

Okay, it’s at his expense. But you laughed.

“I’m sure you didn’t look so great yourself,” He says, biting down a grin when you smile.

“That’s too bad,” You say, a teasing edge in your tone. “I was just about to hold your hand.”

Kei chokes, his cough loud and embarrassed. He shoots you a glare when you glance up at him in amusement.

“I swallowed a bug.”

“A bug,” You repeat, nodding and turning away to hide your laugh. “Still think it’s so easy to act, Tsukki?”

He wants to go back in time and beat his past self into shutting the hell up for once.

But that’s not an option, so he just braces himself and shifts minimally closer to you, the back of his hand brushing up against yours.

He feels you falter beside him, and it gives him just enough courage to do it.

Your hands are a lot smaller than he’d realized. But your fingers slot easily with his.

He can’t tell if it’s his hand or yours that’s clammy, but he’s tempted to say it’s yours because this has never once happened to him before. Not a single one of the girls he’d ever dated had made his palms sweat, so it can’t be him. Had any boys before him ever made you nervous like this?

Had there been any boys before him?

“Is this your first time?” He vomits those words right out, hating every fiber of his being once it’s done.

You look up at him, so taken aback that you visibly become less nervous. “Holding hands with a boy?” You say, smiling mockingly. “No, Tsukki. This isn’t my first time. Sorry to disappoint.”

He rolls his eyes, flushing. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.” You laugh to yourself, pausing outside the building where he’s meant to leave you. He can see people lingering, but no one’s close enough to hear your conversation.

“You know I’ve had boyfriends before, right?” You level him with that teasing look you always have.

Had you? Had he known that?

Oh, God , you totally had. He remembers now, the guy from first year whose face he’s forgotten. And the summer fling after him.

He knows this. Of course he knows this – why hadn’t he remembered?

How far had you gone with them? Had you told him?

“So,” He swallows. “You’ve…” He trails off and hopes you’ll understand, but you just frown up at him. He sighs. “You’ve done… everything, then?”

Your expression changes to one of alarm, and he all but feels the air between you warm.

“ Why ?” You ask, your tone sharp and your voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you plan on changing the answer if I say no?”

Kei’s heart flies to his throat, and his face burns with a horrible, horrible heat.

“No, I-”

Why the fuck had he asked you that? Why does that matter? What’s he so curious for?

“Y/n,” He starts, holding tight when you start to pull away. He hadn’t even realized you were still holding hands. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

Your face is still burning with embarrassment, and you mumble a response up to him, glancing around.

“You know that’s not gonna happen, right?”

“ Yes- ” He sighs, frustrated and more than a little humiliated. “I’m not expecting-It was a stupid question. I was just curious.”

“You gonna be okay, player?” You ask, and he thinks maybe he’s just seen the ghost of a teasing grin on your face, but he can’t tell. “You ever been celibate before?”

“God, please leave me the hell alone,” He groans, laughing pathetically and dropping your hand to rub the heat out of his cheeks. You definitely smile then, suddenly enjoying his embarrassment more than anything.

He realizes after a moment that people are starting to file out of different buildings – it must be passing period, then.

“You should go,” He says, nudging you toward your building.

You nod, stepping back toward him and lifting onto your toes to wrap your arms around his neck again. His breath hitches, and he barely manages to loop his arms around your waist.

You’re just as soft as you were the first time.

You lower away from him, and he realizes distantly some other students are taking photos and whispering. But you just smile briefly up at him, your voice gentle.

“Not so weird that time.”

Was it not?

He nods dumbly and smiles when you wave bye.

When you’re gone, he has no clue what to do with himself. What is he supposed to be doing right now?

Class in an hour and practice downtown afterward. Right.

He turns on his heel, ignoring everyone’s stares and trying his hardest to squash the stupid look on his face as he walks back toward his car.

He’s about halfway there when his phone buzzes with a text.

[2:47 PM]

You: and for your stupid information

You: i have done a lot

You: but no

You: i have not done everything

You: goodbye

Kei has to take a seat on the nearest bench, ignoring the paparazzi and random underclassmen that are following him.

He sits and stares down at nothing, wondering why the thought of you being a virgin is making his head spin and his ears ring. Wondering – as he drops his head into his hands and sighs loudly – why his palms are so fucking sweaty.

–

“You told him what ?”

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. Kiyoko clambers onto the bed after you, shaking you violently.

“ Why would you tell him you’re a virgin?!”

“Because I am ?” You laugh pathetically, hiding your face in your hands. She just shakes you again.

“But why did you tell him ?!”

“I don’t know! He asked!”

“ What?! ”

“ Kiyoko- ” You protest and turn over, assuming your standard face-down position of dread. “I don’t know. It just happened. And it was weird.”

“Well, what did he say-”

“Nothing!” You toss your phone next to her on the bed, hearing her unlock it and search through your messages. “Nothing, because there’s nothing he can say. It’s not like there’s anything to do about it.”

There’s a silence from her, one that prompts you to look at her. She just stares at you, disbelieving.

“I mean,” She starts. “Do you know that for sure?”

You hide your face again. “Shut up. We agreed that things wouldn’t get that far. There’s literally no reason for us to ever do that.”

“No, I get that-” She coughs, and you figure that she’s hiding a laugh. “-but he did ask… and you did tell him…”

“ Kiyoko, ” You whine, pulling your pillow over your head for good measure while you complain, your voice muffled. “ I can barely hug the guy without it being weird. ”

You hadn’t lied. It was definitely easier the second time, and even easier the third time, when he’d picked you up from your last class and driven you home before he’d left for practice downtown.

It had not, however, been a comfortable ride home, because you two had just sat in uncertain silence – uncertain, because neither of you could fathom why you would ever tell him how far you’d gone before him.

And it had not been easy the fourth time he’d hugged you, in front of your building and about ten reporters. Because he’d turned his head just enough to brush his lips tentatively over your cheek, and you’d stilled in his arms, your face thankfully hidden in his chest again.

You couldn’t bear for the internet to see the look on your face the first time Tsukishima Kei had ever kissed you.

He’d gotten into his car and driven off, and you’d run upstairs and called Kiyoko without a second thought.

You can barely hug him, and that sad excuse for a kiss had put you on high alert.

There’s absolutely no world in which it would be natural for you to have sex with Tsukishima Kei. No world in which it could ever be considered.

“Okay,” Kiyoko laughs when you groan in fresh embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll get used to doing the smaller things in public with him.”

You’re about groan again, but a quiet ding comes from Kiyoko’s palms.

“Uh-” She cuts short, and your stomach flips nervously.

“ What’s it say? ” You mumble, knowing it’s him.

She clears her throat awkwardly, and your nerves worsen.

“He wants to come over.”

You wither, there in your hiding spot, and mumble a pathetic response.

“ Okay. Sure. ”

–

“Do you… want to shower?” You gesture lamely down the hall to your bathroom, Tsukki standing awkwardly in the foyer with his bag.

You see him swallow hard, and you realize how it’d come out.

“Because you’re gross,” You blurt, watching his eyebrows fly up and his tense expression become a teasing grin.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, Y/n,” He says, padding into your living room. “But thanks for clarifying.”

You flush, watching him drop his bag and head for your dresser. He plucks a set of his own clothes out of the bottom drawer, chuckling to himself as he does it.

“I probably shouldn’t stay long. If I leave in different clothes, things’ll get weird downstairs.”

And then there’s silence, because he’d said it without considering the rather salient implications of that sentence.

You sigh when the bathroom door clicks shut, falling onto your bed and contemplating hiding your face again.

He emerges after ten minutes, as you’re texting a very nosy Kiyoko. He stares down at you until you nervously lift your eyes to his. And then he takes a breath.

“We good?”

You hadn’t realized how much you needed such a simple question.

“Yeah,” You say with a breath of laughter. “We’re good.”

His relief is apparent in the way he throws himself down beside you and extracts his own phone, opening Twitter. You’re both quiet for a while, scrolling through his feed together and seeing that his name is trending.

“ ‘#tsukkiyn ’,” He says, snorting. “Look at us, going viral.”

You see a video of him tripping over his feet on the stairs of the gym, scrambling for his bag, and you purse your lips to keep from laughing.

“Look at you. You’re a wreck.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, scrolling past it to a photo of the two of you walking across campus. He’s got his fingers interlaced with yours – it must have been the moment he’d done it, because your eyes are bugged out with shock.

Tsukki laughs loudly, immediately liking and retweeting it without thinking. You gasp.

“ Tsukishima Kei- ”

His notifications flood with replies and likes, the whole world seeming to react all at once.

[6:59 PM] tsukkiynstan77 : HELLO??? IS THIS CONFIRMATION????

[6:59 PM] kookooforkei : NO FUCKING SHOTTTTT NO FUCKING SHOT TSUKISHIMA KEI

[6:59 PM] sendaitsukki : I FOUND HER @ EVERYONE I FUCKING FOUND IT IT’S @/ynlovely !!!

“Uh oh,” Tsukki says under his breath, turning to look at you. You stare at him, a singular moment of silence between you before catastrophe.

Your phone starts to buzz incessantly, your notifications blowing up in a surge of sudden city-wide attention. You both stare at your phone screen, watching the notifications come in so fast that your phone starts to lump them all together.

15 New Notifications

16 New Notifications

17 New Notifications

99+ New Notifications

You stare at it, watching your phone glitch and struggle, and all you can do is laugh.

“Are you… Are you stupid?”

“I think so,” He says immediately, nodding beside you. “I definitely think that’s possible.”

A text notification stands out over the rest, its ding different than the others.

[7:01 PM]

Kiyoko: im going to assume your sudden lack of response means that youre fucking that man right now.

Your eyes go wide, and you drop your phone on your face in your haste to hide the screen. Tsukki coughs next to you, and you spot the telltale burn of embarrassment on his face as he turns away.

“ Fucking bitch ,” You mumble, snatching your phone up and rolling onto your side to hide from him.

[7:01 PM]

You: you fkin gbtich

Kiyoko: oh, did he see???

Kiyoko: oops :))

You hear snickering behind you, and you turn to find Tsukki peering over your shoulder at the texts. You gasp, and he reaches over to pluck the phone away from you.

“What do we have here?” He asks, standing from your bed and taking three giant strides to get away from you.

“ Tsukki! ” You roll off clumsily, chasing after him in a panic. “Don’t read those-”

“ ‘You need to kiss him for real ’,” He reads aloud, sidestepping you as you chase him all around your shoebox of an apartment. “‘ I saw the pics of him kissing you out front, that shit was pathetic- ’ What the fuck?” He stops, lifting the phone over his head to read it again. “I’m not pathetic -”

“Give me-” You jump, knocking the phone from his hand and onto the couch. “-my phone, you fuck.” You retrieve it, glaring up at him. “Those are private-”

“Was it really pathetic?” He asks, entirely caught up in this. “I thought it was fine.”

You roll your eyes, going into your notification settings and muting everything related to Twitter. “It was fine.”

He just pulls his phone out, and you catch him scrolling.

He’d searched for photos of the kiss.

“You’re joking,” You say, dropping down onto the couch and shaking your head. “It was fine , Tsukki.”

He just hums, unconvinced, and throws himself down, all but sitting on you. “Look at this.” He shows you a photo, zoomed in to where his lips barely touch your face. “That’s pretty bad.”

It is pretty bad.

You purse your lips, hiding your laugh when you see how he scowls down at his screen. “I’m sure we’ll get better at it.”

He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the photo. And then he locks his phone, tossing it down next to him.

“I thought it’d be easier than this.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” You say, smiling pitifully. “Regret anything yet?”

He snorts, shaking his head and combing his fingers through his wet hair. “Unfortunately, it looks you’re stuck with me. I talked to Management after practice.”

You shift, your interest piqued. “And?”

“They approved.” He throws you a half-laugh. “Obviously.”

“Do they know it’s fake?”

“Oh, please-” He waves your question away. “The whole team knows it’s fake. I was getting my ass handed to me 24 hours ago.”

You wring your hands together nervously. “And they’re all cool with it?”

“They like you more than they like me.”

“I barely know them.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Trust me, they want this to work just as much as we do. There’s too much riding on this.”

You nod, feeling a bit of relief seep into you. If the Frogs are on board with this, it can’t be a terrible idea, right?

“Anything they need me to do in particular?”

He shoots you a grin. “Make me a decent person?”

You grimace. “Bit above my pay-grade.”

He rolls his eyes. “They want me to have a social media presence. Pictures, tweets, teasing comments – that kinda thing.”

You blink. “So, earlier-”

“Come on,” He levels you with a deadpan stare. “You really think I’m stupid?”

“Extremely, yes.”

Tsukki just rolls his eyes, snatching his phone up and laying his body across yours.

“Smile, baby .”

You spend an hour getting manhandled into different angles and positions, your debut as Tsukishima Kei’s girlfriend consisting of poorly shot selfies and a head of blond hair in your face.

“Go home , Tsukki,” You finally say, shoving him off of you and wiping your cheek where he’d just licked you like a freak. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

He just laughs, scrolling through his cursed camera roll. He picks one out from the collection of blurred shots and ugly laughing.

“What about this one?”

It’s one of Tsukki biting your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut as his mouth opens over your face, teeth clamped down on your cheek. You’ve got one hand curled into his hair, the other gripping the side of his neck as you try to shove him off of you, but it’s obvious you’re mid-laughter.

You stare down at it, hating that it’s perfect.

“Yeah, okay, fine.”

Tsukki snickers, sending it to you. “You post it. It’s weird if I do it.”

You roll your eyes, opening Twitter and ignoring the million notifications in order to type a simple tweet with the photo attached.

[8:22 PM] ynlovely : freak. [photo attached]

It’s met with instant engagement, but Tsukki only adds to it, retweeting it just a minute later with his own comment.

[8:23 PM] tsukei : i got that dog in me

He’s out of your apartment before he has time to apologize, but – somehow – the headlines are faster.

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Dating Longtime Friend: Confirmed

–

Despite the rocky start, things become surprisingly easy over the course of the next week.

The topic of kissing doesn’t come up again, but you find Tsukki making a habit of pecking you quickly on the cheek whenever you part ways, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. You follow his lead, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to your height when you want to plant a kiss on his face, laughter shared between you when you find new and strange places to put it. One on the bridge of his nose, another on his jawline just under his ear.

One accidentally smacked against the corner of his mouth in your rush to get to class on Friday morning.

A photo of Tsukki crouching against the wall of your department had circulated Twitter only minutes after that, his face hidden in his hands but ears clearly burning a beautifully bright, summery red.

You hadn’t realized it then – that one accidental moment could call into question the validity of your relationship with Tsukishima Kei.

–

Your eyes scan over the most recent tweets under the ‘ #tsukkiyn ’ tag as you sit in a cafe on Friday afternoon, a strange dread settling deep in your gut.

Everything before – the excited commentary and overwhelming chaos related to the announcement of your relationship – had been due to the novelty of it all. The newness of Tsukishima as a taken man.

But this photo, where it’s apparent that Tsukki is flustered and unfamiliar with you in a romantic capacity, brings to attention a lot of the assumed details of your relationship.

You skim the tweets that address the issue, Tsukishima fans and haters alike all asking the same questions.

Why would he be so caught off guard by a simple gesture of affection? Something that can’t even be considered a kiss?

Isn’t it the case that you two had been dating for a while in secret and are only now confirming the relationship publicly?

Is it a bit suspicious that the announcement of a relationship had comes only hours after a series of reputation-ruining headlines for the Sendai Frogs’ most promising rookie?

And there, posted only mere minutes ago, is someone who’d half-guessed at the truth.

[12:20 PM] numberonekei : lol the frogs probably paid her to be his fake gf to make him seem more likeable. not like shes actually his type.

You lock your phone, throwing it in your bag with a sigh and reaching for your coffee.

Nariko from Sendai Sports is sitting only a table away. She’d been with you almost all week, and you’d come to find some strange comfort in her presence – she’s proven herself to be a normal human being just doing her job.

Even now, she looks up from some shots on her camera when you sigh, and you feel her looking you over.

“Rough day?”

You smile wryly, pulling some books out to get work done. “Just glad it’s almost the weekend.”

“That’s a vague answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

You laugh. “Any weekend plans?”

She waves her camera at you in explanation, and you nod with a hum of understanding. She eyes you just a moment longer before returning to her shots.

“I’ve been curating only the best photos of you, if that makes your day any less bad.”

You snort into your coffee. “It does, thank you.” And then you swallow, figuring it wouldn’t be too much detail to mention some things to her. “Just getting used to it all. The attention.”

“People kind of suck, huh?”

“Kind of,” You agree, staring down at your textbook without really seeing it. And then you blink, shaking yourself out of it. “It’s fine. I’ll feel better once he gets here.”

She looks up at you again, and you find minor surprise in her expression. “Is he really that good of a boyfriend? He’s kind of…”

“An asshole?” You smile, enjoying the breath of laughter she lets out. “He’s… hard to explain. You gotta think about how this might all feel for him, too, I guess.” There’s a moment of silence, one where she looks like she might understand what you’re saying, but it’s interrupted by a quiet knock on the cafe window.

You look up, finding Tadashi and Kiyoko, both of them gesturing for you to join them. You furrow a brow, reaching over for your bag, but there’s a hand there already.

“I texted you, loser,” Tsukki says, opening your bag and closing your textbook. “What’re you dissociating about?”

He clearly had not seen Nariko sitting fifteen feet away.

You shake your head, helping him collect your things and hoping she views your dynamic as one of playful banter. “Nothing, you ass. It’s just been a long morning.”

Tsukki crouches next you then, taking your face in one hand and forcing you to look at him. “Yeah, you look like shit.”

“Thank you. I do try.”

He only stares, scanning your face. “What happened?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand.

“Nothing, Tsukki,” You say, trying to shake him off. “Let’s just go.”

But he’s reaching for your phone, unlocking it before you can stop him.

“Tsukki, don’t-”

“What’s…” He stares down at your Twitter feed, at the tweet you’d last read. And then he rolls his eyes, sighing heatedly and throwing your phone back in your bag. “I fucking hate the internet. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You frown slightly. That person had guessed at your fake relationship, but Tsukki’s denying it while thinking this conversation is private. Why?

He mumbles to himself as he finishes packing your bag. “ What would anyone know what my type is? ‘s bullshit .”

Oh. He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Just forget it, Tsukki,” You say, leaning forward and pressing your lips to the corner of his eyebrow. “I’m not that upset about it.”

“You clearly are,” He snaps. “I’m gonna start kicking people’s asses if they say shit to you.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand and standing when he offers it to you. “No, you’re not. I’ll kick your ass if you try it.”

He just shrugs. “I’m just saying – teaching by example isn’t a bad idea.”

“Your stupidity amazes me sometimes,” You say, and then you turn to Nariko. “Have a good weekend.”

“I hope your day gets better,” She says, smiling kindly and avoiding eye contact with Tsukki.

He waits until you’re outside to awkwardly mumble, “Was she there the whole time?”

“Yes, she was. You’re just an idiot.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Kiyoko asks as you approach. When you gesture up at Tsukki, she smiles plainly. “Well, lucky for us, he’s just a dumb athlete and not a rocket scientist.”

Yamaguchi laughs a little too loud and is forced to run back to Tsukki’s car with the blond on his heels.

–

“So… Tsukki won’t tell me anything about how things are going with you two…” Yamaguchi leans in close to you. The Frogs have a home game on Sunday, so you sit with him and Kiyoko in the stands at their gym, half-watching their two-hour practice as you work on some assignments.

You turn to the freckled boy now, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay…?”

He smiles, and you catch Kiyoko snickering to herself on his other side. She meets your eye and shrugs.

“Social media can only say so much.”

Yamaguchi nods, his smile conspiratorial. “A little hug here, a little kiss on the cheek there…”

“That’s about it, Tadashi,” You say slowly. His grin widens.

“Yeah? Nothing else?” When you don’t respond, he and Kiyoko start to nudge each other. “Nothing about someone’s virginity?”

You gasp, flushing hard. It hadn’t come up again all week, and you’d nearly forgotten about it.

“What the- fuck -” You shut your notebook and reach around Yamaguchi to smack Kiyoko with it. “You were not supposed to tell anyone!”

Kiyoko laughs as you hit her repeatedly. The ruckus catches the attention of some of the players below as they take a water break, and you’re met with Tsukki’s questioning stare, Koganegawa and Kyoutani on either side of him with bemused smiles. You wave lamely at them, aiming one last smack at your giggling friends before putting your notebook down.

“I needed someone else to join me in my exasperation,” Kiyoko says, leaning close and creating a secretive huddle for the three of you to whisper. “You two were acting weird and it had only been, like, 10 hours of dating.”

“It was just a fluke!” You whisper-yell, boxing Yamaguchi in as you argue. “It’s not exactly a smooth transition from 15 years of friendship into something romantic.”

“Something romantic , huh?” Yamaguchi throws a traitorous arm over your shoulder. “Do tell, Y/n.”

“You know what I mean. It was a rocky start, and there may or may not have been some oversharing along the way.” Your face is still hot from having to explain, but you want to cut these two off before they can start concocting stupid ideas.

“Yeah, well, you’re not out of the woods yet,” Kiyoko says, her grin a little evil. “I’ve seen what people are saying today – they’re not exactly convinced that you two are the Hallmark movie you need to be.”

You grimace. “What do you want me to do? We’re moving at a decent pace, I think.”

“ Decent pace ?” Yamaguchi snickers. “You kiss Tsukki the way I kiss my grandma.”

“I don’t have time to unpack that sentence, Tadashi,” You joke, wishing this conversation could end already. “But-” You sigh in frustration. “Fine. I see what you’re both saying. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not like you need to give him a lap dance, Y/n,” He says. “But something needs to change before the game.” When you just stare at him blankly, he and Kiyoko share a look of disbelief. “You don’t think the whole world’s gonna be watching you that day?”

You deflate. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“What if they win, huh?” Kiyoko prompts. “You gonna give him a high-five, Y/n?”

Yamaguchi nods. “You at least have to kiss him. And if you’re really committed to this-” He glances over your head, eyes going wide as he leans in quickly to whisper in your ear. “- you’re gonna have to make it good. You know sweet, innocent girls aren’t Tsukki’s type .”

You blanche, remembering the joking way that Tsukki had hinted at cute girls not being able to ‘ handle ’ him.

“What are you three scheming about over here?”

You jump, turning quickly to see Tsukki standing over you, hand on hip and eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

You swallow, shaking your head. “Nothing… Nothing-” You blink, clearing your head. “Practice done?”

He nods, hoisting his gym bag high on his shoulder. “Are we still drinking tonight?”

“Drinking?” You turn to look at your friends. “Where?”

Yamaguchi smiles and lifts his bag, and you realize only now that there’s a quiet clink every time he jostles it.

“Your place.”

–

“Oh. I brought this over.”

Tsukki reaches into his bag, extracting a bright green Frogs jersey and tossing it at you. You catch it without looking, tipping another shot back into your mouth.

The four of you are sitting on the floor around your coffee table, some bottles of liquor and your many preferred mixers strewn on the table with the shot glasses and three bowls of varied snacks. A random movie plays on your TV, the volume low and the plot serving as nothing more than background noise.

You squint at the shirt in your hand, his last name stretched in capital letters across the back. The letters double up and hover a little, your vision not what it should be right now.

“Your… jersey?”

“For Sunday,” He says with no other explanation, just reaching over the table to pour a shot of rum and a splash of Coke into his cup. It spills over the rim a little, and he has to shake his head to clear it as he’s putting the bottle down.

Your heart jumps a little, the reminder of Sunday bringing back Yamaguchi’s words.

‘You’re gonna have to make it good. ’

You glance at Yamaguchi now, seeing that he’s eyeing you with mischief. When he sees the panic tinging your expression, he grins.

“Yeah, Y/n ,” He says, giggling drunkenly. “You gotta look the part so people don’t say you’re not his real girlfriend.” He and Kiyoko lean heavy on each other, and he mumbles to her in a voice that’s a lot louder than he realizes. “ Gotta act the part, too. ”

You glance at Tsukki, finding him staring at the pair over the top of his glasses, his cup halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrow in suspicion at his roommate.

“ Yamaguchi …” He mutters. It’s suspicious, you realize – a warning. You glance between them, wondering what’s happened.

Yamaguchi catches you, his smile wicked. “I think he’s mad at me, Y/n.” He tilts his head toward, his whisper deliberately loud this time. “It’s just that he’s been so blushy lately. I’m dying to know why.”

“Soon enough, you’ll just be dying,” Tsukki says, downing his drink.

Your head spins a little as you look around. Kiyoko and Yamaguchi are both red in the face, the vodka having gotten to them almost an hour ago. Tsukki, too, is undoubtedly drunk – his eyes are heavily lidded, his blinks long and slow. And his fingers rest on the rug, just slightly over yours.

That’s one thing about Tsukishima Kei that’s just so hard to believe – he gets touchy when he drinks. And even if his version of touchy is nothing more than fingertips brushing over the back of your hand every few minutes, it’s touchy nonetheless.

Unfortunately, you get touchy when you drink, too.

And it’s just so truly unfortunate, because your version of touchy isn’t exactly his version of touchy.

“Tsukki,” You start, his name heavy in your mouth. “Do you plan on winning the game on Sunday?”

His golden eyes cut to yours, narrowing with unspoken questions. “That’s usually the goal, yeah.”

You swallow, your heart pounding a little louder than usual. Your drunken mind had really thought he might say no.

“Why?” He asks, but you don’t hear him.

You just sit up on your knees, struggling to put your drink on the table before scooting close to him. You hear Kiyoko gasp behind you, she and Yamaguchi starting to smack each other’s arms when you reach out and take the front of Tsukki’s shirt with both hands.

His eyes widen, and he allows himself to be dragged toward you. “What-Y/n-”

You lean forward, stopping just shy of his mouth and sighing roughly. His breath catches in his throat, and you smell the rum on his tongue.

“Be quiet, Tsukki. For once.”

You can confidently say you’ve never tasted rum quite like this.

It’s quick, but the jolt to your system is sharp, a live wire in your veins.

You pull away with the hint of a gasp, your pulse drumming in your ears. Tsukki stares with wide eyes and parted lips. You think you hear Yamaguchi mumble ‘ Holy shit’ to Kiyoko, but you can’t spare any attention for it.

Tsukki’s eyes flick between yours and then back down to your mouth, and the drumming in your ears skips a few beats.

He leans in before you can pull away.

This kiss is as short as the last, but he lingers this time, alcohol tainting the air that hovers between your lips. You gather the courage to try again before he does, and it’ll only be later that you realize how relieved you are that he tangles his fingers in your hair and kisses you until his courage finds him, too.

His lips are softer than you’d expected – rough and assured, just like everything else about him, but soft nonetheless. You find yourself unshakeably curious to discover if they’re still as soft after just one more kiss. Over and over again, curiosity on repeat. Needing to keep testing it, because there’s an almost desperate need to keep finding out.

Just one more, you think, again and again. One more, and then you’ll stop.

His other hand finds your thigh, palm searing hot against your skin, and his tongue brushes against your bottom lip just as his fingers slide accidentally under the hem of your shorts. Your heart jumps, and your teeth catch ever so softly on his lip. A sound escapes from deep in his throat, one that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

What an addicting little sound it turns out to be.

Just as Tsukki’s fingertips are digging into the plush skin of your thighs, Yamaguchi clears his throat loudly behind you. Kiyoko’s got her hand on your shoulder, pulling you away.

“Y/n,” She says gently, tugging on your sleeve.

You gasp, realizing what’s happened and reeling back quickly. Tsukki’s fingers tighten in your hair for just a second, but he lets you go almost immediately, his eyes wide as he comes to his senses, too.

“What-” He breathes, gaze flicking in a panic between your lips and your eyes. You stare back, your heart pounding in your ears and your head spinning like a carousel. “What was that for?”

You just scan him, watching as a blush blossoms furiously across his cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You blink, your voice muffled in your ear when you respond.

“Just practicing. For Sunday.”

And then you whirl around, your back pressed against the bottom of the couch as you stare emptily at the TV. Yamaguchi snatches the remote from the floor and boosts the volume until there’s no way you and Tsukki can have a conversation about this.

Kiyoko and Yamaguchi start to whisper furiously to each other after a few minutes, but you and Tsukki stay silent until it gets late enough that you all fall asleep.

–

You wake sometime around 3am, shifting and covering your eyes with a quiet groan when you realize the TV’s still on. The room is completely dark otherwise, so you have to search clumsily around the floor for the remote, still tired but thankfully not drunk anymore.

You only realize Tsukki’s awake and sitting on the couch when you see that the remote is in his hand. His eyes are trained on the screen, unseeing, and he’s got his cup in his other hand. He flicks his gaze down to yours when he senses you looking at him.

“Too bright?” He mumbles, quiet enough not to wake your friends, Kiyoko sleeping on the armchair and Yamaguchi passed out on the rug. You shake your head, joining him on the couch and shivering slightly from the running air conditioner.

“Body heat,” You say plainly, and he rolls his eyes but allows you to press your side against his regardless. “You’re gonna be too hungover for practice tomorrow if you keep drinking.” You gesture to the cup in his hand, watching a slow smirk stretch across his face.

“What’s wrong?” He teases, setting both the cup and the remote on the table in favor of draping his arm around your shoulders with an mocking lift of his eyebrows. “Worried I won’t do well on Sunday? You must really want to kiss me.”

You don’t bother hiding the flush of your cheeks in the dark, too busy rolling your eyes. “You recovered quickly, Tsukishima,” You say, your tone just as airy and full of amusement when his eyes light up a little at the use of his name. “Alcohol got you feeling confident?”

“It had you feeling confident,” He counters, smirk deepening when he sees the embarrassment cross your expression. And then he leans into you, nose brushing against yours and breath fanning across your lips when he whispers to you.

You only realize he’s actually about to kiss you when his gaze drops to your mouth.

“ My turn .”

You suck in a surprised breath, unsure what to do with the excited flutter of your heart when his lips turn out to be just as soft as they were before. Your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, and you shiver when his hand finds your waist, his palm heated even through your shirt.

“Still cold?” He whispers against your lips, angling his head and smiling when you lean into him. You shake your head, because you’re suddenly so, so warm, but then you realize his breath doesn’t smell like rum anymore.

“You were drinking water?” You ask, a flash of heat spreading from the crown of your head down to your toes when he just kisses you again with an amused hum.

“Did you really think I would risk being hungover tomorrow?”

You breathe unsteadily, goosebumps spreading all over your skin when he drops his head and brushes his lips against a spot just under your ear. “Why are you kissing me, Tsukki? You’re sober.”

His breath is warm when it fans out over your throat, his voice low in your ear and muffled against your skin. “ So are you. ”

Your stomach flips. He’s right.

“But I wasn’t the first time.” You lift your brows, mustering as much confidence as you can. “What’s your excuse? You wanna kiss me that bad, Tsukki?”

He lifts his head then, meeting your eyes evenly as a knowing look fills his expression.

“Just practicing, of course – for Sunday.”

The implication brings you pause, and then you laugh, covering your mouth so as to not wake your friends up. Tsukki watches you do it, a matching smile spreading across his lips.

It’s relieving, being able to laugh about this with him.

After an entire week of moments belonging to the public – moments that have meant too much, with too many eyes on them and too much on the line to risk messing them up – this is one moment that belongs only to you and him. One moment when you don’t have to think so hard.

Maybe that’s been the issue all along.

“Tsukki…” You start, meeting his eyes with an idea growing in your head. He hums, watching you closely. “What if we just… stop thinking so much about this?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only offering a long, slow blink. And then he tilts his head, the conspiratorial look in his eye all too enticing. You’ve been seeing that look your whole life.

“You wanna have some fun, Y/n?”

Maybe you’re just as much trouble as he is.

“I could be into that.”

–

It turns out that ‘ having fun ’ looks a lot like you sitting in the packed stands on Sunday afternoon, wearing the name TSUKISHIMA on your back and hiding your phone from your friends as you text him. Both teams are down below doing their pre-game stretches, and you wait for Tsukki to be near his bag pressing send .

You don’t hear the quiet ding from where you sit, but you see his blond head swivel around at the sound. He extracts the phone from his bag, and you watch him read the messages.

[1:21 PM]

You: in case you forgot

You: winning this game comes with the added bonus of me kissing the soul out of your body

You: in front of all these people

You catch the smile that creeps out just before he smothers it, and your own smile is hidden behind your hand. He looks around, searching the bleachers until he finds you. He shakes his head at you, typing rapidly and sending his response just as Koganegawa’s approaching him.

[1:24 PM]

Tsukki: dont threaten me with a good time, you freaky little dementor

Tsukki: you WILL be paying up when i make the winning point

You snort into your hand, locking your phone and waving off Yamaguchi and Kiyoko when they give you matching looks of interest. The intro commentary starts shortly after, with the teams greeting each other through the net. The game starts promptly at 1:30 PM.

True to his word, Tsukishima Kei makes the winning point at 2:58 PM.

You watch in disbelief as his block sends the ball back over the net, spinning quickly and slamming against the floor between two players on the other team. You’re left stunned in your seat as everyone jumps up, the name on your back screamed across the entire stadium as Frogs fans celebrate yet another win at the hands of their star rookie.

Kiyoko grabs you and hauls you to your feet, and you can’t help the laughter that fills your body as you cheer alongside her.

By the time you find him in the mass of his teammates, Tsukki’s already looking right at you. His teammates all jump around him, shoving and hugging and clapping him on the back.

But all he does is lift his arm, a single finger pointed right at you.

Yamaguchi makes a noise of surprise, and Kiyoko turns to you with a shocked smile.

“You’re not actually…?”

Tsukki crooks his finger twice, beckoning you to him with a satisfied grin.

'Show them who you are.'

Kyoutani sees you next, his smile widening as he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, in that deep baritone that shakes the room-

“ Kiss! ”

Your laughter turns giddy, and you dart out into the aisle to get to the stairs. You take them two at a time, his oversized jersey fluttering behind you as you run down to the court. You hear the whispers and whooping all around you as the fans realize where you are and where you’re headed, but you ignore them in favor of meeting Tsukki halfway across the court.

The smile he gives you is that wild, genuine one that reminds you of your childhood – of playground sand boxes and toy dinosaurs, of excited storytelling and playing volleyball with Akiteru in their backyard.

Of a Tsukishima Kei who would pretend he knew nothing about why the class bully was suddenly sporting a bloody nose after making fun of your body – one who would pretend he couldn’t hear you when you’d say you weren’t hungry, only shoving a spoonful of his lunch in your mouth with that smile that would make you forget why you were crying in the first place.

That’s the Tsukishima Kei that picks you up now and spins you around like you weigh nothing, his arms wrapping around you while you tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him like your life depends on it. He tastes like salt, and he breathes a laugh past your lips when the crowd starts to follow Kyoutani’s lead, the room erupting in cheers and the thunderous chant of ‘ Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! ’.

“ Congratulations, ” You whisper against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. A shiver runs down your spine when he holds you there, his grip on your hips and thighs possessive and his body flush against yours.

You wonder if maybe he’d seen his life in your smile, too.

“ You gonna greet me like this at every game? ” He asks between kisses, the chanting and cheering becoming nearly overwhelming.

“ Only if you win, ” You laugh, barely able to hear the response he gives you even in your little pocket of solitude.

“ Guess I should start training for Nationals.”

You’d forgotten how easy it is to have fun with him.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader

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shiny-jr · 1 year ago

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Could you do a piece of the octotrio(individually) where they confess to the reader but they reject them because they don't like them,the whole chapter 3 situation, and the reader knows that they obviously do even more shady shit? Like Jade and Floyd are pretty much confirmed part of the fish mafia, Azul is a slimeball capitalist and by relation to the twins will do even more deplorable shit. Kinda like what you did for Malleus, Kalim and Leona,please?

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto.

Summary: You already had a handful with adjusting to life at Night Raven College, what you didn't need was the extra attention from a curious student of Octavinelle. Those of Octavinelle were bad news, and you did not need whatever bad news they decided to deliver to you with a bouquet of flowers.

Note: Anon, as soon as I read this request, I made a face. And not a bad face. It's hard to describe, but to assure you, I immediately muttered, "Now that's what I'm talking about." I'm so terribly picky with accepting requests, and I hate it, but this one managed to catch my eye immediately. Man, do I love rejection requests. Rejected sad and crazy boy hours are here.

Added: I drafted this up months ago and haven't touched it until now. I've been struggling on Floyd's part, so I just decided to finish Azul's part and put that out.

When you suddenly awoke in a floating coffin and miraculously became a student at this magic school, you expected surprises but not like this. As if trying to go through the daily motions while wondering which student would snap next wasn't enough, now you had a particular fellow lurking about and watching you. It would only be a matter of time before they grew tired of waiting and would decide to strike.

Oh, would you look at that. This greedy merman now has his sights set on acquiring your love. How did this happen? Why is this happening? It's difficult to tell, but for now you can only hope that he isn't concocting some terrible plot for you.

He's terribly intelligent and much too cunning, then he has his business facade to top it off. But so many times, so many times, his facade has nearly cracked around you. In fact, you wouldn't exactly call him "cool and collected." There's a little desperation in his tone when he asks for your time in a worthwhile exchange, he states. Or how his hand grips yours and lingers for much longer than is necessary whenever he has an excuse to shake your hand. And the freebies, oh god the freebies. You don't trust anything "free" from him, but he's always offering an abundance of goods, a token of goodwill, he says. Not that you trust that either.

Azul generally seems like a talented and clever guy destined for success. But, you prefer to have no affiliation with him. It's his methods to success that you can't exactly approve of. The scams, the tricks, the intimidation, every bad deed was done in such a meticulous way under certain circumstances he sets so that he faces no repercussions in the end should something go astray. Which is why when you caught on to his desire to be close to you and give you gifts, it placed you on edge as you anticipated the big moment he would act on those feelings.

"Why, hello, dearest. What a pleasant surprise seeing you here! You do know you are always welcome in my lounge." Azul exclaimed in greeting, as if the twins hadn't herded you here. The dorm leader stood in front of your table, serving you the food you begrudgingly ordered once you realized you wouldn't be allowed to go off the hook so easily. "I hope the meal is to your liking. Now that the opportunity has presented itself, I'd like to speak with you. I must admit, I've taken quite the liking to you, so please, I implore you, consider the rare proposition I'm about to offer." Azul flashed that award-winning business smile, as he held up a bouquet of flowers decorated with colorful pastel shells. He had practiced his speech for hours, and now he was awaiting your response. However, when he noticed your hesitance and obvious discomfort, his heart stopped.

His smile became more strained as he went off script, attempting to further convince them that he was a worthy suitor.

"I assure you, I will be a wonderful significant other. Not only am I the head of the Octavinelle dorm, but I am a top student as well. As you know, I also own the Mostro Lounge and have a great many connections to students across campus."

With every second that passed, he was growing more desperate. That much was obvious.

"If you desire gifts, I will deliver gifts. If you wish for affection, I will drown you in my affection. If you ask for praise, I will pen poetry that rivals literature venerating the most coveted figures in the land and sea's histories!"

Well, this was awkward. You did not anticipate him to have the brazenness to confess publicly. It felt more like a business proposition than a confession. Maybe this was a part of his plan to profess his affection in his lounge, a controlled environment, where there was a higher chance you would accept under the pressure of the many eyes of other customers taking notice. His smile faltered the more the unease festered in his gaze as each second passed.

The answer was no. You wouldn't date him even if the deal included a weekly allowance, because you had a lot more to lose. You weren't sure what category Azul fell into. Acquaintance? Yes. Friend? Possibly, but that was pushing it a bit.

The owner of the lounge was greedy, cunning, and conniving. No matter what he had, it never was enough. Even when he swiped the powers of countless fellow students, he still wanted more. If you gave him an inch, he would take a mile. And you weren't exactly quick to forgive him for his many past transgressions.

Even if he's claimed to have mended all his ways, repented, seen the light, and made a switch, Azul remains a business man above all. And honestly, you'd rather not be dragged into his affairs, especially since you're fairly certain that some of the things he's done may be unlawful or accomplished by going through loopholes in laws. All of his attention and time was consumed by his academics, his business, and creating other deals to earn a profit. These were the three that took up his time the most, and it kept him incredibly busy. That was one thing, the other was this: How long would things be sweet before he allowed his desire to sour the relationship? Sure, at first he may shower you in gifts, cash, and affection, but you're sure that eventually the relationship would become bitter by his possessiveness and bottomless greed.

So... you're declining... I see. Perhaps the incentives aren't enough. Allow me to offer you something more. He felt humiliated. The rejection gave him flashbacks to primary school and his constant refusals then, but this one hurt ten times harder. Back then those were just silly childhood crushes that were worth nothing, this was different. This was worth more than all the cash in his vault. Eventually, he improved himself in his youth with stubborn determination, and that's how he would win again. He would use charm, manipulation, underhanded tactics, wit, and stubborn determination to ensnare your heart.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst writing #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader

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azlrse · 2 years ago

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nah bc i NEED to know what happens to mc after their wakes up from their thousand-year slumber w malleus

they just wake up to realize that everyone they loved passed away centuries ago and that they’re living in an entirely different era, and that they need to haul their ass outta that castle

➳ once upon a dream part ii (a yandere malleus draconia x gn!reader oneshot)

cw: yandere themes, angst, implied forced marriage, isolation, using magic against one's will, implied minor character death & manipulation.

a/n: man I suck at creating dialogues lmfaoo

read the last fic here !!

"Please I beg of you, Tsunotarou!" You desperately gasp for air as you spoke those lines, clinging against his chest. You can feel your eyes glowing a dark green from the fae's magic to put you in a induced sleep, not to mention on how painful your body felt from this sudden transformation. "Don't put me to sleep, I still have a family waiting for me on the other side of that mirror."

On the other hand, Malleus consoles you, rubbing your back while both of his hands are glowing the same shades of green from your eyes. The prince felt really bad as guilt and desperation surges through his mind, repeating like a mantra that it's your destiny to stay here in Twisted Wonderland and forget those people you call your family. The mirror from his school proves it too! That the mirror calls for you despite someone who is powerless and didn't possess any kind of magic of your own.

"Shhh shhh." He whispered softly, now laying you by his side while your body's about to give out, signaling that his spell is working it's magic on you. "It's okay, my child of man. Do not fight it, let my magic lead you into a slumber that you will never forget. After all," He hugged your delicate body, his arm is wrapped around your torso while his other arm is pressed against your head, placing it against the nape of his neck. "A thousand years of sleep would feel like a dream and when you wake up, I'll be by your side." You felt a pair of lips pressed against your own cold ones while he caresses your cheeks.

"Sweet dreams, my love. I'll see you soon."

You felt your eyes fluttering for the first time, letting out a yawn and attempting to get up from the soft cushions of the bed you're laying in. In an attempt to get up, your head bumped into something what appears to be a glass. It surprises you that your bed has a glass cover on top, not to mention the absurd amount of flowers surrounding your room. You opened the glass coffin and for the first time, you are in awe the way the entire room looked like; it's gloomy yes, but the way the flowers added to the room's atmosphere makes you feel...at ease strangely.

You wondered to yourself how on earth did you ended up in this marvelous room. You tried tracing your memories on how you ended here in this strange place and yet, no luck. Your eyes landed on the sole exit of the room, trying to unlock it by nudging the door knob. No one answered. You tried speaking towards the door, in hopes that someone could hear you, no one responded. You are about to give up, returning to the bed coffin you once laid in when all of the sudden, the sound of locks and deadbolts are unlocked, revealing a small, petite maid carrying various flowers and her gardening tools.

Judging on how she looked, she is indeed a fae from the ears and the shade of dark olive green hair. She seems friendly enough for a fae so you spoke her meekly. "Um hello there.." From the shock alone, the maid dropped both the gardening tools and the bouquet of flowers that Malleus ordered her to be planted on your room. Stuttering, she bowed down before you, making you surprised in return. "Y-y-your majesty! I d-didn't expect you to be awake! It's an honor be by your presence, my king/queen!" Not only you are confused on why that woman called you by such rank you didn't even recall gaining it. You remembered that you aren't someone who is deemed as royalty but also you weren't from a royal blood line.

Unless someone who is royalty married you–

"I'm so sorry but this is a misunderstanding." The maid looked up at you in confusion. "What do you mean, your highness?" You quickly shooked your head as you picked up the various tools and flowers she dropped minutes ago.

"I am not used to be called by such endearment and I am not from a royal blood line–" The maid cut you off. "B-but, you are (y/n) Draconia! The crowned ruler of the Valley of Thorns and his majesty's love." She felt like you didn't by her words, which confuses her even more. As a last attempt, she pointed her finger to the portrait right above your bed which turns out to be a coffin. From the picture, you can see on how happy Malleus is alongside you. But, what makes it even more creepy is that you didn't recalled being married to him as your portrait portrays you as someone who is equally as happy as he is, the only difference is that your eyes glowed a bright green along with the black and green garment as your wedding attire.

"Y-your majesty? Are you okay?" You felt like you are about to pass out, stumbling upon the overgrown grass and vines on the floor below. With the adrenaline pumping by your veins, you ran away, pushing the guards and dropping your crown in the process. You ignored all of the sounds that rang around the place, ranging from the guards pleading you to stop from the bells above ringing, signaling that someone of royalty is in distress.

Which in fact, caught Malleus's attention as he saw the guards running and heard the bell ringing above.

Turning around the corner, you see a huge door which could lead to your forgotten freedom when suddenly, your body jolted backwards from the sudden force as the tip of your cape was caught by a sharp stone. In desperation to escape, you pulled your cape so hard that the expensive fabric was ripped and once again you sprinted against the tall door right around the corner. Your entire body was covered entirely with sweat and you never felt this good since the day you've slept and the adrenaline you have felt, it felt so accelerating yet weird at the same time.

You are about to open the door and to your surprise, Malleus appeared alongside with several guards and Lilia by his side. "My beloved!" He spoke, his voice is laced with a series of emotions ranging from disappoinment to sadness upon seeing your distressed state. Seeing his eyes alone, your precious memories from the past reminded you of what you once had. From your heartslabyul friends to your own family back in your world, it was those happy moments you want to cherish for the rest of your life.

However, you also remembered how that man you saw not only is your captor but also your husband and king. It was dawned upon you that Malleus himself took you away in fear that you will leave this world that called you in the first place and out of greed and desperation, he married you against your will. Seeing him for the first time made you sacred to the core, ignoring his attempts on coercing you to leave that door alone. Not listening to him, you opened the tall doors which turns out to the door that leads to the balcony.

This made Malleus worried for you even more as he shouted your name once more in fear. With nowhere else to go, you climbed on the stone fence of the balcony and felt the cold wind hit your face for the first time. "I knew that this day would come." Lilia murmured as he held Malleus's shaking hand as an attempt to console the once young prince. "(y/n)!" Lilia shouted, successfully getting your attention. "Malleus has something to say! Please let him explain to you!"

In return, you shook your head side to side, tears seeping through your face as you held the stone pillar for support. "How can I believe his explanation if that man before me casted me that wicked spell that cause me to have that slumber?!" You shouted fearlessly despite being scared towards him. The man that was once your friend walk towards the open doors of the balcony, with your crown by his hands. "I'm doing what's best for you, for us and seeing you leaving me is indeed torture and I won't spend thousands of years ruling alone without someone to call both my love and spouse."

"Then why did you choose me out of all those people? Why not someone's who's the same species as you?" Now, Malleus was right below you, with a sad smile on his face. "Because you didn't fear me even after you knew my name. You are the first and last human to whom my heart yearned for and the one I call the love of my life." He spoke. "I indeed apologize for casting that spell against your will but as I've stated before, I'm doing this for the sake of your love."

You didn't trust his words but asked another question. "How long I was asleep?" You asked, in which the king of faes gladly answered. "About a millennia, my dear. Just like the tale of the sleeping princess I've read to you when we are still in NRC." You almost lost your grip against the pillar upon hearing his words. Sleeping for a thousand years? For you it felt like you've been sleeping for at least a day or two. Then, another realization dawned upon you, making you nauseous. "Does this mean that-"

You look at Malleus's green pair of eyes and the fae said nothing but a sad nod. Everyone you loved in NRC, even your friends and family on the other side of the mirror are dead and you didn't have the chance to say good to them face to face. You failed to realize that while you are in deep thoughts, Malleus pulled you down from the pillar as you knees gave out once more. Tears begin to stream down your face once again, hitting Malleus's chest as a way to protest and as a way to wake up, hoping that this moment is nothing but a nightmare you couldn't wake up. You didn't believe that it's been thousands of years since you last saw your friends and everyone you knew in NRC.

If it weren't for you visiting that cursed dorm where he once resided, you could have the chance to go home, to be with your friends and family and to die as a human. You continuously hit his chest and it didn't bothered him, not even once as he cradles your tired body against his body. "No no no..." Your murmured, slapping his body. "This must be a dream- no a nightmare. This isn't real, I'll just wake up and everything's back to normal." You sobbed, now giving up on hurting the man before you.

You know that there's no one to take you in if you ever ran away from the castle since everyone you knew is now dead. No blood relatives nor friends to be by your side except for Malleus. For he and he alone could take care of you and he gladly accepted that offer. "This isn't a dream, my child of man." He replied, caressing your messy locks and placing the crown on your head. "You don't have anyone else but me to turn to. For I, Malleus Draconia, your husband and king, will love and cherish you for as long as I've lived." Kissing your head once more, he carried you back the room that was once his sleeping quarters, is now a shared room of both you and him.

He stared at you in awe as you kept on clinging close towards him. "Please don't leave me, my love. I will promise you that no harm will go through you, even from me." He replied, to which you kept on sobbing against his chest, now covered with tears and snot but the king didn't mind at all.

After all, he would like to thank his grandmother for the spell she taught him since he was a child. You are indeed this fae's sleeping beauty, now in his arms and forever be his.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#tw yandere #twst x reader #twst wonderland x reader #yandere twst #twst wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst angst #twst fic #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus angst

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bloodandoranges · 1 year ago

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“Dear god, please help me.”

Astarion/Tav (depictions of Astarion’s past and trauma, may be a bit confronting! I tried my best to keep it somewhat lighter but it’s…kind of impossible / no mentions of tavs gender / vague mentions of his former victims / angst / 18+ / happy ending with Tav)

song inspiration

I am walking through Rome,

with my heart on a string.

The streets of Baldurs Gate were no stranger to Astarion; he’d sauntered it countless times in his life, walked these streets nearly every day. But now, stalking like a fox in the dark through the dimly lit streets? He hardly knew where he was going.

He’d only awoken days beforehand, and here he was, on the prowl… Cazador, his master, had given the order to hunt; never to take more than their bodies, not a single drop of their blood…only their hearts.

Dear god, please help me.

She was such a sweet girl; he was her first. She’d laughed and sang to him, and tangled her fingers tightly into his hair as ran his mouth over her sweet soft body.

He was a little harder to woo, strong and stoic and quiet… but he became bashful after sweet whispers and a hand over his thigh. Astarion had him in his bed moments later, crying out his name.

I am so very tired

Of doing the right thing.

He had everything planned out almost down to the second, every single touch, every sweet words, every cry of false ecstasy. He became a master at his game. Despite the disgust he felt, the ache of autonomy no longer his? The nights spent in a sweet embrace of someone he didn’t care for far surpassed those in the dungeons, the nights the smelled of foul blood, of cracked and bloodied nails.

Dear god,

Please help me.

There are explosive kegs

between my legs.

There was no joy to be found in sex anymore. It was as monotonous and as natural to him as breathing was; he hardly even gained any temporary bliss from it. He existed to please - never to be pleased. He didn’t dare indulge in a thing.

Except this once; one darling he could not find it in himself to kill.

The adrenaline wore off within the first few days. His hands were bloody, nails cracked and torn. He wished and prayed for freedom for the first tenday, and the next? He prayed for death.

When the lid of the coffin was finally removed, after a year of pure agony? Even the dim light of candles burned his eyes as his frail body was dragged from his tomb.

He wondered how anyone could believe in the gods. How anyone could pray to them and believe their prayers would be answered; or even heard. How could benevolence even exist in such a world?

Dear God,

Please help me.

Will you follow and know?

Know me more

Than you do

Track me down

And try to win me?

The first time he laid eye on you he’d felt a spark; though he jotted that down to his new cerebral neighbour. Of course, you were just too good to pass up - the leader of this merry little band of misfits? He had to have you wrapped around his fingers; the only way he knew how.

Soft touches, kind words… promises he couldn’t keep.

Then he motions to me,

With his hand on my knee

Dear god,

did this kind of thing happen to you?

The nightmare had rattled him to his core. He stood over you, staring for what felt like hours before he made his move. And of course? You had to wake up.

After a heated discussion, you gave yourself to him…and as he drank greedily from you; it was cemented in his mind that was truly free …and that he owed a great deal to you.

He sauntered off into the night, sated, feeling more in control than he had in 200 years. And with that? He felt his resolve slip; he didn’t need to worry about manipulating you anymore. He had the ball in his court, so to speak.

And yet, as he hunted? You were all he could think about.

Now I’m spreading your legs,

With mine

In between

Dear god, if I could

I would help you,

In the all too familiar graveyard of Baldurs Gate, he draws you close, breath cool on your warm flushed skin — hands exploring your warm, soft body. You’d given him everything; or atleast given him the tools and the strength and the /love/ to get this far. He owed it all to you.

As he presses you back, he whispers sweet nothings, soft ‘I love you’s’, his hands taking the time to explore…eager to make you cry out for him, but even more eager to relearn your body. Eager to enjoy your pleasure, eager to enjoy his /own/.

Now I am walking through Rome

And there is no room to breath

But the heart

Feels free

Astarion cowered behind the shade of a few shipping boxes, grateful he had a robe to shield himself. He gave a choked sob just as you arrive, scrambling over to shield him further. He felt like everything had been stolen from him again, and yet, when you spoke?

“It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure something out.” You whispered as you cup his face, and suddenly, he felt his worries drift away. He trusted you completely; if you said you’d figure something out? He had to believe it.

As you cradled him, soft sobs wracking his body? He realized that he was finally, truly free. He’d find his own sun. Perhaps he already had.

#baldurs gate tav #bg3 #fic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #bg3 fic #astarion angst #angst with a happy ending #angst #song fic #song #tav x astarion #astarion x tav

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leasstories · 9 months ago

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Being Rockstar Eddie Munson’s girlfriend

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

@noneknxws ‘s VALENTEBUARY

DAY 5: Free day

No Trigger Warning

WC: ≈1K

You’ve been dating Eddie since senior year. As soon as you both graduated in 1986, Eddie got an opportunity, a label offered to sign Corroded Coffin. That’s something he cannot say no to and you even pushed him toward that path. Now the magazine name you ‘Rockstar Eddie Munson’s girlfriend’.

But there are downsides to be a rockstar’s girlfriend. First of all, you often feel insecure when girls throw themselves at your boyfriend. You trust him, of course you trust him, but you don’t trust them, besides you have a very poor self-image even though Eddie has been nothing but reassuring about it. Another problem is the paparazzi, wherever you go, even alone, photos of you get taken. Another downside is when Eddie is on tour. Even though Eddie earns enough money to cover the both of you, you decided to have a job. You wanted your own money, you wanted to be independent. But having a job means you cannot always come on tour with Eddie, and you miss him, a lot. You also both have really different jobs and sometimes it makes you overthink. You wonder if he wouldn’t be happier with someone who is in the entertainment industry as well. But one of the worse downsides is that Eddie is almost always busy. It’s really hard for the both of you to have free time together, just the two of you. It’s hard to plan a date night or to even just stay at home and chill.

You are currently in the kitchen, cooking dinner when Eddie comes into the apartment, all excited. You tell yourself that he is that excited because of the new song they are recording, or because he has had a new tour planned. You weren’t expecting at all the words that comes out from his mouth.

“Baby,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around your midsection while you keep cooking.

“It was a good day Eds?” You ask, chuckling at his excitement.

“Mmh,” He answers, pausing before speaking again. “But not as good as tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?” You ask confused, while putting the cut tomatoes in a bowl.

“I have a free day.” Eddie says. “and I know it’s your day off.” Eddie says while kissing your neck.

You mix the tomatoes with the salad and mozzarella and smile. “Really?” you ask, your eyes sparkling at the idea of spending the day with your boyfriend.

Eddie nods while kissing your cheek.

The next day, your boyfriend wakes you up with breakfast in bed. He went to your favorite coffee shop, ordered your usual as well as some pastries. As soon as he put the breakfast down, Eddie stripped out of his clothes and went back to bed with you. You ate breakfast while cuddling and kissing, like two lazy teenagers. Once the breakfast was over Eddie insisted that you stayed in bed a little bit longer and you ended up dozing off in Eddie’s arms until noon.

At noon, Eddie gently wakes you up and you kiss him softly before asking. “What time is it?”

“Noon baby, get dressed for lunch, we are going at Gino’s.” Gino’s is the pizza place right around the corner. You know the boss and he always put the two of you at the most hidden table to avoid curious fans or paparazzi.

“Why did you let me sleep that much baby… I feel like I’ve ruined our day…” you whine.

“You didn’t ruin anything baby, I swear” he tells you gently before kissing your forehead.

You both put your clothes up and go to Gino’s. Obviously, on the way there some paparazzi take pictures of the two of you, but Eddie, always the gentleman, shields you from them. As soon as you’re in the familiar place that is Gino’s, you finally can breathe.

“Ciao amici!” Gino, the boss, tells us.

“Hi Gino, is our usual table available?” Eddie asks.

“Si! Follow me!” Gino says, leading the both of you to your usual table.

“The usual?” Gino asks.

Eddie and you both nod and Gino disappear into the kitchen.

“I missed those kinds of days.” You confess, breaking the silence.

“Me too.” Eddie says. “I’ll do my best to have more of those. I know how hard it is on you, I know it because I miss you just as much.”

“I’ll try to take my days off during your next tour, so I can come for a bit.” You speak.

“It would be the dream baby. I’d love for you to discover the world by my side. I know how it is important for you to be independent and work, but know that the day you want to stop, I’ll pay everything for the both of us baby. It’s no problem for me.” Eddie tells you.

Gino pits yours and Eddie’s usual in front of you and you start digging in.

“I know Eddie.” You answer while Gino left. “I’m going to try to work less hours if it’s possible, so when you are in town, I can be with you more.” You say.

“I’d love that babe.” Eddie answers.

The both of you keep eating your meal, laughing like you used to when you were in high-school. During those days, you feel like teenagers all over again, forgetting about your responsibilities and jobs.

Despite Eddie’s protests, you pay for both of your meals. After Gino’s you decide to take a walk in the closest park. You walk hand in hand. It is calm and the two of you just live the moment, not even talking, which is a rare occurrence for Eddie. You just enjoy the moment, you enjoy each other’s company.

After your little walk, the two of you went back home and took a hot bath together. Eddie loves blowing bubbles on you, and you find it so endearing. After your shower, you cooked your dinner together and enjoyed it.

Eddie’s day off was a small parenthesis in your busy lives, but you both know that with a little bit of work on both ends, those days can happen more often.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson is a sweetheart #based on a prompt #eddie munson lives #valentebuary 2024 #eddie munson x female reader

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horse-girl-anthy · 1 month ago

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this passage from the Kotani interview has long fascinated me:

Kotani: In the middle part of the tv series is the story of the Black Rose Society (Nemuro Memorial Hall). It's stylized, weird and creepy. Personally, I really liked that part. Ikuhara: That's something women like. That part was difficult for me though. Kotani: I thought the stylization was really excellent. There's the arrow symbols, and the confession in the elevator. When the elevator stops, there is a morgue-like place, with jumbled rows of coffins. It feels dark and mysterious. You know, I like bondage stuff (laugh). Basically, I like deviation, I want to escape away, but if you are not oppressed there is no way to escape. In order to deviate, you have to first be tied up. The Black Rose Society particularly emphasizes that, doesn't it? You have some worries, so first of all, someone will slowly look them over. Places of surveillance as places of bondage—e.g. a military unit, a monastery, or a dorm becomes an excellent stage setting, right? Ikuhara: I like it too. But by deviance, do you mean sexual deviance? Kotani: Deviance from the system. A community with rules, where there is someone like a dorm supervisor who runs a tight ship, and you escape from it.

"escape" has been one of the central fantasies of my life. Kotani and Ikuhara go on to talk about sexuality and the relationship of bondage to it, as well as to gender. all of that resonates with me; this kind of dynamic certainly has sexual manifestations. but it doesn't have to be expressed sexually. for as long as I can remember, I've been interested in stories of captivity, coercion, and control--with escape often as the climax of such fantasies.

before reading this interview, I didn't make the connection between my "kink" for domination/submission and RGU. it didn't make me feel the things I'm looking for in those kind of stories. I'm drawn to visceral examples of domination, like imprisonment, forced relationships, controlling communities, etc.

Kotani and Ikuhara also discuss RGU's similarities to dynamics in yaoi, specifically the Akio/Anthy/Utena triangle. that's where the "bondage" element of RGU can be felt most strongly. however, it was somehow missing the passion I found in other stories.

speaking of Anne Rice's Beauty series, Kotani says:

In the story, [forced submission] keeps happening; ordinarily, since everyone is put in a position like Anthy's, you would expect them to hate it, but in fact they don't (laugh).

I connect to this to what she said above about having first to be tied up in order to deviate. my desire for escape is so strong that my subconscious will literally create dreams in which I am first held captive and then break free. would I be this way if I hadn't been raised in a repressive community? maybe not. but the fact remains that I am now drawn to domination and to submission.

but in real life, domination is horrible. it gets under your skin and makes you feel dirty. and the more subtle its means, the more difficult it is to extricate yourself. perhaps one of the reasons I found RGU so hard to watch the first time I sat through it is that it robbed me of my enjoyment in domination/submission. the ways in which Akio exercised power were underhanded and manipulative--they were designed to go unnoticed, making them far more dangerous psychologically than, say, being physically tied up. he was even able to deny his own power in the situation, setting things up so well that he could turn things back on those he harmed.

RGU is erotic. it is erotic even in its most disturbing scenes--Akio's "nights alone" with Utena and Anthy. but there was none of the thrill in it for me that I got out of yaoi. there weren't any of the enjoyable power struggles that I found in more conventional narratives. hanging over the final 10 episodes was a sense of sickness, perversion, that didn't arise from the subject matter per se, but rather from how it was presented. there was a light touch to it, a reserve. it was unflinching but subtle.

most disturbingly, I think, the story weaved into the domination/submission narrative the question of dependency. as in, Utena and Anthy are not only in the situation they find themselves in due to coercion, but also due to their psychological need for Akio. in submission, I wanted to find a loss of responsibility--I wanted to be rendered helpless "against my own will." by being controlled, I would no longer have to be an agent, freeing me from the burden of selfhood. there was an appeal in it beyond just the desire to escape that I didn't want to admit. to face my complicity in my own subjugation was frightening--to admit it would be like saying I wanted, deserved, mistreatment.

of course, Akio does try to create and maintain said dependency, and there is a serious age/power differential between the characters. but I think the seductiveness of domination and the ease with which one can choose to submit are a major themes of RGU. I like stories of overt violence and captivity because they blow up, dramatize the far more common forms of control we experience in social systems. in RGU, the bonds are in the mind, not on the body. their slipperiness makes them nauseating, not titilating.

thus, RGU didn't give me my usual enjoyment in the sense of "being under someone's thumb." but it did give me one of the most satisfying escapes that I've ever experienced in my life.

episode 39 pulls back the curtains to reveal what submission means. I don't think there's anything wrong with bondage/escape fantasies, but there's something to be said for acknowledging reality. Anthy is the representation of the part of every woman (every person) who's ever had to take a blow, or swallow an objection, or resign themselves to cruelty. if Utena gave in to Akio, she would be not only turning away from a friend in need, but also denying herself--locking away her internal "Rose Bride."

Utena ultimately defies Akio and Anthy is freed entirely--freed even from dependency. then the show makes clear what had previously been obscured, that Akio was just as dependent on Anthy as she was on him, if not more so. this turns the established power dynamics upside down, completing the revolution. what makes this ending so powerful is that it has finality to it: the cycle of domination and submission will no longer perpetuate itself, as it is no longer needed. by dramatizing the ugliness of domination, RGU is able to paint a realistic picture of the road to liberation.

#rgu #commentary #i had so many ideas tonight but brain fuzzy

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year ago

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celebrity skin. (part five)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: a party from hell.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption, emotional hurt / no comfort in this chapter (sorry, she's a little angsty), blackmail, family drama, mentions of minor character death — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

The venue is filled wall to wall with people, half of whom you have not met before this night. They’re swaying to the loud music, talking over one another, and indulging in various colourful drinks from the open bar.

Sitting on a sofa in the corner of the large space, you’re watching the night unfold in front of your eyes. There’s a drink in your hand, a cranberry vodka, however, you haven’t touched it yet. Instead, the ice has long melted, causing lone droplets of water to drip down your arm.

A harsh scent of alcohol fills the air. It gets stronger every time a party attendee sits next to you, congratulating you on an incredible single with the band they never thought you’d ever play with. You go with the flow, the politeness you’ve been taught from a young age showing its wings, and thank each person that engages with you for coming tonight.

They ask how this all came about, you on a song with Corroded Coffin. A collaboration for the ages.

You answer honestly, to the best of your knowledge. “The powers that be organised everything”, and the person you’re speaking with laughs at your answer. Then they ask about a topic much hotter than the new record — your relationship with Eddie Munson.

The second the curly-haired rockstar is mentioned, a smile breaches your lips.

“That’s between me and him, for now.”

Which doesn’t stop anyone from trying to invade your privacy further. Wondering, out loud and with no shame, if what they’re reading in the tabloids is true. Is it just for show, or is it real? And then it goes one of two ways:

“Hope I’m invited to the wedding. It’s shaping up to be quite the party.”

“At least you’ll make a lot of money from this arrangement.”

Not one person wishes you well. Not one person says they’re happy for you, or for the Corroded Coffin frontman. It obviously makes you wonder why because you look happy… right? Why is your relationship such a big deal if you’re clearly happy?

Don’t you look happy?

But then, in between those conversations, your gaze finds Eddie with ease. His own brown eyes land on you every single time, without fail, as if there was some sort of magnetic pull between the two of you. He smiles wide, shooting you a casual wink from wherever he’s standing at the time.

And so, you force the treacherous thoughts deep, deep down. Squish them until they’re miniscule and a problem for later — which in retrospect, not a good idea — ‘cause right this moment in time, you’re definitely happy.

Eddie makes you happy.

You’re also just glad to see the rockstar is having fun, considering how reluctant he was to leave the comfort of his own home. He’s mingling and laughing. A pep in his step as he orders another drink. After all, parties are his element.

“God, my poor fucking feet hurt so much,” Holly sighs, dropping down next to you with an elegant bounce. “I honestly don’t know how you can perform in heels for multiple nights in a row when I can’t even make it through a couple of measly hours.”

You laugh. “No pain, no gain.”

“Okay, Magic Johnson.” Holly snorts while playfully rolling her eyes.

“Actually, I’d prefer to be Patrick Ewing,” you correct her, it’s a tease with a slight dramatic flare, “‘Cause who am I if not a New York Knicks fan.”

The giggle that escapes your friend is infectious. In between the lighthearted chuckles, she does her best not to spill the fruity drink in her hand, pressing the glass to her lips and taking a sip. She relaxes into the sofa, legs now extended outwards, a hazard to anyone walking by.

“Speaking of New York, when are you taking the rockstar to meet your parents?” Holly probes, brow raised.

“Oh god,” you dramatise in response, “That’s like a super serious thing, no? I don’t think we’re there yet.”

But Holly doesn’t give up as easily, seeing right through the front you didn’t even realise you were putting up. As your best friend, she knows you better than anyone. That includes moments like these, when you’re minimising feelings out of fear.

“Babe, be for real. He has already met your grandma and she’s arguably a lot more important than your parents.” Holly states, taking another quick sip of her cocktail. “No offence to Alicia and Brad, but we all know your family is ruled by the little lady who already hates your boyfriend.”

You sigh. She’s obviously right.

“So, what’s the real reason you don’t wanna take him home?”

Glancing over at Eddie, who’s lost in conversation with the producers of your record, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering what to say to her. “Because I’m scared it’s all moving too fast,” would be an appropriate answer to the question, but then again that’s not entirely true.

Holly nudges your arm and you turn your attention back to her immediately.

“I’ve just been really happy in our little bubble these last few months and I’m afraid if we venture further out into the real world, we’ll lose that feeling.”

Raw, honest. It’s a scary thing to say, but Holly doesn’t judge. She never does. Instead, her arm makes way around your shoulders and she squeezes you lightly when your head rests against her skin.

“With the way the two of you look at one another, I bet my sanity that you’ll be together for a very long time.”

And you hope she’s right.

Eddie walks up to where you’re sitting shortly after, politely asking your friend if he could steal a moment alone with you. Holly of course agrees, saying something about finding Jeff ‘cause he looks mighty fine tonight and she’s a little buzzed, “If you know, you know.”. You watch with a smile as she disappears between the dancing bodies while Eddie sits in the now empty spot, casually placing a hand on your thigh.

“Having fun?”

“I am,” you answer and lean in closer to place a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Even more now.”

He smirks at you. “I’m glad, baby.”

“Seems you are too.”

“I am.” Eddie nods, free hand now holding your jaw, as he leans in to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss is short and sweet, but like everything you and the rockstar do, it attracts attention from pretty much everyone in the room. A click of the camera, a flash of light. But neither of you care. Looking instead into each other’s eyes once you pull apart, as if you’re the only people at this party.

Even though putting a label on things wasn’t entirely necessary, it definitely cemented whatever feelings are floating within your core. And Eddie feels the same way. He actually feels a lot more than he’s willing to admit out loud. Partially because he’s always battled commitment issues, mainly because he’s really afraid of losing you.

Again.

Eddie Munson loved a good party.

This wasn’t always the case, since during his teenage years he was often excluded from every single guest list. Then he started dealing. Suddenly, the metalhead was a hot ticket, and even though people still didn’t care for his company, they liked the stuff he brought. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention — as fake as it may have been.

Once Corroded Coffin made it big, and Eddie realised that people actually wanted to party with him for who he was, and not the drugs he had access too, (although, for some, it was a little bit of both), the rockstar decided he was going to throw the best damn parties Hollywood has ever seen.

It quickly became second nature. Make money, then spend it just as fast so other people can have a good time.

When the drinking, and other activities, got a little out of control, the guys tried to talk some sense into their friend with a little tough love: “Dude, those people don’t give a fuck about you! They only wanna hang out with you, ‘cause you’re rich.”. But Eddie was too far gone and he didn’t care to stop. His house was full of people every single weekend, most of whom he knew, and for the first time in his miserable life, the rockstar felt like the most important person on the goddamn planet. There was no way he was letting go of that feeling.

Then August ‘92 happened.

The evening started off as nothing special. Just another pool party to combat the unbearable Los Angeles heat. It was a common occurrence during the summer months, so Eddie didn’t think that night was going to be any different.

Surrounded by a group of girls that undoubtedly only want to get in his pants, he’s laughing at the unfunny jokes and taking advantage of the fact that he doesn’t need to refill his own drinks, the “groupies”, as Marianne calls them, gladly do it for him.

They’re brushing up against him and flirting with no shame while batting their lashes. Eddie usually eats this shit up. Matter of fact, he should be loving every second of it right now, but his focus has long shifted elsewhere, the girls a mere distraction from the actual object of his attention and desire.

From the corner of his eye, he’s watching you.

Jesus Christ. Eddie can’t believe you came. He can’t believe you’re actually here, at his house, seemingly enjoying yourself. And to say you looked fucking hot would be the understatement of a century. Splayed out on one of the lounge chairs, hiding from the sun, you’re wearing a white cotton blouse and skimpy denim shorts, and Eddie aches for his current conversation to be over so he can go and officially introduce himself to you — like he should have at the Grammys.

“Eds, do you want another drink?”

He barely registers the question, even with the girl who has her hand on his bare bicep, rubbing up and down rather seductively. Instead, the rockstar notices how you stand up and look around the party once, before walking in the direction of his big house. So Eddie thinks that now’s his chance, perhaps the only one he’d get, and following a quick internal monologue to pep himself up, he leaves the group of ladies disappointed, following you inside.

That was almost the last party Eddie threw.

You flipped this switch inside of him, one the rockstar didn’t even know existed. After that night, he no longer wanted attention from just anyone. Taking centre stage in his mind — and heart — was America’s favourite sweetheart. Even when he royally fucked things up, he only thought about you.

Though for a number of lonesome weeks, he wasn’t sure you were thinking about him since his actions proved nothing more than borderline douchey. So Eddie fell back into self-destructive behaviour just as fast as he scrambled out of it. The parties got louder, he became more obnoxious.

September 1992. Saturday Night Live.

That will be a night his band, his management, his friends, and even his fans, will never let Eddie forget. Unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons.

The drinks pre-show were free and Eddie had a mountain of feelings he desperately needed to get over, along with memories he wanted to bury deep, until they were nothing but specs of dust, flashes that didn’t resemble anything — especially not you.

He did his best not to slur his words during the live performance, and for the most part, he succeeded. Although that didn’t really matter since anyone in the rockstar's vicinity could clearly tell he was intoxicated. Eddie, leaning half his weight on the microphone, round sunglasses covering his bloodshot eyes, should have never been allowed to set foot on the stage that night.

Let alone twice.

Under the dim stage light, as they hoped to conclude their last song without a major incident, Eddie’s band mates were exchanging worried glances. The Corroded Coffin frontman had a couple more drinks in between sets and was barely able to follow along with the music.

Thankfully, behind the scenes, Marianne convinced production to shift the cameras away from unravelling Eddie, even switched off his microphone, and the only people left witness to his drunken mess were the folks present physically.

Eddie on the other hand couldn’t have cared less about how he was behaving since the alcohol didn’t numb him like he hoped, instead the thought of you being somewhere in the same city, overpowered his senses. Would it be crazy to hope you were watching? Would it be crazy to think that despite how rudely he treated you, you’d still show up like you both talked about?

Would it be crazy to try and find you? Search New York, high and low, in hopes that someone knows someone, who knows someone else, that knows where you live?

Instead, against his better judgement and everyone else’s rather aggressive protests, Eddie goes to the after party planned in his name.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t come.

His black out was imminent.

The damages done to the restaurant came to just under five thousand dollars. The stress from keeping it out of the press robbed his team about two years of their life, so Marianne says.

And that was the last party Eddie threw.

Considering how out of control things had gotten, how out of control he had become at some point during the night while thinking about you with every drink that burned down his throat, it could’ve been a lot worse.

Eddie still only thinks about you. Difference being, now, almost a year later, you are attending a party together, and the alcohol no longer tastes like regret.

When he looks at you, like he is right now, under the fluorescent club lights, his heart increases tenfold. He wants to kiss every inch of your face, hold you close because that’s where you belong.

Things simply got better because he owned up to his mistakes and learned to open himself up to love, as scary as that feeling is sometimes. He’s not second guessing your intentions, because that would be cruel. He just loses himself in his doubts sometimes, since in the past, no pretty girl has given him the time of day without wanting something in return.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Eddie whispers against your lips, thumb gently grazing along your cheekbone. He proceeds to tell you how you make life a little more normal, and he’s grateful for it, despite always wanting fame. You tell him how attention is nothing if it doesn’t come from the right person, and he agrees, brown locks bouncing as he nods his head. Then he kisses you again.

And this kiss is arguably a lot more urgent than the last. Eddie is hovering over you entirely. One hand remains holding onto your face, while the other is on your waist, pushing you deeper into the sofa.

You can hear another click of a camera in the distance and despite your better judgement, that voice in the back of your mind, closely reminiscent of your Nana’s, telling you to push your boyfriend away, you slide your hands up his back and cling closer to him.

An inch of regret courses through your veins the following morning when you receive a call from your quite displeased team, “what the hell were you thinking?!”. You deflect. Unwilling for anyone to burst through the happy bubble you’ve found yourself in, you blame them for poor organisation and security ‘cause who even allows cameras to be brought into a private Hollywood event.

That regret is unfortunately also accompanied by a killer hangover and very little memory of what else has happened the night prior.

The empty spot in bed, usually home to a set of wild brown locks, should have been a warning sign ‘cause Eddie never woke up before you, especially after a party. You find him in the kitchen, at the spot where the two of you first met. His head is in his hands and you’re instantly feeling worried.

The happy bubble threatening to burst.

“Hey,” you croak, hoping to get his attention, “are you okay?”

Eddie’s as still as a statue. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, or your question, and the worry in the pit of your stomach increases tenfold. So you approach him, movements slow due to the banging headache as well as the apprehension given your boyfriend's current position. Only when your hand hesitantly reaches his back, rubbing once downward while you position yourself next to him, Eddie lifts his head and tilts it to the side, finally meeting your eyes.

“Had a good night?” Eddie asks, shifting his stance so that your hand falls down to your side. This should have been a second warning; him trying to avoid physical contact.

“Y-yeah,” you force a smile, thinking that it’s needed, “You?”

“Not really,” he answers a little too quickly.

His brown eyes scan yours, for what exactly, you’re a little too hungover to realise. But the longer he stares at you, the worse you begin to feel. A certain dread spreads through your insides, causing your stomach to drop. What’s happening right now? Actually, what happened in the late hours of last night that’s causing this sudden rift between you and the rockstar.

“What’s going on, Eddie?”

The tone of your voice is so quiet, you’re unsure he’s even heard you. But then a sigh escapes his lips. He briefly glances towards the back door, out towards the pool, before settling his gaze back on your frame.

“I think we made a mistake,” he says a little too bluntly. “I-I don’t think we should have labelled this so soon, and ehm… This is nothing on you, sweetheart. I’m just not the relationship type.”

Dumbfounded, is a little too plain to explain the feeling that you’re experiencing at this very moment. Betrayed would be a better word, but that would mean Eddie is after saying those things. That he’s really after shattering your entire world in the space of a few mere seconds. Betrayed would mean your gut instinct, the one you have ignored ever since you’ve met the Corroded Coffin frontman, was always correct: he was no good.

Used, is how you begin to feel as Eddie continues to list reasons for why he can’t actually be your boyfriend and how you’re better off simply being friends with benefits, or whatever it is the two of you had been over the last few months. Used fuels the anger inside of you because, to you, deceit is worse than cheating. And he seems so nonchalant about it, which only adds to the fire.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Eddie stops mid another lame excuse and for the first time this morning, he reaches for your hands, fingers gently grazing against your skin, which only adds to the pain you’re beginning to endure.

“Sweetheart…”

“No, no.”

You retreat, unwilling to let the rockstar hold you since he’s after breaking your heart like it was worth nothing — Jesus H. Christ, this is some sick and twisted deja vu.

Instead, you cross your arms across your chest like a shield while taking a step away from the man you realised now you definitely loved, yet one that clearly didn’t love you.

“I-I guess I’m just confused as to what’s changed since last night—”

“I’m not the relationship type,” Eddie cuts in, repeating what he’s already said, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything towards you. I like you, sweetheart. A lot.”

“Eddie, come on,” you scoff, tears threatening to breach through the confines of their home, “Do you realise how ridiculous you sound right now? If you feel something towards me, I-I don’t get how being called my boyfriend and being exclusive with me is the worst thing on the planet.”

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you continue.

“Unless that’s it. You don’t want to be exclusive because the thought of keeping your dick in your pants when I’m not around is too difficult, or having other people throw themselves at you and not immediately act on it is something Eddie Munson simply cannot do.”

“That’s not it,” the rockstar interjects.

“Then fucking enlighten me, Eddie, because you’re making no fucking sense right now!”

Again, he doesn’t say anything. And it’s precisely because he’s not showing any willingness to be honest with you right this moment, after endless prior conversations about how that’s the one thing he will always be, you decide for your own sanity that this isn’t a relationship you can fight for.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

Three words you’ve spoken to him before, only this time they hold a lot more weight. This time, they signal an end to something that was only after getting a proper beginning. The end of America’s favourite popstar and the Corroded Coffin frontman — a headline that broke on Page Six the very next morning.

Eddie watches you leave. Frozen in his spot as you rush back to the bedroom the two of you have shared the last few months. And his heart aches because unbeknown to you, this is not what he wanted to happen.

Unbeknown to you, this is not how he actually feels. He doesn’t want to end things with you so soon after they’ve begun. He wants you. He wants to be your boyfriend, if not more.

He just can’t.

Last night’s party was the main catalyst behind the rockstar’s actions this morning. The attendance of a certain someone that wasn’t actually invited was a shock to Eddie’s drunken system, and the reason behind why he simply can’t tell you anything, especially the truth.

(Not right now anyway.)

Chrissy Cunningham.

The preppy blonde was the only person Eddie loved before meeting you.

Despite not ever being anything more than friends, at least on a physical level, for the longest time, Chrissy was Eddie’s only supporter. The only person to show him kindness and shower him with care he undoubtedly deserved.

Chrissy encouraged Eddie to follow his dreams, pursue a career in music, because out of everyone in Hawkins, she truly believed in his talent.

Then she died.

Suddenly, Eddie was not only left with a hole in his heart, but he also found himself at the centre of a murder investigation. Despite being declared innocent, her death nothing but a freak accident, the scars on the rockstar’s body remind him of the events of March ‘86 to this very day.

He told you a little about what happened, just failed to mention Chrissy. Not for any particular reason, he just doesn’t talk about her as a rule — unwilling to reopen the wounds he so desperately tried to heal over the years.

And because he doesn’t talk about Chrissy, or mention her name and what she meant to him, Eddie never expected her to be brought up.

Especially not a Hollywood party of all places.

Eddie first spotted your grandmother mid-performance of the band’s single with you. She approached him shortly after, when you excused yourself to take some shots with Holly, leaving the frontman alone.

“Even I cannot deny that it’s a good song,” she states simply, as Eddie eyes her suspiciously.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think you were on the guest list.”

She scoffs. “Just like my lovely granddaughter, I can get myself on every single list I want, and even though I don’t necessarily want to be here, I do have something to tell you.”

Eddie cocks a brow, “Oh yeah?”

“Hawkins is a lovely little town,” she says, not missing a beat. “It’s quaint. Reminds me of a place I spent hiding my pregnancy all those moons ago, but that’s a story for another time. Or not. Depends how well you listen to me right now.”

“What do you want?”

“Does my granddaughter know about Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie’s face falls the second Chrissy’s name escapes your grandmothers painted lips, though he doesn’t get a chance to actually reply to the question, because she’s quick to continue with her agenda.

“I suppose not. Your uncle Wayne was really quite open to tell me about her though, about what she meant to you.”

She pauses, tilting her head to one side.

“I am sorry for your loss, Edward.”

Another brief pause.

“Yet I can’t help the curiosity, why didn’t you tell my baby about this girl if she supposedly played such a big part in you pursuing your dreams?”

“Don’t do this—”

“Do what, Edward? I’m just trying to learn more about the boy my naive granddaughter is willing to risk her entire career for. Again, your uncle Wayne was very helpful in this department, considering you practically shunned me from the dinner I organised for this exact reason.”

“Listen—”

“No,” your grandmother interrupts, “We both know you’re not good enough for my sweet angel and this entire Chrissy situation you are trying really hard to hide from everyone, only proves my point,” she snaps and Eddie’s feeling grateful that the place is a little too crowded and a little too noisy for anyone to hear what’s happening at this very moment.

“Edward, if you have nothing to hide, if you’re really innocent and played no part in the poor girl's death, why can’t the world know? Feel free to answer me, I’m just trying to get some insight into who my granddaughter has chosen to date.”

Eddie swallows his breath, unsure of what to say because it’s these types of conversations he’s been trying to avoid by not bringing up Chrissy.

Ever.

He didn’t do anything to the girl he loved. He is one hundred percent innocent, and the courts proved his side of the story. Yet, he’s been ridiculed and questioned left, right, and centre.

Only Max and Wayne know that the final reason as to why he’s decided to leave Hawkins behind for good, was to get away from the rumours and the people that didn’t believe him. And as he rushed to chase his dreams, he swore he’d never bring this up. Swore to never mention Chrissy’s name to anyone, or the fact that she’s been the inspiration behind numerous Corroded Coffin singles.

In a way, it was freeing. In Los Angeles, Chrissy Cunnigham was nothing but a figment of Eddie’s imagination.

Until this very moment.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” your Nana states, “But it wouldn’t take a lot to make people in Hollywood believe that you did and then your image is ruined, your career starts to decline, and the only other person that’s affected besides you and your bandmates, is the person you claim to feel something for. My granddaughter.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. He glances behind your grandmother��s shoulder to where you’re standing at the bar with Holly, laughing at something your friend has said seconds prior.

He’s happy with you. He’s happy to be known as your boyfriend.

And it’s because of that happiness, he knows he cannot ruin your life by involving you in something that happened before he was even famous.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” the rockstar mumbles in a defeated tone.

“She’s going to hurt either way,” your grandmother says, “But if you end things with her on your own, I promise to keep Chrissy’s name out of the press, so you’re only breaking my granddaughter's heart and not simultaneously ending her career.”

The metalhead hangs his head low, closing his eyes momentarily to try and gather his tipsy thoughts. His lack of rebuttal is enough for your grandmother to claim her victory. She places a hand on the rockstar’s shoulder and squeezes once, faking remorse.

“And Eddie,” she continues, “I wouldn’t tell her about this conversation, and I also wouldn’t be so brave to tell her about Chrissy yourself, because with a snap of my finger, the whole world will know. Then you gotta ask yourself, what’s more important? Your happiness, her happiness, or the careers you both worked extremely hard for.”

She lets her hand fall and walks out of the party with her head held high. Unseen by you and unnoticed by everyone else here, almost like a ghost. Like the conversion never happened.

But the ache in Eddie’s chest is proof enough. He knows what occurred, just like he knows what he unfortunately needs to do — which is break your fucking heart.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @astheni-a , @bebe07011

#sorry this took a while eek.#also sorry she’s rather angsty #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson story #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #celebrity skin.

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reds-skull · 11 months ago

Text

Post script on Not Alive, Nor Dead

Like I mentioned yesterday, I have a lot to say about the fic now that it's done.

The TLDR is that I'm leaving an option for a sequel. No promises though.

Leaving the rest of it under the cut because idk how long it will end up.

Okay, so first thing I gotta admit is that I didn't plan shit lmao. I had the start very clearly in my head, which were the scenes I talked about in the first post I made about revenant AU. But the entire plot line with Graves being a secret revenant? Hell, even the whole 'revenants and non-revs are getting kidnapped around the world' was not planned.

The scene in chapter 4 with the PMC was the introduction for the anonymous PMC, but I didn't think of making Graves and in extension Shadow Company all the work of a revenant. I was debating even making him a revenant at all, up until I wrote the chapter introducing him.

This approach, of not planning shit, is what made me excited to sit down and write every day. It felt like I was discovering the story myself.

It's also a fucking miracle the story is coherent in any shape or form.

Now, I did write a few things before starting. They were a small overview of the character arcs I want the 141 to go through, and a brief about each revenant's powers, because those things need to be consistent.

The arc overview isn't accurate anymore, it has a version of Gaz's storyline that I didn't manage to fit in, where he has a fear of heights, and overcomes it throughout the fic. The only one really left unchanged was Soap, who had the whole "my powers are too destructive" thing ongoing for most of the story.

Speaking of Soap, the Konchar mystery? I was figuring it out while writing the 3 chapters before introducing 'Konchar'. There are some inconsistencies because of that, specifically in a line where Soap says something along the lines of "I did something on my Reaping, something that if I could replicate, I might've not been let on the team." which kinda makes sense but kinda doesn't, considering all that Ghost has done.

Ghost's struggles with Limbo were something I added after wanting to give him a parallel to Soap. Originally, Ghost's role was to be the guy that has already gone through what Soap is going through, already knowing everything and having as much control on Limbo as he can. But making Limbo this uncontrollable realm was more interesting... also having it reflect Ghost's mind and emotions was cool.

One of the most pleasant surprises was how Price's powers interacted with everyone else's. I think it was the best power to personality match I made, he's not as scary as the others at first glance, but the ability to bore into the minds of his enemies, the way no one can keep secrets from him? Makes him terrifying. It's not made clear in the fic, but the reason it took Price so long to figure Graves out is their previous encounters. Graves knew how to divert his thoughts away from his Shadows, and stop Price from finding out.

What made Price realize Grave's Shadows aren't human is he tried to read their mind, only to find a list of commands. Graves tried to keep them away as much as he can, but it was inevitable. Shepherd knew it, which is why he ordered Price to keep his mouth shut almost instantly.

Since the way revenants get their powers must be linked to the way they died, some revs were easier to find powers for than others. Obviously the 141 was first, some at the time I started thinking about how they died didn't have a canon near-death experience, like Price and Soap.

I took Ghost's og backstory, and the idea of Limbo was gotten from the fact he died in a coffin, in a state of in between life and death. What Limbo does to people was just 'scariest thing I could imagine' type of situation. In the end, I don't know if Limbo is scarier when Ghost couldn't control it, or when both he and Soap could.

With Soap, I knew I wanted something with explosions, so it was a no-brainer to make him die from one. I mentioned in another post, but revenant AU was originally at the very beginning just a thing of 'what if I put mw characters in my original magic system?', and in that scenario, Soap was the only one with powers, which were control over anti matter, meaning anything he touches or touches him explodes. The only scene from that one is of Soap pushing Ghost away and getting shot to high hell, only to go and explode the people that tried to kill him - which is chapter 8.

I chose to use Gaz's iconic hanging out of a chopper scene, because I found it funny tbh lol. Later, when I thought of how exactly he died, it became more serious.

Price's were just kinda random tbh. I figured telepathy is a good ability for a Captain.

Rudy obviously dies in the house fire he almost did in the campaign. Alejandro was harder, but I thought of how Graves locked him up in the black site prison alone, so I went for something similar.

It's not mentioned in the fic, but Farah was the youngest to die from all of them. The house collapse in the start of her flashbacks in mwi, where her father pulled her out of the rubble? She didn't survive it. She's a very rare revenant, to be Reaped when she was a kid.

Farah and Ghost's og backstory have a lot of similarities, in my mind they're parallels to each other. What Farah had that Ghost didn't, however, is other people, a community. I think that's why she didn't lose herself the way Ghost did.

Alex's was difficult, because his canon near-death experience was being exploded, like Soap. I used the fact he's ex CIA, to figure he probably took part of many covert operations, and one went wrong. He was caught, so now he can go invisible. This was the thing I failed to make clear the most in the fic, I think, since a few people asked, more than anything else.

Thomas Anderson, the revenant with underwater breathing abilities, was originally made just for Ghost to roast him. When chapter 8 rolled around, and I needed a random revenant to kill there, I thought using the one established would make sense.

Accidental foreshadowing like this was what carried the fic, tbh. It was like a huge session of 'yes, and'ing myself. A little bit of bullshitting confidently, sometimes it felt like that lmao.

The wedding vows in chapter 31 were, again, unplanned. Ghost said "till death do us apart, Johnny?", so I started looking up Christian wedding vows in English because I don't fully remember them. Later I thought "wait, Soap is Catholic, maybe they have a different version." and then I thought, "shit, he's fuckin' Scottish, he won't use fucking American Catholic vows." (maybe he would idk).

Anyway, I found the Celtic vows present in the fic, which sounded like a metaphor, so perfect I couldn't use them just for the original joke they were meant for. So Soap ends up reciting literal wedding vows at the man.

[here's a link to the website I found the vows at]

Last thing is the whole Makarov tie in to Konchar. I was thinking about how we never really dove deep into why Konchar did what he did, besides having his Reaper tell him "you have to kill Soap before he kills you". I heard an advice somewhere, that in world building you have to dive in two questions for it to be believable.

So, let's take Konchar for example. First question is, "how did Soap killing Konchar not bring on an international incident between Kastovia and the UK?". The answer is, "Konchar was an army deserter." Second question is, "why did Konchar desert the army?", and the second answer is, "because he left to work with Makarov."

We don't need to know why he left, not at the point I left the fic at. Those two answers would be enough for readers to not feel like there's a plot hole there, at least according to that advice I've heard.

NOW, with all of that out of the way, I wanted to post the notes I've made on each revenant's powers, because I thought it could be interesting for someone. AND! I kept some deleted scenes, and it would be a shame to just let them rot in the Google Doc lol.

First up, list of revenants and their powers:

[These aren't 100% accurate anymore, as they were written before I started writing the fic, and I only added stuff to them]

Ghost - limbo: is able to send a circle around him into “limbo”, a space between life and death, that no one can escape. Filled with his enemies. Only way to survive is if ghost brings you to the eye of the storm, where he keeps himself safe of his own powers. Ghost can be killed by any means if taken by surprise and doesnt activate his powers.

If stands still too long, inky hands start grasping at him from the ground. Prefers to sleep elevated.

Died in a coffin.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield to withstand fire in his right hand.

Soap - explosion: cant be killed by explosions, and can explode anything he touches. Any injury with the root cause being explosion (fall from high building, debris scratches, etc.) will be healed, but he does feel pain from it. Gunshots cant kill him (the bullets shoot with explosions). Can be killed by any melee attack, poison, electricity.

Fire burns from his fingertips, hard to put out. Spreads when agitated. Hot to the touch.

Died from a fall because of an explosion.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield the protective light in his left hand in Limbo.

Gaz - gravity: can manipulate gravity of himself and objects he touches. Cant die from falling. Can be killed by any means, but hard to catch and aim at while at motion.

Usually floats a couple inches off ground.

Died in a helicopter accident.

Price - telepathy: can talk and transmit simple ideas to other around him. Can feel emotions of others. Can be killed by any means, but Price can manipulate the enemies thoughts and distract them.

His thoughts can “leak” if left unguarded.

Died after being abandoned and without comms.

Alejandro - phase: can phase through solid objects, including bullets. Can be killed by any means if caught by surprise.

Sometimes accidentally phases through things.

Died in captivity.

Rodolfo - ice: can lower the temperature of anything he touches rapidly. Can freeze and jam guns. Can inflict ice burns. Can be killed by any means beside fire.

Breath always visible, cold to the touch.

Died in a fire.

Farah - steelskin: can deflect any attack to her body. Bullets, knives, rockets. Can be killed by poison easily, as needles cant pierce her skin and therefore medical administration is hard to give.

Skin shines oddly.

Died from a stab wound. [changed to what I explained above]

Youngest to become a revenant.

Alex - invisibility: can become invisible. Otherwise can be killed by any means, hard to spot.

Skin sometimes flickers.

Died when got caught.

Graves - shadow company: can create “shadows”, puppets he controls. Can be killed by any means, but hard to get through his shadows.

Doesnt have a shadow of his own, eyes become milky and vacant, leaking after a while.

Died from betrayal.

[I didn't manage to find a place to add this - yes, Graves died after his squad betrayed him. His powers are a replacement for the whole army. His last line, "Me? I am the army." was what he boiled down to. Limbo's victims marking him a traitor was two fold. He betrayed the 141, Vaqueros, the UFL and basically everyone around him, but he also betrayed his own Reaper, who gave him powers to not go through that very thing. It's also another reason why chapter 30 is called 'Die As You Live'.]

Kirill “Konchar” Bogomolov - telekinesis: can move objects with his mind. Can protect himself from any physical attack, and redirect them towards the attacker. Is a revenant of the Pull, like Gaz. (name means “Lord” and “devotionalist”) First death from RPG, second death by Soap.

Now, for the cut content. Most of these are one scene, usually one that didn't fit the emotinal arc of the characters, or the direction was going somewhere I didn't like. There's one that is a page and a half long, and that chapter was one of the hardest to write, so I practically restarted it at one point.

I'll try to add the context they were originally in if I remember.

[Context: the scene in Chapter 5, where Ghost watches the night sky out of a window, unable to sleep, and Soap comes to speak with him for the first time since they fought about Soap's tendenticy to let himself get hurt. Soap says he heard rumors about Ghost, and Ghost asks what they said.]

“ (rumors) That you murder our soldiers.”

Something akin to fear rang through his chest. So he knows… He supposes it was meant to happen eventually.

Soap’s face, for some reason, doesn’t lose its newfound cheerfulness.

“And what do you think about those rumors?” Hell knows why he wants to keep hearing him talk.

“Well, that makes the two of us.”

… What.

“What?” Ghost intelligently mutters.

Soap’s eyes widen, face not unlike a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

[Reason to cut: Soap wasn't supposed to admit that yet. He also wouldn't have done it in such a non-chalant way, with how heavy the guilt weighs on him.]

[Context: Chapter 10, where Ghost was showing his powers to the Vaqueros and Graves.]

The Captain’s voice fills his head, “field’s clear, go ahead Lieutenant.”

Ghost glances one last time at Soap’s figure, no more than a small speck, far, far away from him.

He closes his eyes. The warm air of Las Almas dissipates into the chill of Limbo.

He opens them, confused. The void is quiet, the residents of Limbo looking at the distance, calm and still. It reminds him of… before.

Ghost frowns, narrowing his eyes to try and see what caught their attention. There, a far away point flickers.

A small, white flame. Where… Soap was standing.

Ghost blinks and stumbles back. Price instantly sounds in his mind, “Simon, what’s going on?!”

“I saw something there…” He makes eye contact with the Captain, who is now jogging towards him, Gaz and Soap behind him. “Light… from Johnny.”

It can’t be… how is Soap able to affect Limbo? Every single spiritulogist he met agreed on the fact he’s a sort of master over Limbo, that the realm is a manifestation he’s inseparably linked to.

The only thing others can do there, is die.

“What do you mean light?” Price urges on.

“A small flame. Where Soap was. The victims were all staring at it.”

The 141 members reach him, Johnny rushing to him, “are you alright?”

Ghost gapes at him, “you’re different. I’ve… changed you.”

Soap frowns, “what are ye on about?” he steps closer.

Ghost takes a step back, “stop.”

The Sergeant stills, a hurt expression flashing on his face before he schools his features.

Price invades his mind, “Simon, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down?! I fucked up Soap! I need to-”

The ladder patterns. Ghost turns around.

“SIMON RILEY”

“Reaper”, he exhales shakily.

“YOU’VE DOOMED YOURSELF. IT IS TOO LATE.”

“What are you talking about?!” Ghost screams, “you keep saying I’m gonna die, while Johnny keeps suffering!”

“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT OTHER REVENANTS, SIMON.”

The Reaper leans in to shriek in his ears, Ghost clutching his head uselessly.

“YOU ARE INTERTWINED.”

Ghost cries from the pain. His Reaper does not falter.

“KILL HIM FIRST.”

His vision fades along with the Reaper’s words.

“Ghost! Fuck, someone get a medic” Someone shouts above him.

Another voice interjects, “he’s not injured, Sergeant. He’s with his Reaper.”

“From my experience, that doesn’t make me holler and pass out!”

A third person joins the conversation, “shut it! He’s waking up.”

Ghost groans and makes a move to rub his eyes, only to be stopped by his hard-shell mask. “Simon? You alright son?” Price asks, bringing the smell of fresh flowers and a soft bed to him.

He gets up (when did he lay down?) and mutters, “fine”. His voice hoarse from screaming. He takes in his team, the three of them concernedly crouch beside him, except Soap, who’s pacing around.

The Sergeant stops and eyes him warily.

“My Reaper’s mad.” he says in lieu of explanation to the others.

Soap stops, and looks down at him, still avoiding his stare, “it’s because of me, isn’t it?”

He sighs, “when those arms started grabbing ye I thought it was gonna-”

“What arms?” Ghost gets up.

“The dark arms from the ground, don’t tell me you didn’t noti-”

Ghost grabs the front of Soap’s shirt, “you fuckin’ see them?!”

The Sergeant struggles against his iron tight grasp, “aye! Thought I was hallucinating last night, fuckers made a pass at me-”

Ghost pushes him away, “fuckin’ hell”.

What the fuck is going on?! Nobody can see the victims outside of Limbo. It’s almost like…

“He has some of my powers…” Ghost whispers to himself.

But that’s not possible?

[Reason to cut: chapter wasn't working out for me. Characters not reacting in character. Reaper not supposed to show up just yet, and what it says kinda repeats previous encounters.]

[Context: chapter 13, instantly after Rudy and Gaz confront Ghost on his relationship with Soap.]

What, do they think he and Soap are sleeping side by side every night, comfortably tangled under the thin sheets? That he warms himself on his Sergeant’s eternal flame, that Johnny brushes his charred, calloused fingers over his arms, his shoulders, his neck, chasing away the cold, inky grasp Limbo always has on him? That Ghost reciprocates, that he holds Johnny’s face softly, bringing them closer and closer until-

[Reason to cut: out of character. Ghost doesn't think about affectionate actions, he jsut does them. Too early in the story for him to express such wants.]

[Context: I don't remember honestly. Entire scene was cut. Might be later in chapter 13, before Graves threatens Ghost.]

He catches Alejandro pacing around the base one day, frowning and arguing with Rudy in Spanish. From what Ghost can pick up, it’s something about an American. He’s pretty damn certain which one.

“Vargas, any issues?” he stops him before the man pops a blood vessel.

Alejandro glances at him, scanning their surroundings for eavesdropping ears. “Come with me.”

The three enter the Vaquero Commander’s office, Rudy locking it behind them, “it’s about Graves.” Alejandro starts pacing again, “fucking gringo is ordering his shadows to collect intel on us.”

“What?” that’s a huge fucking development.

Rudy is quick to correct him, “we can’t prove anything. But yes… Graves knows more than he should.”

“He knows about secret tunnels we have under the base, and weapon stashes that not even Price knows about. We got fucking Shepherd trying to get us to use locations for the mission he shouldn’t even know exist.”

Ghost feels the tension climb up his spine, “what the fuck do you think he’s playing at?”

Alejandro exhales loudly, “whatever it is, [I didn't finish the sentence]

[Reason to cut: Decided that Vaqueros wounldn't suspect Graves, and he wouldn't risk his powers found by using Shadows to spy on them. Didn't like where the scene was directing the story.]

[Context: chapter 19, when Ghost asks Gaz for help with showing emotions with Soap. Gaz asks why can't he now.]

Garrick nods thoughtfully, “and what is it that stops you? Fear?”

Ghost clenches his teeth, this conversation feels like pulling them out one by one, “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Wasn’t saying that sir”, Gaz thrums on his boot, “could be rejection, or… shit. Of course.” he stares at Ghost, eyes soft.

“The fuck’s it?” he glares back.

Gaz releases his powers, standing up in front of him, “you need to get over your fear of feeling.”

[Reason to cut: out of character. Wouldn't confront emotions head on. Unnatural for Gaz to just state that, rather have it implied. Not where I wanted Ghost's mentality to go.]

[Context: no idea. Probably after Ghost sent Soap to Limbo, and he gained an immunity to it.]

“We don’t have to be afraid, Simon. You can’t hurt me anymore.” Johnny whispers

[Reason to cut: don't remember.]

Tumblr is starting to lag, which means this post is huge lmao. Again, thank you to each and every one of you! The response to the fic was amazing, I never expected my little revenant AU to turn into something this big!

I loved the experience of writing Not Alive, Nor Dead. You can certainly expect more from me in the future!

For now, I have to focus on uni, and after that I have a few ideas for comics I wanna do. Might make a few oneshots in between, but no big projects like this one just yet!

#revenant au #not tagging everything bc I dont wanna flood them with a post on an au lmao #if youre from ao3 hi!#if youre not... also hi!!!

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mizjoely · 8 months ago

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Three Ways It Could Have Happened (and One Way It Did)

For Day 2 of Sherlolly Appreciation Week: Shared Look/Canon Divergent Idea. On AO3 here.

He meets her gaze, his expression wary, hers hopeful, and opens his mouth to force the distance between them to remain. Opens his mouth to pretend he misunderstands her, to order coffee - black, two sugars - but then he stops. Thinks, rapidly as he always does, calculating, extrapolating, wondering at his own reasons for doing so. And then he opens his mouth again and says simply, Yes, sounds excellent, that small cafe by the north entrance after your shift? And her smile is dazzling, and he knows he's made the right choice.

He meets her eyes across the room; she's wearing a dress he's never seen before, black with sparkly straps and a twee bow in her hair and he thinks with surprise, oh, she's lovely. In the background Gavin is ogling her and even John and his latest soon-to-be ex-girlfriend and Mrs Hudson are admiring her but none of them understand the profoundness of that moment. Of Molly bravely baring a form usually kept under wraps, a gift presented and all for - him? Surely not? He glances at the bag, at the carefully wrapped gift at the top and he thinks, Yes. For me.

And he walks over to her, automatically shutting off his mobile, and he takes her hand and he leans forward and kisses her cheek (everyone is staring, staring as he does so) and he murmurs, Merry Christmas Molly Hooper and ends his years of standoffish solitude with a single smile and a second, far less innocent kiss.

He meets her eyes, his sparkling with appreciation of his own wit, hers disapproving, and his smile vanishes. Chastened, he turns back to his train-obsessed informant and eventually the entire case is unravelled to his satisfaction. But he can't stop thinking about that shared look, how she'd chastened him without speaking a single word, her disapproval so obvious that even an idiot (and he's not an idiot, no matter what his brother says) could see it.

It nags at him, that look, until finally he's driven to ask John, of all people, why he had reacted to it. He normally ignores such looks or remains blithely unaware of them, and John just shrugs and says, guess you've changed a bit since you got back, not such a bad thing, and those words strike him like a blow.

He goes to her flat and asks if the ring she's been given is meant to be permanent; he's seen how loosely she wears it, why not get it sized? And she shrugs and tries to look away but he sees the truth in those warm brown eyes, and he makes a decision. Reaching out, he takes her hand; she lets him, watching quietly as he slips the ring from her finger and places it on the table where she keeps her handbag and keys, saying nothing as he keeps hold of her with one hand and reaches for her mobile with the other. Call him, he tells-asks-demands of her. Tell him it's over. Please, Molly - And lets out a soft sigh of relief when she does.

He meets her gaze, although she can't see him doing so. He opens his mouth and speaks. I-I love you, he says, hesitant and unsure. Realization widens his eyes. I love you, he says a second time, wondering and almost awed at the truth in his own words. And when she repeats those words, so soft and broken-sounding, he could weep at his own ignorance. Wilful ignorance of what has been right in front of him all the time. When his sister's games are over, he vows as he stares at the remains of a smashed coffin, chest heaving with anger-guilt-terror, he'll repeat those words a third time.

And Molly will never have to question whether or not he means them.

#sherlollyweek2024 #mizjoely writes #mizjoely's fics #sherlolly

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phoebus-cluster · 1 year ago

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A sample/oneshot of some Astarion headcanon re: his release after the year in a tomb

Finally gaining some steam on my Astarion fic. Fleshed out a little flashback scene. Hope you think it's cool, I love my angst and exposition. --- “How I’ve missed you, little one!”

There was a sudden, loud crack against the coffin door, the rustle of chain mail. A single, impossible ray of light sprung forth into the coffin, somewhere at his waist’s height. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the glint of an axehead in the fresh opening, wedged and wriggling now to pry the lid open. He tried to peer downwards to better watch, but couldn't–his eyes were too dry to swivel in their sockets.

He blinked a few times to remove the film of dust from his eyeballs. It did nothing.

He could hardly hold a coherent thought, but felt that this must have been a dream.

The coffin lid ripped open and he keeled forward, the door no longer propping him upright. He crumpled in a heap, reality dawning on him as his face smacked into the ground. He lay there and watched the shadows of crackling firelight dance across the stone tiles for a while.

He was free.

He supposed he should have been happy. He gasped for fresh air weakly, as fresh as those musty catacombs could be.

A heavy boot dug into his gut and turned him onto his back. He now looked at a grinning skull looming over him, yellowed, shining and ugly, two black voids regarding him like eyes.

Death. Sweet release. Could it be?

“Tsk, tsk, boy. Is this how you greet your gallant savior? Your dear, old friend Godey?”

But of course.

Of course it wasn’t death. What had he expected?

Godey’s detestable laugh rang through the chamber around them.

“What a state, little one. Not so pretty now, are we? Not to worry. I think this look quite suits you.”

Godey seized him by his rags and hoisted him up with ease. He carried him now, up the stone steps of the catacombs and back into the palace.

Astarion's head hung limply, mouth agape, no energy, his muscles all but wasted away. The skeleton cackled again, adjusting and jostling the half-corpse in its arms–playing with him.

“Much easier than I recall,” he jested. “Why, you must be half the weight you were goin’ in.”

They clanked through the halls past velvet drapery, gaudy paintings, lacquered paneling, the luxe prison he remembered, same as ever.

“By the gods, Godey,” sneered a distant voice. “What is that smell? Fouler than any rat you’ve conjured for us before.”

“Shut it, Violet,” growled Godey. “Be a dear and call in your siblings, won’t you?”

She scoffed and whisked away.

They made their way to the spawn’s quarters as the other vamplings trickled in curiously, peering over Godey’s armor to better see the dust-blackened wretch he carried.

The skeleton unceremoniously flung him onto a bunk, the fellow spawn frozen in terror as they beheld a pathetically emaciated mummy with sunken eyes, taut skin, and dehydrated ligaments clinging to bone, grotesque as it pulsed and gasped for breath, struggling to writhe and smearing filth on the sheets.

A hush fell upon them all.

“...Brother?” whispered Aurelia.

“He lives!” cried a male voice, one Astarion did not recognize. “Gods above, it can not be. This is the lost brother you spoke of? I-I thought Master was perhaps bluffing!”

“Leave it to you, Petras, to fancy yourself more clever than Master,” chided Godey. “That’s right. Gather round, you lot, and gaze upon him. Yes, it is your beloved and terribly naughty big brother. Though he strikes a more uncanny resemblance to old Godey these days, don’t you think?”

He cackled and wrenched Astarion’s chin violently, turning his face for the others to see.

Dalyria stifled a revolted shriek, teary-eyed as she clapped her palm over her mouth.

"Let it be a reminder, then," continued Godey. "See what happens when you fail Master's orders? And still, it is Master's mercy that reunites him with us today."

Astarion finally found the will to speak.

He struggled, his lips shriveled back, his tongue desiccated and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Dust coated the insides of his throat.

His teeth finally found the edge of his lower lip, shrunken and tough.

“Fff…” he trembled.

He drew in more air, his breath ragged and hoarse. It sounded like a death rattle.

“Fuck you,” he puffed at Godey.

There was an upsetting crack as the pommel of Godey's sword collided with the side of his head. A few of the vamplings gasped.

“Dalyria, tend to this ingrate. Godey doesn’t need a nose to tell he’s more fetid than carrion.” He turned on his heel and clanked away.

“Ilmater, help us all,” uttered Dal. “For the love of gods, draw a bath. Water, some blood, this instant!”

---

Hoping to get chapter 1 out in the next week or so.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #work in progress #wip #astarion fanfic #it's giving aftermath of cask of amontillado i hope #ao3 #angst #astarion #astarion bg3 #petras #dalyria #violet #godey #my work

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contentloadingandstuff · 1 year ago

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Hu Tao x Doctor!Reader

CW: Swearing, Male!Reader. I wonder who will catch all 4 references? Tips: One book, one comic book, one animation, one real life case. If someone does, they'll get a gold star from me! :D

I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF-

What a pairing. The bright and sunny funeral director, Hu Tao, and the cynical but still good doctor Y/N.

One benefits from ended lives, the other from saving them… This poses a fair amount of questions, doesn't it?

No wonder, then, that you're not as popular as doctor Baizhu, especially with kids. Though honesty is usually considered a virtue, well… Let's say that it's not the case here.

Though some call you a quack, Baizhu and Changsheng see the truth. You have good intentions, you have the necessary skill and knowledge, but all the years of not-so-casual field work desensitized you quite a bit.

Y/N: Let me tie this, and we can begin. Milelith soldier: Gods it hurts… Just… Just hurry, doctor. Please… I don't know if I can take it… Y/N: Don't worry, my friend. You will manage, worst case you pass out. A leg is still better than your life, right? Milelith soldier: I suppose… Y/N: I learned from the best. My professor in Fontaine could make an amputation in just about 153 seconds, can you believe that? Truly impressive. Milelith soldier: Oh… I see… How so? Y/N: Impressive in the sense that it allowed the only case of 300% mortality rate to occur. Milelith soldier: W-what does that mean? Y/N: It's a funny story, let me tell you! A bystander died of a heart attack while witnessing the procedure, the patient later died of gangrene, and the saw cut off the fingers of the doctor's assistant, who later died of gangrene as well. That's skill, isn't it? Three for the price of one! Milelith soldier: ... Y/N: Well, not that funny. But don't fret, he saved more lives than he ended. Anyway, we'll take our time. Can't have any of you dying, can I? Soldiers: *nervous laugh* Y/N: Here, bite down on this. And you two - hold him, just in case.

Due to your skill in general medicine and surgery, especially the emergency variety, Ningguang deemed you to be a most valuable asset to Liyue. Putting up with your unsettling remarks and dark jokes is nothing when compared to all the lives you save regularly, especially among the Milelith and miners.

Just… Why do you seem to actively try to undermine your fairly good public image? It's Hu Tao's influence, no doubt about that.

Hu Tao: Buy a coffin, and the second will cost you nothing! Y/N: But wait! Before you pass, take those pills to help with gas!

The two of you are probably the most well-known couple in Liyue. Some find your complementary quirkiness adorable, while others keep a safe distance. Your demeanor may be unusual, to say the least, but the statistics speak for themselves - the essentially non-existent mortality rate of your procedures earns you respect amongst those you've helped.

Some think of your sense of humor as harmful, but you'll hear the opposite if you ask your patients. A joke, even if it's gallows humor, can help immensely.

Hu Tao likes your sense of humor, though she can't help but worry a little. The stories are told in a funny way, but the topics are rarely such.

Y/N: I have your test results, sir. Old man: Please make haste, doctor. I don't have all day. Y/N: Aw shucks, who told you?

She understands how exhausting your profession is, how mentally challenging it may be. There are people you can't save, no matter how hard you try. There are those that can be, but they disobey your orders. If you make mistakes, you're always the one to blame. They rarely recognise your effort. More - some treat you as a fraud, a killer in disguise.

Y/N: Have you heard of the surgeon's regularity, Hu? Hu Tao: Aiya, do tell! Y/N: If the patient dies, it's your fault. If they live, it's a miracle.

Hu Tao loves listening to the many stories you've gathered over the years!

The skill you hold in the field of medicine earned you the respect of many throughout the nations - commoners, aristocrats, generals, and even the Raiden Shogun herself. Due to your priceless service in the Shogunate's army, your Hydro Vision was never taken away, and you, even as an outlander, got the full freedom of movement and social rights in Inazuma.

With your actions, you showed the Inazumans that a doctor isn't a coward. You attended the battles sometimes, standing alongside the other soldiers. They say it's bravery, but… Truly, the battlefield is the biggest test compound there is!

Kujou Sara: Doctor! Are you sure this will work? Y/N, firing up a Hydro beam: Hahaha, I have no idea!

You finished med school in Fontaine, your homeland. You earned your license and started your career there, but you weren't very popular amongst the public and the officials. The reason? Well…

Y/N: Ladies and gentlemen, have you wondered how you can serve science? Serve medicine? Serve mankind? Well, do I have an offer for you! In fact, we doctors are not sure how some things inside us humans work, and what we use can, at times, look like black magic, but rest assured - it's just ignorance. How can you assist us in making progress then, you ask? Sign this waver today! With a flick of your wrist you can donate your body to science and be the stepping stone for ground breaking progress! We'll crack you open after you kick the bucket, see what makes you tick, stitch you back up nice and tidy and give you back. Your family will get a compensation of 100 000 Mora. More - sign it now, ladies and gentlemen, and get a free wine voucher! Tell me, isn't that the offer of a lifetime?

Anyway, that's how you lost your medical license. You were 'unprofessional', they said.

After that you went to Inazuma, spending a year there before moving on to the land of wisdom. The researchers of Sumeru quickly recognised your experience, and looked into granting you an official license in an alternative procedure. Amurta professors were impressed by your ability to do your job with even the most bare-bones of tools, in harsh conditions, and succeed at treatment at the same time.

Y/N, cooking up a rudimentary antidote: Don't stress, Y/N. It's just a tiny scorpion sting. Just a little life-and-death scenario. No reason to panic. Eremite, choking: Doc… tor, that's n-not my name… Y/N: Yeah, I know.

While the paperwork was in progress, you visited Natlan for some time. It was the true unofficial test of your skills. Tropical diseases, the immense heat, the endless flood of combat wounds… But you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work, just like in Inazuma.

Y/N: ... and I tell her: sorry, I can't treat you - I'm a family doctor, and you're an orphan! Both: *laughter* Y/N: Whew… Anyway, that's why they kicked me out of the Teyvatian Association for Children's Medicine. Gladiator: Some folk can't take a joke huh… Um, doctor? Should I be awake for this? Y/N: Haha, well… No. But since you already are, can you help me open up your chest cavity? I can't… seem… to… Gladiator: *scream* Y/N: Oh, don't be such a Treasure Hoarder. Ribs grow back! Gladiator: I don't think so… You sure, doctor? Y/N: Yeah, if trimmed. You don't need it to survive. But that'll be another 75k. Gladiator: Eh, do it doc. My insurance will cover it. Y/N: I hope so! Else… *cracks knuckles*

The Akademiya offered you the place of the leader of an exchange project with The Fatui of Snezhnaya, due to your extensive experience in the field. You agreed, of course. In the land of Cryo you learned about gunshot wounds, frostbite and radiation poisoning (stemming from equipement factories), adding their treatment to your already long list of capabilities. The competition was possibly the biggest in Teyvat, since Fatui doctors and medics are the best money can buy.

Electrohammer Vanguard: Job twoju mat’... Fuck… It hurts like a bitch… Y/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. A little quieter, please? A mistake now would be fatal. Electrohammer Vanguard: S-sorry… ugh… That’s my first gunshot, d-doctor… Y/N: Oh, don’t worry. Mine as well :) Electrohammer Vanguard: … Y/N: Now, can I get my hydrogen peroxide back? I hope you left some for the wound…

Mondstadt was pretty dull and boring. There weren’t nearly as many traumatic injuries as in the other nations, and the diseases weren’t even half as lethal as malaria, cholera and typhus you faced in Sumeru and Natlan. That moment of peace allowed you to reflect on your life and experiences, as well as finally enjoy your hard earned fortune.

Y/N: Take two of those throughout the week. If the symptoms don’t let up, come back and I’ll give you stronger ones. Kaeya: Thank you, doctor. May I ask something? Y/N: Sure. Kaeya: How did you become a doctor in the first place? Was it the salary, or perhaps a moral reason? Y/N: Hm. Duty, I think. I do what needs to be done. I didn’t have much time to reflect on it before. There’s always something to do. But even if I complete what is necessary, I still think back to what I did. Long days of waiting usually follow. It will come out if the treatment works, or if the surgery was a success. And just then, when the tension and joy leave my body - just then I realize what are the odds. 1: 400 000. It’s laughable. But for everyone their life is everything they have, so perhaps trying makes sense.

And so you ended up in Liyue, the last nation on your list. It wouldn’t be your final destination if not for her. In Hu Tao you found a soulmate, someone who shared your sense of humor, someone who understood you.

Painfully aware of how limited your time among the living is, you and her make the most out of it.

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact hu tao #hu tao #hu tao x reader #hu tao x male reader #hu tao x y/n #hu tao x you #hu tao fluff

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thetargaryenbride · 2 years ago

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Nail To The Coffin - S2 - Chapter 3

Warnings: brief mention of weed

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 5197

↬ “I don’t want to see you crying over me, ok?” asked Eddie as he lifted his eyebrows and pinched your cheek lightly, making you close your eyes as you let a breathy laugh escape your nose.

“I’m not making any promises.”

This one ↟↟↟….is not going to age well when we reach season 4 :’D…unless…

A.N: This is sort of a…bittersweet chapter. Beware. As always, please do make me know if I’ve written certain characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

Two months ago…

“Hopper?” you asked once you opened the front door and saw the man standing there, hat in his hands as he fiddled with it for a while before placing it back on his head.

“Hey, kid. I heard you just got back home and uh…I know you probably want to be with your family but I need your help with something. You think you can spare me some time?” he asked and you nodded.

“Of course! It’s no problem at all!”

You quickly followed him into his car and the two headed off down an unfamiliar road. You wondered what was it that he needed help with and then suddenly he stopped the car.

“I need to tell you something,” he spoke after a minute of silence and you arched a curious eyebrow.

And then he told you how he found Eleven in the woods months ago – around Christmas. He told you how he brought her to his grandfather’s cabin, set traps and everything in order to make the place more secure, and how he’s been hiding her from everyone because he was trying to work out a loophole and find a way to get her off the scientists’ radar. You were quiet the whole time he was speaking, trying to be understanding of the whole situation until you remembered how Mike, Dustin, and Lucas had been utterly heartbroken back when they believed she had died in order to protect them.

How utterly heartbroken you had been when they delivered the news to you after you had asked why Eleven didn’t come to visit you at the hospital.

And the last straw snapped.

“I cannot believe you!” you raised your voice. “You-you kept this girl locked for almost ten months? What is wrong with you!?” you waved your hands.

“What do you want to do exactly, huh!? Let her go out there and risk her being seen by those jackasses?!” he shouted back. “They are everywhere! They are like-like the goddamn plague!” he hit the wheel, making you flinch. He opened and closed his mouth, not knowing if he should apologize for startling you, and opted to run a hand down his face while you let out a huff as you rubbed your temples.

You had to admit he had a point.

“All right, but…at least you should’ve told us about it! We’ve been dead worried, you know? Especially Mike! The kid’s going nuts wondering if she’s dead or still alive somewhere out there!” you snapped and he sighed.

“Yeah, I can’t risk telling the others! Someone is just…bound to open their big mouth at one point and let it slip!” he countered. “I’m gonna tell them… just not now.”

“Then why did you tell me!?” you asked incredulously.

“Because you’re mature enough not to speak openly about her and control yourself!” he bit back. “And because…because I need your help, ok? There are some things that only a woman can talk about. She needs a female presence in her life,” he grumbled and you did a double take.

“I’m sorry? Do you mean… like, a period talk or something?” you bit the inside of your mouth as you tried to suppress a smile from breaking out and he sputtered, fidgeting a bit in his seat.

“Yeah, for one.”

“Why not tell my mom then?”

“Because she’s an adult and Eleven doesn’t know her. You are closer to her age so she’ll feel more comfortable and…she knows you. She trusts you. Whenever she speaks of wanting to see someone, she mentions mostly you and Mike,” he explained and a sad smile graced your features as the two of you sat in silence for a minute.

“Of course, I’m going to help, old man,” you reassured him at last and he let out a relieved sigh. “But you have to promise that you’ll find a way to fix this, ok? She cannot stay locked up inside forever.”

“Of course…I’m working on it, kid… I’m working on it.”

Sunrays peeked through the blinds on the windows, hitting your face and making you groan as you tried to escape them. You snuggled into something warm and it helped to some extent. But then you came to the sudden realization that this warm thing was not a soft blanket.

It was solid.

And breathing.

Your eyes snapped open as you shot up in bed, looking frantically around you. You let out a choked gasp when Eddie’s sleeping form entered your vision. The bouncing of the mattress jerked the boy out of his sleep and not long after, his eyes were fluttering open and focusing on you.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before awkwardness began creeping into the atmosphere and you cleared your throat, slowly slithering out of the bed.

“I, uh, I’m sorry. I think…I think I passed out after stupidly mixing up weed and alcohol,” you gave him an awkward smile and his lip twitched as he let out a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Yeah, no, I gotcha. It’s ok,” he spoke groggily as he sat up. “Happens to the best of us,” he scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his hair and mussing it up a bit.

“Uhm, I’ll just…I’ll go take a shower and then I’ll make some breakfast,” you informed him with a tight smile and he nodded after which you grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom.

You cursed silently as you got rid of your Halloween costume that was now all wrinkled and smelled of weed and quickly got under the shower, the warm water feeling refreshing as it cleansed your body from any filth and smell.

Last night, Eddie dragged you away from the party after the little incident with Tommy and brought you to his trailer where the two of you listened to rock and metal, he played guitar and taught you some tunes, you drank beer, and smoked some weed. You remembered falling into a depressive episode at one point and discarding all and any alcohol. You had been on the verge of crying when Eddie had reassured you that you were nothing like your father. He had hugged you and spoken to you and then you blacked out in his arms only to wake up…in his arms.

“Gosh, this is so embarrassing,” you muttered as you wrapped a towel around you and began brushing your teeth with the spare toothbrush Eddie always kept for you.

“Uh, hey, I got some clothes for you,” came Eddie’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’ve a spare pair of jeans…uh, clean underwear from the bag of spare clothes you left a couple of months ago,” he stuttered and cleared his throat. “A-and uh, a brand new t-shirt.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a life savior,” you opened the door just a bit so he could shove the clothes through and you grabbed them.

You carefully rubbed off any dampness with the towel before discarding it and throwing on your underwear and jeans. But when you unfolded the t-shirt, your eyes widened when they fell onto the familiar design Eddie had scribbled some time ago.

Hellfire.

You let out a gasp as you swung open the door and went into his bedroom.

“You did it!” you let out a squeal as you held the t-shirt in front of you, grabbing his attention and making him grin. “You printed it!”

“Well, it’s nothing too special, I mean, it’s just a white and black t-shirt with the print on it,” he rubbed the back of his head but you shook your head, giving him a proud smile.

“No way! I think it’s amazing! And the design is so cool! I’m just happy that you achieved what you wanted and finally founded the club!” you waved your arms subconsciously before dropping them down and his eyes widened comically as he sputtered and frantically tried looking anywhere but at you, making you scrunch up your eyebrows before realization hit you.

“Shit! Sorry! Uh…just, hol-hold on a second,” you stuttered as you hastily put on the t-shirt and straightened it up. “Ok! You can look now!” you let out a sharp exhale and he cleared his throat before obliging. “I’m really sorry,” you gave him an apologetic smile and he laughed breathily.

“N-no, it’s…it’s ok.”

“You can use the bathroom now. I’ll go make breakfast in the meantime,” you gave him one last smile before you headed for the kitchen, shutting your eyes and biting your lip in embarrassment as you walked briskly.

Eddie let out a quiet groan as he watched you walk away, his hands flying to cup his face as he whispered a ‘Fuck’ before he rubbed his face in frustration and rushed to the bathroom so he could take a cold shower.

“So, uh…I made French toast with jam and scrambled eggs with bacon. It’s not much but it’s some fuel,” you told him once you heard his footsteps get closer, back still turned on him because you didn’t have the courage to face him yet.

He leaned on the doorframe, taking in the sight in front of him, eyes softening and filling with love and admiration but these emotions were quickly squashed by contemplation and hesitation.

“Sounds great, though,” he finally spoke, trying to keep his usual attitude, as he kicked his feet off and walked towards the table, plopping down on a chair. You let out a sigh at his typical, joyous tone, the awkwardness dispersing a bit and you finally turned around to face him.

You gave him a smile as you put some food on his plate and then on yours. You put the pan in the sink and joined him as he began digging in.

“I have something to tell you, by the way…I wanted to do it yesterday but…I kinda forgot,” you began the conversation and he lifted his eyebrows.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Well…you are currently standing in the presence of the new member of the cheerleading squad!” you exclaimed and his eyes widened.

“They invited you to join?”

“Oh, wow, thanks for believing in me,” you rolled your eyes with a smile and he let the fork down, leaning on the table to give you his full attention.

“You realize they only want you because you hang out with Harrington and because-“

“-I got accepted in a prestigious university and survived a ‘bear attack’, yeah, I know,” you quipped. “But look…the thing is…if I manage to get closer to them…who knows maybe I can start something good. You know… the beginning of change.”

“What do you mean by change?”

“Like, I can change their opinions on some stuff, ya know. Like for example that just because someone likes the fantasy genre, listens to metal, and dresses a bit differently, doesn’t make them a freak,” you shrugged and his eyes softened although there was skepticism swimming deep inside.

“I’m not sure that people who are set in their ways can be changed that easily.”

“Maybe, maybe not… We’ll never know unless we try, right?” you shot him an encouraging smile.

While you loved the idea of dancing and cheering for Steve and wearing a pretty uniform with glittery pompoms, the main reason why you decided to accept the offer was because you wanted to get closer to the most popular girls, hoping to slowly be able to change their views on things. Many people at school followed the example of the popular students like little sheep. It was a blessing and a curse, depending on what kind of views the populars had. In Hawkins High’s case, it was sort of mixed. It wasn’t a hopeless situation but it needed some work. For the sake of Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas, you hoped that you’d be able to change some things before you graduated.

“You know… I wish we could share more moments like that,” spoke Eddie suddenly after you had finished the rest of the breakfast in silence and you looked at him in confusion.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” he shrugged. “Enjoying time together…just the two of us,” he muttered, focusing on the table as his fingers played with the rim of the tablecloth and then he abruptly paused as his eyes widened, suddenly being painfully aware of what he had just said, body tensing and blood running cold in his vessels.

Your eyes also widened, face blanching as his words and expression registered in your mind and awareness crept into your heart.

“Eddie-“

“No, man, don’t,” he cut you off, his eyes shutting and face contorting in regret and visible embarrassment, “-don’t say anything,” he stammered out as he lifted his hand off the table before dropping it back down, his rings hitting the wood causing a loud noise that made you flinch. “I know what you’re thinking. We don’t…need to have the whole conversation or whatever,” he huffed as he ran his hands down his face and you frowned.

“No, Eddie, you usually run away and hide when you’re upset or when you have to deal with something serious like this. But this time I’m not gonna let you shut down. We’re having this talk.”

“And what do you want me to say?” he snapped as his eyes shot to look at you, lips tightened as he gnawed on the inside of his mouth. “You want me to say that I’ve… felt this way since I fucking met you?” his eyebrows shot to his hairline as his wide, panicked eyes pierced yours. He fidgeted in his seat and then looked away, letting out a heavy, shaky exhale, making you bite your lip and clench your hands into fists, nails digging painfully into your skin. But the physical pain couldn’t distract you from the heartache that was shattering you from the inside out.

“Eddie-“

“You know, it's fine,” he looked at you then and gave you a pained smile. “I know that you love Harrington,” he rapidly fired out and you shrunk in your seat, cheeks heating up, “so don’t… feel like you have to return my feelings, ok? Just…just keep being yourself, hm?” his tone softened as his lips twitched a couple of times as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep up the painful smile or just allow himself to frown. “I’m fine with… loving you from afar,” he gulped as he finally confessed and your whole body tensed even more, eyes welling up with tears as your mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say.

“Eddie…I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” his hands hit the table lightly as he jumped to his feet and paced a little, swinging his arms back and forth before he neared the sofa, his back still turned on you. “You know, this was actually weighing me down for a long time… So I’m kinda…glad that I lost control for a second there and blurted this shit out,” he snorted lightly. “Cause now I feel a bit lighter and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to…move on easier,” he let out a sigh then sharply turned around to face you, leaning on the sofa and putting one leg over the over as one hand went to grasp his upper arm, fingers clenching and unclenching around the thick fabric of his clothes. “I want to keep being friends…if that’s ok with you?” he tilted his head and your fists loosened as you went to aggressively wipe your eyes before the tears could escape. You stood up from the seat and took a deep breath before finding the strength to give him a smile, albeit a sad one.

“Of course, I want to keep being friends, you dummy,” you told him softly and he smiled.

You approached him slowly, all fidgety, your hands wringing as your fingers scratched, pinched and pulled at your skin and you wondered if what you wanted to do was smart. Before you could reach a conclusion you were already standing in front of the boy and pulling him for a hug. He stood there frozen for a couple of seconds before his arms slowly moved to engulf you and return the hug.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against his shoulder and he let out a weak chuckle.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You parted then and looked at one another before he went to wipe a stray tear off your cheek that had escaped you in your frantic attempt to dry your eyes.

“And I don’t want to see you crying over me, ok?” asked Eddie as he lifted his eyebrows and pinched your cheek lightly, making you close your eyes as you let a breathy laugh escape your nose.

“I’m not making any promises.”

“Well, ugh, you better do, otherwise I’m not driving you to school.”

“We came here with my car, though.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

The morning and lunch had passed fairly quickly and before you knew it, the classes were over and it was now time for your first cheer practice. You had met Tina and Margot and the three of you skipped to the female dressing room at the gym where they gave you your uniform.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you observed the cream, green and marigold colors that you now wore. It looked nice on you. Very neat.

Shortly after, other girls began piling in and getting dressed, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Each one came to introduce herself to you and you did the same as you joined the talk. It was sort of refreshing to talk about mundane stuff or gossip considering that the past year was spent in dark corners of your mind or discussing depressive things like trauma, panic attacks, nightmares and whatnot. It was nice to be able to talk about normal girly things.

“By the way, you’re not dating that freak, are you?” asked one of the girls and you scrunched up your eyebrows.

“Who?”

“The Munson guy.”

“Why would you think that?” you scratched your arm awkwardly and she shrugged.

“Well, last night at the party he dragged you away, and…everyone was kinda curious to know what happened afterward,” she smirked and you chuckled.

“Nothing, really. I dropped him in his neighborhood and he went home. So did I.”

It was a blatant lie but what were you supposed to say? Oh, we hang out, we drank, we smoked weed, I cried my eyes out and we both fell asleep in the same bed and then he saw me half naked.

Not suspicious at all.

“You do know that he…dragged me away from the party because Tommy was a jerk, right? There was no other…reason.”

“Fair point. Tommy is a dick. I would’ve left too,” hummed Margot as she focused on putting on more mascara and observed her look in her compact mirror.

“Although I’m not sure if Munson is a better company,” added Tina while tying her shoelaces and you held back a scowl.

“Why do you think so?”

“Well, his father for one. I’m not sure if I want to be around someone who was brought up by such a parent. I mean, you never know, right?” she asked the others agreed.

“Well, I don’t think we are defined by our parents,” you went into defense. “I mean, look at me. My father is a total asshole and a drunkard but I’m nothing like him.”

“Yeah but Eddie is actually selling drugs,” she countered knowingly and you shut your mouth.

You didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Well, uh… you do have a point about that but… trust me, he’s actually a very chill guy. I think that some of you might actually like him if you give him a chance. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna treat you, ladies, with more respect than half the guys at this school,” you gave them a smile and some of them chuckled while others remained skeptical.

The practice had gone very well. They had shown you the choreography they had come up with so far. It wasn’t that hard to memorize and apply and they had been impressed.

Chrissy and Lorelei were the sweetest of everyone and they were eager to get to know you and become your friends which you appreciated a lot.

“Hey,” called Steve as he jogged over to you while you were bending to pick up the jacket you had discarded.

“Hi!”

“I love those colors on you…It suits you,” he complimented after looking you up and down, admiring your appearance, and you smiled shyly, looking down at yourself for a moment before back at him.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll wear them more often from now on.”

“We’re like, teammates now, aren’t we? Super cool,” he grinned but it wasn’t his usual bright grin or teasing grin or any other typical Steve grin. It felt like his energy was a bit off today.

Duller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked and he looked away, sighing.

“I, uh…it’s a long story.”

“Does it involve Nancy?” you lifted a brow and he nodded.

“Mhm…”

You looked around and saw that the girls were nowhere to be seen which meant they had headed to the female dressing room while most of the boys were coming into the gym which meant that the male dressing room was probably empty.

“Come with me,” you grabbed his elbow and tugged lightly. He scrunched up his forehead in confusion but followed you nonetheless.

From afar, Billy saw the interaction, and a frown formed on his face. He watched you drag Steve away and wondered what kind of relationship the two of you had. He wondered if he should confront you about it.

“Alright…tell me…what’s going on with you two?” you finally asked the boy after the two of you made sure there was really no one in the dressing room and sneaked inside, sitting on the benches.

“Uh, I don’t even know where to start,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Last night, she got very drunk. You were there when she started drinking! I’ve never seen her like that.”

“Yeah, it was not very Nancy-like,” you agreed.

“I tried to stop her and she spilled her drink on herself,” he recounted and you cringed. Red punch on a white dress was not a good combination. “She got mad at me and escaped to the restroom so I…took the chance to go talk to her. Ask her what’s wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair as he let out a pitiful sigh and looked at you. “And she just said that everything was bullshit. She said that we killed Barb, that I’m bullshit, that we’re faking that everything is ok when it’s not, that our relationship is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, and that shee…doesn’t love me,” he tightened his lips as a combination of pained, withering and humiliating expression formed on his face and you bit the inside of your lip as you gave him a pitiful gaze.

You felt sorry for him.

But at the same time, your heart began beating faster and something akin to hope began blooming inside of you.

“She was just…drunk, Steve. Maybe she didn’t mean it,” you hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, hoping to give him some reassurance but deep down you knew that when people got drunk they lost all filter and all control. They would tell things as they truly think them exactly because this self-control and filter thins under the influence. That’s the reason why you never got drunk around Steve because you were afraid you’d end up spilling something you shouldn’t.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he muttered.

“Maybe you should go talk to her, hm? Ask her what she thinks now that she’s sober,” you offered and he nodded.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll do that later.”

After that, the two of you headed out of the locker room and back to the gym.

“Sorry, I can’t stay to watch the practice. I have to go pick up my brother. That was the deal since both of us have after-class activities today,” you told the boy.

Just when you were about to turn around and go back to the female locker rooms, someone strolled towards you.

“Yeah, sure, it’s no problem. See you tomorrow,” he smiled before jogging away.

“Well, that was interesting. I didn’t know you had that many boys wrapped around your finger. Yet you don’t want to give me a chance?” said Billy as he gave you a challenging look and you frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? Even after last night’s party?” he shortened the distance, coming to stand right in front of you and you held your breath as he leaned in alarmingly close, your chests almost brushing, your cheeks flushing at the way he looked at you. There was just something about those blue eyes of his.

“What about the party?” you muttered as you tried to not look into his irises and he smirked.

“You have two knights in shining armor looking after you. I almost thought they were your boyfriends with the way they defended you,” he whispered and you could feel his breath hitting your cheek. “Now, I don’t know about the long-haired one but isn’t Harrington taken? It’s kinda suspicious that you’re dragging him in empty dress rooms to do who knows what.”

“What are you implying exactly?” you narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he chuckled deeply. “You’re supposed to be one of the smartest here, right? Figure it out.”

“I’m not-“ you raised your voice before you realized that there were people around, eyes darting to check if you had drawn anyone’s attention. “I’m not fucking Steve or trying to steal him or whatever twisted narrative you’re trying to push here,” you hissed.

“I’m not pushing anything,” he shrugged.

“Billy, don’t play games with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“That’s a shame,” he drawled as he got even closer to you, his hand suddenly moving to grasp the back of your head, fingers burying into your hair. “Cause I love playing games with you,” he smiled smugly as he looked at your lips, then into your eyes, fingers tugging at the bow that held part of your hair up and untangling it. He slipped it out of your locks and dangled it in your face before taking a step back and bringing the piece of satin fabric to his lips, placing a kiss on it.

“That’s gonna bring me good luck today when I kick Harrington’s ass in practice,” he grinned charmingly as he put the ribbon in his pocket and gave you a wink before slowly backing away. You just stood there frozen, not knowing how to respond to that, when he began jogging backward as he kept his eyes glued on you before turning around and joining his team.

You snapped back into motion, finally letting out the breath you were holding. You put a hand on your hip while the other went to fix your messed-up hair as you huffed in frustration.

Your focus shifted to Steve who was glaring daggers at Billy. Sensing your gaze, he turned to look at you, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head with scrunched-up eyebrows as if to ask ‘What’s his problem’ and you shrugged, pursing your lips. His expression turned into one of concern, asking if you were ok to which you waved your hand dismissively and nodded before bidding him goodbye and heading for the dressing room.

It was empty.

You took your leather jacket out of your locker, folded it, and buried your face in the fabric, letting out a muffled scream.

You took a deep breath and let out a long exhale as you started taking out your things from the locker. You looked at your watch, letting out a curse as you noticed that you were late and AV class was supposed to be ending very soon. Not having time to get dressed, you opted to stay in your cheerleading uniform and rushed to organize your belongings before grabbing your bag and bolting out of the building, briskly walking towards the neighbor one of the Middle School.

Some people were going to be the death of you. At this point, you preferred battling a Demogorgon once again instead of dealing with boys.

But when you went to the classroom where AV club was held, you found it empty.

You put down your bag and rummaged through it, taking out your walkie-talkie.

“Hey, guys? Can anybody hear me? Where are you at?”

“Y/N!? What’s going on? Why are you calling?” asked Mike after a moment of silence and you tsk-ed.

“I’m supposed to pick up Will after AV class but there’s no one in here. Where are you?” you repeated the question and there was more silence before Dustin’s voice came through.

“U-uh, we’re just…we’re in the hallways!” he stuttered and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Which one?”

“East Wing!”

“West Wing!” Mike and Lucas spoke at once and you chuckled dryly.

“Ok, you do know that I can definitely tell you’re lying, right? Can someone tell me what in the world is going on and where is Will?!”

“Last I heard from him, he was at the bathrooms by Mr. Salerno’s,” said Dustin and you groaned.

“I’m going and he better be there. You guys have some explanations to deliver,” you grit out into the device before closing it and shoving it back in your bag before bolting out of the classroom and towards the bathrooms in question.

You were hurrying down the still-familiar hallways until you reached the one where the bathroom was located, noticing that Mike, Lucas, and the redheaded girl – who you supposed was related to Billy – were heading towards the bathroom as well. All of you met in front of the place before storming inside where you found Dustin at the end of the room, standing in front of a cubicle.

“Where’s Dart?” asked Mike and you did a double-take.

“I don’t know,” shrugged Dustin. “Not here.”

“What?”

“He said by Salerno’s, right?”

“Yeah, maybe Will has him.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” you exclaimed as you waved your hands, drawing the kids’ attention. “What is going on here? What mess have you gotten yourselves into and who the hell is Dart?” you asked as you looked at each and every one of them and they looked at one another, gulping.

“Uh, it’s a-it’s a long story,” stuttered out Dustin and you huffed.

“Alright then, you’ll tell me all about it, after we find Will,” you quipped before whirling and exiting the place, the kids following close behind. “By the way, what’s your name?” you turned to look at the redhead who was walking by your side.

“Max.”

“Nice to meet you,” you sent her a smile as you reached a hand that she accepted for a handshake, returning the smile.

“Me too.”

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #will byers x reader #jonathan byers x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #billy hargove x reader #hopper x reader #reader #reader insert #Spotify

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theknightmarket · 4 months ago

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Act 1 | Scene 2 - Pick Your Poison

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t expect Wilford to come back. At least, not as soon as the very next night.

You were working behind the bar, pouring beers for a group of construction workers who were sitting in one of the booths. Overall, there were less people in the room, but they were clumped together in pairs or threes. There wasn’t a single person sitting alone, and you supposed that was just as well; it meant they were more interested in the people opposite them than the drinks below, or, in the case of Wilford’s entrance, their bartender. Still, you could only hope that you didn’t look too surprised, even more so when you saw the person who he was towing behind.

The creak of the door was the only thing that alerted you to their presence. With Wilford walking in first, his companion watched and learned to step over the plank. Underneath the bar, you snapped your fingers. You liked the guy plenty, but he didn’t have to go showing off that he got around your perfectly-legal-don’t-tell-anyone-though business practice.

They approached the bar together until they were close enough for Wilford to shove his friend into a stool. Immediately, the blank expression melted into distaste. He didn’t voice his complaints, however, and that left Wilford to drop into the seat next to him.

Your attention drifted to the two while you served the construction workers. The unfamiliar one was a complete juxtaposition to Wilford. You thought they’d work better as a comedy act than real people – if he weren’t grimacing at everything he looked at. Presumably, he was the one that was supposed to like the Astral’s kind of aesthetic. Classical definitely fit his suit, but he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than there.

Bringing the tray back and slipping it under a counter, you returned to the bar and stood in front of your new patrons. You slapped on as simple a smile as you could muster for the man who looked like he’d stepped out of his own coffin. Hell, at a closer distance, his skin seemed to reject the red tones of your lighting.

But weirdness suited Wilford. Maybe they weren’t an odd pair after all.

The candy-cane himself grinned when you approached, his mustache seemingly curling even more so to mimic his happiness.

“Another vodka martini for tonight—” Straight to business it was, then, “—and my friend…?”

His friend, who he gestured to politely, waved his hand in a way that got on your nerves. The design of the Astral was to cater to a slow and steady type of lifestyle, those who preferred the quality of their drinks over the quantity. Even though it was understandable, snobs were not your preferred clientele.

To ease some of the tension that immediately brewed at the bar, Wilford copied the motion with a confused grin and a small laugh. The other one didn’t react, but that was fine. You were going to assume the safe choice of a red wine if he wasn’t going to put in the effort to even speak to you.

At least Wilford was easy. The simplicity of his order and the apathy of the first meant that it didn’t take long for you to serve their drinks. In the time it did take, though, a group had lined up to pay their bill, so you promptly moved towards them after you slid the glasses to the pair. You didn’t bother to watch their expressions, even though the small impulse to hear their opinions flashed through you. It was shaken off in favor of paying attention to your guests.

The pair didn’t stay quiet while you were away, but it was obvious the suited one waited until you were out of ear shot to start talking.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, as if he hoped to use the cover of the classical music.

However, his efforts were disregarded. Wilford replied in his normal, jovial tone, “Well, you can’t stay in your office forever. It’s unhealthy.”

“So, you dragged me to a bar for my health.”

“You didn’t like the disco.” He tipped back his martini in one gulp and performed the same trick from the night before with the cocktail stick. Practice made perfect, after all. “I am not letting you rot away in a room. It doesn’t do anyone any good, not even you.” With the final words, he poked his friend’s chest, and either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the flair of his nostrils and the slight grimace that overcame his mouth.

You didn’t give it any weight when you returned to your station. You hadn’t seen a glimpse of happiness since they’d entered together, and you were silently betting on him not being able to express it. No matter; Wilford had enough pep in his step, and another wave towards you, for the both of them.

“Do you need refills?” you asked, stopping your hand from reaching to another dirty glass.

“Oh, no, not at all.”

Despite it being your literal job, he made you sound presumptuous, and then didn’t elaborate for the next few seconds. He was shot confused looks from all sides of the bar, including from beside him, as he propped up his elbows and fiddled with the stick.

You blinked.

“Ah!”

The wood clattered to the countertop, tak-tik-tak, before Wilford slapped a hand onto his companion’s back. He jutted forward but straightened up soon after. You might have laughed if you wanted to risk having the death glare pointed towards you. You settled on inwardly making fun of him, it was the least he could give you after having such poor manners.

“This is the man I was telling you about,” he announced. There was no suspicion in your mind about that, but you had to admit that it was nice to be introduced. “Dark—” You had some thoughts about that first part, “—this is Dionysus, the owner of the Astral.” But you had more thoughts about the second.

And so too did Dark.

Both of you questioned Wilford at the same time, “Dionysus?”

Wilford looked awfully proud of himself. “Dionysus.”

While he wouldn’t have gotten a real answer, he could have at least asked what your name was, rather than using that nickname from the night before. It wasn’t that you disliked it, it was just… off-putting to be given such a high-status label. Although, you supposed you knew why it made your shoulders tense up and your smile tighten.

Nevertheless, you accepted it, given the lack of other options. “Dionysus it is, then,” you confirmed, the name light yet full in your mouth, like cotton balls that stuck to the insides of your cheeks.

Dark, as you now knew him, glanced at you. Wilford had interviewed you when you met, but this was closer to an inspection. Just what you’d feared before, but you didn’t see the bubbly lollypop as a threat, so you only deemed this man as rude. It did give you the opportunity to inspect him back, though, so you couldn’t complain too much.

Dark lived up to his name. He was practically entirely monochrome, but the detail that immediately jumped out to you were the faint red and blue lines that shimmered around the edges of his suit. Something to do with your lights and the texture, possibly? The very idea of asking about it left a sour taste in your mouth, so you just grinned and bore the finnicky trick. With his eyes examining you, you didn’t have a choice.

He let up when he spoke, though he didn’t completely stop his judging, “He said you are the owner?”

“Yes, sir, I both own and tend this bar,” you supplied, trying not to get distracted by Wilford’s rolling of his eyes. Dark didn’t refute your use of the term, and being on a first-name basis for the man was a step too far for you.

A waltz cut the conversation in two.

As if he could see the stagnation in your interaction, Wilford jumped to ask, “How’s business been?” Genuine interest was also laced with hurry. It was warranted; one of your feet was already poised to take you over to a table getting low on drinks.

But he was the kinder of the two, and you wanted to return the favor. “Well, since last night, it’s been good. Slow, but good.” Another group had come in after Wilford’s departure, having a few rounds of shots and then leaving a large tip – and the afternoon had been surprisingly lucrative given the lack of day-drinkers in the town. Overall, you were happy with it. A small smile wormed its way onto your face as you thought back on it, matched by Wilford’s pleased hum.

Not even two seconds has passed before you realized you’d looked a gift horse in the mouth, and it only took one more before you regretted it entirely. The floorboard creaked with the weight of the reaper when four men shoved open the doors and rushed in. They pushed and shoved and smacked each other forward into the bar, and, while you were wary of anyone too interested in the surroundings, you were commonly aggravated quickly by those who cared too little. These people were of such kind.

“Found a monkey’s paw, did you?” Wilford remarked, all three of you watching the show unfold. Circus act, rather – none of them stayed on both feet long enough to be called capable. Instead, they lumbered around the bar, invading every other patron’s space, before they collapsed into one of the booth seats next to another group. You sympathized with them as they looked at one another, shaky and unsure.

The conversation, if it could be called that, between yourself and the pair at the bar ground to a halt when you left to tend to some of the other patrons who had decided to get their bills. Great. Just what you needed, rowdy young men making a spectacle of your bar and forcing everyone else out. Inwardly, you groaned. It was bad enough they were making your patrons uncomfortable, but they were getting on your own nerves already, and, yes, you had learned to put up with the rabble at other places, but this was yours, dammit. This was not the reputation you were trying to build. The only problem was that you also didn’t want the reputation of kicking people out, and that left you in-between a rock and a hard place.

Back at the bar, Wilford turned around slightly, taking stock of the characters that had appeared. “Causing quite the ruckus, aren’t they?”

“You said that fights weren’t common,” was the only reply he got. Again, Wilford rolled his eyes and balanced his head on his hand.

“Well, they weren’t when I was here.”

Your return was welcomed by Dark with an unimpressed look and Wilford not having a care in the world. Although he likely didn’t notice you, you felt something ping in your chest when Dark sighed and looked away. The downturn of his lips, the avoidance of eye contact, the raising of his shoulders – he seemed disappointed, and you knew it wasn’t unique to him, but it had a knock-on effect on you, too. You didn’t like him, and he certainly showed no approval of you, but it had long since been ingrained in you to try and be on someone’s good side. While you learned to ignore the gut instinct, it was still there, and your opinion of his friend, which seemed to be improving every passing moment, meant you didn’t want him to think poorly of you. He could be neutral, let him and you would as well, but it didn’t sit right in you to be disliked.

“I am sorry about this, sir,” you started, almost immediately being met with surprise from Wilford and a glance from Dark, “they, ah, came in a few weeks ago before – I thought they’d left for good.” One expressed their interest better than the other, and it was no surprise which was which, but both only lasted a second. A brimming story was cut off by the skidding of a chair against the floor, that you bet left a mark, and a new bout of cackling.

“They’re only kids.” Wilford swatted his hand. “Exuberance of youth, and all that. If they’re anything like we used to be, they’ll settle down when they find something to talk about.” His elbow was firmly planted in Dark’s side, gaining no, or a veiled, response. The group of men were directing all of the attention, after all, even if people were avoiding looking at them.

In fact, given his dismissal, you were ready to ride this one out. The majority of guests had already cleared out upon their arrival, leaving one or two people scattered around besides Dark, Wilford, and the group at the adjacent table. You settled on keeping an eye on them. The first time they had visited your bar, they proved easy to get rid of, given that they were already half-drunk when they got through the doors.

Unfortunately, they got worse as soon as the thought passed through your mind, as though they sensed your hesitation and pounced on it. Laughing louder than the music and making rude comments, fine, you didn’t like it, but you would put up with it – but they crossed the line as soon as they got the other table involved.

The man with the denim jacket, seemingly the ringleader, was the problem. A showboat by himself, but he caught sight of a woman nestled into the corner of the other booth. You watched him from behind the bar. You noticed the first glance, and then the second, the smirk he shot to his friends, and then he slid next to her. That panic-stricken glint that poured over her eyes was all it took, even in the dim light of the bar, for you to circle the counter.

You passed by Wilford, who stood from his seat with something clasped in one of his hands. The guy opened his mouth to whisper something. You gave Wil little thought, no more than you did to Dark turning around to follow you with his eyes. The woman shook her head. The music faded into the background, keys clicking in time with your heels. He put a hand around her shoulder. You stopped in front of the table with as deadpan an expression as you could manage when unable to take deep breaths.

Getting a reputation for strangling a guest was also not something you’d like to gain, but you were more open to it in this case.

“You need to leave.” Voice level. You were handling this well.

“What!?” The indignant screech sent flickers of flame through your veins. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Come on, find somewhere else to be. Leave the girl alone.” Getting a bit more agitated, but you were still diffusing so you couldn’t let it get too far. This was fine.

“Why?” On one hand, the diffusing wasn’t working, but, on the other, he left the woman alone. Jerkily, he shot out from the booth and took a step towards you. The rest of the two groups stared all the while. “We just wanna get something to drink.” His friends’ smiles turned to grimaces at their involvement. They should have gotten a better friend, then.

“Not in here, you’re not—” You refused to back down, no matter how close he got, “—You’re disrupting my bar; you need to leave.”

You remembered the first time you had to deal with someone like this. You were working in a hole-in-the-wall bar with barely a lockable door, let alone a bouncer. You were the only one working at the time, and the details were lost to you from the rush of bad drinks and worse patrons, but the feeling of someone’s nose cracking from a punch you threw had always stuck with you. The image presenting itself now was not a good sign.

The fire was hard to smother when he started poking you in the chest. “And who are you to tell us to leave, huh?” That relief on the woman’s face was gone, exchanged for the concern that matched her friends’. You couldn’t get angry – of course, you wanted to, you had every right to be – but you were better than that. You had to stay calm. Running the risk of mockery, you inhaled and exhaled as subtly as you could manage.

Another poke.

“I’m the owner,” you answered. Irritation strangled the words you reminded yourself to say, the ones that you tried to force out. “Now, I’ll say it again slower so you can understand me.” The urge to grab onto the finger he poked you with, again, and bend it back was one you stifled, but the floodgates were already yanked open. You could rebuild the whole ‘professional’ thing later. “Get the hell out of my bar before I break something I won’t have to fix.”

He laughed in your face. Your jaw clenched tight enough that you thought you’d crack a tooth. When his obnoxious snickering trailed off and he gestured to his group, you assumed it was over, and that you could go back to the bar and serve the pair who had been sitting there the whole time. Their drinks were empty, you planned to refill them after checking on the woman and offering compensation—

A fist socked you straight in the jaw. It sent you stumbling a few steps backwards, you heard something click, not your jaw, that was good – it gave you the chance to lunge for the man who had struck you and wedge his neck in the corner of your elbow and pull. That was familiar. Not good familiar, but you knew the position of a headlock. One, two, three. He started to scramble for air, shoes sliding against the floorboard. Four, five, six seconds. He searched desperately for purchase until he slowed down. His limbs twitched and the hands that he had wedged underneath your arm lamely prodded at the shirt’s fabric.

You granted him some breathing room. He gave up fast. He wasn’t used to barfights, then. Hell, you had the impulse to give him some advice for how poor a challenge he put up.

“Now, you three,” you spoke plainly, eyes darting to the remainders of his group. They all stared back at you as their bravado from earlier seeped into the air. “You’re gonna leave my bar, and you’re not gonna come back, do you understand?”

Insistent if shaky nodding was a good enough answer for you, so you released him, caught the sight of a nearly blue face, and then stepped back. They edged around you like you might have bitten them, like some wild animal at the zoo. You didn’t take offence, too preoccupied with the looks of your other patrons to care as they sprinted out. One of them lagged behind slightly, their friend in a soldier’s carry that barely held them up, but it didn’t take long for the group to clear.

‘Suite No.7’ swam back into the air but the chatter didn’t return. Some of the remaining people scattered in the bar were draining the last of their drinks and sharing concerned looks. You felt anger, shame, guilt swell in your chest. It wasn’t even your fault this time – but that didn’t matter. The childhood excuse wouldn’t work here, where it didn’t matter if you had caused the ruckus. Your reputation was going to crash regardless, you just knew it.

The best you could do was damage control.

You shared sympathetic remarks with the woman and let her know that she didn’t need to pay for her drinks, before you rounded the counter and stopped in your original position in front of Wilford and Dark. The latter’s expression betrayed nothing about his opinion of you, but it wasn’t likely to have improved. Wilford, meanwhile, was only just sitting back down, hiding his face by glaring down at…

Was that a gun?

It wasn’t too outlandish to think he owned one, but he had brought that with him without knowing something would happen. You didn’t comment on it, suddenly wondering whether you should have been worried about him for a different reason.

“Hopefully this will be the last time they come here,” you spoke. The pit in your stomach deepened as you watched nearly all of the patrons left get up from their seats.

But your attention was diverted when a voice asked, “Are you alright?”

Dark didn’t look worried, but his words were surprisingly tender, and they were directed at you. You were confused, split in your opinion of the man. On one hand, he was a standoffish prick in a suit who had barely spoke to you in the last hour. Three parts of that made you wary of him, for good or bad reason. On the other hand, though, Wilford had brought him to your bar, and he himself was as weird as they came. You couldn’t expect him to have normal friends, so, just maybe, such a man as the one asking you gently if you were okay after a fight was the best you could hope for.

“Of course, sir.”

You decided to give him another chance. You wouldn’t deny the extra customer, either way.

Speaking of customers – you moved from your post to tend to the people standing at the bar, more likely to be closing out their tabs than ordering new drinks. With the flurry of cards and cash, you weren’t able to listen in on the small conversation between the pair you’d left behind.

“Some bar you picked, Wilford.”

The dramatic snap of fingers didn’t startle Dark as he pushed the wine glass further across the counter.

“And I was so sure it would be a good fit for you,” Wilford sighed, sounding immeasurably disappointed.

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

The raise of his eyebrows and twitch of his moustache was what you saw when you glanced over amidst stashing notes in the drawer and removing bank details. Wilford’s reaction put a barely visible smile on Dark’s face, one that you almost mistook for a grimace, but it was matched tenfold by his friend. You didn’t ask why, simply removing the empty glasses from in front of the pair.

“My apologies,” you tried to keep your voice level, “I understand that this was your first night out, I’m sorry if this has left a poor impression on you.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Despite Dark’s assurances, you didn’t believe him; you weren’t about to get out of this situation with just a bruise on your jaw. “I can’t say I’m not used to it by now.”

That gave you pause, but he was done speaking, meaning your mind was swamped with questions that weren’t going to be answered. Someone who looked like the stereotypical 1920s railroad owner was supposedly used to bar brawls? You had plenty of suspicions, but that was too far.

He added, ignoring the doubtful glint in your eye against the dim lights, “The choice of music is an added bonus.”

“I’ll make sure to keep to the waltzes, then.”

The miniature smile he sported widened just a touch. The earlier embarrassment was cut in two by your own pride, so that you weren’t overly concerned about him rising from his seat and levelling his eyes with yours.

“Have a good night, Dionysus.”

Stupid nickname be damned, you were happy with the familiarity it gave you. You didn’t hide your own smirk, as you responded in kind, “You as well, sir.”

And, with that, he walked out, the clicks of his dress shoes dancing along to the rhythm of the music. As if to spite you, he avoided the plank of wood at the exit. How he remembered after such an eventful evening, you didn’t know, but he did, and it left you with Wilford. The only two still in the bar long enough for him to start speaking.

“Well, I’d say that was a rousing success.”

You choked on your laugh. “I think my jaw would say otherwise.”

“When your jaw learns to speak by itself, I’ll heed its advice,” He shoved the stool back and swung his legs around, glancing over his shoulder to continue, “‘have a good night, Dionysus’ – boy, aren’t you the lucky one?”

You didn’t see Wilford get out his wallet, but the money appeared on the bar anyway. It was enough to cover the bill and more, so you started to reach towards the drawer, until you noticed he was jogging away to catch up to Dark. Your mouth wasn’t half open when he darted out the door and disappeared just like the night before.

With the vow to catch him the next night he came in standing stark in your mind, you ran the faucet of the sink behind you. It wasn’t two yet, but it was close enough that starting to clean up now wouldn’t give the wrong impression. You’d done damage today; it wouldn’t matter if you dug a little deeper.

The bottle of wine you’d uncorked sat to the side of the back counter. Digging a little deeper, indeed; you grabbed a clean wine glass and poured a sizeable amount, the stinging sensation of your jaw coaxing you onwards.

A strange man, and his strange friend.

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