#things could change its only 2 chapters but like girl

[griffinsboyfriend]

Idc if it’s spoilers but as a VIP user I feel I have to say. With just 2 chapters of TDG: PB still doesn’t know how to manage multiple LI.

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are. 

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way. 

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy. 

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?  

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger? 

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing. 

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking. 

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils. 

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck. 

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb. 

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon. 

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride. 

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store. 

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue. 

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them. 

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out. 

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.  

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet. 

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend. 

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs. 

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him. 

But you lied.

You did miss it. 

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended. 

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too. 

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face. 

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!? 

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!” 

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention. 

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you? 

You roll your eyes as you scoff. 

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece. 

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer. 

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life! 

Your parents were even coming to this! 

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up. 

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji. 

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was. 

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!” 

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables. 

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden. 

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ��blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

[mrs-monaghan]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

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Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

[notiddygothgf]

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since. 

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye. 

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.  

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character. 

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did. 

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless. 

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless. 

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt. 

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission. 

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm. 

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later. 

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man. 

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker. 

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them. 

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs. 

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year. 

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses. 

“Choso, baby.” 

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.” 

“You brought protection?” 

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker? 

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck. 

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks. 

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him. 

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him. 

Take that, Choso. 

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side. 

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south . 

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me. 

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger. 

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you. 

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori. 

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances. 

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform. 

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around. 

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door. 

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips. 

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room. 

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you. 

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs. 

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

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[trashmouth-richie]

⁂ 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 + 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 || a mini series || eddie x you

“soul ties” based but with a spin — part 1

part 2: i’m your dream, make you real

chapter summary: back story on reader and the history of the ‘souls’, the girl sadly wonders why she suddenly can't stop thinking of eddie munson; eddie spends the night nursing a migraine and trying to remember what that girls name was… the same girl who he can’t seem to get out of his head. oddly enough, both eddie and the girl feel terribly ill— a symptom of rejecting the soul tie. also WAYNE! Yay!

 [series summary: reader and her lover are souls bound to one another for eons and eons, they always find their way back to one another no matter how long it takes or what bodies they might be in, but when reader feels the magnetic pull of her other half and wills the girl’s body she is in to find her lover— the body her lover belongs to is a boy— none other than the meanest boy in hawkins, eddie munson] 

trigger warnings: 18+ smut, bisexual! eddie, mean! eddie, shy! girl, smut. etc eddie the girl are both 18 in this story, drug use, talks of addiction, prison etc.

reader (you) are a “soul” in this story, meaning you are only bound to the body you are inhabiting during this lifetime. The girl will have features mentioned— but again— you (the reader) are a soul, which i imagine to be a flame of all colors. 

You had no control over how, when or where you would appear in a new body. It was never the same timeline. one minute you were floating in a sea of stars on a blackened canvas, the next you were viewing their world from the way they envisioned it. 

The body could be brand new, shiny and soft skinned, no marks of life on its petal-like skin. Sometimes the body was weathered, having seen many moons and decades and you arrived when they needed you most. Years before you had come here, the body you lived in was impaired, seeing nothing but marooned eyelids, navigating the earth with the four other senses. 

Shapes and colors could vary from one body to the next, but inside they all remained the same. The only difference were the souls.

Some of the souls you had encountered weren’t pure. They had a darkness rolling through them that made the bodies they live in do unspeakable, horrific things. 

The malum, as they were known were tainted with vile evilness. Instead of being made with licks of pretty sparkled flame, the malum were created with sharp edges, a singular dark hole in the center showing their emptiness. Compassion was lost from them, all they knew was destruction and how to use the body to their own advantage. 

They could change their appearance, tricking others into loving them.  And although it had been awhile since you’d come across one, you were always weary. Hence, the boy with the fast car from last year.

You were even thankful to come to this girl, the sad lonely girl who just wanted to be loved… her heart tie within reach…but then he rejected her!

That stupid boy and his dumb hair was ruining everything! This was wrong— this was all wrong! It never went this badly before. All it took from the others before this girl and this boy was to feel the “special” pull. The tug of that tiny invisible string that was nearly impossible to ignore. 

Different species, different sex, it didn’t matter! The pull always worked. You sat and stewed in the girl's brain, running laps around her mind, showing her images of the boy, the one she was destined to be with. 

It was deeper than love, stickier than the cotton candies of a carefully woven fate, her heart belonged with his! Plain and simple. You hoped your other half was doing the same with that long haired boy, making his head split and pop like a sunflower seed. 

You could bet that he didn’t know how sad she was. He wouldn’t know that she had cut her tutoring lesson short with Max because the concentration for basic algebra just wasn’t there.  

You could do this, you could make them both see how they belonged together, that they fit like a puzzle and complemented each other like the stars do the moon, despite their differences, or walks of life. 

Time was all you needed, and thankfully they both were guaranteed to be in the same building for almost eight hours a day, five days a week. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie had been staring at his mac n cheese for nearly ten minutes. Each tick of the clock squeezed his head like a vice. He had been fixated on something he couldn’t quite grasp. As if he were in a fuzzy dream where punches didn’t land and he coincidentally had the winning lottery ticket. 

A name. 

It’s all he was trying to think of, but he couldn’t for the life or death of him remember it. 

Beth? Kay? Maybe… Yeah.. Kay sounds right—nope Kay was that smokin’ hot foreign exchange student last semester. Jesus Christ, who the hell is that girl?

Wayne watched with his bushy eyebrows raised into the sparse bits of hair left on his head as his nephew drug his spoon counter-clockwise then clockwise through the cheesy valley of noodles, not saying a single word other than the occasional grunt or mumbling a series of consonants and vowels through the entirety of supper. 

His head had spun all day. A loose paper boat down a sewer drain to awaiting clown claws had a better success rate in survival than the absolute collegiate level of  nonsense he was trying to get his brian to spark. No matter what he did he couldn’t get that girl out of his head. 

Maybe if he could put a name to her face—he had thought that would settle it. Then he could finally fucking move on. But alas, it was as if his brain left on vacation… or maybe those drug scare ads were right and his brain cells were actually fried.  

“Something wrong with the food, Ed?” Wayne asked around a mouthful, “thought you loved dogs with mac n cheese.” 

Eddie went class by class in his head imagining the seats of every girl who occupied them. In Geography there was Tiffany, Alice, Wheeler, Robin, Barbara, and Chrissy. 

This is fucking stupid, he thinks. She could be a year or two below him in school, but goddamnit what was her name?

He could memorize DnD manuals, a whiz at math especially percentages for his.. hobbies. But a simple name to a girl he’s seen a dozen times falls short. 

Dropping the metal spoon with a loud clunk, he groans, throwing his head in his hands. “I’m fine, Wayne.” 

He wasn’t, along with his head pounding like the hammering tune of a chainsaw, he had felt nauseous all day. Like a hangover that never seemed to end, or that time he had the stomach flu last year and missed a week of school. 

But this wasn’t the flu, and it wasn’t a hangover. It was a nagging feeling in his head and a rip to his gut. 

“You sure?” Wayne tested cautiously, “Y’ know I don’t have many rules here.. and I don’t care that you smoke in the house, but son if you’re doing something… more than that… I…” Wayne shakes his head, his voice growing earnest, “I just don’t want you to end up like your old man ‘s all.” 

“Jesus, Wayne,” Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face, he hadn’t touched that shit his dad was caught with, and was currently serving a sentence for, ever. 

“I’m not doin’ anything like that, okay? I just… GOD—” he ran thick ringed fingers through his hair and cursed again when the rings got tangled, huffing through his nose like a bull, “I feel like shit!” 

Wayne relaxed a bit in his chair, a chuckle in his throat at his nephew's theatrics, “eat then, you’ll feel better.” 

Eddie shoved his plate away,  synchronizing the metallic dragging scuff from the chair’s legs across the cheap linoleum floor with a grumble of ‘m not hungry. 

His long legs seemed to tangle under themselves as he stood and he caught his shoulder hard on the wall, the drag of soft cotton down a plywood wall muffling his curses as he headed to bed. 

Face first he landed into the worn and spring heavy mattress, the smell of weed and spiced deodorant engulfing him. Leather scuffed boots still on his feet from when he drove to Rick’s for his weekly supply. The pounding against his skull was dull, twisting like a knife and it just wouldn’t quit.

Nose crushed in the misshapen pillow, Eddie throws his hand out hazardly to the nightstand. His fingers skid around the scattered DnD dice, a crusted half eaten sandwich from the night before and the sharp foiled  edge of a ripped corner from a Trojan from when—yeah, whew…that was a great night.

Finally, his fingers wrap around the cool steel of his zippo lighter. 

Without looking up, he flicks the pad of his thumb against the wheel igniting a flame to be sure there’s enough fluid. Groaning again he slides a hand into his jeans and pulls out the little bag he had gotten from Rick.

Movements that were taken for granted were now causing sweat to pool in the middle of his back, his temples dripped as a tickling bead of sweat wove a path down his chin. 

Whatever illness that was currently plaguing him was one like nothing before, and he only hoped his last vice of getting out of his mind with the sweet burn of a joint into his lungs would help. 

Slotting it between his lips he flicked the lighter and inhaled as much as his lungs could take. 

The girl drove home in silence. A salty drip of steady tears stinging her cheeks from the bite of the breeze that seeped through the cracked open car window. She didn’t understand why on this particular day he had burrowed so far under her skin, and even though he was rude, per usual—she couldn’t let it go. 

A horn honked behind her at the stop sign before she realized she had been staring at the steering column, foot pressed on the brake. Tears dripped onto the apples of her cheeks and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her cream colored cardigan, leaving flecks of mascara behind. 

Blowing out a blubbery sigh she eased her car forward and drove along the wet pavement of Hawkins, vision blinded by traitorous tears for the boy who didn’t deserve them. 

She ate her supper in a sad silence— fork balancing green beans gone cold. The girl sighed with a hand resting into her palm, watching the fall leaves plucking themselves free in the front yard. 

Her mind played that scene at Eddie’s trailer over and over. The way he practically bit her head off, how easy it was for him to dismiss her as a nuisance. She could feel the heat blossoming on her cheeks, how it had practically burned like his eyes did when they looked at her. 

Eddie was like that with everyone at school, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. But it was. And tears started again as she thought of why he was so mean.

“…see Mom! She hates green beans so much she’s crying about them!” 

The girl shook her head and blinked back the tears, “‘m not crying you little turkey,” she bites back, shoving her younger brother with her elbow, “just.. had a long day, ‘m tired.” 

“Well,” her mother protested, pressing a cloth napkin to the corners of her mouth, “why don’t you run a bath and go to bed early?” 

Nodding, she excused herself quietly from the table and walked the plush carpeted path to the upstairs bathroom. 

More tears began to roll down her cheeks as she climbed each step, a tingling in the nape of her neck made her skin feel boiling hot. The further up she went the worst she started to feel. 

I’m probably getting the flu. She thought to herself, Hawkins High had more than fifteen students out with it last week, and it would make sense that she too would fall victim to it. But the flu wouldn’t make her cry for no reason, no— a sickness wouldn’t have her feeling like she was nothing. 

But those dark brown eyes could. 

Thinking of her encounter today just made it worse, but she couldn’t turn it off. She welcomed the warmth from the water to seep through her bones after the tub was filled and she slipped gingerly into the water. 

Hoping the steam would will away the awful empty feeling in her stomach,  she let herself fully submerge, her wet brown hair feeling like the bottom of a silky moss covered lake. 

She laid under the water for what felt like hours, no sound, just her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Maybe I’m getting my period? She thought after taking a few winded deep breaths and sitting up in the water. 

It would explain why she was so irrationally upset about all of this. It was plausible. And maybe the burning flames of hell's butterflies in her stomach was because she had barely eaten anything for supper.

It definitely wasn’t the fact that Eddie seemed to radiate like a neon light in space the second he opened that door, and she was like a moth to his flame. One that was quickly swatted away. 

Eddie Munson. 

Standing and wrapping a towel around herself she hit the drain and stepped from the tub onto a peach colored bath mat. 

His face played like a movie in her head. A montage of him and only him. The cocky gait he strutted down the hallways, hollering at the jocks to get the fuck out of his way. The jingling swish of that chain linked wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, a soft black bandana in the other. 

Eddie. 

Wiping condensation from the mirror she shakes her head. What the hell? Never. Not once in her entire life had she thought about Eddie Munson. Even thinking his name made her stomach lurch like she might be sick. 

Wait. No, she was going to be sick. 

She makes it just in time to lift the seat on the toilet before she vomits violently into the bowl, tears leaking from her eyes with every retching heave her body produced. 

She hears her name buzzing in her ear. Once, twice, three times and she knows her mother is behind those calls on the other side of the door.

“‘m okay, Mom,” she gasps, “just the flu, it’s been going around—” 

And normally where her mother would have come in to rub her back, ask if she needed anything— she doesn’t. 

Flushing the toilet she looks over her shoulder, “Mom?”

No answer.

Rising from her knees she walks to the door and opens it, “Mom?” 

Nothing. 

Maybe she was hearing things, but she swore her name was said loud and clear. 

Smoke billowed around Eddie’s room, hanging like dense clouds from an oven fire. Either his tolerance was higher or the bud from Rick was skunked— because after smoking three joints back-to-back-to-back, he still couldn’t feel anything. 

Not even a tiny little buzz or the hazy droop of his eyelids forming into slits. That sickening pounding kept its beat along his chest and into every vein in his body, unrelenting in its ravage upon him. 

He thought of the times he had seen her. Where was he standing? What section of lockers was she shoving books into? 

Sandra? Beth… no he already said that. Fuck. 

It’s not until he laid flat on his back a few minutes later, the short remnants of paper flickering from the last bit of the joint burning close to his fingers. Eddie closed his eyes in complete solitude, and that’s when it clicked. 

Shuffling on what felt like broken legs to his closet, Eddie wedged the door open on its broken track. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he felt as if he had ran a marathon, backwards. 

His tongue was out between his lips as he concentrated on his task at hand. Rifling through heaps of clothes, old shoes, playboys with dog eared pages. He was elbows deep in the depths of his closet, searching for what he had tossed in here at the end of last year. 

The pads of his fingers feel the textured cover under a halloween mask and he yanks it free stumbling backwards and tripping over his amp, landing hard on the floor. 

He doesn’t wait to be in a more comfortable position on his bed or even sitting up straight before he holds the book over his face and flips open the cover of Hawkins High 1985 Go Tigers!, his yearbook. 

Pages and pages he skimmed through. Freshman class, Sophomore class, pictures of every sport from Fall to Spring, Band, Choir, The school newspaper… he was about to give up after he saw his own picture staring at him from Junior year.

And he would have missed it if his thumb hadn’t suddenly stung. As if a bee or a strike of lightning went through him and he had to adjust his hold on the book. Where his thumb had been pressed into the page, was the girl. 

Just a few down from his own school portrait, she sat smiling shyly at the camera with closed lips, silken voluminous dark hair, a sparkle in each eye. 

Eddie’s stomach plummeted, his pulse speeding up as each letter of her name danced behind his irises, and his lips tingle when he finally says her name. 

Mickey 

thanks for reading💋

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[meowshark12]

i know it won't work...(rc)(2)

series summary: you're best friends with topper, kelce, and rafe. it has never bothered you to see them with other girls, knowing that they usually only have flings, but, when rafe gets what appears to be a girlfriend, how does this change things?

chapter 2 summary: you and your girls show up to Topper's, and have some fun before the fun even begins. you talk to Rafe before either of you are feeling the effects of your drinks, but what happens after the drinks start flowing?

(not canon)rafe x kook!reader, original characters

warnings: underage drinking. but I fear that's obvious.

1 2 3

chapter 2: its complicated.

The party begins for the six of you well before the party begins for the rest of the island. As you arrive to Topper's house, the boys welcome each of you with your drink of choice. Topper holding Macey's, Kelce holding Stella's, and Rafe holding yours.

"How did you know?!" you ask, though you know the answer. You and your girls were spontaneous in many ways, but you knew what you liked to drink and didn't always want to branch out.

"Lucky guess," Rafe shrugs with a smirk and a slight roll of his eyes. You laugh with him, knowing that he was thinking the same thing you were. The six of you begin conversing as if you hadn't seen each other in weeks, but the conversation only lasts a few minutes before Topper cuts in.

"Okay, okay," Topper begins, "beer pong?" he asks, prompting an immediate 'yes' from the rest of you. The six of you walk out onto the massive porch that wraps around Toppers house. You hang toward the back intentionally. Having a group of 6 was perfect almost all the time, since everyone always had a partner. But, for beer pong, only 4 people could play at a time. Topper and Kelce partner up, and so do Stella and Macey, leaving you and Rafe out of the first game.

While you may normally be upset about the way everyone split off, you were thankful this time. You were going to be able to talk to Rafe about what had happened earlier today with his dad.

"Fuck you guys," Rafe retorts, playfully. "Looks like it's just me and you," he says, turning his attention to you.

"Don't sound too excited," you start, feigning offense at his comment. You finish the last sip of your drink and crush the can. "Come inside with me? Need another drink!" you say, hoping to get Rafe to follow.

"How are you already done? You literally got here less than 10 minutes ago,"

"...I was thirsty," you say, opening the door and walking into the house before turning over your shoulder, "are you coming or what?" Rafe follows close behind you.

As you enter Topper's kitchen, you feel the atmosphere shift. You open the fridge to find yourself and Rafe some new drinks, since he finished his on your short walk from outside into the kitchen.

The two of you were quite animated when you were outside, but, being alone with Rafe, you didn't feel the need to turn on your outgoing personality anymore. And, it seemed, neither did he. Or maybe he just knew you were trying to corner him into a conversation he wanted no part of.

You hand Rafe his drink and hoist yourself up so that you're sitting on the countertop. Rafe stands to your right, leaning against the counter. "So..." you begin, hoping to break the ice that has seemed to form between the two of you. Neither of you moves. He moves to open the beer you handed him.

"I know what you're gonna say." he says and looks at you with a straight face, though you swear his eyes are smiling.

"How could you possibly know what I'm about to say?" you look at him and ask with a tone of incredulity, as if appalled, but more appalled that he could read your thoughts.

He pauses and takes a swig of his drink, leaving you on the edge of your seat. You drink some of yours, more than you usually would in one sip.

"I can just tell. You make it pretty easy," he says nonchalantly, as if he wasn't the one making it easy to tell earlier in the day, practically glued to his phone staring at a message from his father. You look down and inhale sharply before speaking.

"So what did the message say then?" you ask, bluntly. Rafe's face changed, his unbothered smirk disappearing for a split second into ambiguity before returning. Rafe liked that you were able to not beat around the bush with him. He found it to be one of the things he liked the most about your relationship with each other. He turns his body to face you, practically brushing your leg with his torso.

"It was just about work- for him I mean." he says with a sigh. You cock your head to the side, silently urging him to keep speaking. "He gets mad about these deals with the company not going through and kinda takes it out on me."

You nod, your face softening. He continues, looking up into your wide, accepting eyes, "I know I'm supposed to be helping with the company, but the shit he blows up about is not even stuff I'm involved in. But I'm sure he's justified it enough that I'll be awaiting punishment when I come home tomorrow," he finishes, his eyes looking just past you.

"I'm sorry, Rafe." you ay, his attention turning back to you. Hes more willing to look at you while you speak than he is to look at you when he speaks.

"I know you're doing the best you can with what he gives you. It's hard to continue being successful, though, if he keeps blowing up at you for shit you didn't have a place in doing. I understand why you're frustrated, but I hope you know that other people notice how hard you're working, even if Ward isn't the one to say something about it." You pause, making sure he's listening to you before continuing. Rafe could not be more attentive if he tried, your captivating eyes catching his attention, and your kind words keeping it.

"Just try not to let it bother you. Or, if anything, try to take compliments from others the same way you would take criticism from Ward. It might make you realize how well you're actually doing." you finish, out of breath from your spiel. Rafe is staring down at you, his blue eyes nearly popping out of his head from what you said. He waits a minute before speaking, long enough that you aren't sure he was going to even respond.

"Even though I knew you were gonna ask me about it, I also knew that I would want to listen to everything you said after I told you." He says, truthfully. You see the way his shoulders relax as he speaks, indicative of how much he trusts you. "I really don't understand how you're so good at this whole thing."

"What 'whole thing'?"

"I don't know... the like... therapist thing?" he says, clearly unsure if that was the right choice of words. He stands up straight, moving so he's directly in front of you as you sit on the counter.

"Well, I don't know. But I'm glad it makes you feel better? So thanks for listening," you shrug. You're almost at his eye level, realizing just how tall he is in this exact moment. There's a tension between you that wasn't there before, and you're not sure why.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he seemed to need comfort, or maybe it was the sneaky compliments you had both given to the other, but you felt like you should give him a hug. That was something you had never done after years of these so-called 'therapy sessions', but it just felt right, in this moment.

However, the moment was soon ruined when your friends entered the room. Hooting and hollering was all you could hear as you and Rafe finished your conversation, separating, though you weren't entirely that close to begin with.

"Who won?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

Stella and Macey looked defeated, which was probably what prompted Stella to say, "I need another drink," and for Macey to nod along.

You hopped off the counter to open the fridge, but Topper beat you to it. "I think, since you lost, its only fair if you shotgun one first..." Topper says mischievously. The girls roll their eyes but hold out their hands.

"You're totally going down later. That was just our warmup," Macey says, flexing her muscles, as Stella nods along in agreement.

"Ok, but only if me and yn get to show off our skills too." Rafe adds in. You smile and nod along, glad that Rafe seemed to be out of his funk. You were also glad that he saw you as a pong partner and someone to talk to about hard things.

The boys, your girls, and you decide to all shotgun one beer, since it only seemed fair that way, and since the boys definitely just wanted to show off their skills.

You finish somewhere in the middle, Stella coming in last and complaining because the boys had 'rigged it', though you all knew she was just mad that she lost.

As time goes by, you don't realize how many people actually end up attending the house party. You've been standing outside with the same group of people for over an hour, but you look up to find that the population has tripled since the last time you noticed. Since you're so enamored with your friends, you don't always look around to see what other people are up to.

You had gone inside to find Topper's secret stash of alcohol (in his closet in a shoebox... not very secret but ok Top) and your group was gone when you came back down. Since you knew the house, you figured you would walk around until you got bored and found your group.

This is how you found yourself in the kitchen with a group of people you would not usually hang around. You were having a good time, but after 10 minutes (give or take) you were found by your girls, who then dragged you back outside.

"We've been looking for you everywhere," Stella says, grabbing your arm.

"Yeah dude, we aren't whole without you!!" Macey says passionately, leaning her head on your shoulder. You smile, saying goodbye to your acquaintances and letting yourself be dragged outside by your best friends.

Your buzz was buzzing by this point in the night, that's for sure. Your group was sitting around the fire pit in Topper's backyard by the pong table that has since been moved from the porch (due to some shenanigans that had Topper screaming about 'expensive pillows'?). There was one couch, occupied by Topper, Macey, and Stella, and 6 chairs, occupied by Rafe, you, Kelce, some of Topper's other friends, and there were a few people standing around nearby. You relaxed into the chair beneath you, staring up at the stars before a voice interrupted your peace.

"Hey boys!!" the voice exclaimed, almost too excitedly. You wouldn't normally recognize the voice, but, having heard it that same day in fourth period, you knew it all too well.

Heads turn, your girls staying silent while the others in the group said hello to Amber and her two friends. Your eyes dart to Stella and Macey, who are already looking at you from across the fire. The look you shared was indescribable, but you all knew what it meant.

...

"the big 3"

mace🦋

was she even invited

stella may💫

what. the. fuck.

mace🦋

nah bro bc why is she here. I dont think she's

ever been to this house EVER. she prob hasn't

even been on this street.

you

aint no way dude.

mace🦋

yn you spoke her into existence

you

don't even fucking say that rn.

...

You look up from your phone, seeing Amber perched on the arm of Kelce's chair, while her minions friends were behind her. You catch Topper's eye after looking around, the look he shoots you saying "we all know that you three are texting each other." but you ignore it. You look over, looking at Rafe', but his eyes were only on Amber. His leg was bouncing. You never wished you could read minds until now. The conversation is casual as you tune in, then Amber speaks.

"Is anyone even gonna play pong?? Why is there a table set up if nobody is playing?" she says, waiting for a response. The boys smirk.

It's not that Amber wasn't physically attractive. Of course, she was beautiful. Long blonde hair cascaded her shoulders, her long legs smooth and shiny. She was thin, athletic, but also the worst person you had ever had the misfortune of speaking with. That being said, you understood why boys liked her, but you understood why many girls did not.

"We played a little earlier, Kelce and I still have to rematch the Stels and Mace," Topper jokes, while your girls roll their eyes. Stella opens her mouth to speak before she is interrupted.

"Well, that can wait, can't it?" Amber drawls, "Anyway, I've never played... well, maybe once, but I'm no good... I probably need some practice or a good partner to help carry me," she continues with a fake laugh. One of Topper's friends is about to offer when Rafe speaks up.

"I'll be your partner," he offers, shrugging, and you almost let your jaw drop. You didn't think Rafe would do that, to be completely honest. You thought he would laugh at the idea of ever even being seen with her, but it appears you were wrong about him in that way.

"I'll go set up then!" Topper gets up, prompting Kelce to follow him.

You couldn't help but be a little hurt, and you couldn't tell if it was jealousy, betrayal, or a mix of both. Rafe had borderline said he wanted to be your partner earlier, and now he goes with Amber? Of course you were jealous of her effortless looks, but something about her partnering up with Rafe made the jealousy seem to explode within you.

...

"the big 3"

stella may💫

team meeting. top's parents room closet. 5 mins.

mace🦋

On my way!

stella may💫

I'll be close behind. gotta piss!

you

yeah need.

mace🦋

you good?

you

prob. idk. talk abt it soon. wtf is wrong with me?

...

You head up to the closet in Topper's parents room, the place that the you used to hide in when you would play hide and seek turned into your hideaway during these uncomfortable events, and now from whatever just happened outside. Your girls meet you there soon after.

"Ok, what the fuck was that?" Stella borderline yells over the faint party music you can still hear downstairs. You lay on the ground on your side as your girls sit down in front of you.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, we thought you were over exaggerating about how she acted earlier today... but that was crazy." Macey explains. It doesn't bother you that she said she thought you were overreacting, because now she sees the truth of how Amber can act.

"I know." you begin, rolling to lay on your back with your hands on your stomach. "I honestly don't care that she's here," you pause, thinking about the next thing you were gonna say, "...but I think I'm just mad that she's hanging out with OUR friends." you finish, happy with getting that off of your chest.

"I KNOW!!" Macey exclaims, and it made you glad that you weren't acting crazy like you had thought. "She just comes in here, takes our friends, and walks away like it's nothing with her gorgeous hair, and pretty smile, and oh my god she's doing it to me!"

"Maybe we are just being dramatic." Stella says, always the voice of reason. "Maybe they really have a reason to like her and we are just gatekeeping our friends from making more friends and branching out."

"STELS, why would they even want different friends!? Shouldn't they be happy like we are with them? I mean we could definitely make cuter, funnier, better boy friends, but we settled for them and they should do the same for us." Macey interrupts in a drunken ramble. You laugh, rolling your eyes at your friend.

"I think maybe we are making this too big of a deal." The girls look at you as you sit up. "Why are we letting this affect our night? Let's go back down there. They're probably done playing by now, we can get our boys back." You say, rallying your girls to get up, get pretty, and continue to get drunk(er).

They agree with you, and the three of you head back downstairs after leaving your safe space. You walk outside after getting stuck in a boring conversation with your lab partner and you walk toward the game of pong that is somehow still going on.

When you see Rafe's arm around Amber's shoulder as she leans into his side, you don't react. You hope that they will hook up tonight and then Rafe won't speak to her again, like he usually does. At least you could hope, for now.

taglist: @flvredcas @rafesno1bae @kiiyomei @silkylovey

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@patychieffi @rafeslittleangel @theyluvmesblog

a/n: sry if this makes no sense. thanks so much for enjoying last part, makes me so motivated to keep writing!! also, unedited. sorry if its confusing but hope you can enjoy anyway!

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me(part 6)-Matt Sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), dark themes, death, smut (not in this part)

A/N- THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA SAD but y'all will be alright, trust. a lot of violence in this chapter so by all means if that is not your thing please don't read. I want everyone that reads this to ENJOY it. love yall, bye!

matts pov.

the drive back to my house was silent. even with my heightened sense of hearing, I could only hear the sound of our breathing and the quiet hum of my engine. two minutes ago, she had been crying and I saw into the darkness that was her life. key word, was. between the protection spell and me, no one is ever going to hurt her again. a dark thought pops into my head, and ,unlike any other time, I welcome it with open arms.

"do you want him dead?" I mutter, letting the thought free. I said It quietly, but it sounded like I might as well have screamed compared to the quiet of my car. it made my skin crawl and judging by the look on her face, it made her's crawl too. "what is that supposed to mean??" she whips her head to me with fear in her eyes. merciful. I added that to a list of chracteristics that y/n had that I subconsciously accumulated in my own head. even though he hurt her in the worst ways, she'd never want anyone to lay a finger on him.

"he's my dad, matt!" she panics taking my lack of response as a promise that I would go back to her house and finish him off. I put one arm up in defense. "I was just asking. you panic too much, someone should go check your blood pressure.Jesus." I scoff, playing it off as if I wouldn't have gotten rid of him the moment she told she wanted me too.

she slumped back in her seat, clearly relieved. its right then that I notice the dark circles under her eyes. she's tired, and humans need rest. "go to sleep, you look like shit." I quip. if she were in her right mind, she probably would have said something back. instead she brings her knees into her chest and puts her head on the window. her eyes close and in a few minutes her breathing and heart rate slow. she's asleep and my eyes stay on the rough, pot - hole infested road. all the way home, I dodge the holes so she sleeps fine.

unreasonable fear hits my chest at my own actions. when did you start to care so much? is the question I ask myself as I gently lift her sleeping form into my arms to bring her into the house.

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

y/n is in the other room, and I wake up to my phone buzzing incessantly. I pick up my phone to see that nick is calling me. "he disappears off the face of the earth for two days and all of a sudden he wants to chit chat at the crack of dawn", I think to myself before smashing the accept call button in annoyance. "what?" my gruff voice answers in a more than grumpy tone.

"I need you to come to meet me, now! I'll send you my location. do not bring anyone with you, and do not to take your sweet ass time either matt." he says seriously. I can hear in his voice he is fighting to keep himself from sounding panicked. sensing the danger he's in, worry surges through me, and I can't help but wonder what he's gotten himself into. "don't worry nick, im coming." I say back just as seriously before hanging up the phone and rushing out the house.

I drive over as fast as I can to the unknown spot. it's just a clearing of trees and grass where two cars are parked side by side. ones nicks' and the other is someone's I don't recognize. I hop out of the car quick on high alert. nick where are you??

"you think you can just take my daughter and get away with it. I'm sorry son, but you're in for a real treat." says a terrifying voice that-unless god forbid I took another girl to my house tonight- could only be y/n's fathers’. I turn slowly to see him, a tall, burly man. he's holding nick close too him, a knife pressed lightly against the sensitive skin of his neck. regulary, I would look at this and shrug, vampires aren't supposed to be able to die. but nick's neck is bleeding from where the knife lightly grazes him. vampires can make other people bleed, but they themselves can't bleed, at least that's how it's supposed to be. even though the wound wasn't deep enough to be lethal, the wound itself was the problem to begin with. All thoughts aside, I lunge forward to grab nick away from the man but he dodges with unnatural speed. he smells human, but he's quick, too quick, which can only mean one thing.

y/n's dad is a fucking lunatic magic user, and, based on the position he's got me and nick in right now , he's a damn strong one too.

he throws nick to the side right then, and nick flops to the floor gasping for breath and clutching his bleeding throat. I freeze in fear for what's happened to nick. for what is going to happen to me. he waves the same knife he had pressed against nick at me in tauntingly cold, cut motions.

"matt, run" nick says weakly. my feet listen to nick's instructions, and I turn to bolt, only to find the powerful magic user right in front of me in an instant. before I can react, he plunges the knife into my stomach in three quick motions. unbearable pain laces through me and I feel something coming that I never thought I'd ever have to experience. that something is death.

"should of asked for a protection spell yourself." he lets out a cold, hard laugh as I drop to the floor slipping into an abyss of darkness.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@cindylcuwho

@I34n

@chrissv4amp

@sturnslimited 

[diorsluv]

casual , part 11

“ but we’re ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

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username21 the chaos is so endearing

_quinnhughes i thought u said vivian wasn’t going with u guys

→ yourusername SHE WENT ON A DATE 😏😏😏

→ yourusername but she didn’t tell us where it was so we went to subway and her big back was there w her pookie

→ jackhughes first date at subway 😬

→ vivianliu hey no it was our SECOND date

→ _quinnhughes second date at subway 😬😬

→ yourusername quinny dont act like u could do any better 💀

→ _quinnhughes i could

→ vivianliu oh 🥴🥴

→ yourusername EW

trevorzegras you need to invite me

→ yourusername no

→ trevorzegras why

→ yourusername ur icky 🤢🤢

→ trevorzegras 😒

username39 when do i get a friend group like this 😕

→ username14 have three hot, talented, very social brothers in the nhl with two that went to umich

markestapa ngl that card game was fire

→ yourusername thats what she said?? 😭

→ _quinnhughes that’s not how the joke works stupid

→ yourusername its the name of the game dummy

→ _quinnhughes oh

→ markestapa LMFAO

luca.fantilli we never hang out anymore 😔

→ yourusername YES WE DO

→ rutgermcgroarty luca’s right we never see u in the light of day

→ yourusername i’m at urs more than i’m at my own apartment guys

→ luca.fantilli u dont give us attention

→ yourusername 🫤🫤

→ luca.fantilli UR ALWAYS W UR DAMN BoyfRiEnD

→ rutgermcgroarty REAL WE WERE THE BOY FRIENDS BEFORE YOU GOT YOUR BOYFRIEND

→ yourusername you’re both so needyyy 🙄

rutgermcgroarty you have no good photos of me do you…

→ yourusername I DO

→ rutgermcgroarty prove it

→ yourusername no can do!!

adamfantilli the shoe game is fire

→ yourusername 🔥🔥🔥

→ adamfantilli 🥶🥶🥶

→ luca.fantilli 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

→ rutgermcgroarty 🥱🥱🥱

→ dylanduke25 😴😴😴

username71 it’s so cute how ur always together

edwards.73 stop teaming up with rut when we play card games

→ yourusername but you and i always compete against each other

→ yourusername it’s like.. our thing 😟

→ edwards.73 well maybe i wanna change our thing

→ luca.fantilli not possible bro u can’t change a “thing”

username93 luca, rut n mark r dressed up as powerpuff girls like TELL ME IM WRONG

lhughes_06 i don’t like this horsing around mess

→ yourusername stop speaking like an old man for the love of god you’re TWENTY.

→ lhughes_06 respect your elders

→ yourusername oh lukey it’s funny that you think i would

mackie.samo i shouldn’t have left i miss you

→ yourusername AW MACK STOP

→ yourusername we miss you too ☹️

rutgermcgroarty

liked by colecaufield, yourusername, and 100,004 others

rutgermcgroarty its national best friend day look its my best friend

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername it’s not national best friend day 😑

→ rutgermcgroarty then its my national best friend day

→ yourusername we live in the same country. two blocks away from each other.

→ rutgermcgroarty its an appreciation post 😕

→ yourusername rut sweetie i know u appreciate me u tell me every day

→ rutgermcgroarty NO I DONT

→ yourusername okay you show me every day

→ rutgermcgroarty WHY WONT U LET ME APPRECIATE U

→ yourusername p sure the boyfriend’s gonna get mad 😖😖😖😖😖😖

→ rutgermcgroarty whats stopping him from posting an appreciation post

adamfantilli ok whats the likelihood of him actually posting an appreciation post LMFAOO

→ rutgermcgroarty 0.0001%

username29 ooooo the bf’s getting called out

username27 AWW THE CREEPER HATS

username18 minecraft besties so aesthetic

→ yourusername girl he’s horrible he built an obsidian dick in my survival house

→ username6 oh……..

→ username30 😧

markestapa the way she’s barely at your shoulders LMAOOO

→ yourusername HEY NO I WAS CROUCHING

→ rutgermcgroarty stop trying to save face we know how tall you are

→ yourusername no one online knows my height they’ll never know if i’m lying or not 🤨🤨

→ mackie.samo you’re actually 7’6 yourusername

→ dylanduke25 or maybe she’s 4’6 💀

username14 guys what if the bf posts her but it isn’t ethan

→ username68 i’d cry

luca.fantilli best friends but u dont even have pics of her 🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty real best friends got no pics of each other 😔😔

→ luca.fantilli i have pics of u???

→ rutgermcgroarty but we’re men

→ yourusername isnt it supposed to be the other way around??

edwards.73 ik what ur tryna do

→ rutgermcgroarty do u tho?

_alexturcotte deliberate beef (?)

→ rutgermcgroarty perchance.

→ markestapa you can’t just say perchance.

→ mackie.samo you can’t just say perchance!

→ dylanduke25 YOU CAN’T JUST SAY PERCHANCE.

→ adamfantilli YOU CAN’T JUST SAY PERCHANCE!

→ luca.fantilli YOU 🫵 CAN’T ❌ JUST 😓 SAY 🗣️ PERCHANCE 🤷‍♂️

→ yourusername god what is this nonsense

lhughes_06 mhm 🤨

→ rutgermcgroarty i thought u supported my aspirations

→ lhughes_06 mhmm 🤨🤨

username45 are u trying to make ethan jealous

username89 one day they’re gonna get into an actual fist fight

next chapter notes ) so… i was going back over old chapters of feather and i realized they used to be SO short??? like why did i suddenly start making everything longer but for the sake of the plot and my sanity i’m ACTUALLY going to be reverting to my old ways this time (not lying!!!!) and it’ll be easier for me to get chapters out 😭

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat

[granddaughterogg]

You Let Me Complicate You - Part 1

This is a love story about Simon "Ghost" Riley and you, starting with a random hookup and later navigating your increasingly complex feelings and desires towards each other.

~~Reblogs are always Greatly Appreciated!~~

PART 2 HERE

SUMMARY: You're all alone in London because of Reasons. On a particularly dreadful, windy, rainy Halloween evening you venture outside for a quick pint - but find Simon "Ghost" Riley instead. He's a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job, and you're a cynical, world weary girl who nonetheless very much enjoys no-string-attached sex. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. What, oh what will become of this fateful encounter?

Chapter 1: SKULLFACE

As with many other adventures in your life - this one started only because you wouldn’t quench your curiosity.

It was an insatiable force, one that has driven you into a lot of shit over the years. On the other hand, you could call your life path - that collection of irregular zigs and zags off the beaten trajectory - anything but dull. And you owed it to that ever-present itch at the back of your head.

Let’s go back to the very start, shall we?

The start was unpromising. For one, it was Halloween evening, but you were on your own and it was pissing it down outside.

You sat in a tiny squalid apartment, its walls painted a nauseating shade of green and stared at the darkness behind your windows. Cold water splashed against the glass. Technically speaking, those windows weren’t yours. Nothing here was. You’ve just Airbnb’ed this hovel for a few weeks. The thing is, you’ve been awaiting news about a job.

They haven’t contacted you yet. You’ve been paying through the nose for this musty abode, bristling at the prices of groceries – at the prices of anything, really. London’s famous charms were lost on you. You hated this city. To you, it felt as if someone had squashed a dozen smaller towns into an amorphous heap. You didn’t know a single soul in those streets and you weren’t sure if you wanted to change that.

But how long can a lonely girl sit on her ass, browse youtube and marinate herself in misery?

And it was All Hallow’s Eve after all.

You always loved Halloween.

The weather discouraged kids from trick-and-treating. Yet you could still hear multiple footsteps going every which way on the wet pavement below, snippets of conversations and muffled laughter. Londoners decided to enjoy themselves tonight, weather be damned. 

You paused the video (it was about a groomer, tending to a particularly matted, hissy cat). You stood up with a sigh, slammed your laptop shut and went to the suitcase lying in the corner.

It’s been a week here and apart from your sensible job interview clothes, (which have been hanging on the door, properly steamed) you still haven’t found it in yourself to unpack.

Never mind that now. You unceremoniously threw the suitcase’s contents on the wooden floor and fished one particular object out of the pile; a little velvet dress, as black as the night.

You stood in front of the dusty mirror and pulled the garment on. It was one of those strappy numbers which start late but end pretty early. Hugged all your curves, not leaving much to the imagination. Your dear mother would’ve described this dress as „slutty”.

Just the way you liked it.

You’ve learned before that excessive preparations only dull your enthusiasm for the unknown. So you’ve slid your feet inside your trusted combat boots, smudged some black eyeliner here and there, put your hair up in a French twist with a simple metal pin, and threw on a jacket - and you were good to go.

Wherever those streets would take you.

***

It turned out that the streets wouldn’t take you far. Because it was raining fucking hard. 

It's one thing to merely observe the skies opening, and another to withstand their fury. You were trudging the pavement under your flimsy foldable umbrella, almost bent in half because of the gusty wind. You walked turned to the side, trying to avoid getting ballistic rainwater in your eyes, one half of your face damp and cold already. The light jacket offered little protection; soon you were soaked to the bone, and furious.

Screw it, you thought. I’m just gonna get inside any old place, have a pint and then go home.

You turned the corner and came upon a narrow crooked staircase leading below the street level, as was usually the case with pubs in this area. Some people were just leaving the premises, laughing and talking as they went. You caught a glimpse of bluish light, pouring from the inside along with some muffled bass beats.

Good enough.

You descended down the staircase; concrete steps crumbled under your tractor soles, threatening to throw you off balance. You passed by some folks on your way, squeezing yourself past them on a narrow path cutting through an overgrown courtyard. You pulled the handle of a heavy iron door. It was covered in graffiti and layers upon layers of old stickers. 

You stepped inside.

Your first thought was: This is not a pub.

You weren’t a local – hell, you weren’t even British – but after some time spent in this country, you’ve more or less become acquainted with the trappings of this cornerstone of any local community, what with its cosy nooks, mandatory fireplace and dark polished woodwork. Those kinds of places you knew. The beer wasn’t half bad, the tunes were usually tolerable and bartenders had this well-practiced cordiality to them. You liked the atmosphere of an English pub.

This, however, was different. Like, much noisier.

Your ears got filled with the metallic beats of dark industrial music. You couldn’t name the song that was playing. Deep inside there was a small dancefloor, where bodies swayed along with the slow, reverberating rhythm. 

This place was so dimly lit, that you had to squint just to adjust. The walls were raw concrete, with exposed brass piping running up and down in complicated patterns. It reminded you of a bunker. All the furniture seemed to be worn down and mismatched as if someone scavenged it from various vacant buildings. The bar counter was one giant slab of concrete too, its greyness punctuated by rows of tiny lights hanging from the iron truss under the low ceiling. 

The patrons all wore black. Not just your basic, nondescript black, oh no. You looked around (as much as you could while drifting in this neon blue semi-darkness, which revealed so little) and noticed some people in gothic finery. Velvet, lace, the works. Others chose leather or elaborate corsetry.

Ah, it’s one of those places.

You got your shit together, folded the damn umbrella, shook your damp hair to get at least some of the water out of it, and beelined to the concrete bar. At this point of the evening, you’d kill for a hot beverage.

The bar area was not too crowded, thank fuck. You clambered gracelessly onto one of the free barstools and smiled at the bartender. He was completely bald, with a ginormous nose ring and a thin face, eternally crumpled into an expression of faint disgust.

"Hello! One hot tea, please", you said breathlessly.

Dude looked at you as if you’d just spat on his mother’s grave.

"Tea? You sure 'bout that?"

"Well yeah", you answered. "It’s bucketing down out there, and I got chilled to the bone..."

The bartender wasn’t moved by your plight. 

"This is a club, not your Granny’s living room, see? We serve adults here..."

"Give ‘er a damn tea, Geoffrey. Don’t be a cunt."

A man’s voice rang out from your left. It was low and throaty, but also perfectly even in tone. It cut through the music and the bustle like a knife wielded by a steady hand. Your ears twitched pleasantly at this sound.

Geoffrey blinked at whoever it was that scolded him. Then he made a face and turned away to fulfil your order.

"I’m just saying, we’re trying to run a business here…" he muttered, putting the kettle on.

"I see that”, you assured. "Make that a tea and a glass of Scotch then. I could use both."

"Right." The bartender was seemingly placated by your offer.

When he put the drinks in front of you and turned towards other customers, you emptied the sugar packet inside the cup, stirred your tea for a while, finally sipped it - and sighed with delight. It all took a while. When the life-restoring elixir started to course through your veins, you stole a glance at the man who spoke earlier.

"Thanks for putting in the word for me", you said with a slight smile.

"Geoff's not a bad bloke. Just overworked." 

The stranger was tall and dressed in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head. He was looking straight ahead, away from you, cradling his whisky glass in two large, strikingly pale hands.

"I can imagine, with the place being so busy on Halloween and all...Anyway, I’m feeling better by the minute." 

"Drink up then, and that whisky too. You look like a half-drowned cat."

That voice was something to behold. So deep and guttural, with a thick accent that made short work of most of the consonants. As your ears helpfully suggested, it was probably Mancunian. One doesn’t simply grow such a voice. One earns it through incessant smoking and other recurring bad life decisions, no doubt. It was kinda hot.

...Wait a moment, did this perfect stranger just smack-talk you?

Your head darted upwards. 

"Did you just say that I look like shit?" 

Your tone was still playful - if underlined by a suggestion that you’re always ready to drop the playfulness.

The hooded man must’ve heard that undertone because he chuckled. That rumbling sound reverberated somewhere deep within you. Probably in your bones.

"Don’t be so hard on yourself, love. You're just a little worse for wear, is all."

That impassive tone of his stabbed you in the solar plexus. You've straightened up as if pulled by a string. The teaspoon fell into your tea, making a soft clatter, while you spun around on your stool to look this insolent git straight in the face.

"How do you know?" you bit out. "You weren't even looking -"

The following words got stuck in your throat.

Not only was the man hooded, but he also wore a mask. A tight black one, covering his head and the lower part of his face. A balaclava, your brain hinted helpfully. It looked like a part of the regulation equipment of the armed forces, and that's where the similarities came to an end. For the mask has been printed over – or painted, maybe? - with the image of a skull. Mainly its lower jaw. White paint glimmered in the bluish light, forming a wide, ghastly smile which grinned at you.

But even more striking were his eyes, large and protruding. Your stunned stare met two opaque irises, as dark and dense as a black hole. You weren't able to decipher their expression. That cryptic intensity of his gaze seemed to bend space-time. 

His eyelids and skin around the eyes have also been blackened, but his long lashes remained pale as frost.

You stared at this vision with your mouth ajar, like a dead fish.

"What?" He asked calmly and quietly. "Do I have something on me fuckin' face?"

You were always quite outspoken, but at that moment words eluded you.

"Cool mask,” you said finally because something needed to be said. „Cool...disguise. Is it for Halloween?"

He didn't blink. It was unnerving.

"I don't do 'alloween, love."

"So you wear this thing 'cause it makes you more interesting and mysterious and shit?"

The tall man leaned towards you, his eyes creasing in a smile.

"Look at you, sweetheart. It's clearly workin'."

"That's because of that stare of yours. It could pin a person to a wall...", you murmured.

"I could pin you to a wall. Just ask nicely.”

You felt suddenly weightless. Out of breath. 

"For how long?" you quipped, trying your damnedest to sound flippant. 

The nerve of this fucking guy!

"For as long as you'll need me to. I'm a dedicated man.”

There was no bravado ringing in his gritty voice. Just a calm statement of fact.

You cut a look at his arms. The black cotton of the hoodie did little to conceal their immense size. 

He could probably deliver on his promise.

You took a long breath, trying to regain your lost composure. It wasn't easy when this hulking freak stared you down, but you'd been in tighter spots before.

Goths, amirite, you thought. Ever the contrarians, regardless of their age. They tended to be good in the sack though.

You studied this new specimen very thoroughly - and there was plenty to stare at. The man was built like an industrial-sized fridge. Ridiculously tall even while sitting down and broad-shouldered, with a firm chest stretching the plain black cotton of his sweatshirt. Which, by the way, he wore zipped up almost to his very chin, like a layer of protective gear. Weird.

Those dim little lights over the bar made it hard for you to discern the details, but you also noticed the width of his torso and his powerful thighs, clad in simple blue denim. He was by far the plainest dressed patron of this edgelord cellar joint. Apart from the mask you didn't notice anything even remotely Gothic about his style or bearings. Although he sat motionless, cradling a glass of whisky in his long, strong fingers – he still exuded that kind of primal strength which you've learned to associate with the outdoorsy hiker type or the avid sportsman.

"Like what you're seein', love?”

You winced, a bit perplexed that he had caught you taking stock of his impressive physique. But you weren't about to let him know that.

"Yep”, you blurted out instead, staring boldly into those eyes, as dark and impenetrable as a shark's. "Do you?"

"I do, yeah."

Aaand here we go, you thought, relaxing immediately. For now, you were on a beaten path.

"You've said that I looked like -", you chuckled accusingly, leaning back on your stool. His stare was gliding all over you without any shame, probably filing the best finds away for later.

"I know what I said," he cut you off calmly, leaning closer. The height difference between you two was striking.

"Your mascara got smudged and ran off...to there."

You stilled as this complete stranger traced a pale finger across your eye socket. You drew in a deep breath as he touched your zygomatic bone, where nothing possibly could've smudged. His fingertip travelled even further, brushing over your sensitive skin and freeing a lone strand of hair from behind your ear. It was still damp from the rain.

He did it very slowly. Very gently.

You let him. As if you were hypnotized. Attempted a smile, but the corners of your mouth felt strangely numb.

"See? Now that's perfection", he stated in the same hushed, impassive tone of voice before turning back to his drink. The whisky glass disappeared in his hand.

You were silent. Your head was buzzing as if someone had set the radio inside to a non-existent channel.

The thing is, you knew perfectly well who you were dealing with. When it comes to seasoned fuckboys like Skullface here, it's all very simple; they're nothing to be afraid of. Such men are what a high wave is for the swimmer. An opportunity for a fun ride.

Back when you were a teenage girl, you liked to spend hours on end in the sea. At the time you'd like to imagine that this cool, salty, malachite green vastness was your lover. You drifted in the water, letting the wave carry you, surrendering yourself to its tender ruthlessness, allowing the element to hold you for a moment without dealing any harm, to guide you like a dance partner, and then to pass by and disappear into the distance.

It is just like dancing. As long as you know the steps, something beautiful can come out of it.

And you haven't had the chance to let loose on the dancefloor for so long.

You calmed your body by taking a few deep breaths. You couldn't calm your heart. What you could do, though - was to let your audacious spirit take the wheel.

You grabbed at your glass and emptied it in one sweep. Vile whisky did as it always would; it burned your gullet only to flare into a ball of pleasant warmth once it reached your insides. It was not a connoisseur-worthy beverage, but its aggressive sweetness suited your current mood.

You threw your head back and exhaled slowly.

He was watching, you could tell. He tilted his head slightly. Amusement emanated from behind the black mask.

"Say..." you drawled, leaning towards him with your eyes sparkling, for you felt a surge of vigour and boldness along with a freshly bloomed, alcohol-induced blush. 

"Does your mum know that you being a goth is not a phase?"

Skullface snorted softly.

"I am not a goth, love."

"Then why are you in this den for kinky weirdos?" You gestured around the dark interior, including the bare walls, the blue neon light and the throbbing, metallic, dark rhythms pulsing around you.

"I like goth chicks”, he admitted. Cheeky git.

"Why?" you prodded.

"Tattoos in fun places."

"Animal”, you chided him, setting your empty glass down with a bang.

"Excuse me, sir!" you called out to the bartender. "I shall have another."

"Like you came here for some lofty purpose. Wanna discuss the works of Kierkegaard...dressed like that?” The masked man snorted, summing up your entire scantily clad person with one tilt of his chin.

You chuckled quietly, taking no offence.

"I'm surprised that you even know how to pronounce his name."

He remained silent, so you fired away again, buoyed by the alcohol in your veins: 

"Weren't you supposed to add something scathing after the 'dressed like that' part? I'm still waiting for that burn to sting."

"If I did, I'd be a fuckin' hypocrite", he muttered. "Cause I very much enjoy it."

That solemn note of appreciation in his voice made you smile and nod. What an earnest freak.

The bartender came over and took away both of your empty glasses.

"What can I get you?" he asked, his gaze moving from his face to yours.

"Two glasses of bourbon, Geoffrey", the masked man said.

He noticed that you were opening your mouth and nipped those objections in the bud by raising a finger.

"Hey. Bear with me here. If you don't like it, you might drink whatever you want next. Even more of that fuckin' coal sludge you've been having."

"Excuse you, Scotch is hardly a sludge".

"That's what the bloody Scots would tell you. In much more...colourful terms, I s'ppose. I have a Scottish coworker and every time that we go drinkin', he gives me a bloody earful about the superiority (he pronounced this word rolling his r's) of the local distilleries over that Kentucky brew."

"You're friends with a highlander?" you asked. "Does he curse at you in Scots whenever he gets agitated?"

"All the fuckin' time. He's a twonk." A smile laced his words.

"You sure are passionate about your liquor choices." 

You propped your chin up with your hand, smiling at him.

"If I wanted to taste a fuckin' fireplace, I'd chew on a burnt log. Bourbon is the way to go. Much sweeter."

You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden fervour.

"You don't seem like the kind of lad who pursues sweetness," you quipped, trying to look into those impossible eyes of his and not blink. So far, it was a downhill battle. 

The bartender came back. Two glasses full of amber liquid landed on the counter with a dull clink. You didn't have the time to focus on them, because Skullface leaned towards you, shading you with his powerful torso and obscuring the source of the blue light. Your nostrils were suddenly filled with his pleasant manly scent, mixed with the fragrance of fresh laundry, some kind of a woody-citrusy aftershave, and a hint of something you couldn't decipher even though you knew that smell. Its memory, devoid of a name, tickled at the tip of your tongue. Fireworks?

"Sweet and rough things should go hand in hand in life. That's how you make it all bearable somehow."

"Somehow?..” you asked absentmindedly, mesmerised by his deep voice. By the promise tilting at the edge of those slowly, intently enunciated words.

"Hey, true balance is hard to find, 'cause life's a fuckin' mess. It's chaos, it's cruel. No point to it at all."

Holy mackerel, you thought. A goth girl admirer, an apparent powerhouse of a man and a homegrown nihilist in one. With eyes like two abysses and a voice like grit. This was going to be an enchanting evening.

Don't go crazy just yet, you admonished yourself. Don't let this stranger in a mask get the upper hand on you. Keep your calm so that he doesn't sweep you off your feet prematurely.

"So," you murmured, your tone casual, "What did Kierkegaard have to say, exactly?"

Dark eyes twinkled. 

"Many things. Like that our whole existence is absurd. It doesn't really matter what we do, so we might as well do whatever the fuck we want. And right now, I want to do...this."

He dipped a finger into his glass of bourbon and glided it across your lower lip.

You parted your mouth without protest, giving in to the shamelessness of this gesture.

"Just taste it."

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (9/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: "I'll try to update every 2 weeks." Uh - sorry. This is only edited once so I apologize for any mistakes. I thought it was better to get this out and keep things moving than holding onto it forever! Hope you enjoy. (:

WARNING: Y/N starts to get horny. Short descriptors of sexual situations. Minors DNI!

CHAPTER 9: As the days go on, Charlie's presence arouses some very... interesting thoughts within you. One night, his actions towards another man makes you question his feelings for you. And if that wasn't complicated enough, you get an urgent message from Molly. (6.2k words)

CHAPTER 9: THE PASSENGER SEAT

“This is exactly why I said not to apparate into the apartment!” You shrieked as you shut the bathroom door so hard it nearly flung off its hinges.

Or so you thought. The amount of force you used wasn’t quite sufficient so the door decided to spring back to you like a boomerang. When you realized it wasn’t going to shut, you chucked out a spare towel as a distraction.

“Have you considered maybe,”—Charlie, who’d just apparated into the apartment, ducked to avoid the towel—“closing the door for privacy?”

You took the opportunity to shut the door. “I needed to vent the air out,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the barrier. 

“Sure you did,” Charlie responded, his voice seeping through the small crack below.

“I will vent it into your room, Charlie,” you threatened. “And you’re not going to like it when your room feels like a rainforest.”

“How would you know I don’t like the heat?”

You choked. 

 “Look on the bright side, (Y/N),” Charlie reminded. “You weren’t naked.”

“May as well have been,” you grumbled as you slipped into your room, the humid air sticking to your form as you walked. 

“I’ve seen you in much less,” was Charlie’s response. Barely there, but your ears always perked up for whatever he said. 

You stilled in front of your closet, your face tingling. ”That was one time.”

The day you accidentally walked out in a slip dress in front of Charlie was permanently burned in your mind. So, you’d taken to wearing more in the living room so Charlie couldn’t poke fun of your state of (un)dress. Living with him was proving to be quite habit-changing indeed.

You walked back out in a t-shirt and sweatpants, leaving no more than a couple inches of skin exposed. You were amused to find Charlie on the sofa, tinkering with an artifact. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers on your deltoid. “Now, will you promise to stop apparating into the apartment?”

“No promises,” Charlie said languidly as he reclined back on the couch, spreading his legs out and continuing to scrape some rust off the artifact with his nail. His fingers were so long—and it was then that you’d lost the ability to speak, the tortuous vision in front of you forcing your mouth agape. 

You ripped your eyes away, pivoted towards the kitchen, and inhaled deeply through your nostrils. You couldn’t, shouldn’t, really, really, shouldn’t be imagining what was laying in-between his limbs. But faster than you could control your impulses, your imagination went off to the races: what did it look like? If the laws of proportion held true and if Charlie’s appendage was anything like his body, it would surely rest thick and heavy in your hands. Maybe it would be red and freckled like him.

You saw a brief image kneeling in front of Charlie, knees digging into the marble floor, your hands wrapped around his cock, mouth parting to accommodate his girth, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes fluttering close, his head thrown back as his hands remained tangled in your hand, “good girl”—

Holy. Shit.

It was one thing to dream about it in the privacy of your bedroom, but doing it in front of Charlie seemed invasive, and you were absolutely fucked if he had mind-reading abilities of any sort. Given how everything came to him with ease, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was watching your thoughts like a film reel. Red in the face, you went into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of cold water and slammed a scoop full of ice cubes into your cup. You chugged. Not effective. You needed another shower and preferably at a temperature that was below freezing this time. 

Your heart rate persisted its course of flying through the roof. What was this? You either needed to scrub your mind clean of all the Madame Millicent you’d consumed the past couple weeks or just plain get your priorities straight. You abhorred when Fred spread his legs on the sofa or on a public bench. You told him straight to his face that it looked—and was—improper, and it took space from others, especially on the tram or a bench. So why was it that when Charlie did it, you instead wanted to jump his bones?

“(Y/N),” Charlie called out.

“Yes?” You turned slowly, fingers maintaining a death grip on your glass. Here it came: his confession of his mind-reading abilities. 

“Come here.”

You felt as if someone had punched your windpipe. Cracked it into little pieces. How cruel of him to predisposition you to respiratory disease at the tender age of 23. 

You shuffled slowly towards him, a cold sweat prickling your skin because of what he was going to say or do. 

“Sit,” he commanded.

“Where?” You blurted. 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Here, of course.” He patted to the cushion to his left and you immediately complied. 

“You’re acting funny,” he observed, cocking his head.

“Really?” You questioned. “I don’t think so.”

His lips lifted into a curious smile. You leaned forward to set your water down on the table, grateful that it allowed you to break eye contact with Charlie— a much-needed moment of respite. 

“See this?” Charlie placed the artifact, which you now discovered was a fossil, in your hands. A current of electricity ran through your fingers, each inch of skin blooming with the intensity of a thousand fireworks. And as if that wasn’t enough touch, he swung his left arm around you before finding your hand again. You shuddered when his larger, callused hands covered yours completely. 

Hands. Hands and fingers in your hair, simultaneously pulling your strands and forcing your head down on his cock.

You shuffled your position on the couch, trying to mitigate the growing heat in between your legs. 

Charlie’s thumb brought you back to reality, guiding yours over a ridge on the fossil and onto the ribs of whatever creature had been buried in sediment and imprinted upon the rock. “Bill brought it back from Egypt for me. It’s a Nundu, or at least what they’re known as now, from over five thousand years ago. Evolved a lot since. Pretty neat, don’t you reckon?”

“Yes.”

Charlie pouted. “I thought you’d be more interested.”

“I am!” you said, squinting your eyes and leaning closer to inspect every speck of bone in the fossil.

“I’ve been told you quite enjoy magical creatures.”

You paused. “By who?”

Charlie leaned in, hovering a mere two inches from your face, and teased, “Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I was sworn to secrecy lest I be cursed by the fury of a thousand Whizbangs.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fred? George? Both?”

Charlie leaned back onto the sofa again and grinned. “Maybe.”

Your pulse quickened. “What did they say?”

“Nothing more than the fact you took the elective together,” Charlie said. “I just thought it was unlike you. Why’s that got you all worked up, hm?”

You rubbed the back of the fossil, asking yourself the same question. What did it matter if Charlie learned about the fact that you’d basically flunked Care of Magical Creatures? You’d only taken the class because Fred and George insisted you should stick together, but your fear of the same creatures took precedence and the rest was history. 

“You know how Fred is,” you responded with a strained smile. “He’s always twisting things around to make me look bad.”

But maybe Charlie was telling the truth. If he’d known about your abysmal grade, he’d probably be teasing you ruthlessly right now instead of nodding along with you and saying something like: “He’d never be able to make you look bad in my eyes, (Y/N).”

Heat smattered against your cheeks as your lips parted. There was no part of you that wasn’t molten now.  Perfect, you’d transitioned from a hormonal imbalance to menopause. Charlie Weasley has proven himself terrible for your health, but here you sat, listening ardently to everything he had to say about Nundus.

On Thursday, you walked into the outpatient wing of St. Mungos. Charlie had left the previous day for Hogwarts, leaving you some peace of mind without his presence. And as luck would have it, Healer Tousignant was going to provide you a cure for your issues. She was excellent, wasn’t she? Despite this, you remained unsure. Deep in some compartment of your brain, you wondered how your friends would react if they found out. You’d receive the run-of-the-mill treatment by the twins (“Oh good, you’re finally sleeping with someone? Wait! It’s just a bit suspicious that it’s all happening now, isn’t it?”).

But Charlie? He was a wildcard. You imagined him finding a sleeve of pills in the living room. Would he think you responsible, or would he think you did this out of necessity because you were sleeping with someone else? Which again, posed the question: what did it matter what he thought? Truthfully, you knew. You were far too tangled up in your growing affections for him to not care about what he thought. 

The secretary brought you back to reality and place: the office of Healer Tousignant. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m here for my appointment with Healer Tousignant.”

“Your name, please.”

“(Y/N) Malfoy.”

The receptionist nodded, tapped her quill twice against an appointment scheduler, the light thwacks resonating with your beating heart. She pursed her lips and scrunched her nose. Her glasses shifted downwards as she looked at some blotting ink that was appearing on the paper.

“It seems Healer Tousignant has just been called into the gynaecology and obstetrics department for emergency coverage,” the receptionist said.

“Alright,” you breathed out. You had to thank some higher powers for letting you off so easily. “I can come back another day.”

You were halfway out the door when her voice stopped you in your tracks. ”Of course not,” the receptionist said with a wave of her hand. “It won’t be long. Head to the east wing, fifth floor up, until you find room 5-E. She’ll see her before her lunch break.”

“Are you certain? I’m happy to come back another day if she’s handling an emergency.”

“Absolutely,” she responded with confidence. “You shouldn’t be waiting for more than 15 minutes. Healer Tousignant is very experienced and efficient with deliveries. I hope the change in location isn’t an inconvenience, but you should be otherwise accommodated.”

Plans foiled and any chance of escape thwarted, you dragged your feet to the east wing and took the stairs to prolong the inevitable. When you pushed the last door open, you were almost blinded by sunlight. This section of the hospital was adorned with glass windows and as a result, was lush with natural light. Blooming plants lined the sterile-clean hallways.

Nurses in lavender smocks and perfectly-slicked back hair strolled past you, some pushing carts with meals, others pushing carts with sterilized tools.

You gazed into the smoky windows of a waiting room. Your eyes landed on a pair of expectant mothers chattering excitedly to each other. Unknowingly, you smiled. Their excitement was contagious. Your eyes then trailed to a couple walking out the doors. The female was heavily pregnant and was being supported by her loving, adoring partner—

Her partner being Bill Weasley.

Panicked, you backtracked your steps and turned the nearest corner. You scrambled for safety under the cover of an oversized plant. In any other circumstance, you would’ve loved to exchange formalities, but something told you that you sauntering around the Obstetrics and Gynaecology Wing at St. Mungo’s wouldn’t be a good look, especially after Charlie’s erroneous proclamation about your sex life last week (and you hoped it hadn’t spread much around that little circle of women). So, you pressed your back against the light green wall, trying to shrink yourself so no part of you would jut out. 

Bill and Fleur, thankfully, didn’t even turn around as they walked, much more enraptured by each other than anyone else. You cautiously peered out into the hall to catch the last of their retreating figures. Down the last bit of the hall, Bill cradled Fleur like she was the most precious, delicate, fragile and only thing in the world, even though she’d proven she was as tough as nails. His chin rested on the top of head as they walked hand-in-hand. Thoughts of having lunch with Bill clouded your head, and the maturity and stability he exuded by simply inviting you. Unknowingly, you bit your lip. As Bill and Fleur disappeared, your heart thumped in some mess of emotions you couldn’t discern.

When you were certain the expecting parents were out of sight, you followed the directions to Tousignant’s office. You gave the door two solid raps. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Charlie asked from the kitchen island as he effortlessly uncorked a bottle of wine. It was late Friday evening, and Charlie had gotten back from the train station with a bottle of red wine and groceries in one hand, and his briefcase in another. “Another tea party?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you responded. You walked into the pantry, looking for some more ingredients to throw together for your impromptu dinner. Charlie didn’t tell you he was coming back on an empty stomach and you thought he’d have taken care of his dinner himself. You were more than happy to have him here, but the miscommunication led to him dramatically proclaiming he was going to die of hunger at your doorstop. 

He was obviously joking because he’d purchased some groceries on the way home.

“Come to a concert with me tomorrow,” Charlie suggested seamlessly as he retrieved two wine glasses from the highest shelf. “I was supposed to go with Bill. We’ve been planning this for years, but Fleur’s due any day now and he won’t leave her side.”

“What kind of concert?” You asked, tossing him a bulb of garlic.

He caught it without missing a beat and responded, “Rock concert.”

“Oh.”

“In muggle London.”

“Ah.”

Charlie chuckled as he switched gears and poured you a glass of Merlot. “It’s not scary, (Y/N), it’s just rock music.”

“I’m not scared,” you retorted, accepting the glass and swirling it around. “I just haven’t been to a concert in ages.”

That was a lie. You’d been to plenty with Fred and George over the years, but going to a concert with Charlie where you might be pressed up to him for three hours was an entirely different concept. Was it a date he was proposing? Or were you just the most convenient thing around to try to fit the tall, lanky gap that was his brother Bill because Charlie didn’t want to go alone?

You drew in a deep breath, furrowing your brows. And then you said something Charlie wasn’t expecting.

“Say you’re sorry first.”

A look, a perfect cross of amusement and surprise, graced Charlie’s face, and he paused midway through crushing a garlic clove under his knife. “What for?”

You let the attractive bass notes of his question float past your ears. “For waltzing in here and telling me I didn’t have a sufficient meal prepared. And implying my culinary skills were insufficient.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Charlie said, a touch more quietly than how he usually spoke. He set his knife down and walked over to you, his height quickly casting a growing shadow over your head. “I figured for hanging out with Fred and George so much, you’d be the queen regnant of taking jabs.”

You pouted at Charlie, trying to take advantage of his apologetic state. This was a dangerous line you were toeing, but you were feeling courageous tonight. “I’m well-aware cooking isn’t my strong suit. It’s been made known to me all my life. I’m trying my best to work on it, but to be put down like that…”

“Hey, hey,” Charlie consoled as he placed two firm hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“The damage’s done, Charlie,” you whispered, looking down to conceal a laugh, “I’m—my confidence is crushed.”

You waited for his clever retort. What you weren’t expecting was for him to use the same hands that rested on your shoulders to pull you closer, until your forehead thwacked against his hard chest. The very same pair of hands glided back to your scapula, cornering you in and making escape impossible. He had you locked in his sturdy and very hard arms. You had no choice but to get lost in all six-feet something of him.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, his voice rumbling from his chest and vibrating through your body like you were a conductor to his current. With your cheek splayed against his body, it was impossible to think straight. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you letting me stay here when I need. It’s miles above any other accommodation. You don’t need to have anything ready for me, ever. I’d be fine if you kicked me out to sleep on sofa and kept my room for yourself.”

You were about to burst. It was overwhelming: his words, his warmth, and his sudden earnestness. He was acting like everything you imagined someone like, oh, you know, his brother, Bill Weasley to be. But in the midst of it all, when the situation became lucid, you panicked. What were you supposed to do in Charlie’s arms? Nestle in and show him how lovesick you were, or pull away and give him the impression you were uncomfortable in his presence and didn’t like him that way? The latter wasn’t true, but you didn’t want to spill your unformed feelings to him. 

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to look up at him but only getting a glimpse of his chin. You decided on the most diplomatic solution. Still in his arms, you agreed. “I’ll go to the concert with you.”

It wasn’t like you were going to say no, anyway. You just wanted to make Charlie work for it.

”Perfect,” he said, voice husky in your ears. “That’s my girl.”

If he kept this up, you were going to devour Charlie for dinner. 

Before heading out to muggle London Saturday evening, Charlie suggested you have a drink at the pub. You tried very hard not to let your face show what your brain was thinking when he stepped out of his room in a corduroy jacket, tossed over a shirt, that perfectly skimmed his muscular body. He left his hair tousled and curly. 

In the descending lift, you asked him where exactly the bar was. He refused to answer and instead, led you there, the silence between you only broken by him humming a tune. 

“This is where Bill and I usually go,” Charlie finally said. You’d almost flown past the entrance until Charlie pulled you back by the arm. The tavern was tucked away on a cul-de-sac, completely hidden from the bustling shopping streets. 

Charlie, playing the part of a true gentleman, opened the door and whisked you in. You walked down a short flight of the stairs until the bar came into view. Charlie ducked the low ceilings the whole way down. The space was warm, orange-hued from the wood and lighting, and ridiculously cramped. Or cozy, whichever term fit it better. The bartender—a stout man in his late sixties with a white beard—was chatting with two other men of similar ages. The guests were perched on the barstools, leaving only one of the three seats available. 

“Well, look at who it is!” The bartender exclaimed, his accent tinged slightly Scottish. His proclamation prompted his patrons to look your way.

“Charlie!” one of the patrons spoke. “Finally decided to come home?”

“Who’s the lassie?” The bartender asked. 

You supposed he meant you. “(Y/N) Malfoy,” you greeted.

“I’m Don, owner.” He shook your hand. “This is Henry, and Bruce.” The two men gave you a wave which you returned. Then, Don looked at Charlie and asked, “Where’s Bill?

“At home, with his wife,” Charlie answered.

Don grinned at looked at you. “I like her, much easier on the eyes than Bill.”

You gave a polite smile.

“Sit.” Charlie gestured to the open seat.

“What about you?” You asked.

“I can stand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Charlie, where are your manners?” Don barked. “Get (Y/N) a drink.” Charlie quickly moved forward, head almost hitting the ceiling, to pull a glass from the shelf. The way Charlie obeyed Don so quickly led you to think that Don was a parental figure to him. 

“Your reflexes aren’t what they used to be, I’ll get it myself,” Don grumbled. He pulled out five shot glasses. His mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. “Getting old or something?”

“Something like that,” Charlie agreed. “I’m not the same exuberant boy you knew.”

Henry hid his words behind a generous cough. “Aren’t we all blessed by that?”

Don poured you a hefty amount of whiskey and slid the shot glass over to you.

“Loosen up, lassie. It’ll do you some good. Especially if you have to deal with him the whole night.”

You nodded. You clinked your glasses with the four other men and threw back the whiskey. A smidgeon of tears welled up in your eyes as the substance burned your throat.

Don and his friends downed the drink like it was water. ”It’s harsh, but it’ll get you where you need to go.” Then, he peered over at Charlie. “So, what’s keeping Bill at home?” He questioned.

Charlie set his glass down right by yours, “His wife is pregnant, due any day now.”

Don let out a low whistle. “Last I saw Bill, he’d just graduated. Still had his robes when he stopped by the bar to say goodbye before heading to Egypt. Now, he’s got a kid on the way? About time for you too, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather raise dragons,” Charlie said off-handedly. “They’re much more interesting, and less needy.”

“What about you?” Don asked, tilting his head towards you. 

You stopped trying to gnaw the bitter taste of alcohol off your mouth when you realized Don was asking your opinion on child-rearing. “I, uhm,” you stammered. “I don’t think I’m particularly good at raising either.”

“That’s no good,” Don said.

Your face fell momentarily.

“I’m only joking,” Don clarified with a hearty laugh. “What else are you having tonight?”

Charlie pressed closer until his warm chest was flush against your back. The chain around his neck swooped by your line of vision and tickled your skin, forcing some heat to your cheeks. “A pint of Guinness.”

“I wasn’t asking you!” Don shouted gruffly as he pulled a glass. “You should know better to wait your turn, lass.”

Don slid the glass towards you.

“Don’t worry about me,” Charlie brushed off. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy watching her drink this.”

You leaned back, neck falling into place in the crook of Charlie’s shoulders, the metal of his necklace lightly digging into your skin, as you whispered to him, “Why did you order me this?”

He tilted his head down, angling his blue eyes straight into yours. “Because I’ve been told you hate it.”

“Are you stalking me or something, Charlie Weasley?”

“It’s mainly for my entertainment,” Charlie whispered. “Let me break you in,” he said in a much louder voice as he leaned forward. He grabbed the pint and took a swig. Instead of setting it back down, he held it out in front of you. “Your turn.”

You stared at where his lips touched the glass previously. Hesitantly, you took the glass into your possession and sampled a feeble sip of it before making a face which you tried to conceal from Don.

“How is it?” Don asked.

“You have an excellent pour,” you praised. Technically, that part was true. “Do you have a tab started for us?”

Don raised an eyebrow. “Everything here is on the house,” he explained. “I don’t make any money, anyway. My financials are in the negatives. I’ve been retired 10 years. I just come here to have a drink without being scolded by my wife.”

You let out a quick laugh, but cut yourself off, thinking it was rude to have a laugh at Don’s finances.

“You should fancy a laugh at his expense. That’s what we all come here for,” Bruce added. 

A warm sensation filled your body. You felt like a part of the family, and you’d only met these men fifteen minutes ago. 

“How do you know Charlie?” You asked when you felt brave enough.

“Tell her,” Charlie dared, his chest firmly pressed against your back as he picked up your glass again. 

Don coughed. “When this troublemaker was barely sixteen and Bill not much older, they stumbled into my bar. I had a right mind to tell them to get out, but they pleaded with me into letting them stay. I was stupid enough to cave in and serve them a touch of alcohol, whatever was left in the barrel.” Don’s forehead crinkled. “Promise me this stays between me and you, and not the Licencing Wizengamot?”

You nodded quickly. “Of co—”

”Actually, (Y/N)’s father works for the Ministry,” Charlie said. “Surely, you made the connection. Lucius Malfoy?”

“Well, fuck me!” Don said, playfully slapping his dish towel on the counter. “Good thing I’m retired.”

“I assure you”—you stretched a hand forward on the table—“My lips are sealed. I can’t say the same about him.” You pointed back to Charlie. 

Charlie simply looked down at you with amusement.

After Don told you to be on your way, you left his bar gaily, promising to be back. Presently, your boots slapped the concrete floor as you ascended the steps up to the venue with Charlie. When you entered the complex, he stopped by a standing table where the end of the queue for refreshments started.

“One more drink for the show,” Charlie suggested. “I’ll be back. Another pint for you, queen regnant?”

You nodded, watching as he effortlessly glided through the sea of people. His ginger curls stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd. 

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) Malfoy?” A voice rung out on the other side of your head. You pivoted to look to your left. 

A tall, lithe man was approaching to where you stood in wait. He looked about your age and wore his blonde hair slicked back. His bright green eyes, ringed with a line of hazel around his pupils, caught yours immediately. The plastic cup of beer he held seemed dwarfed in comparison to the size of his hand. 

“Alex,” he introduced, extending his hand. “I’m a friend of Draco’s at the country club.” He leaned forward slightly, his pointer finger extended towards you as stabilized the plastic cup with his other fingers. Just a touch of hesitation marred his voice. “He is your brother, correct?” 

Alex gave the impression of regality with his high cheekbones and poised stance. Unlike everyone else who was dressed down in jeans and a tee, he favoured a black blazer over a white shirt, trousers, and a silver watch to decorate his wrist. For all you knew, he descended from Danish royalty, and you didn’t mind curtsying. 

“Yes,” you responded. Your face flushed with curiosity, wondering why Alex found it necessary to greet you. 

”Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“A dramatic shift in scenery from the golf course and resort,” you jested. 

Alex chuckled. “Absolutely less stuffy.”

”What brings you here? You asked. 

You watched as his throat caught, trying to latch onto an answer. As you waited, you thought it was downright puzzling why your parents never tried to introduce you to Alex. He seemed far more down-to-earth than the egotistical brutes for sons that your father seemed to favour. Maybe if you’d met him earlier, you wouldn’t have had to dig yourself into this infinite hole of lies.

He shifted his weight from side-to-side, but gave no other tells of being nervous. 

“A night out with my mates,” Alex explained. “They reckon I need to get out more after my,” he paused, a nervous smile appearing for the slightest of moments, “my girlfriend broke up with me.”

Your mouth rounded quickly as you wondered who’d dump someone like Alex. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear,” you offered your condolences. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “She would’ve hated coming here, anyway. I don’t mind muggle music; it’s quite good. You seem to fancy it, if you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m—”

You froze midway through your sentence when you felt a feather touch of a hand at your hip bone. Gentle enough not to startle you but hard enough to make its presence known. Panic set in quickly and you whipped around, ready to confront whoever deemed it was acceptable to lay a hand on you.

“You—!” you started. 

You were captured by the cloudy, deeper blue eyes of Charlie. You stopped yourself. His hand was still wrapped around you, lingering at your hip with no intention of letting go. You wouldn’t have minded if it stayed there, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Got you a drink,” Charlie said, handing you a cup of beer with his other hand. You gingerly accepted it. His lips were pressed in a tight line, leaving no trace of the usual playful Charlie you’d come to know. 

Alex was silent. Your eyes darted between the two men. Alex and Charlie were similar heights, but Charlie appeared bigger in stature due to his broad shoulders and muscle tone. Formalities would’ve called for you to introduce them to each other, but there was some strange, palpable tension in the air that you reckoned it was better they remained a mystery to each other.

“Let’s get a move on, (Y/N),” Charlie suggested with a flicker of a smile, his hand moving upwards to give your waist a squeeze. You had to will every inch of your being not to scream; you hadn’t prepared for such intimate touches outside your house or in view of people your age. The men at the pub were a different story. “Don’t want to miss the opener.”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Alex called out before Charlie could whisk you away. “Will you be at the Christmas luncheon?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you responded.

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” He affirmed with a smile, before he returned to a group of friends waiting for him. You snuck a glance; his friends’ faces struck you as familiar.

“Who was that?” Charlie’s eyes danced playfully, his usual disposition crawling back from the void he’d stuffed in a few seconds ago.

“A friend from the country club.”

“Sounds fancy,” he mused. “Are you close?”

“Not really,” you said. “He seems to know Draco, so we must run in the same circles. You can imagine how I feel about that.”

“I can imagine,” Charlie said. He led you to the entrance of where you were seated. 

In the darkness and between ear-splitting guitar riffs, you glanced over at Charlie when he wasn’t looking. You wondered why he’d dragged you away from Alex so quickly. There was ample time for the opener, and his intimate touches were as befuddling. They were, as you thought, done in the privacy in your home or when you needed to convince someone of your relationship. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Yes, you definitely were. You recalled when Charlie was overly flirtatious with Cecile, and you were certain he meant nothing of it. 

After the show, you filed out with all the other attendees. Your entire body buzzed. You were about to ask Charlie as to how you were getting home, but he was the first to breach the topic. 

“Can’t apparate in such a state,” lectured Charlie. He guided you out of the venue and down a back alley. 

“Who’s picking us up here?” you asked, pulling your coat closer to fend out the gnarly bites of wind that swept through the area.

“My most trusted driver,” Charlie responded confidently. “It seems he’s just running a minute late.”

Charlie looked down at his watch and tutted twice. That was when the wind picked up dramatically and you hid your face behind Charlie’s shoulder to block it out. Through one cracked open eye, you saw it. A purple vehicle had squeezed through the narrowest gap of the alleyway and then re-expanded to just fit without scraping the sides.

The passenger doors opened.

“Hi, Stan,” Charlie said. 

Stan shut the engine off, removed his hat and bowed. ”Shupike. Stan Shupike, at your service.”

“Good evening,” you greeted.

“Evening, ma’am,” Stan responded.

Stan leaned against his seat to give you room to board. Charlie followed behind you. To your amusement, there was no one else on the bus. All the beds were empty and decked out with fresh sheets and puffed pillows, and the privacy curtains drawn back.

You whipped around to face Charlie. ”How were you able to charter a whole bus?”  

“Stan has been my driver for years. There’s usually a spare bus at the station.”

“Wouldn’t ever trust Bill or Charlie to operate a vehicle or anything after the nights I’ve seen ‘em have,” Stan grunted from the front. “What’s the address again?”

“27 Primrose Gardens.”

“I’ll take you there if they’ll let my janky bus through those pretty, manicured gardens,” Stan said with a chuckle. The doors shut with a light swish. “Ne’er dropped anyone off there since I started.”

You sat down on a bed and held onto the pole for dear life, watching nervously from behind the curtain as Stan shifted gears. Charlie picked up on your nervousness and shuffled closer. 

“Hey,” Charlie said. “I got you.” With that, he looped an arm firmly around you waist, acting like a human seatbelt. His large hand rested on the top of your thigh, fingers gently grazing the fabric of your tights.

You tilted your head. “Thanks?”

“That sounds more like a question than a statement.”

“I do question when you choose to be kind.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “What does that mean?”

You fell over onto him and onto the bed when Stan took a particularly sharp right turn.

Flustered, you tried getting up. 

“Stay where you are,” Charlie said. “Stan says lying down is the safest, at least according to his driver’s manual.”

“Oh, really?” You asked with incredulity.

“It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?” Charlie lied down as well. “The worst that could happen is that you roll onto someone else. I’d prefer that to kissing the cold floor with my teeth any day.”

Now that you thought about it, it did seem less frightening, being horizontal. The shocks of Stan’s driving seemed to absorb in the mattress. You supposed you hadn’t heard of any horrific injuries on the Knight Bus, so you were inclined to believe this was for the better. You cautiously descended fully on the bed. 

Charlie looked at you with one blue eye, the other half his face sunken in the pillow. “Did you have a good time?” He asked. 

“Of course I did,” you said. You shimmied around to get comfortable and to let your hands splay out on the on sheets in front of you.

“Do you foresee any more concerts in the future?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Commit to it. Bill will be out of commission for another eleven years.”

“So, I’m your partner-in-crime for the next eleven years?”

Charlie extended his pinky finger to you. ”Lock it in, (Y/N).”

You hooked your pinky over his and shook on it, but you were barely paying attention to that. There were so many other sights to behold at this angle: the slight slant of strong nose, the quirk of his mouth as he looked back at you, the soft tufts of hair that were basically begging for your hands to comb through, and the glow of sun-kissed skin that seemed unfadable. 

“I figured you’d freckle easily,” you said. Without a second thought, you unlatched your pinkies in favour of skimming your pointer finger over a spot on his face. “But your freckles seem to have coalesced into a tan.”

“They’re relentless, very strong-willed,” Charlie agreed. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and his voice was growing thick and raspy with sleep. “They’re not going anywhere, especially not months under the beating sun.”

As your fingers continued to pad his cheek, Charlie’s hand hovered over a wayward strand of hair that’d fallen over your face. He brushed it back and tucked it behind your ear where it belonged. You smiled at the gesture. You watched his eyelashes flutter over his eyes and a peaceful grin, devoid of its usual cockiness, stretch across his face. He was content to be here like this, with you, with your hand on his cheek and his on yours, you surmised.

You studied the gap between your faces—lips, in particular—and wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking: would this gap be better off closed?

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt. The resulting inertia threw you off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, holding the tender point of your elbow that you’d landed on.

“What’s going on, Stan?” Charlie asked calmly, clearly used to these disruptions. You rubbed your elbow, face contorted in discomfort. Charlie lifted you up with ease and back onto the bed. 

“Owl near killed itself flying into my window ‘ere,” Stan explained. Near was right. The owl was still flying, pecking petulantly at Stan’s window with a parchment in its mouth.

Stan opened the door and let the owl fly in. It hurriedly found Charlie.

“Mum’s owl,” he said as he unfurled the parchment. You watched nervously as his eyes moved left to right.

“Stan.” Charlie’s voice was serious. “Turn the car around to St. Mungos.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

@badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan @morks-watermelon @nobodysbabydoll @annoyingbean630 @bathwater101

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By -- a Shigaraki x F!reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 1

You had a best friend when you were little, just like almost everyone, and the two of you were as different as two people could be. He was a boy and you were a girl. You were the oldest of four, and he was the youngest of two. His family was rich because his dad was some kind of business genius, and your family was – not. You and your best friend had exactly two things in common. First, you lived across from each other on the same street, him in a big new house and you in one that had been falling apart since before your parents were born. And second, and maybe most important, neither of you had a quirk.

It was okay for your best friend. He still had time. People in his family got their quirks when they were two or three or four or maybe even six, like they were supposed to. But everyone in your family is born with theirs. Your family’s quirks do different things, but they’re the same type of thing – powering up or watering down or just changing some part of somebody else, and they’re active until the person’s old enough to turn them off.

You hated being home. You had one younger brother who could turn your hearing up and down, one younger sister who could turn your color vision on and off, and twin baby brothers who could make you throw up whenever they wanted to. Going to school, or going across the street to play in front of Tenko’s house with him and his big sister and his dog, was the closest things ever got to normal for you.

Tenko wanted to be a hero. You knew he’d be the best hero, because he was a hero already, even without a quirk. Nobody was every left out when you and Tenko played at school, because Tenko could make everybody feel included, and you spent so much time trying to placate your siblings that you knew how to make sure everybody had fun. But for everybody to have fun, people needed to be there. Tenko was the one everybody believed in, the one who made everybody feel important. When you spent time with Tenko, you felt like you belonged. Tenko was already a hero, even as a kid. You knew he’d be amazing at it when he grew up.

Only he didn’t grow up, your best friend. You walked home from school together one day, said goodbye and crossed to your opposite sides of the street, and when you looked out your window the next morning, Tenko’s house was gone.

A villain did it. That’s what everybody said, and you didn’t know what else it could be, because Tenko’s house was in ruins, like a giant had smashed it with its foot or someone had blown it up from the inside. You raced across the street without your shoes on, right into the middle of what was left, and even though your parents spent money they didn’t have on a specialist whose quirk let them wipe memories right out of your brain, you still have nightmares sometimes about what you saw. Tenko’s big sister Hana was dead. His dog was dead. His mom and his grandparents and his dad were dead. But he wasn’t there, so you made yourself believe he was alive.

And some part of you kept believing, even after the foundations of an apartment building were laid over the spot where Tenko’s house used to be, even after your family moved away. Your youngest younger siblings, a set of triplets born after you moved, thought Tenko was your imaginary friend because of how much you talked about him. And even once you stopped talking about him, you never quite stopped thinking about him. Your best friend, who wanted to be a hero. Who would have been the greatest hero the world had ever seen.

Everyone else forgot him, forgot him so cleanly that you almost wonder if it was a quirk. But you remember your best friend – small things, weird things, like how he’d sometimes get so excited he’d almost cry. His All Might impression, which was so bad it almost worked. His dry skin and the way he’d scratch his neck. You wonder what happened, why he wasn’t found with his family. You wonder a lot of things.

“Everybody loses touch with their neighborhood kids,” Hirono says when you say something about it, while you and your friends are getting drunk in Kazuo’s backyard one weekend. “You’re not special.”

“Don’t be mean,” Yoshimi protests. “Her friend died. That’s different!”

“She just said he didn’t die. She thinks he’s still alive,” Sho says. He whistles and rotates one finger by his ear. “Cuckoo.”

“There should be a podcast about this,” Mitsuru says seriously, and Hirono and Mitsuko laugh at him. “No, there should! Five people confirmed murdered and a kid goes missing – and it’s never solved? That’s podcast material.”

“It’s newsworthy,” Kazuo says, his voice as expressionless as it always is these days. “Have you looked it up?”

“Yes,” you say. Too many times, probably. “The articles don’t say my friend went missing.”

“They said he died?”

“They don’t mention him at all.”

“Ooh. Spooky.” Sho makes a UFO noise, and Yoji, Yoshimi’s on-again, off-again asshole boyfriend, throws in some spiritfingers to go with it. “Maybe he’s imaginary after all.”

“Or maybe you do have a quirk,” Yuichiro, Mitsuko’s latest too-innocent boyfriend says earnestly. “Your family’s all status effects, right? Maybe you made everybody else forget him.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask blankly. You’re a little drunk. “He’s my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Kazuo says. Kazuo’s also a little drunk. “You don’t have a quirk. I would know. I know everything.”

The confidence is annoying, or it would be, if it wasn’t true – and if you didn’t know just how badly Kazuo’s quirk has ruined his life. “Maybe not,” Ryuhei says speculatively. “You only know what you know to know, you know?”

You try to parse that for a second, then give up. Mitsuru is wheezing with laughter. “Come on,” Ryuhei says, annoyed. “You know what I mean. Kazuo only knows the answers to questions he knows to ask, right? What if he hasn’t asked the right question?”

Kazuo’s quirk is called Search Engine, and it’s not an overstatement. He can ascertain anything he asks about, and if the questions aren’t hyperspecific, he can take in vast amounts of information. Too much information for even the smartest person to sort through and interpret without going crazy under the strain. He was going to be a hero, but UA High pushed him too hard, and something went wrong in his head. The smartest guy you know, who used to be funny and kind and should be changing the world for the better right now, is instead drunk in his parents’ backyard, still trying to figure out where his emotions went. You haven’t seen Kazuo care about anything in two years.

But you can see him thinking about what Ryuhei said, trying to wrap his mind around a question. “Don’t,” you say, and he looks at you, puzzled. “If I had a quirk, I’d have had it when I was born, just like the rest of my family.”

“Your family has some funky quirks,” Yoji says. You have a feeling you know where he’s going with this, and you’re not wrong. “Isn’t one of your cousins a villainess?”

“She barely counts,” Hirono says. “What could they even charge her with if they caught her? Possession of a video camera and bad taste in men? They could charge Yoshimi with that, too.”

“Hey!”

Sho and Ryuhei join in on the ribbing, and you lean back against the steps. Kazuo rises from his chair a little unsteadily and comes to sit by you. “You never mentioned this friend of yours before.”

“It never came up.” You glance sidelong at him. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No,” Kazuo says. He hiccups. His alcohol tolerance has always been weirdly low. “I’m surprised you never asked me to find him. Maybe I could.”

“I know.” If Kazuo ever recovers from what UA High did to him, the government will be all over him. He could find anything, anyone – but like Ryuhei said, he has to know what questions to ask. “I think I’m scared of what you’d find. I don’t want him to be dead.”

“Dead might be better.”

You almost choke on the sip of vodka you just took. “Excuse me?”

“If he died, he died,” Kazuo says. No shit. “If he’s still alive, he’s been missing for fifteen years. During my work-study, I assisted in the search for several missing children. Nothing good had happened to the ones we found alive.”

You hadn’t thought about that, what it would actually mean if Tenko is still alive, and your brain supplies you instantly with a list of terrible things that could have happened to your best friend. Your imagination is pretty vivid. Your stomach turns. “I don’t want that,” you say. “I just want him to be okay.”

“Sometimes dead is better,” Kazuo says again. And then he’s quiet.

You try to get back into the mood of the party, but what Kazuo said sticks, and you’re kind of mad at him about it. The old Kazuo wouldn’t have said something like that, or else he would have put it more gently. You miss the old Kazuo. Thanks to a villain fifteen years ago and UA fucking High, you’re now short two best friends.

Kazuo’s a good guy, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him because of who he reminded you of. You have a soft spot for dark-haired boys who want to be heroes. If Tenko hadn’t gone missing and the two of you had gotten to grow up together, you probably would have wound up with a big, stupid crush on him, the supercharged version of how you felt about Kazuo. But a relationship between the two of you wouldn’t have worked out, for the same reason your relationship with Kazuo didn’t work. Being a hero comes first. Being a hero always comes first with guys like them. You probably wouldn’t like them as much if it didn’t.

Getting drunk at Kazuo’s is a typical Friday night pastime among your friends, and usually everybody sleeps over. Everybody usually includes you, but you have to work tomorrow, which means you have to go home. Sometimes you and Kazuo still fool around when you’re both drunk, and you want to avoid that, too. You drink a glass of water and start sobering up while the others are still sorting out places to sleep, and then you tell them all good by and head out, taking three trains in a loop around the city to give yourself even more time to sober up before you have to walk home. You don’t live in the nicest neighborhood. You need to be alert.

When you finally get off the train at your stop, you realize you’ve got another problem. You’re hungry, and you won’t have time to cook when you get home if you want to sleep at all tonight. The all-night convenience store a few blocks up from your apartment is beckoning to you, and you give in without a fight. You’ll pick something to eat, eat it in the store for one last period of sobering-up, and walk the rest of the way home.

You feel a little better with a few bites of food in your stomach, and you’re pretty sure you’re not going to throw it up later. You hang out in the corner of the shop, a good spot to people-watch from if there were any people in here but you and the owner. The TV behind the counter is blaring the news about some villain attack, somewhere – two dumb-ass middle schoolers, one sludge villain, one can of whoop-ass opened by All Might. What else is new.

“Turn that shit off.”

The voice is raspy, and it’s coming from the far corner of the store. So there’s somebody else in here after all. You rise to your tiptoes and peer over the shelves to spot the speaker. They’re wearing a black hoodie with the hood up and browsing for energy drinks, and apparently they have a real problem with what’s on TV – which means the proprietor has a real problem with them. “Got a problem with heroics? Or does seeing real heroes just remind you what a bum you are?”

“Fuck off,” the guy in the hoodie says sharply. “You’ve got more in common with me than you do with them. If you were there, you think you’d run in to help? No. You’d wait for a hero, because you’re useless and pathetic. At least I don’t walk around pretending to be something I’m not.”

Hoodie guy sort of has a point, even if you don’t like how he’s phrasing it. Hoodie guy also sucks at reading the room, because after that little back-and-forth, he yanks an energy drink out of the case and a package of sour candies off a shelf and heads up to the counter. The proprietor laughs in his face. “Get out of here. If you think I’m selling even a stick of gum to you, you’re out of your mind.”

Hoodie guy’s shoulders tense. “You’re so desperate to defend All Might that you won’t take my money? He’s not gonna fuck you.”

You must be a little more drunk than you thought, because you have to clamp your hands over your mouth to stifle a laugh. But there’s nothing funny about the situation that’s unfolding in front of you. The proprietor’s looking increasingly pissed, and Hoodie Guy’s hands are out of his pockets, open and twitching at his sides. You don’t know what either of their quirks are, but you’ve got seven siblings. You know what it looks like when a situation’s about to spiral out of control.

“I said get out,” the proprietor spits. He shoves the drink and the package of candy back across the counter, hard enough that they fall off and roll across the floor. Hoodie Guy’s hands begin to lift from his sides, and you step out of your corner. “You want to start something? Go ahead. The cops will be here so fast –”

“Not fast enough for you,” Hoodie Guy hisses. His hands are all the way up, reaching over the counter.

You scoop the snacks off the floor and duck into the scant space between Hoodie Guy and the counter. You elbow him a bit by accident and he stumbles, swears at you. You ignore him and focus on the proprietor. “Hi. I’m still hungry. Can I get these?”

The proprietor squints at you, nonplussed. Behind you, Hoodie Guy’s gotten his feet under him, and if it’s possible, he’s extra pissed. “Get out of my way.”

“You don’t want this kind of trouble,” you say, ignoring Hoodie Guy. He’s the instigator. You need him to shut up so you can handle this before it escalates. “I know you don’t. You want him out of here and he wants his snacks. If you don’t want his money, mine’s just as good.”

You’re conscious of Hoodie Guy looming over your shoulder. He’s not all that much taller than you, but he’s standing a little too close. You take your wallet out, and that seems to settle the issue. “You’re lucky your girlfriend’s here to help you out. That’ll be ¥1800.”

You pay up and collect the snacks. When you turn away from the counter, Hoodie Guy’s right there, and you get your first good look at his face – or at the life-sized model hand clamped over his face. That’s – weird. You can’t see his expression, but his tone of voice is unmistakable. “If you think –”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “You’re not gonna fuck me.”

It’s not a joke you’d make sober, but with the proprietor calmed slightly down, you have to knock Hoodie Guy off his game somehow. It works. He makes a weird, strangled sound, and you grab him by his sleeve and tow him out the door.

He lets you do it, which is a surprise, and you let him go as soon as the doors close behind you. You hold out the snack and the energy drink. “Here.”

You can’t see his face, but you can see one red eye, peering out at you through the fingers of the hand. “It was pretty stupid of you to get in my way.”

“It was pretty stupid of you to go up to the counter. If you’d stormed off he wouldn’t have chased you.” You’ve seen Sho use that tactic before – needle a store owner until they want him gone more than they want to check his pockets. “Just take this, okay?”

He raises one hand and scratches at his neck. There’s something familiar about the motion, and the scarred, scraped-raw patch of skin there. Maybe you’ve seen something similar at work. “Either you used some kind of quirk or you got lucky. Which is it?”

“Neither. I have seven siblings and I’m good at toning things down.” You’ve wished for a quirk that lets you affect others’ moods more than a few times. You had to learn your de-escalation techniques the hard way. “Do you want these or not?”

He’s still scratching, and something’s pulling at the back of your mind, harder and harder. “Seven siblings,” he says slowly. “That’s three more.”

“Three more than what?” you say, puzzled. And then it clicks.

You have seven siblings now. When you lived across the street from your best friend, you only had four. And now you get why the scratching looks so familiar, why there’s so much scar tissue in the place he’s clawing at – because he’s been scratching that same spot for a decade and a half. It doesn’t matter than his hair is grey-blue instead of black, that his eyes are red instead of grey. It doesn’t even matter that he’s got a creepy hand stuck over his face. You know who you’re looking at, and the surge of joy that overtakes you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

You’d keep it to yourself, ordinarily. But tonight you’re a little drunk, and you can’t hold it in. “Tenko,” you say, and he freezes like he’s been struck by lightning. “You’re alive!”

Tenko stays frozen until you reach for him, at which point he bolts, and you really shouldn’t follow him – but you’re drunk and it’s your best friend and he’s alive just like you knew he was, so you chase after him. He was a little clumsy when you were kids. You were always a little faster on your feet, but his legs are longer than yours now, and he keeps you at a fair distance until he trips.

It’s sort of your fault he trips. He’s looking back over his shoulder, checking where you are, and he’s not watching his feet. It’s a bad fall. He sprawls out, the hand over his face dislodging and bouncing across the concrete, and you hear him cursing under his breath in a voice that carries a familiar strain. You’ve heard that before. You do what you did back then. You run to his side and drop to your knees, hands outstretched to help. “Tenko –”

“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” Tenko lashes out with one hand, and instinct tells you to get out of range. The hand he lashes out with looks wrong – hurt, maybe, in the fall. His other hand is up over his face, covering it the same way the model hand was. “Father – I need – where –”

Father. You wonder if Tenko knows what happened to his father – but he’s feeling around on the concrete with the maybe-broken hand, and you realize what he’s looking for. “It’s over here,” you say. “Stay there. I can –”

“No.” Tenko lunges past you, seizes the hand, secures it over his face. Then he turns on you, and the hatred in his eyes sends a bolt of pure terror down your spine.

He knocks you onto your back. You know some self-defense – like any girl, like any person without a quirk – and you kick and thrash, arching your back, trying to throw him off. Some part of your mind is still spinning, because it’s Tenko, your best friend, who wants to be a hero – and it’s Tenko, his forearm coming down across your throat and half his body weight leaning onto it. You cough and sputter, and Tenko raises his other hand, all five fingers outstretched. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll kill you fast. Lie and it’ll be slow. Who are you?”

You don’t know how he expects you to answer with his arm over your throat. Dark spots are beginning to fill your vision. You shove at his arm, and his hand closes around your wrist. His grip is hot and dry and shaking, and a split second after he’s touched you, the burning starts. It’s like his hand is dipped in acid, like it’s clawing through your skin one layer at a time, and you scream in pain. Or you try to. He increases the pressure on your throat and chokes the sound off. “Don’t touch me,” he snarls. “And don’t scream. Who are you?”

You manage to rasp out your name, and you see Tenko’s expression shift. “We went to school together,” you gasp. “I lived across the street from you. We played together. You were –”

You black out for a second, and the pressure on your throat lifts slightly. “What?” Tenko spits. “I was what?”

“My best friend,” you whisper. Your eyes well up, tears running down your face when you blink. “I missed you so much –”

Tenko stares down at you for a moment longer. Then he recoils away from you, up onto his feet and back five or six steps. He’s cradling his wrist. You roll from your back to your side and gasp for air. There’s a rattle in your breathing that tells you your windpipe’s damaged, and when you blink the tears and spots from your vision to stare at your wrist, you see that your skin is raw, bloody and oozing. There’s the outline of all five of Tenko’s fingers, his thumb and middle finger joined, rotted into your skin.

“Go,” Tenko says. You look numbly up at him and see his face twisted behind the hand. “Now.”

Your wrist – his hair – his eyes – Tenko has a quirk now. An awful quirk. “What happened to you?” you ask helplessly. “Where did you go? Are you –”

“Go!” Tenko snaps at you. “Before I change my mind. Run!”

You scramble backwards and collide with something. The energy drink and the package of candy, which you dropped when you ran to help Tenko after he fell. The sight of them makes you want to burst into tears again. You don’t want to take them with you. You bought them for him. Without looking his way, you pick them up and set them on the ground between the two of you, pushing them towards him so he knows who they’re for. Then you force yourself to your hands and your knees and your feet and run for your life, away from the best friend you now know you’ve lost for good.

You didn’t want Tenko to be dead, and he isn’t. But Kazuo was right, too. Maybe dead would have been better. Anything would have been better than this.

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin’ All In You (Part 1) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: Hey, guys! First of all, thank you all for your support; whether it's reblogs or likes, it means a lot. Here is part one of my series, which will probably have four to five chapters. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 4,341

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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You loved Pietro Maximoff; after all, he was your best friend. The young boy was the first person you ran to with your issues, and he took it upon himself to brighten even the rainiest days. There was no doubt in your mind that he would quite literally jump off a cliff after you. However, it wasn’t his supportive nature that had united the two of you; your chaotic energy had drawn you to each other that fateful day at the park. Even at the age of five, Pietro was a complete flirt, and that afternoon there was no one else he would like to impress other than the courageous girl who had defended his sister from the park bully. 

Pietro had confidently appeared before you, intending to impress you with his tree-climbing skills. But, of course, there was no way you were letting a boy do something better than you, so you challenged him to a tree-climbing contest. It’s safe to say that no one won since it ended with both of you weeping at the bottom of the tree. Pietro had sprained his ankle as he landed wrong, and you with a bloody mouth since you fell face-first on his elbow. It was the first of many injuries the two of you suffered together, eventually leading your parents to conclude that you could not be left unsupervised during your early years of friendship.

The two of you were more than thrilled when you realized that you not only lived close to each other but also attended the same elementary school. It was much to the teachers’ dismay; dealing with one over-energetic child was job enough, but two? A complete disaster. Perhaps one of the most scandalous incidents was when you and Pietro had heard one of the high schoolers saying “fuck” to each other and decided it was a fun word. The school staff and parents were not too pleased when you taught the word to the other kids in your first-grade class. 

There was one challenge you ever encountered while being best friends with Pietro, and that was Wanda, his twin sister. Despite your close relationship with Pietro, the two of you seldom talked. When you visited the Maximoff household, the girl made sure to be locked away in her room; when you were together in the same space, she avoided looking at you as if the mere sight of you would scorch her eyes away. It seemed Wanda was adamant about only addressing you when inevitable. Regardless of Wanda’s dismissing attitude, you liked her and wondered if you had in any way prompted her behavior. Perhaps she believed your adventurous nature to be a bad influence on Pietro. 

One day, the curiosity became too much, so you asked him if his sister didn’t like you. 

He had only grinned like an idiot and said, “Of course she likes you. She’s just shy, especially with you, since you’re like her prince in shining armor, except the girl version.”

“Oh,” your face scrunched in confusion, not understanding what he meant. The whole thing was soon left behind, too complicated for your brain to comprehend. 

It wasn’t until years later that your friendship endured its most significant conflict. The twin’s father was temporarily transferred across the county for his job. It wasn’t the first time he was away, but it would be a minimum of a year this time—a too-long period to be away from his family. So, with a heavy heart, you departed from your best friend as he left to live across the country. 

Your eyes burned, and you clenched your jaw, feeling the burning lump in your throat as you suppressed the urge to sob. You had been a wailing mess since Pietro had told you the news, but you refused to let your friend see you in that state. “I can’t believe you are leaving me just before we start our freshman year,” your voice cracked with emotion as you desperately clutched onto him.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry” He rubbed your back soothingly, holding in his tears before adding, “I promise to call you every day, okay.”

“You better, or else I’m coming after you, Maximoff, and it won’t be a happy reunion,” you threatened with a sniffle before releasing him and glancing behind him.

Wanda stood awkwardly behind you two, feeling as if she was intruding on your intimate moment. Though part of her wished to receive the same treatment as her brother, her shyness would never allow her to interact with you how she wanted. She could only wait for her brother to join her side. 

You noticed that none of Wanda's friends had come to wish her farewell. You assumed they had said their goodbyes beforehand, and besides, you were only there because the Maximoffs considered you family. Still, it didn’t stop you from feeling bad for her. You tilted your head thoughtfully; there was no way in hell you were sending her off like that. 

Then, in a moment of bravery, you flung yourself towards her and embraced her with force, causing her to stumble back in shock as you mumbled, "Bye, Wanda."

It took a moment for Wanda’s racing brain to process the action and slowly reciprocate the hug. From his place, Pietro silently snickered, delighted by his sister’s scarlet flushed face and overly nervous gulp; you, in your frantic state, hadn’t noticed and sent her a small smile before their parents summoned them. 

True to his word, Pietro had called you almost daily, sharing information about the cute girl he saw at the airport or the pesky neighbor’s kid. But, even though phone calls were nice, the occasional video calls were your favorite. 

“How is it?” you questioned, looking at Pietro on your screen while resting on your bed. 

“I hate the weather, and I have to share a room with Wanda, but it’s not too bad,” he shrugged dejectedly, contradicting his own words. 

“Aw,” you cooed, your lower lip jutting out. “Poor Wanda, having to share a room with a slob like you.” you teased. “How is she, hm?” 

“She hates it here more than me. You wouldn’t guess what happened to her.” You looked at him, intrigued, “We were exploring the city when this guy walked up to us to tell her that she was dressed like a grandma. I mean, he wasn’t wrong; she was wearing that ugly old sweater. You know the one, right?” He motions with his hands as if the action would help you recall. “Anyways, she begged Mama to take her shopping afterward. She’s going emo no-” 

“Pietro!” her usually soothing voice reprimanded harshly off-screen before a pillow smacked him in the head, causing you to giggle.

“Well, tell her I think she looks great in anything, and that guy is a complete dumbass.” you truthfully reply and smile at the thought of Wanda. You tried to imagine her wearing the ugliest of sweaters and still thought she would look beautiful. Her bright green eyes were more than enough to entrance about anyone.

“Oh, she can hear you," Pietro said. "I’d show you how much she’s blushing right now, but she’d probably break the laptop on me.” Not even two seconds later, Wanda threw another pillow at the boy. 

Even with the constant communication between the two, you felt more alone than ever. Then, classes resumed at the end of summer, and you were officially a high school student. It was difficult in the beginning, Pietro had been by your side since kindergarten, and here you were, all alone. Alright, maybe you were a tad overdramatic because you did have friends aside from Pietro, just not as close. Truthfully, it wasn’t only Pietro who you missed; despite not talking to Wanda often, her presence was a constant in your life that you appreciated. 

You prayed that the year would end soon and the twins would return. To occupy yourself in the meantime, you decided to join the soccer team at your school. In reality, more like being coerced into joining the team because there’s no way your indolent self would willingly engage in any productive physical activity. Who would have the power to do such a thing? None other than Natasha Romanoff. 

Natasha Romanoff, the beautiful green-eyed redhead girl who had moved into the area, a gift from the universe you would call her. She resembled Pietro with her quick and witty personality, but she wasn’t a reckless idiot, unlike him. Your first encounter was nothing but perfect, despite her first words being an insult to your lack of stamina after the one-mile run. You and Natasha quickly formed an unbreakable friendship.

What you presumed would be a torturous year became bearable with Natasha at your side and your participation in the school’s extracurricular activities. You soon reached the one-year mark since the Maximoffs’ departure in a blink of an eye. You were ecstatic about the family’s return, already planning how to introduce your friends. Unfortunately, your excitement was short-lived and shattered during one of your video calls with Pietro. 

A large grin adorned your lips as you greeted your best friend, “So, do you guys know when you're coming back?” you questioned, oblivious to his dejected demeanor as you were too excited.

“Y/N I- Fuck,” he cursed, raising his hand to massage his temple. Your expression fell, concern supplanting your excitement.

“Is everything okay, Piet?”

“No, nothing is okay,” he whispered, loud enough for you to understand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We- We’re not coming back,” Pietro announced, eyes glimmering apologetically. 

You were immobilized, trying to grasp the meaning behind Pietro’s words. Did he just say he wasn’t returning home? No, that couldn’t be. You must have heard wrong. But what if you didn’t? What would you do then?

“W- What do you mean you’re not coming back?” you inquired with bitterness as tears formed in your eyes. 

“Papa’s work isn’t finished. It might be a couple more months before we can return. There’s nothing I can do. I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he sighed defeatedly. 

You sniffled and cleared your throat, ignoring the heaviness that had settled in your chest. Pietro was right; there was no point crying, or at least not in front of him. There is no need to make him feel worse than what he must have been feeling. 

“I understand, Piet. So you don’t need to worry about me. We can talk like we have been, okay.” Pietro visibly relaxes at your words. “Besides, I  kind of like Natasha more than you,” you teased with a playful smirk trying to ameliorate the situation. 

Pietro scoffed, bringing his hand to his chest, “I can’t believe you just said that. I’ve given you the best years of my life, Y/N, and you go and wound me like this? Unbelievable.” He shook his head with a huff causing you to snort in amusement. 

As much as you loved Natasha, you couldn’t replace Pietro. However, that was something he didn’t need to know. 

Much to your disappointment, a couple of months turned into another year. Before you knew it, you were three months into your junior year. You no longer felt the hollowing absence clawing at your being, growing to accept the situation. It could be worse, you reasoned, imagining how you and Pietro could have drifted apart. You could handle the distance as long as you were still friends. 

What you could not handle was your mother dragging you to the airport. You had dropped on your bed, dead from exhaustion. Then, suddenly, your Mom barged in without any warning, hauling you to her car. 

You took a deep breath releasing it in a puff as your Mom parked the car. “Why am I here again?”

“I have already told you a million times, Y/N. Your cousin, Sharon, is visiting, and we’re here to welcome her.” You twisted your lips in displeasure.

“Which one is she again?” You questioned, not recognizing the name before realizing you didn’t care. “Nevermind. Couldn’t you, hmm, I don’t know, do it alone?” It’s not like Sharon would care if you were there; she would not receive a warm welcome from you.

Your Mom sighed loudly, turning to face you with an irritated expression. “No, now stop being such a grump, Y/N. Come on.”

You begrudgingly followed your Mom to the waiting area with a pout and deep frown etched on your face. Of course, your mother would scold you if you greeted cousin Sharon with that expression, but you didn't care. Sharon needed to know you weren't happy with her unexpected arrival.

Too indulged in feeling miserable and mentally cursing the so-called Sarah, you failed to notice the approaching figure before hearing their voice, “You don’t seem too excited to see me.”

Your breath hitched, and it felt like slow motion when you lifted your head, turning your bewildered gaze to the blond-haired teenage boy standing a few feet away. It only took a rise of his eyebrow for a grin to break onto your lips, immediately recognizing him.

“Pietro!” you exclaimed, causing a few curious heads to turn in your direction, but all you focused on were his wide-open, welcoming arms. Then, with no care in the world, you sprinted forward, crashing into his muscled chest as his arms surrounded your figure. A hearty laugh erupted from your chest as Pietro lifted you from the ground and spun you around. 

Even after he had stopped, you remained enclosed in his warmth with closed eyes savoring the moment. All the annoyance was replaced with happiness. God, you couldn’t believe this was real. Finally, after all these years, Pietro was actually back. Your best friend was back. 

You opened your eyes, ready to pull away and face your best friend, a teasing remark at the tip of your tongue. However, your words cut short as your eyes landed on the approaching figure of a beautiful brunette. That brunette was none other than Wanda Maximoff. 

In the past two years, your only view of the Maximoff girl had been her brief passings in the background of your video calls with Pietro. Never enough to fully take her in.

The brunette was distracted, looking at her phone, unaware of your little reunion, and honestly, you were glad because it gave you a moment to admire the girl. You had always thought that Wanda was pretty, but an entirely unrecognizable feeling swelled in your chest as you looked at her at that moment. She wasn’t wearing anything extraordinary, a baggy rock band t-shirt and simple joggers. Her neck held a black choker, and multiple rings adorned her fingers. She looked stunning.

“Wow,” you had thought you whispered, but when Wanda lifted her head, you realized your error. You stared into her emerald eyes briefly, conscious of the vibrant red hue spreading through your face. You released Pietro, desperate not to show how affected you were by the girl. 

“Wow, what?” he asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Wow, as in I wasn’t expecting you,” you lied with a nervous chuckle. “I thought I was here to greet cousin Sharon.”  

Wanda stopped next to Pietro as you finished your sentence, eyes still on you as she sent you a smile with a slight wave. She wished she could greet you as affectionately as Pietro but didn't want to make you uncomfortable. What Wanda didn't know was that you would be far from uncomfortable. In fact, the simple smile she sent your way made your pulse quicken embarrassingly by how beautiful she looked. 

"H- Hey, W- Wanda," you stuttered, swiftly pulling her into your arms. Unlike Pietro, whose strong arms nearly crushed your body, Wanda delicately placed them on your back. Your body burned, and you had to resist the urge to relax in her arms fully. When Pietro cleared his throat with a smug look, the two of you let go. 

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you?” Wanda responded, sounding more like a question with a blush of her own. You had a habit of unknowingly leaving her in an embarrassing daze. 

“I know it’s been a long fight, so why don’t we head home,” interrupted the Maximoffs’ mother, who you had failed to see in your excitement. 

 “I would love that,” Wanda huffed out exhaustedly, with Pietro nodding. 

You were disappointed that your reunion was so brief, but you knew they had to rest. You’d have plenty of time to catch up later. “Well, I’m so glad you’re here, both of you.” Looking from Pietro to Wanda, who looked surprised at your words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Pietro frowned. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.” You glimpsed at their Mom, knowing she’d probably want to rest without disruption. 

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be intruding on anything. You know you’re part of this family, Y/N,” Olga reassured with a warm smile.

You turned to your mother, seeking permission, which she gave with a nod. The five of you walked out of the airport before parting ways. 

“Mom came here before us to fix everything up, and Dad has to stay for one more month,” Pietro tells you as you approach their mother’s car. 

“Oh,” you reply, too distracted by how Wanda’s brown locks dance with the breeze. You had probably seen Wanda in the same situation numerous times, but something was different now. 

“I call shotgun!” Pietro announced, pulling you from your daze after putting the luggage in the trunk.

“What? No, I’m riding in front,” Wanda protested, hastily looking at you.

“Only if you’re faster, sistra.” Pietro quickly sprinted to the passenger door, leaving an angered Wanda behind. You and his mother could only laugh at his antics.

Your laughter died down, replaced with nervousness as soon as you realized how close to Wanda you would be. You distracted yourself by talking with Pietro for most of the ride, though occasionally, you glanced at Wanda admiring her side profile. Her high cheekbones, sharp jawline, soft-pink lips, and mesmerizing green eyes. Or how astonishingly attractive her long and delicate ringed fingers emerged. Why hadn’t you ever looked at her this way? Were you really that oblivious?

Wanda, too, was tense about your presence. But, in contrast to you, Wanda had years of experience dissimulating her feelings as she put her headphones on and closed her eyes. She immersed herself in the music, succumbing to sleep. 

It was a relief when you arrived at the Maximoff household. You were sure someone would notice your staring if you were there any longer. The four of you exited the vehicle, Pietro being tasked with taking their luggage to their respective rooms, but you decided to help him as any good friend would. 

You reached Wanda’s baggage, her sweet voice still filled with sleep, momentarily stopping you, “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Pietro will be back in a second.” She stood awkwardly to the side, fumbling adorably with her hand, and you flashed her a smile. 

“It’s fine. I can take them," you countered, already hoisting her bag, entirely ignorant to Wanda’s staring at your exposed biceps muscles, finding them incredibly attractive. She heard from Pietro that you had started to participate in school sports. The physical effects of your extracurricular activities were noticeable in your physique. All Wanda could think about was running her fingers over your exposed bicep. 

As she led the way to her room on the second floor, Wanda shook her head, flustered by her indecent thoughts and your chivalry. You set her bags down, eyes roaming the walls you had only glimpsed from the hallway on your way from and to Pietro’s room. You recognized a few posters littered across the wall and even realized you liked some movies or artists. Like Percy Jackson, you loved Percy Jackson. You enjoyed anything with mythology, but Percy Jackson was fun and easy to comprehend, so it was your favorite. Oh, then there was the Taylor Swift vinyl album cover. Taylor was your guilty pleasure for many years as you were too embarrassed to admit you liked her music, especially in front of Pietro. You were confident he would tease you, so you chose to keep it to yourself, though you had eventually concluded how absurd your reasoning was. Now you would gladly profess your love for the artist. 

You wished you would have realized how much you and Wanda had in common. You would have appreciated someone to fangirl with, and who better than Wanda? Maybe now you could finally get closer to the girl.

On the other hand, Wanda felt exceptionally self-conscious about having you in her childhood bedroom. Would you judge her for her geeky taste? And for God’s sake, her mother had left her plushies on the bed. You were undoubtedly going to laugh at her now, she assumed. But, in reality, you thought it was adorable. 

 “Thank you,” Wanda awkwardly stated, biting her lower lip afterward, eyes wandering around the room. 

“No problem,” you retorted mindlessly, drawing your attention to the small action. Her soft pink lips hypnotized you, and you discovered yourself wishing to feel the softness. It would be easy to break the short distance and run your thumb over the seductive flesh. The mere thought made your heart race. But, no. You couldn’t do that. So why were you having such irrational thoughts? Knowing you should probably leave, you turned around before Wanda noticed your uneasiness. “I’m uh, I’m gonna go help, Piet,” you excused yourself, avoiding looking at her.

You fled to Pietro’s room, finding the boy messily stuffing his drawers with his clothing. To think Wanda had to share a room with him, even if it was only for the first few months. You truly pitied her. You approached Pietro, elbowing him away, intensely disturbed by his lack of organization. How hard was it to put already folded clothes into a drawer? Maybe it was his plan all along because when you turned to tell him so, he looked at you smugly. Of course, he did. 

You fixed him with an annoyed glare though you were content you could tease eachother that way. It had been so long since you could, so you weren’t bothered. 

You helped Pietro put away the rest of his stuff and rearrange a few things in his bedroom. Then, once you had left the room decent enough, you set up his PlayStation and game. 

You played Injustice 2 for hours, teasing each other incessantly. Pietro became unbearable as he kicked your ass at the game, but only because he spammed the controller. There was a lingering thought in the back of your mind throughout the entire time. A certain brunette held your mind hostage, as you kept replaying the moment your eyes landed on her in the airport. You tried to reason why you were so flustered around her and felt like drowning in her jade eyes. You were grateful when Olga called you to dinner, dispelling the thoughts.

The three of you sat at the dinner table, waiting for their mother to finish the paprikash. It was not only the twin’s favorite dish but also your own. Paprikash was the most savory of all the Sakovian dishes you had tried. 

“When do you guys plan on going to school?” You inquired, realizing you had forgotten about the responsibilities of school. 

“We're going in the afternoon tomorrow, but only to speak to administration. We won't be starting classes until the next day. So I guess you'll have to endure another boring day without me,” Pietro shrugged nonchalantly, causing you to roll your eyes, and Wanda giggled. 

“Well, I'll probably be in class, so I don't think we'll see eachother at all tomorrow,” you concluded before seeing their confused faces. “I have soccer practice after school. I was supposed to go today, but Mom said she needed me home early. Then there’s all the homework I need to catch up on, so I won’t have time to come over,” you explained with an exhausted huff. "We can game online if you want, though. I-"

Your conversation stopped short as your phone screen lit up and buzzed on the table. 

“Natasha? Is she your girlfriend?” Pietro teased, reading the screen as he reached for your phone, and you slapped his hand away. 

“You have a girlfriend?” Wanda chimed with furrowed eyebrows and lips twisted in displeasure at the idea. You eyed her warily, uncomfortable with her thinking that. 

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” You glared at Pietro, punching him on the arm, “You know Natasha isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my friend.”

Wanda’s features softened, pleased by your answer, though only Pietro noticed. However, Wanda was still curious and voiced her thoughts, “I didn’t know you were into girls.”

You looked to Pietro, raising a questioning eyebrow, surprised he hadn’t told her. “Yeah, well, I didn’t realize that until after you guys left. Though I figured Piet had opened his big mouth and told you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think my sister could do much with that information. It’s not like she’d want to date you. No offense, Y/N,” he maliciously provoked, watching as you both blushed intensely, staring at anything but each other. Pietro was really having the time of his life. 

Thankfully for you and Wanda, their mother arrived with dinner before he could continue embarrassing you. After dinner, you thanked their mother and joyously hugged Pietro, saying you would talk later. Then, you waved to Wanda, refraining from embracing her and further embarrassing yourself in front of her. However, Wanda wouldn't have minded a hug and felt slightly disappointed. 

Their mother offered to drive you home, but you refused, considering your house was only a few blocks away. So instead, you used your stroll to reflect on the day’s events. You realized that the Maximoffs’ return had not been the most unexpected thing but rather the unexplainable surge of feelings towards Wanda Maximoff.

[onskepa]

Stxeli: Those Eyes

Here is another chapter of the ongoing series! I hope you all enjoy~!!

Stxeli series

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

Another day, another way. Neytiri awakens as usual in her own little hammock. She secretly hates it. Hates going to sleep and waking up alone. Of course she could go to her parents and sleep with them, but that would mean to be beside her.

Every since her mother brought back that human child, things have changed and were not the same. Having to adjust not just her elder sister's death but the arrive of the new infant.

Neytiri honestly doesnt know how to react to the new addition. She doesnt hate the infant, but doesnt love it either. Complicated feelings swirl in her heart. Seeking Eywa will only confuse her more. Tsu'tey isnt much help at the moment. Just being alone with her thought to hopefully figure out her inner feelings.

Mo'at had a long list of duties to do and unfortunately she cant keep an eye on stxeli for the whole day. Eytukan cant take care of their baby either as he is to lead the hunters for another nights feast.

So that only leaves neytiri.

"It will just be for awhile neytiri. As a big sister, it is also your responsibility to take care of your sister stxeli. I know you can do your best with her". After that Eytukan left to attend his olo'eyktan duties. Leaving neytiri and stxeli alone with each others company.

Neytiri looks over that the human child, not really getting near her. These past week has been a blur for the young na'vi. Does her parent really expect her to love the human child? After everything her kind did to her people? To her real sister?

Stxeli being just herself, makes sounds and looks at her surroundings. Her big eyes landing on neytiri. Their eyes meet, and a wave of excitement flowed through the baby. Asking to be carried by neytiri. Yet the na'vi wont move. Her eyes never wavering from those human eyes.

Little stxeli kept waving her arms around desiring to be held. She squeals and would make noises her mother would usually respond to. But neytiri still sits still. Observing the child and what its trying to do. Seeking attention is what she gathered.

Grabbing one of her mother's baskets, she puts stxeli in the basket and proceeds to carry her around like that.

It wasnt what stxeli wanted but it shall suffice for now. At least she gets to have a wide view of things. From the tall trees, to familiar faces that wave at her direction.

Stxeli preferred to be carried by the young girl who keeps staring at her. She has pretty eyes and wanted to get a closer look. Looks so much like mama and papa's eyes! Little stxeli tried to the girl's attention by making noise, but no response.

Stxeli wasnt having that.

Grabbing one of the braids that was hanging close to stxeli, she yanked it rather hard. This caused neytiri to hiss. In return, stxeli laughed like it was a funny thing to her. Neytiri had such tiny fangs! Smaller than mother's fangs.

Yanking again to the get the same reaction, neytiri was quick to be annoyed. Putting down the basket, she glares down at the child. "Such a demanding thing you are".

Deciding not the carry the basket, neytiri proceeds to drag it instead, with her tail. Not wanting the little infant to tug on her hair again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

its only been 2 hours, and neytiri is near her wits end. Little stxeli was screaming at the top of her lungs, and young neytiri fears it would attract unwanted predators. Sighing in distress, she puts down the basket to see stxeli rolling around in it, her little face red and tears wont stop flowing.

"What? What do you want?" she pleads with the baby. As if the infant can understand her, stxeli pats her tummy. Neytiri tilts her head, was the baby hungry? It has been a while since morning.

Tring to remember what mo'at feeds the baby, she grabs the basket again, and quickly searches for some fruit. But stxeli was screaming near her sensitive ears, her patience growing a bit thin.

What felt like forever, netyiri thankfully found some ripe yovo fruit, carefully cutting it small pieces, she shoves it in stxeli's mouth, making her to stop screaming.

With a huge sigh of relief, little neytiri relaxes in silence. But her ears twitch to the sound of stxeli munching away. Slowly her gaze turns to the baby. The little one's cheeks red and eyes a bit puffy, but stxeli wasnt so bad...

The young girl observes the human baby, taking in everyting. But her amber eyes made contact with the eyes of the infant. There was nothing but silence between them. Stxeli kept eating the soft fruit as her eyes never leaving neytiri's.

"Maybe you are not so ugly after all...." neytiri mutters.

Mo'at returns home at the same time with her mate. Both tired from their long day of doing their tasks. A nice dinner will regain their strength, and a nice cleanse by the river waters.

"Where is my sweet children?" mo'at asks as she seeks around her home. At the far corner, she finds neytiri holding stxeli. She gasped inwardly. It was the first time she has seen young neytiri holding her new sister like that. A smile crept up to her lips, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Eytukan appeared behind her, seeing the same thing. "It seems she is taking the big sister role well" he comments. Mo'at nods in agreement. Both get close to the girls, bending down. "How was your day with your sister ma'ite?" eytukan asks neytiri.

She shrugs but smiles, "it was....a very noisy day, but it is alright ma'sempu" she replies. Mo'at reaches for stxeli but neytiri backs away. This slightly confused mo'at.

"Are you not tired from holding her?" mo'at asks. Neytiri shakes her head, "no, I like holding her, and she likes it too. Isnt that right my sister?". Stxeli giggles as if to agree.

Eytukan turns to his mate, and widens a grin. Was mo'at...pouting?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hope you all liked it! Should the next chapter be eytukan focused? Lemme know what you guys think! until next time! see ya!

Taglist: @thehoneymushroomhealer , @kat-the-kit , @spookymomfriendtm . @moonchildxoxx , @galactict3a , @alastorhazbin

[sillyyuserr]

Chapter 117 analysis (WE’RE SO BACK) obviously spoilers for chapter 117 and chapter 114

i cooked with this one trust

Everyones looking for them yadayadayada terukane

Yk im pretty sure this is meant to be lore heavy but LOOK AT THEM

I don’t know how to word this correctly but since chapter 115/116 between akane and teru there seems to have been something that happened in which they stopped being freaky?? 😭 like ykwim hold on

in chapter 114 this happened

completely ruined almost everything they had, but in the span of a few days, shit still going on, they havent had their deserved break yet like they got on chapter 96-97 and somehow in the midst of all this teru’s forgiven(?) him and just moved on?? Really not sure but based on what we know ab the red house the next chapter may answer some of our questions

Also, this is so little i didn’t see it the first time reading but teru goes to the drink machine thing to get one and mixes like 4 of the sodas,

takes one sip decides its shit and switches with akane’s already half drunken out of tea. Indirect kiss guys wait

Also this is JUST like the date they all went on when aoi was gone. Again, aoi is gone here too 😭 my girl getting left out of everything is acc crazy

She comes in later tho and finally gets caught up for the first time in forever MAN aidairo must hate her😭

But also

We find out mitsuba and kou are going there TOO so for the first time i think ever we have the whole gang in one spot 🤥 alot of firsts this chapter smh

ALSO an honorable mention to this i saved best for last

Sir stay away from my children

ok but fr i have no fucking clue what to say ab this cus this is either ‘teehee im right ur wrong!!~~♡’ type shit which he does alot, or genuinely like what we all think it is, which considering outside context may, in fact make it make sense trust let me explain

teru says shit like this ALL THE TIME its kind of his ACTUAL personality aside from his fake shit, like the way he is only around akane and sometimes kou (at least what we’re shown) so you’d think he’s used to this, but his initial reaction is more of a ‘um. what.’

ALSO— backround MATTERS, the backround in this one, is pure black, which is only shown during stuff LIKE THIS (important stuff) example:

Black background either means its dark, or its something important, something meant to be remembered, or something like that (probably)

and that panel had a BLACK BACKROUND

Why is this important you may be asking, it has a black backround— so it must be, right? If this was a silly little ‘teehee you can’t do this im better than youuu!!!~~♡’ then it probably wouldnt even have a half panel it’d be another one of the mini panels, but it not only had a whole panel for just this, a black background ;blocking LITERALLY EVERYTHING OUT ASIDE FROM THIS AND WHAT HE’S SAID, but also, pay attention the contents of what he said.

(a different translation, this one is easier to read)

‘you are not in any position to oppose me, are you, aoi? ♡’ could mean, A LOT OF THINGS so i’ll put them in a bulletin here because any of them make for an interesting path we may be taking on ‘this’ reality😭😓

Number 1: he could be impliying, and or reminding akane, that he’s still engaged to aoi, and that if akane still thinks they shouldnt change this reality, he should reconsider, CONSIDERING he is engaged to aoi, as aforementioned. (Most likely this one)

Number 2: the power dynamic, yes akane is a school mystery with the ability to control time itself but also, teru is an exorcist, a skilled one at that— and could probably easily overpower akane in a 1v1 (lowk hyped to see this happen pls let them fight) teru may be poking fun, or reminding akane, that teru is in fact powerful, more than he seems to keep fresh on his mind — them having SO MUCH to do

Number 3: maybe instead he just felt like teasing akane and i wasted time+space for nothing and was looking way too into it (this is supposed to be the terukane option😪)

Never once has he used this before??? Obviously you cant talk in symbols but the heart kind of implies the user of this symbol is talking in a playful/slightly flirtatious tone, hence, the reaction:

Okay okay point is i think teru is still madly in love with him

WAAAHHHH just look at him pooks who else does he do this with smhh 😓 NO ONE

which i think may be PARTIALLY true but also not entirely because mayb im just a tweaker

Me when i when i ehen you whrn you when

This may make no sense at all, or alot of sense man idk its 3:12am i go back to school in like 2 weeks i am not ready for sophomore year gn

terukane will be real one day trust🤍🤍

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏 YOUR DSB PLAYLIST!!! I keep seeing u talk about it and you have BANGERS on that pl

I think I have shared it before but back when I was only on like chapter 2 so its been buried and has changed ALOT- But here you go!!

Full list (and notes)

Oh No! (Tims "Grand plan")

Flight of the Crows (Running away from what he loves, of course)

Nobody (Self imposed curse of isolation)

Colors (Yes. (also just a fav tim song regardless of AU)

United in grief ( Acting as Timothy Drake)

Teen Idle (Mourning his youth, for a second time)

Gasoline (Tim breakdown in luxury vibes)

I cant fix you (I still religiously listen to fnaf fan songs, this one just fits)

Brother (MY COUNTRY ASS SNUCK IN- It doesnt even relate to the AU, I just love the vibe- if anything it fitd Dick towards Jason but thats besides the point)

Passing through (cant the future just wait) (Times running out)

Are you Satisfied? (Literally perfect song about his situation)

Look who's inside again (Again, Isolation)

Coffee (Internal struggle- but the caffine isnt the problem)

Digital Silence (Again, just in here for the vibes)

Over & Over (AMAZING imagining song, like a little movie)

Problems (Tim to Jason)

Oh Ana (Not even kidding, THE MOVIE song- (from breathing as tim bleeds out to the The Angel I couldnt kill just AHH)

Rat (Just a vibe)

Lotta True Crime (Not for Tim actually, but related)

Misery Meat (Mans is the rainbow fish)

Feel Better (Y E A H- No explination needed)

Arms Tonight (This but literally, though he wont admit it)

The Burning pile (Tim ignoring his problems for the "greater good")

Family Jewels (The Drakes.)

Devil Town (Life in Gotham, reminishing his Time as Robin w/ his old fam)

Hermit the Frog (Another "just a vibe")

Michelle (Not for Tim, but relevent :)

Girls (The horror in being Timothy)

Saint Bernard (THIS- THIS THIS THIS (literally so mmmm lore))(might make a PMV when the fic is finished just for THIS!!)

Washing Machine Heart (A vibe.)

The Bidding (Timothy but less ironically)

Seventeen (Tim and Timothy- also just "seventeen" when he died s o)

Cupid (He still loves them...)

Hidden in the sand (Memories.)

dumb dumb (Tim pulling off his shit, mostly Cardinal)

American Healthcare (glitzy) (Tim in his career)

Treehouse (STAY OFF MY LAWN!!!)

Worlds greatest actor (Rec by @ihavenotsleptindays my dear, and its perfect. Tim as Timothy, or are they one in the same??)

Rule #34 (Not for Tim, but TOO him :)

Harpy Hare (Im obsessed okay?)

Prom Queen (Beautiful tragedy all the people envy)

No place like home (Not what it seems)

Again & Again (Another "movie in my mind") song

Labryinth (Movie mind!! Lots of lore and distortion lol)

Youth (Tim being self aware, for once)

Just one Yesterday (YES YES YES YES)

Angry too (Just a vibe.)

Pompeii (He misses what things can never again be)

spy? (Two face.)

Lullaby of the False Hydra ( Once again, im obsessed but for diff reasons)

Sweet Hibuscus tea (GAHHH)

Lights out (Hype song- and Cardinal BAMF)

Nothings New (Tim repeating his whole life and yet failing all over again)

Little Lion man (He wasnt really doomed wasnt he?)

Guilded Lily (The awnser is no, its never enough)

Underground (Once again, Gotham.)

Cast the Bronze (More a canon Jason song actually, but I still adore)

Could Have been me (Not Tim :)

Savior (Duet- but with who??)

Take me home, country roads (The country got me again. And yeah Tim longing for home he lost)

[starfall-spirit]

Smoke and Mirrors

@officialfeysandweek Day 2: Mirrors

Read on Ao3 // Dark Feysand Masterlist // Feysand Week Masterlist

Summary: Curious as to how Feyre vanishes from her locked room night after night, her father promises the choice of a bride to whoever can piece it together. The problem, with each night of dancing she falls deeper into the thrall of the Court of Nightmares—and the High King has never been one to share.

TW: Dark!Rhys, mind control, non-con, murder, and further manipulation in later chapters. The dove is dead, my friends. Read at your own discretion.

“There was once upon a time a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the other. They all slept together in one chamber, in which their beds stood side by side, and every night when they were in them the King locked the door and bolted it. But in the morning when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out with dancing and no one could find out how that had come to pass.”

~The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces, The Brothers Grimm

Chapter I

Feyre

“What is that?”

Feyre looked back at Elain. “My new mirror. Do you like it?”

“It’s… a statement piece.”

“It’s hideous,” Nesta scoffed from the doorway. “Not to mention ancient. It doesn’t even suit your room.”

“Yes, well, that’s because mother decorated my room, isn’t it?” Feyre snipped back, still slightly bitter even after enduring the bright color scheme for years now. She finished straightening the oddly shaped mirror over her dresser with a slight smirk, one finger following the curve of the border.. “I think it adds character.”

“I think it looks like something out of the Court of Nightmares.” Feyre and Elain turned to their sister in confusion. “You’ve never heard the tale?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a ridiculous story meant to make children behave. In the Court of Nightmares there lives an evil High Lord who demands his sycophants snatch up children who are a terror to their families. The same is said for women who don’t save themselves for their husbands.”

Feyre scrunched her nose, exhausted with the obsession the men in their family’s circle seemed to share regarding marriage. Their father did enough to ensure that, locking them in their rooms the moment the sun set each night. The things she’d give to see a starry sky for once in her life. She didn’t see what use their astronomy lessons were when they’d never seen a clear night sky.  Perhaps that would change with their social debut. She wasn’t thrilled with the concept, but their mother had finally convinced their father that the three of them would soon be deemed too old to be marriageable, particularly Nesta, who would turn twenty-five that spring.

She let herself wonder for just a moment if her husband would let her have more freedom when she was caring for their home or if he would be as fond of the tight leash her father kept. Hope only stretched so far when it came to the “gentlemen” of high society. 

Before she could let her imagination unfold on the subject the door swung open without warning, their mother standing in the doorway with her seemingly permanent scowl in place. “Girls, why is it that I still see three dresses where the seamstress left them this morning rather than on your bodies. Feyre,” she snapped. “My gods, you haven’t even bathed! I should have known allowing you to go to the market this afternoon was a mistake. One I won’t be repeating. I—What is that ghastly thing?”

“A mirror, Mother.” Though she itched to make some quip about the woman’s narcissism, she managed to hold her tongue. “You said I could select something of my choosing for my birthday, did you not?”

Eyes narrowing, she huffed. “We will discuss its removal later. Go,” she ordered. “I want you bathed and dressed in half an hour. Your maid will bring your gown.” 

Muttering something incoherent, she ushered Elain and Nesta from the room. Alis was there a moment later with a wry glint in her eye and a garment bag in hand. “At least the dress will suit your coloring this time.”

“Yes,” Feyre murmured, drawing the gauzy gown from its protective bag. “At least there’s that.” 

It was lovely. Though she loathed to admit her mother had decent taste in anything, formal wear was her strong suit. It seemed Feyre’s debut was important enough to consider colors that wouldn’t leave her looking washed out. The faster she found a husband, she supposed, the faster she would be his burden rather than her parents’. An odd wife instead of an odd child. 

“A home of her own to care for and a taste of motherhood will give her a dose of reality,” she’d once overheard. “She’ll learn her purpose one way or another.”

She was content enough to follow her mother’s command, bathing quickly and donning the dusk blue dress just in time for Alis to see to her hair and cosmetics before her mother returned, a sharp nod the only thing resembling praise that she’d earned. “Good enough. Shoes, then join your sisters in the hall.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the back of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of herself before going downstairs for the evening, gasping softly at what peered back at her. “What is it?”

“I—nothing,” she claimed, gathering her cashmere shawl. “I’m ready.” But even as she shook off the unease that had settled over her, she couldn’t erase what the mirror had shown her. An obsidian throne crowned by twin serpents she knew would be deadly if given life, and seated on it an otherworldly male wreathed in shadows of his own design. In that fleeting moment she couldn’t make out much of his face. Only a pair of violet eyes that seemed capable of peering into her very soul. The feeling followed her until she greeted the winter sun.

Ushered into their family carriage, Feyre barely concealed her huff when their mother began rattling off orders for the evening party. Hearing it all before, it took an impressive effort to actually pay attention. 

How the woman could manage to talk through a forty minute carriage ride was beyond her, but she and her sisters didn’t have a moment to get a word in even if they’d wished to. “And most importantly, you are never to reject an invitation to dance. Gods know each of you need every opportunity you can get.”

The door swung open, the straight-backed footman offering a hand to help each of them down, as their father was not in attendance this evening.

“Smiles, girls.”

~~~~~

Feyre had never been so thrilled to hear her door lock behind Alis as she was that evening. After playing the games of the court for hours, all she wanted was a bit of quiet, even from her dear confidant. To think, the next ball they’d been invited to was only days away, hosted by the very man who seemed so keen on getting to know her. Tamlin certainly didn’t seem like the worst suitor, but there still seemed to be something missing.

Unless she was being a foolish romantic, hoping for a love match.

“Gods,” she groaned, moving to her vanity to remove her makeup. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“Long day?”

She shrieked at the silken male voice that filled the room, frantically searching the space for someone who may have hidden in the curtains or under the bed before she was shut in for the night. Cauldron, she was in nothing more than a nightgown and a man was in her room. “Relax, darling. I won’t hurt you.”

“Wh-who are you?” Perhaps if she locked herself in the bathroom she’d be safe, if confined. 

“Now, Feyre, we’ve met already, haven’t we?” She froze, trying to place the voice without a face to show for it. She had never really believed in magic, but now… “I’ve seen your dreams, learned your wishes. I could grant them too.” 

Slowly the pieces began to fit together. The voice with no body, the throne in the mirror, the vendor’s hesitation to sell to her that morning—his superstitions she’d brushed away. “It’s cursed, girl. Every time I try to throw it out it ends up right back in my stall, I swear! Tomorrow morning you’ll think I’ve stolen it from you.”

“I was waiting for the right buyer to claim it,” the voice claimed. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, darling.” She could hardly breathe—felt dizzy in her rising panic. “Look at me, Feyre. Look in the mirror.”

Slowly turning, her eyes locked with his. There were no shadows this time, leaving his face and body unobscured. She realized he was likely the most beautiful man she’d ever seen—not that she had much experience with grown men beyond those present at this evening’s ball. But a more important note to make was not how he compared to human men, but to those of his own kind. Because while the contours of his face and broad build might be something one could look beyond, the pointed ears beneath his raven black hair, could not.

She stumbled back, part of her fearing whatever magic he possessed would allow him to breach the glass between them and snatch her from where she stood, virgin or not. “You are a faerie.”

“Now, so quick to cast judgment, darling. I’ve done nothing to harm you, have I? I promised I wouldn’t and if you know anything about my kind then I’m sure you know a faerie’s word is binding. I cannot lie to you, pet.”

“Is this how all fae choose to communicate with mortals, or do the rest find us too plain for their entertainment?”

He chuckled. “All that matters, darling, is that you are worth my attention.”

She swallowed. “And if I do not wish to have your attention?”

His charming grin broadened. “I have been honest with you, Feyre. It’s only fair that you return the favor. If you did not crave my attention you would have been screaming at that locked door the moment I identified myself.”

Feyre pursed her lips. Though his words rang true, she didn’t appreciate being called out. She did crave company, she realized. Even after the exhaustion of the evening, the years of lonely nights outweighed the social strain of a single evening. 

“You have announced your presence, but given no name or title.”

“Darling.” His amusement softened to something she couldn’t quite label. Not that she had much need to. His title wasn’t important at the moment, just that she listened to him. Each word he spoke was true after all. “Much better. You’re a lovely thing once those hackles fall, aren’t you.”

“I—”

“Come closer, little mate. Let me see you.”

Another step brought her to the dresser and couldn’t help but reach up to the glass, her palm flush against the faerie’s. It was the strangest sensation when the mirror’s face rippled beneath her fingers, but the soothing hold over her mind did not waver. That is until her hand met the familiar warmth of human flesh, a calloused palm cradling her soft fingers.

“And now you’re mine.”

That strange hold snapped, reminding her of her caution—the fears born of instinct and stories told, each and every one a warning to heed. “What did you do to me?”

The faerie only smiled, squeezing her hand tighter and pulling her into his dark world.

~~~~~

Perhaps it was the strange means of travel, perhaps it was her fear. Either way, Feyre was dismayed to find herself waking curled up on a set of silken black sheets, clearly having lost consciousness long enough to be carried into someone else's home. Not carried—abducted. 

She shivered, pulling back the edge of the flat sheet just enough to ensure her clothing was still in place, immodest as it was on its own. Scanning the room to make sure she was truly alone, she scurried across the room to snatch the robe thrown over the cracked armoire. She’d just finished tying the oversized garment when she sensed another presence in the room.

“Show yourself,” she demanded, attempting to be subtle as she scanned the room for anything resembling a weapon. “Enough games!”

“As you wish, darling.”

The space behind her warmed slightly, the solid male form behind her unmistakable. “Who are you?” It was a small miracle, Feyre supposed, that her voice was steadier than her hands as she pulled the neck of the robe together until it pressed flush to her throat. “Why did you bring me here? I have not—I wouldn’t—”

Despite their truth, Feyre couldn’t summon the words that may change the course of her fate. She knew what made a noblewoman valuable on the marriage market. If she could just convince this faerie she hadn’t ruined herself…

“It’s not your virtue I’m concerned with, Feyre darling.” A mark against her childhood stories, if he could be believed. But why else would he abduct a human from her home. “Beastly as most of our customs and traditions may be,” the man continued, “the society I’ve found a home in might be considered progressive in comparison to your human beliefs.”

Feyre turned to face him. “Society.” She retreated another step, praying he hadn’t seen her eyes dart to the fireplace a moment ago—and the iron poker beside it. Which of them would be faster, she wondered, if she could keep her intentions secret long enough to wield the makeshift weapon? What color would he bleed? “You are a lord, then.”

His lips curled into a half smile, as if her assumption of his status was amusing. “Something like it. The caste system you know is a bit different from our own, I’m afraid. But we’ll get back to that.” He took a step towards her, giving her an excuse to draw closer to her goal. The cowed girl he seemed keen on controlling would become a woman with a weapon. “First—”

Feyre didn’t let herself hesitate. The moment her hand closed on the poker she turned the sharp end on her kidnapper with the intent to wound, if not kill. 

Only for her body to fail her. Her mental freedom was claimed just as swiftly, cold talons forcing their way past the brittle wall she had seemed to create through her own instinct rather than practice.

“Oh, my pet.” His thumb pressed into her wrist and her hand spasmed, the iron rod clattering against the wood at their feet. “What are we going to do with you?”

She would have been trembling, if she had control of herself. Perhaps it was a small mercy then, that he had this hold over her. “It doesn’t have to stay this way.”

“What do you mean?” she managed to grit out.

A slow smirk bloomed across his disgustingly perfect face just before he reached for her. His large hands were feather light as they followed the curves of her body, finally settling on her hips. The heat of them could have burned straight through the thin fabric of the robe maintaining her modesty. And the way he looked down at her… she wasn’t quite certain how to describe that look. The claws holding her mind began to retract and at last she could think—could breathe again. 

“So dramatic, my pet.” Her eyes snapped back to his, her demand lingering on the tip of her tongue before she thought better of shouting at him. He had used his magic against her twice now. He could certainly do it again if she caused trouble. “Smart girl.”

“You can read minds.”

“Read them, control them. It does wonders in keeping the unruly… we’ll say compliant.” She shivered again. “You’ll do well to remember, my darling Feyre, that I am always with you.” Because even now, her body once again her own, a shadow had taken root in her mind. She had a feeling it would make itself at home for a good long while. Until she discovered a way to block him out. The faerie chuckled. “Perhaps in a century or two you’ll find yourself strong enough. If all goes to plan.”

She tensed. “To plan?”

“Later, little one. For now—” One hand slid to her front, fingering the knot keeping her stolen robe closed. “—I’d like to strike a bargain.”

~~~~~

Rhysand

“A bargain?” the girl sputtered. “You really think you’ll get away with this? My family—”

“Your family doesn’t believe in magic, darling. Who's to say their wild little rebel didn’t learn how to pick her bedroom lock and run into the night to avoid a loveless marriage? If they aren't convinced in the beginning, persuasion is my specialty as you now know.”

His little mate didn’t need to know the truth behind his curse. It wouldn’t change the fact she belonged to him—would remain here at his side in the end. Stubborn as Feyre Archeron may be, Rhys had never picked a battle he couldn’t win.

All this victory would take was persistence and a firm hand. The rest would fall in place on its own, starting with the girl and ending with her fool of a father.

“Please,” she began to beg.

He tutted, pressing a finger to her lips. That wouldn’t do. At least not yet. “The details,” he finally purred in her ear, dropping one hand to cradle the same wrist he’d gripped to force the poker from her hand, sweeping a thumb tenderly over that trigger point until she shivered against him. She may not be aware of their bond, but she responded to it all the same. “Each night when your handmaiden departs, you will let the mirror bring you here. Two wraiths will greet you in this room and prepare you for the evening’s activities.”

“Activities?” she whispered, her warm breath grazing his cheek.

“You will dance for me, darling. Some nights before my court. Others may be for my eyes alone, here in this very room. You will be painted with the symbols of my court, dressed in my colors, drunk on my wine.” Her eyes widened when the back of her knees hit the bed, apparently not having realized he was slowly guiding her across the room. “You will belong to me from dusk till dawn, starting tonight.”

Her thoughts were overridden with panic, limbs flailing the moment her back met his sheets. “If you fail to comply, you will lose your privilege to return to the human realm. If you fail to arrive I will cross the veil between us and drag you here myself.”

“You can’t do this!” she cried, still attempting to break free of his hold, even as he successfully immobilized her.

“I’m the High King, darling.” Leaning down, he licked up her neck, delighted when she once again shivered beneath him. “I can do anything I please.” ~~~~~

Feyre

High King. Feyre wasn’t quite certain how different that was from a regular king, but she did know one thing. She had finally found the sort of trouble she couldn’t slip free of. “I—” She choked on her words, startled by the fingers that grazed her clitoris. “What are you doing?”

She tried to wriggle away, only succeeding in further stimulation.

“Providing some encouragement.”

“I’d be ruined.”

“Say yes, pet, and that can be prevented.”

Those talons once again breached her mind, this time gentle, encouraging, as he suggested. “You’re cheating.”

A snap of his fingers and her clothes were gone. “Yes,” he purred into her mind, that cruel mouth leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses from the soft spot behind her ear all the way down to her shoulder. “And I have no intention of playing fair until you agree to my demands. You’ll dance for me, darling. One way or another.

“You. Are. Mine.”

Two thick fingers sank into her and she gasped, kicking and squirming until she felt him brush her hymen. “Please,” she panted, closing a hand around his wrist, not that she had the strength to stop him.

“I’ll give you ten seconds, darling. Agree to live between my land and yours and I will wait to claim you. Try to defy me…”

She would belong to him in every sense. “Ten.” She’d be trapped in this realm every hour of every day for the rest of her pathetically short life. “Nine.” The High King’s whore. “Eight.” Serving his every whim before his court. “Seven.” To agree to the bargain would bring her back into society’s marriage machinations. “Six.” Likely standing at the altar before she turned twenty. “Five.” She may end up loathing her husband rather than loving him. “Four.” But what kind of person would she be if she left her family entirely? “Three.”

“Wait.”

“Two.” His fingers pressed a little farther into her.

“I have conditions!”

He chuckled against her breast, those clever fingers dragging just so. “Of course you do, darling. Do begin.” His hot mouth closed over her nipple and she whined. She should hate this. She should really, truly hate this.

“I’m waiting, Feyre.”

She loathed him. Why could she not loathe his touch just the same?

“You can’t—y-you—”

She was already lost to the pleasure of his touch. She had no chance now of forming a coherent sentence. His teeth pinched down hard on her nipple and she cried out. Better then, to embrace that mental connection. To submit to it. It was a lovely feeling, trusting the talons tightening by a fraction, those subtle shadows from before fading to make room for their solid counterparts.

She let the thought flit across her mind, that he would not leave his realm with the intention of harming her family.

“As you wish, little mate. So long as you come to me and keep our little secret, your loved ones will be safe.” Her left arm warmed slightly, from her fingertips all the way to her elbow. “Now you bear my mark,” he crooned, his satisfaction crystal clear.

An odd feeling niggled at the back of her mind. Saying that this was wrong. Offensive. She couldn’t quite grasp why. Any smart man lays claim to what belongs to him, doesn't he? The more obvious, the better. “That’s right, darling. It will remain glamoured to human eyes. Except for yours. We can’t have you forgetting for a moment who you belong to.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @sajirah // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

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