#hell yeah i talked myself into that get ready for like eight generations of fucking assholes lmao

[armoricaroyalty]

hi! do you have any tips for a new/just starting out royal simblr? anything you can tell me is greatly appreciated.

also, one more thing: any tips for how to place/adjust tiaras using the hat slider? i’m seriously losing my actual mind over here trying to position tiaras and i don’t even know if i’m doing it right 🤣 ty!

You know, a while ago I actually started writing a guide for new royal simblr but it ended up in my enormous pile of "projects I'll return to when my free time returns from the war!" Here's some of the highlights.

Know what you want to get out of your story... Are you telling a story because you're excited about the community aspect, meeting new people, participating in community events, and making friends? Are you looking to challenge yourself and grow your skills as a story-teller, pose-maker, or editor? Do you want to dress your sims up in pretty clothes and make them smooch? Figure out what you want to accomplish with your story, and prioritize the parts of it that enable you to do that thing.

...but don't do it for notes. There's a big difference between joining a community to make friends and enjoy your shared hobby and joining a community with the intention of building a following and getting a lot of likes, comments, and asks. We all like it when the numbers go up, but focusing exclusively (or almost exclusively) on the numbers is a great way to kill your passion for your story. Comparison is the thief of joy. Write for yourself, not the audience you think another simmer has.

Start small, start simple. Your story will naturally develop in complexity as you revise your outlines and edit posts. The stories you follow might be packed with intricate drama and lots of moving parts, but they (probably) didn't start out that way. Don't feel like you need to roll out a complicated story with a cast of dozens and extensive family trees...you'll have a hard time keeping track of it, and so will your readers. Some of the best story-telling advice I ever got came from a tabletop roleplaying game manual via an actual play podcast: draw maps, leave blank spaces. Know the shape of your story but leave yourself space to improvise and embroider later on.

Pick a good entry point. Expanding on the point above, (imo) the best way to get started is to have a small core cast with clearly-defined relationships reacting to some kind of status-quo altering event, and then building the plot and world out from there. For example: what happens when the elderly king's only living child dies? Does he divorce his also-elderly wife and marry his 20-year-old sidepiece in the hopes of producing a new heir, or does he reconcile with his estranged brother and declare him heir? That's a cast of four (five if you count the dead son) with a lot of baked-in drama and intrigue. Readers are going to want to know what happens next. I want to know what happens next. Someone write this story and send it to me.

A lot of the rest of the guide I have drafted is just me tiredly making a case for making sims who don't look exactly identical, so I'll save that for another day.

ETA: no tips for the hat slider, sorry. i’m constantly fucking that one up, too.

[lavishedinjimin]

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.” 

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?” 

“This is why no one likes you.” 

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die. 

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have. 

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes. 

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you. 

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say. 

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that. 

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.” 

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?” 

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not. 

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.” 

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn. 

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts. 

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice. 

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings. 

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you. 

This is ridiculous. 

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?” 

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird. 

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —” 

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room. 

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything. 

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?” 

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!” 

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not. 

“Okay.” You say simply. 

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky. 

Step one: Sneak out the house. 

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there. 

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from. 

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n. 

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking. 

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

~

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting. 

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!” 

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine. 

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message. 

And you clearly know what he's trying to say. 

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine. 

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.” 

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you. 

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that. 

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too. 

~ 

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub! 

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you. 

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!” 

Oh no. 

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner. 

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed. 

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before. 

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?” 

She doesn't have to know. 

“Yup.” 

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come. 

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself. 

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course. 

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking. 

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code. 

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room. 

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her. 

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted. 

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened. 

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving. 

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing. 

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword. 

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?” 

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?” 

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt. 

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks. 

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head. 

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak. 

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–” 

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him. 

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.” 

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.” 

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun. 

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.” 

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side. 

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–” 

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are. 

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides. 

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.” 

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.” 

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.” 

“Y/n!” 

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!” 

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window. 

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?” 

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh. 

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles. 

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account . 

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are. 

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.” 

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you. 

“Well, uh–” 

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie. 

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried. 

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool. 

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.” 

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!” 

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.” 

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume. 

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun. 

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess. 

Wasted. You were wasted like hell. 

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it. 

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.” 

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.” 

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.” 

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question. 

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too. 

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.” 

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.  

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him. 

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. 

“I own this place, baby.” 

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still. 

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence. 

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you. 

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.” 

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.” 

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway. 

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.” 

Let’s have a little fun. 

Yeah. I should. 

This is fun, right? 

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders. 

Something feels off. 

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him. 

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident. 

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia. 

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body. 

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you. 

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all. 

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back. 

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side. 

“Y/n?” 

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking. 

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!” 

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home. 

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…” 

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!” 

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia. 

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.” 

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go. 

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh. 

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow. 

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this. 

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people. 

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy. 

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first. 

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes. 

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare. 

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible. 

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.” 

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?” 

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.” 

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.” 

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together. 

“You know I’m a devil, right?” 

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.” 

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?” 

Armaros nods fully. 

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around. 

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear. 

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?” 

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize. 

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth. 

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun. 

~

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt. 

That’s what he plans to do with you. 

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete. 

Easy! 

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!” 

Oh no, you thought. 

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see. 

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.” 

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.” 

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her. 

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room. 

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves. 

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter. 

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain. 

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile. 

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before. 

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?” 

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure. 

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway. 

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?” 

What kind of a question is that? 

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought. 

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes. 

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing. 

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister. 

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling. 

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him. 

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again. 

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you. 

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow. 

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you. 

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?” 

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!” 

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?” 

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper. 

You almost fainted then and there. 

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!” 

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.” 

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”  

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!” 

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way. 

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.” 

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.” 

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.” 

“W-What?” 

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area. 

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.” 

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.  

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.” 

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock.. 

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time. 

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes. 

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words. 

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?” 

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him. 

You lust for him. 

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.  

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.” 

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self. 

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.” 

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs. 

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there. 

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.” 

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms. 

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises. 

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder. 

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up. 

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls. 

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?” 

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…” 

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go. 

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties. 

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?” 

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly. 

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass. 

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.” 

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously. 

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.” 

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly. 

“Devil?” 

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation. 

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.” 

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much. 

“Daddy.” He purrs. 

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers. 

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy. 

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!” 

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use. 

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob. 

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!” 

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?” 

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops. 

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.” 

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes. 

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly. 

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs. 

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes. 

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh. 

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding. 

“But—” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock. 

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes. 

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore. 

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.” 

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva. 

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.” 

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him. 

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure. 

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach. 

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles. 

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?” 

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.” 

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?” 

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…” 

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.” 

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip. 

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank. 

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle. 

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. 

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet. 

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers. 

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is. 

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break. 

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy. 

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises. 

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!” 

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you. 

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.” 

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy. 

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind. 

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars. 

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you. 

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure. 

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him. 

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high. 

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes. 

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look. 

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim. 

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.” 

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks. 

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow. 

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean. 

~

He can't leave now. Not after all of this. 

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting. 

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now. 

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes. 

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods. 

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking. 

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice. 

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.” 

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty. 

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you. 

He needs you down with him. 

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?” 

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly. 

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.” 

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.” 

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness. 

~

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings. 

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”  

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close. 

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels. 

[spxllcxstxr]

Game On • J.P

(Gif not mine)

Writing Challenge: @lunalovecroft ‘s 2.7k Trope Writing Challenge! Congrats again! Everyone go check out their fantastic blog! Trope: Quidditch Rivals and Secret Dating

Summary: No one knows that rival captains, Potter and (Y/Ln), have been in a secret relationship for quite some time. Then, the Championship Game arrives.

Warnings: cursing, a small hint of steaminess (nothing big—it’s like a quick mention and that’s it), slight Wolfstar and Dorlene mention, mention of breakfast at the Great Hall, kissing, use of Ms when referring to the reader (only once), nonGryffindor!reader

Word Count: 2k

A.N: Kinda long winded but I actually like the dialogue for once??? Wow. Congrats again on 2.7k! Everyone go follow them because I get so happy seeing them on my dash ❤️ Hope you all enjoy and love you all ❤️

****

Your eyes snap open hours before they have to, your dorm still pitch black, the soft snores of your friends filling up the otherwise quiet space. The covers feel heavy and restricting on top of you, something you quickly remedy by kicking them clear off the mattress.

You swing your legs over the edge, feet meeting the cool wooden floor.

Rubbing your eyes, you glance over at the ornate clock on your nightstand. One in the morning. You sigh, your goal of getting a good night’s sleep before your important match in ruins.

Your skin crawls at the thought of the Championship Match only hours from now. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed in preparation for it is frankly quite concerning.

Unable to get back to sleep, you drag yourself out of bed, shoving your feet into plush slippers before slipping quietly out of your room. You’re forced to tiptoe around scattered books, most of them Quidditch related from last night.

There’s no way you’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon, the anxiety of the morning’s match coursing through your veins. The nerves were the worst part of competitive Quidditch—after all these years you still couldn’t shake them.

Absentmindedly, you think about heading to the Kitchens, the warm and comfortable environment sounding like exactly what you need.

Late night visits to the Kitchens aren’t anything new, you and James often sneak out after curfew hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak. Sitting in the far corner behind countless shelves and barrels was a frequent date for the two of you since it offered enough privacy from the rest of the castle.

The two of you could hold hands on the table, his thumb open to draw little figure eights between your knuckles. Your eyes could light up just looking at him without the fear of being called out. His lips could capture yours in a sweet or passionate kiss and no one would know.

The real and complete reason for keeping your relationship a secret was long since forgotten, but the general idea is still shared. It’s just easier being Quidditch rivals instead of being Quidditch rivals that snogged the second feet touched the ground. Neither of you were ever accused of going easy on the other during matches, and that’s how the two of you preferred it.

Plus, there was something romantic about sneaking around the castle and through secret passage ways pressed closely underneath his cloak. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and quick shags in broom closets were fun when they weren’t inconvenient.

In the back of your mind you have an inkling that James might be huddled up in the usual spot as well, considering he has a match as well in a few hours.

You shuffle through the common room, a few third years spread out on the couch, sleeping atop their textbooks and notes. The fire crackles and pops lowly. A shiver runs down your spine as you step out into the corridor.

“Lumos!”

A murky blue light blooms from the tip of your wand, lighting up the dark corridor.

You shuffle across the stone, the occasional laugh or snore echoing throughout.

Filch isn’t an issue at this time of night, surprisingly the old care taker does get some sort of beauty sleep, though it does him no good, so you find yourself walking normally instead of carefully creeping around.

It doesn’t take long to get to the portrait of the bowl of fruit, faint giggles coming from the pear. You extend your arm to tickle the bottom of the pear, it’s giggles erupting even louder before morphing into an intricate brass doorknob.

Stepping through the threshold you’re immediately met with a blast of heat due to the large fireplace that practically takes up the wall to your right. Even though it’s the middle of the night, plates and goblets and utensils are clanking and crashing together, the pitter patter of house-elves darting around the area isn’t surprising at this point.

“Nox.”

The blue light fades and flickering orange takes over.

A small and pale grey figure rushes up to you, jittery like they’ve just consumed a gallon of coffee. One ear droops low enough where it’s almost dragging across the floor while the other is significantly shorter.

“Ms. (Y/Ln)!” The house-elf squeaks, wringing their lavender cloth between their fingers. “Mr. Potter is waiting for you!”

“Alright, Tilly.” You smile warmly at the elf. “Thank you.”

As you make your way to your usual spot in the back of the Kitchens, you hear Tilly bound back over to the counters, joining the many other house-elves that work down here.

Behind stacks of old crates and barrels, there’s an old and decrepit picnic table, obscured from the rest of the room. Each time you and James show up you’re surprised the house-elves haven’t chucked it into the large fire yet. It’s so rickety it’s practically only good for firewood.

And being the spot for the two of you to find refuge in.

James is sitting with his back against the wall, legs outstretched across the bench just like you suspected. He’s lazily tracing a finger around the lip of his steaming mug, hazel eyes lost in thought. From your spot you can see his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“You ok Jamie?” You ask softly, trying not to startle him out of his thoughts.

His eyes flick up to yours before he fixes his glasses and runs a hand through his bedhead.

“Knew you’d join me eventually, love.” He sends over a wink, face lighting up.

“And you didn’t think to pick me up at my common room?” You playfully scoff, slotting yourself between his legs, face pressed into his chest.

The red fabric smells suspiciously like the Quidditch shed, like he got in some late night practice.

“Oh yes, because standing out in the cold corridors outside of your common room after curfew is much better than just waiting for you in the warm Kitchens.” James’ chin rests in the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Blimey, chivalry really is dead.”

“Y’know, you could’ve waited outside the Gryffindor Tower for me.” James points out, chuckling at your complaint.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “Who has the Invisibility Cloak, again?”

“You got here just fine, didn’t you, love?” He snorts, chest rumbling.

“Whatever.” You grumble, rolling your eyes in defeat.

James sighs, rubbing your side. “You ready for the morning?”

You hum noncommittally, the thought of tomorrow’s match swirling through your mind.

“Nervous, love?” His voice is soft and delicate against your temple.

“I mean, this is my last chance, Jamie.” You mumble into his chest. “And of course it’s against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, (Y/n)?” James asks, concern laced within his voice.

“It’s just that you’re an amazing player and I’m—“

“A spectacular player as well.” He interjects. “I’ve seen you out there practicing. You’ve built a bloody good team this year. We’re on equal footing.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never beaten you before.” You huff lightly, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So?” He questions. “That doesn’t mean anything. There’s a reason you’ve made it into the Championship match, (Y/n). Because you’re a fucking phenomenal Captain. And I’ll hex anyone that tells you otherwise.” You feel his fingers flex angrily against your waist.

“You’re so sweet.” You pick your head up slightly to face him, a pout tugging at your lips.

“Guess I should give you a good luck kiss now, considering we won’t have time in the morning.” James’ hazel eyes shine in the flickering light while looking into your own.

“Does luck even last that long?” You bring your fingers up to hover over his sharp jawline.

“Sadly, love, we’ll have to test that.” He sighs.

You bring your lips to meet his, your fatigue making it a bit sloppier than it should’ve been. He nips at your lips, pulling you closer to his chest momentarily before pulling away.

You whine slightly at the loss of warmth.

“Gotta save some of that luck for myself, love. Can’t just let you win.” He smirks, lips grazing your hairline.

The two of you end up sitting there for another hour or so, listening to the fire crackling and the house-elves rummage around. Eventually, he pulls you underneath his cloak and drops you back off at your common room, a quick peck pressed to your lips.

You manage to drift back off to sleep, dreaming of James rather than Quidditch.

When you pry your eyes open for the second time, the sun is actually filtering through your curtains and most of your dormmates are awake and shuffling around.

You tune them out the best you can, opting to go through your routine in whatever silence you can find.

Your routine is quite simple, you let your joints pop and muscles stretch, trying to shake yourself awake.

The rest of the castle seems to be alive with boisterous laughter and over the top festivities. Glancing around at the corridors and the Great Hall, you’re able to notice a pretty even split between red and gold and your own house colors.

This was going to be one hell of a rematch.

Marlene and Sirius have a crowd forming around them as they flex and throw out trash talk. You watch as Remus and Dorcas try to coax them down from the tabletop, but they seem unsuccessful.

Peter, Mary, and Lily are fawning over James, hyping him up, even you can tell from across the Hall.

But he isn’t paying attention to them, his eyes are clearly trained on you behind his round glasses.

“Already envisioning Potter’s demise?”

You tear your eyes away from him, instead focusing on your teammate.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirk, before throwing yourself into last minute charts and maneuvers.

Breakfast goes by quick, your leg never stops bouncing underneath the table and your fingers tap incessantly against your goblet.

You and your team strut down to the pitch earlier than anyone else. There’s a slight breeze rolling through the grounds, something you take into account.

It becomes a bit of a blur after you’ve changed into your uniform, the crowd begins to show up and their cheers take over your hearing.

Remus is announcing the game, which you have no idea why since it never goes well for anyone. His commentary ranges from picking on James to flirting with Sirius to just trying to get McGonagall pissed off.

Marching out to the center of the grassy pitch, broom in hand, you’re bombarded with your name being enthusiastically chanted across the entire stadium. Confidence bubbles inside of you as you face James, Madam Hooch just beside you.

“Alright everyone, I expect a nice, clean, and fair game today. This is the Championship, no one will get away with any funny business.” Her tone is clipped as her yellow eyes take in everyone. “Captains, shake hands.”

You and James take a step forward, his hand firmly grasping yours.

“Good luck, love.”

With your hands still connected, James plants his lips on your own, and you eagerly kiss back.

The crowd erupts into even louder cheers.

“Bloody hell!” You hear Remus exclaim over the loud speaker. “James and (Y/Ln) are now snogging on the pitch! You own me five bloody Galleons, Sirius Black! I told you, you—“

“Lupin!”

James takes a step back, his usual smirk painted across his face. His hazel eyes glint mischievously behind his goggles, which he takes the time to adjust like they were his own glasses.

The roar of the entire castle fills your ears after your little reveal.

It’s a little overwhelming, you have to admit, but it doesn’t deter you. You’ve spent too many hours training for this very moment to back down now.

You roll your neck, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, but pixies have already erupted in your stomach. You feel James’ stare burning into you.

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch’s harsh tone cuts through the crowd, but you’re barely paying attention to her as you swing a leg over your broom handle.

The whistle pops into her mouth like usual, but in the split second before she blows with all the air in her lungs, you lock eyes with your boyfriend.

His red and gold robes billow behind him, confidence just rolling off of him. Dark and chaotic curls drift in the breeze.

He sends you a wink.

“Game on, love.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

For @lunalovecroft go check their blog out!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it. 

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat. 

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave. 

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy. 

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered. 

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised. 

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay. 

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin. 

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently. 

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly. 

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.” 

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.” 

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint. 

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply. 

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII  / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost three months into his new life, Peter was finally able to establish a routine that worked for him. He woke up around nine in the morning, tried to get some sort of exercise done, usually yoga or a jog around the block, then he had breakfast by himself, because both Ned and MJ had class or work before he was even up. After that, he made sure to post something on Just4fans, so people could see it throughout the day, and answered private messages and comments from the night before. Lastly, he headed to his newly created Twitter account to promote the new content and to interact with people there as well – it was a great way to get new subscribers.

That usually took up most of his morning, then he went downstairs to Ned and MJ’s apartment for lunch. He usually ate with at least one of them, except for Mondays and Wednesdays, when neither was home, but even then he ate at their place since he didn’t own any kitchen appliances yet – it was on the priority list, but not that high up, he liked having an excuse to visit his friends every day.

Later, he headed back upstairs and, depending on the day, he would take new pictures and videos or edit the ones he took the day before. Finally, at night, he posted more content on his Just4fans and chatted with his subscribers until it was time for bed.

In the last week of April, on one of his morning jogs, he noticed that just a few blocks away from his building there was a charity called the Bright Future Foundation. He thought the name sounded familiar, but try as he may, he couldn’t remember where he had heard of them. It was only after running past it a few times that it clicked – Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, told Peter to look it up.

The Bright Future Foundation helped kids who aged out of foster care get their lives together. They offered support in the form of scholarships and grants, academic and personal mentoring, and help with internships and employment readiness skills. That was what their website said, as Peter vaguely remembered from his high school years, when he still planned on going to college.

He went inside one day, not really sure why, and when the front desk lady asked how she could help him he just stood there for a few minutes, silent and nervous. She asked if he wanted to learn about their programs, but he shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. The woman waited patiently, a motherly smile on her face, until Peter asked if they needed any help.

And that was how volunteering at BFF became a part of his new routine – every Thursday from nine to five, starting in the first week of May. Since it was just a few blocks away from his place, he could walk there instead of taking the subway.

He liked his new routine, it was tiring but it didn’t leave a lot of time for overthinking or ruminating on the past. He never felt lonely because Ned and MJ were always around and he actually made a few friends among his subscribers, which was nice.

For the first time in a while, Peter was feeling happy. And it wasn’t an elaborate, fragile sort of happiness, where things needed to be in perfect place for the feeling to be felt, no. It was the simplest kind of happiness: he had friends, a job, a place to crash and everything was fine. Nothing was perfect, but it was fine.

A few days after he sent Tony the lingerie pictures, he decided to send him the video. He was a little insecure about it, it was 13 minutes long after editing and Peter had really lost it for a minute there, one could clearly tell. He was gone for most of the video, a moaning mess, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, begging for something – someone – that wasn’t even there. It either looked ridiculous or fucking hot depending on the person watching, and even though he was pretty sure Tony would not think it was ridiculous, he still worried just a little, but he sent it anyway. It was still early in the day when he did, some time around noon, and he didn’t expect him to answer any time soon, so went on with his day.

Tony messaged him around 2AM, as usual, but there was no text, just three videos in the chat. In the first one, it looked like he was wearing a suit, he could see the dress pants pulled down and the white shirt pulled up as Tony jacked off for thirty seconds before he came all over his hand. It looked like he was in a bathroom stall, sitting on a toilet, and Peter bit his lower lip, wondering if he was at work when the video was taken.

The second video was similar to the first, but it looked like he was in a garage or something like that – probably the workshop he always talked about –, Peter could see a black shirt bunched up around his waist and sweatpants around his thighs.

Last but not least there was a video of him completely naked, lying in bed, and the video was shot from Tony’s point of view, like he was holding his cell phone close to his face, looking down, instead of propping it up in front of him like he usually did.

They were all incredible and delicious and got Peter rock hard in a second. The boy got comfortable on the bed, lay on his back, took off his pajama bottoms and sighed when his cock sprung free, shivering a little when the chilly night air touched his heated skin. He planted his feet on the mattress and spread his legs, but didn’t do more than that yet.

“That good?” He messaged Tony, cheekily, and the older man started typing right away.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole entire life and I’m 48, so yeah. That good.”

Hm, forty-eight. So Peter wasn’t wrong in his assumption. He bit his lower lip, a rush of excitement running through his veins. Tony was so much older, almost thirty years his senior. Peter supposed he must be really experienced. He wondered if he usually hooked up with younger men or if in real life he only dated women – it wouldn’t be a shock – but most of all, he wondered what he looked like. Maybe he dyed his hair, but if he didn’t, it was probably mostly gray and fuck Peter if he didn’t have a thing for that.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You broke me. I was in the middle of a meeting when you sent that video, I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to watch it. What have you done to me, witch?” Peter wanted to laugh, but it got stuck in the back of his throat with a moan when he slid a hand to his lower abdomen and his cock stood to attention.

“I don’t know about that, but your videos sure got me horny as fuck.” He rolled his hips a little, humping the air, and finally gave in to himself, holding his cock in one hand and the cellphone in the other.

“Is that so?” He could almost hear his voice through the phone – soft, but powerful. He always imagined Tony would sound like that if they ever talked face to face.

“Yes, daddy” And that would always be his default answer to anything he might ask with that voice. He closed his eyes for a second, quickening the pace of his strokes just a little, when his phone beeped again.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, daddy” Peter shivered, imagining Tony’s reaction to that revelation.

“Can I hear you, baby boy?”

He didn’t even hesitate, he started recording a voice message and moaned into the phone, thrusting his hips against his fist as he quietly begged for Tony’s cock, his fingers, his mouth, anything, he just wanted the man to be there taking care of him, making him cum, that was all he wanted, and he wanted it so badly.

He came in just a few seconds and hit send on the voice message before he could overthink it. As he lay there, breathless, staring at the ceiling and trying to gather his strength, he fantasized about Tony listening to it. He smiled to himself, like an idiot, then his cellphone beeped, bringing him back to reality.

“You’re gonna drive me mad, you know that? I’m actually going insane and it’s all your fault. Also, my dick is gonna fall off and that’s on you, too.” Peter had the presence of mind to laugh at the message, but it took him a few seconds to gather enough energy to write back to him.

“That’s a serious accusation, Tony, I’m gonna need all the evidence I can get, so every time you touch yourself thinking of me, make sure to send me proof, ok?”

“Oh, you don’t know what you just got yourself into.” Again, Peter could only laugh, because judging by the amount of videos Tony sent him that day, he really was in for a treat.

Days later, on Friday, Peter got up early to go for his usual jog around the block. He was a little tired from the day before, still adjusting to his new routine at BFF – it was his third week there and they were starting to realize that Peter was a quick learner and very eager to help, so they took advantage of that, which was fine with him, he was thrilled to be able to help somehow.

So after a quick, half-assed jog around the block, he went back home, showered and decided to take the rest of the pictures Tony asked for. The man was still going nuts over the video, he wouldn’t stop talking about it and every day there was a video of him finishing himself off in their chat and Peter could hear his own voice in the background, screaming Tony’s name.

It was both embarrassing as fuck and hot as hell, so the younger man also spent a lot of those last few days in the shower trying to cool down, but Tony was not making it easier.

As much fun as that was, he was curious to see how Tony would react to the new pictures. He realized that would be the first time the older man would see him with clothes on, which sounded ridiculous, but it was true. He didn’t have many pictures on Instagram, but most of them were selfies and there were just a few where it was possible to see maybe a hint of a shirt, but that was it.

So he took the outfit he and MJ picked out and winced, remembering how much it cost, but at least he picked out clothes he might wear some day – if he had a meeting with the queen of England, for example. He put on the light gray suit by Hugo Boss, with a pink shirt with big, white dots by Levi’s Vintage underneath, black dress shoes by Brunello Cucinelli and a Gucci watch he was able to find on sale for half the original price. The whole outfit was worth around five thousand dollars, and was definitely the most money he had ever spent on – well, anything.

He checked himself in the mirror and snorted a little, he sure looked like a spoiled brat, which was probably what Tony meant by “expensive and beautiful”, so that was fine. He styled his hair so it looked effortlessly tousled, but not too much, and set his camera to take the pictures by the living room window.

He took a few pictures on the windowsill, some other leaning against the glass with his hands in his pockets, a few others looking out the window. He posed on his armchair, too, which was the only piece of furniture he had in his living room at the moment and he wished he had a decent dining table so he could pose like he was on a date with the camera, but he supposed those would do.

Once he was satisfied with what he got, he took off the clothes, put them away and went downstairs to have lunch with Ned and MJ. For the first time since he moved in with them, they both had Friday afternoon off, so they spent it together, eating junk food, watching bad TV series and playing really old tabletop games Ned had brought with him when he moved from his parents’ house.  

In between a game of Monopoly and Scrabble, Peter pulled his phone out to check his messages, and was surprised to find one from Tony, sent just a few minutes earlier. He checked the time and noticed he must still be at work, so he opened it, assuming it couldn’t be anything too sexual.

“Hey, are you feeling better today? Just checking in.”

Peter frowned for a second, but a quick look at their earlier messages reminded him that he was feeling a little under the weather the day before and he’d told Tony that before he went to bed.

“Hi, Tony! I’m all better now, thanks for asking. I guess it was just allergies or something.”

He didn’t expect Tony to answer right away, but as soon as his message was sent, he started typing.  

“That’s good to hear, but you need to be a little more careful with your health, kitten. Just yesterday you said you had an apple for lunch. At 4PM.”

“You’re one to talk.” Peter snorted. They always berated each other for poor eating habits. Peter was a 20 year-old bachelor living by himself and sharing meals with his equally young and dumb friends, so pizza was on the menu more often than not; Tony was a forty-eight year-old businessman with too little time to care. “Did you even eat today?”

“Don’t try to turn this around, this isn’t about me.” Peter rolled his eyes and smiled to himself. “Did you do anything fun today?”

“I took some pictures for you, it was quite fun.” He knew the mention of new pictures would get him interested in a minute.

“Don’t play with my heart, kid. When can I see them?”

“I don’t know...” He teased just a little, because he knew Tony wasn’t above begging and it was fun to watch.

“Don’t be mean to daddy, come on. He’s always so good to you.” Peter smiled, because, yeah. He was.

“I’ll send them tonight, I promise.” He decided, since they would have more time to talk then, if he sent the pictures earlier, Tony would still be at work and Peter would still be at his friends’.

“Good boy.”

“You know I am.”

“What are you smiling about? Who are you talking to?” Ned looked suspiciously at him, so he quickly put the phone down and shook his head with a nervous smile.

“Just a subscriber with a bad one-liner.”

MJ looked at him like she knew a secret, but Ned just shrugged and finished setting up the game.  They ended up calling it a draw and ordering pizza afterwards, but Peter went back home early because both Ned and MJ had work the next morning.

Once he got upstairs, he went to edit Tony’s pictures and since it was still a little early to send them, he decided to check his twitter DMs. He didn’t read them very often, he already had his plate full with JustForFans, but every once in a while he checked them and answered as many as he could. Most of the messages were dick pics anyway, he just ignored those. Some others were people being nosy and asking way too personal questions, or worse, asking about Beck. He learned how to talk his way around those, but one message in particular stood out and really got to him.  

“I’m so glad you’re doing okay, honey! The way Beck is with his new boy now makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. He sure moved on quickly. You’re better off without him anyway, I always liked you better.”

That sort of comment wasn’t exactly unusual, but that second part caught him a little off guard. Makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. It just – why would she say that?  The way Beck is with his new boy. What way, exactly? What could he possibly be doing that made that person assume Beck never even loved him? People thought they were perfect together, they said it all the time, so much so that Peter himself was almost convinced of it for most of their relationship, so why in the hell would anyone think he loved this other guy more? To the point of assuming he didn’t even love Peter in the first place?

He was a masochist, he decided, as he opened Instagram. And not even the good kind of masochist, because there wasn’t any pleasure involved in what he was about to do, just pain. He unblocked Beck’s profiled and fucking looked. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but just looking at the first picture was enough to make him realize it was a terrible fucking idea. It was a black and white picture of him and the new guy cuddling in bed, kissing with soft smiles on their faces, captioned: “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Peter closed the app quickly, he didn’t need to see that. It meant nothing.

That picture meant nothing. That caption meant nothing. Because Beck was a fucking liar, a fucking actor, a fucking illusionist, a fucking – artist. He painted beautiful pictures, he weaved beautiful words, but none of that meant anything. Because it never meant anything when it was Peter in his arms, so why would–

Fuck, he should be over him, so fucking over him. But he really wasn’t, he would go back to that toxic environment if Beck snapped his fingers and that was scary to know. It was fucking terrifying to realize he was one text away from crawling back to him, even after all the humiliation, even after Beck just fucking up and left him with nothing – nothing –  he would still go right back to his arms. He still wanted to go right back to his arms.

It made him feel pathetic and weak because he knew that what they had was toxic and abusive. And he had known that for a while, way before they split up. Deep in his soul, he knew he was living a nightmare, day after day, over and over again, but he couldn’t fucking leave. He thought Beck was all he had. He promised him forever. He promised he would always be there for him. He was all Peter had in life, and he had lost so fucking much over the years, he couldn’t afford to lose anybody else.

But he did, didn’t he? He lost Beck. He was in someone else’s arms right that second, professing his undying, fake love.

Peter took a deep breath and held it a few seconds, then exhaled slowly.

He didn’t lose anything, he was set free. He was free and he had a record to break – it had been three days since he last cried about that asshole and he didn’t plan to ruin it.

He closed Instagram and went to his Just4Fans. He posted a few pictures from a phoshoot he did earlier that week that made him feel sexy and confident, which was the opposite of how he felt at that moment, but he was going to fake it until he made it.

In a few minutes, he got lots of comments and private messages with compliments, but somehow none of them was enough to fill the empty spot Beck left when he dumped him.

Well, none except for one.

“Were you planning on giving an old man a heart attack today? ‘Cause that’s how you give an old man a heart attack.” The silly message got a smile out of him, and that was a lot considering how broken he felt.

“Lol. It wasn’t in my plans, no, but now I’m worried. Is the old man okay?” He joked, and immediately got an answer in his inbox.

“He’s waiting for you to keep your promise. Says he refuses to die before he sees some pictures of you? Do you happen to know anything about that?” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, I think I know what he’s talking about. Hold on a sec.”

He selected his ten favorite pictures with the date outfit and sent them to Tony, feeling butterflies in his stomach for reasons he couldn’t explain. He lay in bed for several minutes, staring at his phone, waiting for an answer, but the older man didn’t say anything, even though Peter could see he was still online. He started to get a little anxious, worried that he had messed up somehow, so he messaged him again.

“Well? Have I finally rendered the old man speechless?”

Almost at the same time as he sent his message, Tony replied:

“I need to see you.”

Peter’s heart almost jumped out of his mouth when he read those words, eyes widening in shock. I need to see you. He read it a few more times to make sure it meant what he thought it meant. It couldn’t possibly – Tony wouldn’t want to meet him. That would be absurd. He was – well, Peter wasn’t sure, but he sounded important most of the time, he was definitely very rich, very hardworking and he seemed like a really nice guy. So really, why would he want to meet Peter. That made absolutely no sense, obviously he meant something different than that, he just didn’t quite know what–

“Please,” said the next message, just a few seconds later.

Peter bit his lower lip, feeling his face grow warmer. Just for the hell of it, he thought – what if Tony did mean he wanted to meet him? What then? Peter couldn’t say yes, that would be insane. He didn’t even know the man, all he knew were little things about his daily life, he didn’t know his last name, if he had a family, if he was married, if he was a psychopath – he didn’t even know what he looked like!

Still, he fantasized about saying yes. But that was just a fantasy. He couldn’t do it, that would be crazy.

Right?

“You won’t regret it, I’ll treat you right.”

Well, fuck. He had to go straight for his Achilles’s heel, huh.

Peter kept staring at the bright screen of his phone, breathing slowly to try to contain his wild heart that seemed adamant to burst out of his chest cavity in the next few minutes. He didn’t know what to say. No, his brain supplied, like it was obvious, because it was, right? He couldn’t say yes, yes was not a viable answer. He had to say no, it was only a matter of how he would say it without hurting the older man’s ego.

But.

Why exactly did he have to say no? He knew there were ate least 99 good answers to that question, but he couldn’t think of one, so–

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” Peter asked, even though he wasn’t really worried about that, it was the last thing on his mind, to be honest.

“You’ll know.” He said, plain and simple, and not helpful at all. And still, no flight response whatsoever from Peter’s brain. His stupid mind couldn’t seem to understand that that was clearly a terrible idea.“We’ll meet in a restaurant, the best in New York, and nothing else has to happen, I promise. We’ll have a nice dinner and that’s it. I just need to see you in person.”

That sounded reasonable, didn’t it? A public place, lots of eyes on them. If Tony turned out to be a creep, he could just leave. At the very worst, he’d be disappointed and lose a very generous subscriber; at the very best, he’d get a good meal out of it and who knew what else. It sounded reasonable. So it was probably reasonable.

Right?

“Can I wear this outfit?” He asked, because, well, that was all he had to wear to New York City’s best restaurant – whatever that was.

“You must, baby.” He answered quickly, and Peter smiled to himself. “So I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

He typed a quick yes, but didn’t send it right away. He gave his brain a few seconds to come up with reasons to say no, because he knew there were good reasons for that, but he really, honestly, just wanted to say–  

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He replied right away, as if he had been staring at the phone, waiting for his answer. “I’ll set a time and place and let you know. You won’t regret it, Peter.”

Peter loved all the pet names Tony gave him, they were all sweet and funny, but when he called him by his actual name, it just hit different. It felt good. Like he wasn’t just a pretty picture in a porn app, an expensive hobby, but a person. It was hard for him to remember that, sometimes.

Some other times, it felt good to forget.

[luxekook]

chapter three.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader (insert gif of elmo with flames behind him here)

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, jimin propositions the reader accidentally, taehyung is a menace, noona kink jumps out A LOT, chaotic ot7, talk of poly relationships, overall kinda smut free (the next chapter should quench fuel your thirst)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Three

“It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

We’re going to date the shit out of you.

We’re. Going. To. Date. The. Shit. Out. Of. You.

Those words play on a constant loop in my head for the rest of the week. After Namjoon had dropped that bombshell on me, I’d kind of freaked the fuck out, faked an immediate illness, and ran at full speed.

When I had told Luna about it later that night, she had been just as shook as me. Surprisingly enough, she had also given her full support of whatever I decided to do but “would have her banana slicer on standby and would order six more if need be”.

It appears that she had drunk-ordered a banana slicer off Amazon when the last boy she talked to pissed her off. I had apparently drunk-approved the decision. Rad.

Jenni’s reaction had been even better. We’d been in the library on Monday and her screech of “he said what!?” had led to multiple events:

An abundance of shushes from every student within a 50-yard radius

Her continued rant: “Your own personal harem! Can you say goals? Maybe I should infiltrate EXO and collect my own...”

Us getting kicked out by our ancient librarian

For the rest of the week, I had Luna and Jenni both giving me shit about the BTS boys. It had helped that I hadn’t run into them at all on campus between classes. But I had known it wouldn’t be long before my luck would run out...

Quinn Library – 2:31pm

Typically, I don’t spend my Friday afternoons deep within the stacks of the library’s quiet floor. Yet, here I sit typing frantically due to my incapability to stop procrastinating. My fingers fly over the keys of my aging MacBook in hopes that whatever spur of productivity I had going on is captured in its fullest.

General education classes could burn in the pits of hell as far as I'm concerned. If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, why did I have to take – and pay for – an art elective that I would likely never utilize in the workforce? Plus, the only class within the category that fit my schedule ended up being “Writing About Dance”.

Yeah, I’m still a tad bitter, but in all honesty the class isn’t that bad so far. It mainly consists of watching different dance performances and learning how to write about them in different styles.

Today’s assignment is to write critical commentary on videos of the university’s dance team that the professor provided for us. Sighing, I finish my review of the second to last dance video provided by the professor, take a quick second to stretch, and then open the link to the last video on the assignment page.

“Park Jimin – Final Performance Solo, Spring 2019”

Slack-jawed, I fall into wonder as Jimin moves through his routine flawlessly. He dances like it’s easier than walking to him. His movements are somehow precise and fluid all at once. I barely realize a few tears have run down my cheeks until the video cuts off, signaling the end of Jimin’s performance.

Jesus, (y/n), get it together. I laugh lightly as I dig in my backpack for a tissue. How could I possibly capture the ethereal beauty that Jimin exuded into words? Am I even worthy of commenting on such exquisiteness?

Definitely fucking not. And before I can second guess myself, I type: “Park Jimin is art in its purest form. Watching him dance is like watching the sun rise over the ocean – raw beauty accompanied by the hopes brought with a new day. His performance left me wanting for nothing except an encore.”

Boom. Submit Assignment.

As my email pings with the confirmation that my assignment is turned in, my eyes widen in realization. Park Jimin of BTS is a dance god, and he – allegedly – wants to date me? That is just ridiculously unfathomable.

Namjoon must be off his rocker.

Closing my laptop, my phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming notification from snapchat...

President_RM has added you!

Before I can even comprehend the absurdity of Namjoon adding me, my phone bursts into a series of buzzes. Cursing, I switch my phone to silent and check my screen.

minsuga93 has added you!

jhopeworld_ has added you!

handsomeJIN has added you!

JKookie97 has added you!

vantae_BTS has added you!

95jiminie has added you!

Are they serious? How did they even get my SnapChat username?

vantae_BTS has added you to a chat!

Curiosity wins out over aggravation as I swipe to open the chat.

Heart pounding, I fight the urge to chuck my phone into the depths of the bookcases winding around the room. What did those idiots want with me?

(y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 9:45pm

“What do those idiots want with me?” the decibel my voice has risen to is shocking even to my ears.

Luna cringes, accordingly, “I can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question...”

I steamroll onwards, “And don’t even get me started on how they could have even gotten my snapchat. It’s a complete invasion of privacy!”

“You could just ask them,” Jenni’s voice cuts through my rambling tirade.

I pause, “No, I couldn’t—”

...Or could I?

Turning on my heel, I rush into my room and head straight for my closet. Grabbing the nearest sweatshirt and pair of leggings, I tug them on and then grab my keys from my nightstand.

Whirling back into the living room, I storm past a dumbfounded Luna and Jenni, “Be right back.”

Opening the apartment door, Luna shouts, “Wait! Where are you going? You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Whoops. I glance at my feet and note that she is, in fact, correct.

Jenni bounds over to me holding my Doc Martens, “Here, babe. You’re going to the BTS house, aren’t you?”

I nod grimly and salute my two best friends as if I'm going into battle. “I won’t be long. I just have a small errand to run.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Luna declares, pulling on her sneakers.

Jenni snorts and shoves her feet into her beat-up Converse, “No way am I missing out on this action.”

As we head out the door, I link arms with Luna and Jenni, “Have I mentioned I love you both recently?”

“Right back at you, bitch,” Luna laughs.

Greek Row – 10:17pm

Ten minutes later, we reach Greek Row. Fraternity and sorority houses dot the street on both sides. Personally, I think of this street as home to the chaotic rich, and I tend to avoid it at all costs – except tonight.

The line to get into BTS is so long it wraps around the block. Students dressed in the latest fashions converse as they wait, huddling together in their groups. I glance down at my outfit of a worn university hoodie and leggings.

“Well, shit. We’re underdressed, huh,” Jenni deadpans, causing all three of us to burst into laughter, “Do you think they put you on the list, (y/n)?”

Pondering that thought, I shrug, “Maybe,” and begin marching past the line of waiting students towards the front door of BTS, “But I sure as fuck am not waiting in that line.”

“Hey, there’s a line here!”

“Yo, bitches! What are you doing?”

“What the fuck?”

Paying the hecklers no mind, I saunter right up to the BTS pledges guarding the door, “Hi, I need to talk to Kim Namjoon.”

The pledge on the right rakes his gaze over me incredulously and then makes the same assessment of Luna and Jenni, “You know this is a party, right?”

I don’t deem that comment worthy of a response and instead cross my arms over my chest. He shrinks under the collective glare of me, Luna and Jenni.

The pledge on the left awkwardly clears his throat, “Names, please?”

My answer barely escapes my lips before the pledges visibly straighten, looking at me with new eyes, “You’re (y/n)? Why didn’t you just say so?”

And before I can answer, the front door swings open for us.

People are everywhere. A haze of smoke looms in the air, and rap music blares from the speakers. The bass is turned up so loud that the beat seems to take over the rhythm of my pulse. That cannot be healthy.

Turning to my friends, I do my best to communicate, shouting, “I’m going to find them! Are you going to be here?”

Luna and Jenni exchange a look and nod. Jenni shouts back, “We’re going to get some drinks. Might as well capitalize on free booze! Text us when you’re ready to go.”

And with that, we part ways.

Maneuvering around the sea of gyrating bodies in the main living room area, I scan around for any signs of my seven menaces.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my future wife?” The deep voice booms from behind me.

I sigh, recognizing the voice, and turn around.

Kim Taehyung is striding towards me with his arms outstretched, smiling like the damned fool he is and looking like he just stepped off the runway for Gucci. “Come to daddy.”

An idea forms. I smile sweetly and walk to meet Taehyung halfway. His boxy grin widens and just as he thinks I'm going to let him wrap his arms around me, I grab him by the ear.

“Ouch!” He cries, “Devil-woman!”

Ignoring him, I drag him behind me towards the stairs.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked—OW!”

My hold on his ear tightens as we arrive on the second-floor landing, “Where are your brothers?”

“I don’t know, n-noona!” Somehow the honorific coming from Tae sounds divine, but I file that thought away for another time.

Removing my hold, I corner him against the wall of the hallway, “Okay, Kim, here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to point me in the direction of your room, go find your six idiot brothers, and then report back here so I can finally understand what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

My chest heaves as my directions conclude and I realize how close together we are. Taehyung stares at me with an indecipherable expression before breaking into a slow smile, “Noona is bossy.”

“Noona is going to shove her foot up your ass if you don’t get moving,” I growl.

“Kinky,” he laughs, backing away from me and my brewing anger, “Last door on the left is my room. I’ll be back with the six idiots.”

As he thumps back down the steps, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to steel my nerves and rein in my anger. When I open them, my eyes are met with the amused gaze of Min Yoongi.

Slapping a hand to my heart, I wait for my pulse to settle from being scared out of my wits, “Motherfuck—how did you even move that silently?”

“It’s a skill,” Yoongi drawls, nodding towards to end of the hall, “So, group meeting in Tae’s room?”

Shooting him the best side-eye I can muster, I stalk past him, steadfastly ignoring the chuckles and light footfalls that follow behind me.

Throwing open the door which Taehyung indicated was to his room, I pause, taking in the horde of photos and art taped to the four walls. The light blue wallpaper barely peeks through the absolute massive amount of artwork.

“It’s overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” An angelic voice shyly breaks through my reverie, “Tae likes to collect pictures and things he finds beautiful.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re friends.” The joke is followed by a laugh that can only be compared to the sound of a windshield wiper squeakily moving back and forth.

I shift my eyes from Taehyung’s walls and onto the two newcomers – Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin.

Meeting Seokjin’s gaze first, I cannot help but agree that he is a very, very beautiful man. With pushed back dark hair, mischievous brown eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, Seokjin can easily be mistaken for an idol. And, oh fuck, I’m still staring.

Shooting my eyes back up to his, I crinkle my nose at his shit-eating grin. Before he can even comment, I turn and lock eyes with Jimin.

“Your dancing is gorgeous,” I blurt out and immediately want to crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my life as Patrick Star.

Yoongi and Seokjin are cackling as Jimin’s face lights up at my embarrassing compliment, “You really think so?”

“There's no shutting him up now,” Yoongi is in tears, “Watch out, (y/n). Jimin loves his fans.”

“Shut up, Yoongi-hyung!”

Jimin looks ready to swing, but luckily Taehyung chooses the right moment to return, “What have we missed? Why is Jiminie about to fight Yoongi? I’ll put $10 on hyung.”

Gasping in betrayal, Jimin sits on the edge of Tae’s bed and pouts.

The rest of the boys file in behind Taehyung as he flops down onto his bed and reclines like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, (y/n). Good to see you again. I’m glad you’re here,” Namjoon greets me with a slight bow, a crooked smile and wicked eyes.

He’s followed closely by Jung Hoseok, the only BTS boy I hadn’t met thus far, “(y/n)! It’s so nice to meet you in person! Wow, you look so pretty tonight!”

“Noona always looks pretty,” Jungkook cuts in, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, “She’s bae.”

A collective groan arises from the rest of the boys. “Sit your ass down, JK,” Yoongi grumbles, “(y/n)’s going to break up with us before we even start dating.”

“Dating—!” I break off that train of thought. Other matters need to be attended to first, “No, I didn’t come here tonight to say ‘hi’ or to be your ‘bae’. I came here to get answers.”

I take my time making eye contact with each boy.

Taehyung is still spread out on his bed and Jimin has now joined him. Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook are sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Namjoon and Yoongi slouch against the opposite wall of the bedroom facing me.

“Alright,” Namjoon lifts his chin, meeting my stare head on, “What do you want to know?”

a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger, hehe. i wanted to get something up for y’all! hopefully next chapter won’t take too long to finish/edit :)

taglist:

@hazeljrz @sessi03 @catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles@leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak  @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​ @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @doingmybestalltheftime @elraeee @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @aokay1010 @breeeeh17 @lpayne612 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches​ @cage7241​

blogs that wouldn’t let me tag them for some reason: 

@awkwardhumambean

[spacemiddenzz]

so i was watching @super-metroid's stream of Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass (highly recommend by the way) and she fought Imaginary Numbers this time. I guess I just wanted to share my thoughts on it, since it's my favorite boss and all. This is gonna be a longpost and it's gonna have spoilers so the whole thing can be found under the cut.

So, to put it simply, this dungeon is about stress and confusion. It's about Jimmy's mind frantically trying to comprehend the high-level math that Andrew is teaching him on top of his schoolwork. Jimmy thinks that his dad is the smartest man in the world- this is hyperbole for sure, but the fact that Andrew is quite intelligent remains clear. Jimmy looks up to Andrew because of his intelligence- and because of this it means a lot to Jimmy to be praised by Andrew. He wants his dad to view him as intelligent as well, because, if a man as smart as Andrew thinks Jimmy is smart, he can't be wrong! And hell, it feels nice to be validated by your parents.

Clearly, Andrew has already recognized Jimmy's talent with numbers and has started teaching him concepts beyond the second-grade curriculum, something that we see in the flashbacks in the Symmetrical Cavern. However if Imaginary Numbers' design is anything to go by, these concepts may be at or above the high school level. They're too much for Jimmy to understand. He's only eight, and his mind just isn't ready for that yet. Still, he feels the pressure to keep up with- and understand- the work that Andrew gives him. Why? Because he fears failure. He worries that if he admits to his father that the work is too hard, Andrew won't see him as a "smart boy" any longer- and that praise and validation means a lot to Jimmy. He doesn't want to lose it.

Let's start with the song that plays during this nightmare dungeon- Counting Backwards From Infinity. From the erratic bassline to the random samples of people shouting numbers in no particular order over and over again, this song simply screams disorder and panic. As a person who has always struggled with math, it's incredibly relatable. Counting Backwards From Infinity always reminded me of taking math tests in high school. I was so slow that I almost never could finish a test in a single class period. The frantic, wild bass and the cacophony of people screaming numbers out of order reminded me of trying desperately to remember how to solve a type of problem- and do it quickly enough so that I could hand the test in before the bell rang. I imagine that this is how Jimmy feels when Andrew places in front of him a concept that the boy does not fully understand. Perhaps he's had it explained to him several times but still can't fully grasp it (likely because, again, the kid is eight). The wild confusion and stress he feels when he doesnt fucking understand what's in front of him and doesnt want to look like an idiot in front of his dad. Even the name of the song is a reference to the fact that at this stage of his life this stuff may be an insurmountable task.

The dungeon itself is also set up in an incredibly confusing way. There's a bunch of bizarre-looking purple structures and winding paths. You teleport all over the place with no particular rhyme or reason. The enemies in this area, too, are deformed geometrical shapes that are almost Lovecraftian in the way that they cannot be understood. To Jimmy, Andrew's teachings might as be as comprehensible as a Lumpagon or a Squiggles, and that's definitely the idea that one gets here. The confusion, the pressure, the panic.

At one point in the dungeon you're teleported to a fakeout area that looks like the Path of Enlightenment. This is my favorite thing about the Asymmetrical Cavern, because of the fact that it has so many cool secrets, but also because it gave me a feeling that I could (once again) relate to. Jimmy's teleportation to the Path of Enlightenment isn't random. It represents familiarity in a sea of confusion. Jimmy sees something he recognizes during Andrew's lessons. Maybe he thinks that he's finally got the hang of it- that he's studied hard enough and now all of this jargon makes sense- only to be rudely awakened by the fact that he's been doing it wrong and never understood the concept in the first place. Even the secrets kind of hint at this. If you speak to pointman in this part of the dungeon he says "I am the blood of numbers leaking from your ears. The nails of ignorance are already being driven into your brain. What point is there in giving voice to madness?" (which is metal as fuck by the way)

Jimmy just thinks that his inability to understand makes him an idiot. His lack of understanding- the nails of ignorance- are being driven into his brain. If he can't understand all of Andrew's teachings, maybe he was never a smart boy after all.

And finally let's talk about Imaginary Numbers itself. First of all, it's an amalgamation of a bunch of different mathematical symbols, including a tombstone, a slashed epsilon, and a sigma. I'm sure there are more, but those are the only ones I recognized, honestly. Given that dreams don't really make things up, instead just taking things that you have seen/experienced before, it looks like Jimmy has encountered some... seriously advanced shit. Tombstones are used in geometric proofs. I only started doing proofs in high school geometry, meaning that Jimmy may very well be learning concepts meant for kids twice his age. No wonder the poor kid is stressed.

Oh yeah, also the boss sucks ass to fight. I've heard some people call that bad game design, but I'm not sure that's how I'd classify it. Sure, like I said, the boss sucks complete ass to fight and is almost entirely RNG-dependent. From a gameplay standpoint, this is wack as hell, yeah. Fucking 30% chance to deflect any magical or physical attack with a 30% chance to dodge a physical attack on top of that? Definitely bad game design. But from an artistic standpoint? Not at all. In fact, the futility of this fight adds to it. It really drills into your head that the only thing on your side here is pure fucking luck. And the odds aren't in your favor.

The feeling of futility- of the fact that this may in fact be, by all definitions, an insurmountable task for Jimmy, really struck home the situation. The battle would not be nearly as impactful without this. And personally, I'm all for it. Imagine walking into the Asymmetrical Cavern for the first time, not knowing what to expect. You get your ass handed to you on a silver platter by Imaginary Numbers after it chains Program Omega at you five times in a row.

That's the feeling Kasey wanted to give you. And it's critical. It's just... so perfect, I honestly don't know how to put it into words. It was supposed to represent the confusion and turmoil of a task nigh insurmountable. And it did the job pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.

I know Jimmy is good at numbers and this wasn't supposed to represent a real struggle with the subject of math/the concept of numbers in general, but hot damn if I didn't feel seen. Except Jimmy is eight but I was like 17 struggling in precalc with the same shit. I guess we know Jimmy's smarter than I am rip

TLDR; andrew please stop putting unnecessary stress on your kid youre freaking him out

anyway if you guys have any thoughts about this boss or this dungeon in general i would love to hear them. but where im at its like 2 AM so im probably gonna it the mf sack for now. later dudes

[cinnamon-roll-seth]

Not Good For You || JJ Maybank

Your disapproving father gets into JJ’s head and leads him to believe that he isn’t good enough for you. JJ, believing your father’s words, tries to end things but you’re not giving up without a fight.

You watch in disbelief as a handcuffed JJ gets shoved into the back of the police truck. Kiara stands next to you, equally as shocked, while Pope stands across from the two of you, next to his dad. The three of you watch helplessly as Shoupe gets in the truck and drives away.

Pope starts anxiously walking around grabbing at his hat and then suddenly takes it off and chucks it at the ground, “Shit!” He yells before storming off.

“Pope? Pope!” His dad calls before running after him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” You mutter over and over, digging your hands in your hair, “Why the fuck did he do that?! He knew damn well it wasn’t him who sank that stupid boat!”

“Because it’s JJ,” Kiara replies, “Of course he’d take the blame for Pope, he’s selfless like that. He’s always protecting his friends.”

You sigh, “Well sometimes I hate him for it. God he’s probably freaking out right now.”

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s tough.” Kie assures you softly and you nod.

“I sure hope so. Hey I should probably get home, it’s only a matter of time before my dad finds out and if I’m not close by he’ll have a fit.” She nods, knowing how your dad is, and the two of you say your goodbyes before you get into you car and drive the short way back to Figure Eight.

The thing about being a kook and dating a pogue is that everybody judges you. They all think that you’re making a mistake by dating JJ and that someday he’ll end up pulling you into whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. It’s part of the reason why, although you live the kook lifestyle, you still prefer to hang out with the pogues. You’re kind of like a half kook/half pogue.

Your father, however, is probably the most angry about it. He would disapprove of anybody who isn’t rich, pogue or not, and the fact that JJ is always causing mischief makes it worse. He keeps tabs on your relationship, and JJ in general, like a hawk.

You cringe as you pull into the long driveway and sure enough your father is already standing on the front steps, arms crossed over his chest, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve just been hanging out with Kiara,” You reply nonchalantly.

“Hanging out with Kiara? Don’t lie to me, I know you were with that dirty delinquent boyfriend of yours.”

“Don’t change the subject,” He warns angrily, “I heard he got arrested?! What the hell did he do this time?!”

“It’s none of your business Dad. Stay out of it.”

“I want you to stay away from that boy. I’ve said it a million times before and you don’t listen but I’m serious this time Y/N. End things with him.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do dad? Lock me in the house like a princess in a tower? You know what, I’m done talking about this right now.” You angrily walk over to the driver’s side of your car before climbing in and slamming the door.

“Where do you think you’re going? Y/N, I swear to god if you start that car you’re grounded.” You ignore him and start the car before speeding away from the house, drowning out your father’s angry screaming.

As you pull into The Wreck’s parking lot for the second time that day you run a hand through your hair and sigh, “Fuck.”

“Hey what are you doing back? I thought you had to get home to Dadzilla?” Kie asks as you walk into the restraunt.

“Yeah well he decided he was going to yell at me as soon as I got there and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.” You shrug and sit down at the bar. She nods in understanding but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah?” She asks, not looking up from her cleaning.

“Could I maybe stay with you for a few days? Just until all this shit with JJ is sorted out. If I go home my dad is gonna be all up my ass about it.”

“Of course Y/N, you know you’re always welcome at my house.” You smile, silently thanking her, and patiently wait until she’s done cleaning before you both head back to her house.

{The Next Night}

“Just so you know, if you weren’t going to be there I definitely wouldn’t be going to this stupid party.” You tell Kiara as the two of you stare at yourselves in her mirror.

“Oh I know. If it wasn’t for my mom making me I wouldn’t be going to this stupid party either,” She laughs as her mom pops her head into the room.

“You girls almost ready?”

“Yeah we’ll be down in a minute,” Kiara replies and her Mom nods before leaving once more.

Kie sighs and turns to you, “You ready for this?”

You shrug, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

When you get there the place is already crawling with kooks and the two of you are quick to split from her family and go find Pope. Although he’s not a kook so he isn’t actually a part of the club his dad always caters and Pope usually tags along to help.

You keep a close eye on the crowd, ready to split if you see your father. Finally you spot Pope standing off to the side with his Dad and rush over to greet him.

After a while of watching and making fun of the kooks you turn towards Pope, “Hey, have you heard from JJ?”

“No, you guys?” He asks and you and Kie shake your heads.

“No. He’ll be alright though, he has the survival instincts of a cockroach.” Kie answers.

He sighs, “It’s all my fault.”

“No it’s not Pope, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You assure him.

“Topper almost killed you, remember?” He doesn’t respond as the Camerons’ arrival steals everyone’s attention.

As the night goes on and it begins to get dark the three of you continue to stand aside watching the kooks dance and laugh and live their lives. You continue to keep an eye out for your father, thankfully the closest thing you get to spotting him is catching a five second glimpse of your little brother dancing with some little girl from his second grade class.

At some point you excuse myself to go to the bathroom and push through the crowd into the club.

Unbeknownst to you JJ is outside searching for Sarah after a short run-in with Pope. Finding Sarah and giving her John B’s note was at the top of his list but after that his main focus was going to be finding you. He finally spots Sarah when a hand roughly wraps around his arm and drags him away from the chaos.

“Dude what the hell?!” He yells as he’s dragged away to a little nook in the porch, away from the crowd. The assailant releases the death grip they have on JJ’s upper arm and practically throws the boy forward in front of them.

He stumbles a little before regaining his balance and turning to see Y/N’s dad standing in front of him looking quite angry.

“Oh hey Mr. Y/L/N. What, did you want to do a little future son-in-law and father-in-law bonding? You could’ve just asked, no need to be so rough.” He says sarcastically.

“Cut the shit kid. Look, I don’t like you, you’re dirty and rotten and you’re not good for my daughter. Now I’ve told her to end it but clearly she has other ideas so I’m going to tell you instead. You need to end things between the two of you and move on, and after that stay a far distance away.” Your father spits in a warning tone.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” JJ questions tauntingly, “I mean, my apologies sir, but that’s not going to happen. I love your daughter and I’ll never leave her.”

“You know, despite hanging around you and your delinquent friends, who probably have no hopes or goals for the future and will probably be stuck on The Cut barely scraping by to survive for the rest of your lives, she has aspirations. She wants to go somewhere in life, do things with her life. Things that you, a poor boy from the bad side of the island, who’s always getting into trouble, aren’t capable of doing. Now maybe being with you isn’t affecting her right now but someday soon you will get into trouble that is so deep that you will drag my daughter down with you and everything she wants for her future, everything she’s worked towards and done to achieve her goals, will be thrown out the window.” JJ stays silent, playing your father’s words over in his head as the older man continues, “Don’t ruin her life. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes.” And with that he turns and walks away.

“Yeah, um, no. I stayed at Kiara’s, I’m gonna be sleeping there for a few days.” You answer, tugging at your dress.

“Honey please. Come home with us later, your father and I were worried about you. He told me about your little argument and about you storming off. That wasn’t very respectful Y/N, I thought we taught you better than that.” You laugh in disbelief, shaking your head at her words.

“Did he forget to tell you how he practically threatened me to break up with JJ? How he was the one who started the whole thing in the first place? Of course not and it’s not like you would care anyway because you don’t like JJ either.”

“When did I ever say that? JJ is a nice kid he just...” She trails off and you scoff.

“Y/N, please.” She pleads and you turn around and wave.

“Bye Mom, I’ll see you in a few days when you two decide to stop judging somebody based on their social status and the amount of money they have in their bank account. Oh wait, that’ll never happen.” You reply angrily before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

You go outside, scanning to crowd to try and find Kiara, whom you finally spot standing a little ways further down the deck.

“Hey, you alright?” She asks, seeing your annoyed face.

“Yeah, just ran into my mom in the bathroom. It’s fine, she was just being a bitch about the fight with my dad. Blaming it on me like always.” You shrug, turning towards the crowd until the door opens behind you and a familiar voice comes out of it.

You turn around, eyes widening as you watch JJ get pulled outside by the security guard, “Look man I can walk myself! I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

He struggles against the guard, not even noticing Kie and yourself as he gets pulled past. He grabs a glass from an older man on the way, downing the alcohol inside of it. You cringe as he’s pulled through the crowd, causing a scene and turning all eyes towards him, including those of your father who still hasn’t spotted you.

“Let go of him!” Kiara yells and her parents rush to shush her as all the attention is on the two of you now, “You can’t just boot him!”

You and JJ lock eyes for a moment and you smile but he doesn’t return it and looks away instead. You frown, wondering how long he’s been out of jail and why he hadn’t contacted any of you sooner, and why he reacted that way when he saw you.

“I invited him here! I’m a member of this club!” Kie continues, shrugging off her parents who are desperately trying to get her to shut up.

JJ finally pushes off the guard and apologizes sarcastically before turning towards us, “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie, Y/N. Pope, you as well. Rixon’s Cove, lets go.”

Kiara ignores her parents protests and the two of you bolt after JJ and John B as they run away from the party, Pope in tow. The five of you don’t stop running until you’ve reached your destination. You try to talk to JJ but he pretends not to hear you and instead works with John B to start a fire so you sit on a log next to Kie instead.

When the fire is started you smile and pat the seat next to you, hoping he’ll sit there but he sits next to John B and you try to ignore the hurt you feel after. He hasn’t said one word to me, did I do something wrong?

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even pay attention to the conversation until Kie nudges you slightly and leans in to whisper, “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” You answer, looking towards John B who’s standing in front of the group going on about the Royal Merchant and his findings about the gold.

At one point you and JJ lock eyes again but he looks away once again.

“All we need it an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.” John B exclaims excitedly and you watch as JJ walks over and throws his arms around him.

You angrily stand up and stomp away from the fire, sick of JJ’s attitude towards you tonight. You don’t know what you did but you’re not going to sit around and let him act like you’re not even there.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” Kie calls but you ignore her, continuing to walk until you get to the beach and find a nice large rock to sit on, staring up at the moonlight. A few moments later you hear footsteps and feel somebody sit next to you but you don’t look over, you already know who it is.

“Can we talk?” He asks and you hum in response, not paying any attention until he asks again more insistently.

“Oh so you’ve finally decided to acknowledge my presence after ignoring me all night?” You don’t know what you expected him to say but what comes out of his mouth next is far from it.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore,” He replies softly. Your heartbeat quickens as you stare back at him with wide eyes.

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“I’m not good for you Y/N. You’re beautiful and rich and you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just some poor troublemaker who isn’t going to make it anywhere in life. You’re so much better than me. You deserve better than me. I can’t believe it took me this long to see that.”

“That’s not true JJ. It doesn’t matter where you come from, you CAN make it places in life if you believe you can. I don’t want anybody else, I don’t care who they are or what they think they can give me. I only want you.”

“You’re a kook and I’m a pogue. We aren’t meant to be together. We were bound to crash and burn at some point so we may as well get it over with. It’s best that we move on and date people from our own sides of the island.” He refuses to look at you now, staring out into the ocean as you shake your head profusely.

“It doesn’t work that way JJ and you know it. We can’t just move on and love somebody else just because you and I come from different worlds. Romeo and Juliet, remember?” You cry, referring to the nicknames Kie and the boys used to call you two when you first started dating. Tears began to stream steadily down your cheeks.

“Romeo and Juliet both died Y/N!” He yells, raising his voice for the first time, “They were stupid enough to love each other even though they knew they shouldn’t and they ended up dead and if we stay together the same thing will happen to us, except it’ll be the death of everything you could accomplish in your life and I’ll be the one pulling the trigger. Eventually I’ll end up pulling you down to my level and all of your hopes and dreams will die and you’ll be no better than me, a stupid, useless pogue with no purpose.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re so much more than that to me. You’re my best friend JJ, the love of my life. I don’t want to live a life without you.”

The boy doesn’t say anything for a moment as your father’s words from this evening play over in his head. Don’t ruin her life. She’d be better off without you. End it before she pays the price for your mistakes. Finally he sighs, “Well you don’t really have a choice.”

“What do you mean? JJ please, I don’t want to loose you.” You pleaded softly as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Seeing you in this much pain physically broke JJ as he felt his heart break. He always vowed never to hurt you but now here he was doing the very thing he promised not to do. But he couldn’t ruin you, pushing you away now would save you from more pain later.

He could tell that you weren’t giving up without a push and with that thought in mind he opened his mouth and let the biggest lie he’s ever told fall from his lips, “You already have.”

“JJ,” You whispered helplessly as you watched the boy you love so much stand up and turn towards you.

“It’s true. I’ve been falling out of love for weeks but you were too stupidly in love with me to notice.”

“You don’t mean that.” You shook your head as more tears fell, “You’re just saying that to push me away.”

“No, I’m not. You’re so clingy, always up my ass, it’s exhausting. I’ve been mustering up the courage to end things but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, you know? I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would complicate things and make things awkward between everyone. I didn’t want it to get bad and make the others have to choose between us. I mean of course they’d choose me because I’m a pogue just like them but I didn’t want it to come to that point because I knew you’d have no friends then. You know I feel kind of bad for you actually. You’re so rich and privileged but yet none of the other rich kids like you so you resorted to being friends with pogues because you’re so pathetic that you can’t handle being alone.” With every word that came out of his mouth his heart broke more and more. Seeing the hurt on your face made him want to die. He opened his mouth to keep going but you stood up and held out your hand for him to stop.

“There’s no need to say anything else JJ, you made your point loud and clear.” Your voice was so quiet and broken that he could barely hear what you said, “I’m gonna go. Tell the others I’m sorry.”

As you turn and walk away JJ has to physically fight to urge to run to you and scoop you up into his arms and tell you that everything he’d just said was a lie. He wanted to apologize for all the vile things he’d just said and tell you how much he loves you but he didn’t.

As soon as you disappeared into the woods tears started to freely down his cheeks at a rate that they never had before as he angrily tugged at his hair, “Fuck!”

Thirty minutes later you stared up at the large house in front of you, debating about whether to go in. Tears stained your cheeks and you had to refrain from letting more loose as you replayed JJ’s harsh words in your head. You sighed and opened the large door, closing it behind you.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Your mother’s voice rang out as she appeared from the study.

“Where have you been?” Your father asked from behind her, “Off with your boyfriend again huh?”

“Dad I really don’t want to talk about it,” I reply softly, emotionally drained already, “I’m going up to bed. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

Neither one of your parents responded as they watched you climb the elegant staircase towards your room.

PART TWO

Can y’all believe that JJ is so hot that he brought me out of Tumblr retirement? 🥵 for real though, it’s literally been years since I’ve posted a fanfic on this app but after watching Outer Banks and falling in love with this blonde idiot I was inspired. I literally spent like three days working on this too so I hope y’all like it lmao

[corvus--rex]

Semi-abandoned soulmate au. I actually started this one before The Sound of Color, although this is vastly different from that one. This particular au also doesn't have the requirement that soulmates are always romantic (ie Pidge and their soulmate). It jumps around a little, and those sections are marked with dividers. Soulmate strangers-to-lovers. . .

~*~*~*~

Soulmarks. Everyone had one. An indelible mark that bound two people together. Age 13 was when it would start. The mark “waking up” as some called it, and reaching out for its companion mark. Most soulmates were within a few years of each other, so the lingering tingle of a mark searching for its mate usually didn’t last long.

Lance was lucky that way. His mark sprang to life on his thirteenth birthday and quieted three months later. There was no way to know who or where his soulmate was at that point, but he knew they were three months younger than him. He had been getting ready for school that day when the constant tingle in his mark faded.

He’d always liked the quarter note-shaped mark on the inside of his left wrist. What confused him were the numbers that circled it. No two marks were the same, and Lance knew that his soulmate would have something different. But those numbers confused him. 1030211933. Trying to figure it out was a favorite pastime throughout middle and high school, but he never could get there. He hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he hoped that it would make sense when he did.

Once two marks found each other, the secondary connection opened. The marks on the soul allowed for marks on the body. Words, doodles, full-blown artwork. Drawing or writing on skin would appear on a connected soulmate. Once Lance’s mark had connected, the first thing he did was ask his soulmate about the numbers. They didn’t know either. But he did find out that his soulmate’s mark sat on their right hip, it was a feather, and they didn’t have those numbers but they did have a series of roman numerals along the feather’s shaft that read:

X X X X X X I X I X X X X I I I

They continued to talk for years, learning about each other. They had decided not to share identifying information like names or location, but Lance knew that his soulmate had a twin and that their parents had adopted their cousin when their cousin’s parents died in an accident. They didn’t know anything about the accident because they’d been too young at the time and no one had explained it since. Lance told them that he had three siblings, that he was a twin, too, and that his older sister connected with her soulmate the same day he had.

He lay in his bed in the dorm he shared with his best friend Hunk, rereading the last message his soulmate had sent him about how college sucked and how they already had an in-class performance a month into the semester. He’d responded with a note about how trying to balance classes with rehearsals as the lead in his school’s fall musical was kicking his ass. Lance already knew that his soulmate was studying music at a college close to where they grew up. And they knew that he was majoring in theatre at a college a three-hour drive from home.

Hunk trudged into their dorm room and threw himself onto his bed. “Remind me again why I decided this was a good idea?” he groaned.

“Which part?” Lance asked in return.

“The part where I decided to be a pastry chef and subject myself to the hell that is the one professor I can’t get away from?”

“Because you love baking and always have and one asshole can’t make you hate doing what you love.”

“I swear she just likes to terrorize us. There’s that guy I told you about – Sal, the one I had a class with freshman year and he transferred to general culinary and now he’s back – she hates him. And I don’t know why. But then, she hates me, too. Pretty sure it’s that bun. It’s so tight she doesn’t need a face lift. But I’m also convinced that Chef Dayak is just evil.”

“Hey, at least you have Shay there with you. Not everyone gets to have their soulmate in class with them all day,” Lance pointed out.

“How’s it with yours?” Hunk asked.

“We’re working our way up to talking about meeting. I know I wanted to wait until after graduation, but I’m getting impatient, y’know? It’s been eight years and I don’t want to wait anymore. But I get that they do. So…yeah. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that particular spiral, “You going to the Halloween party this year?”

“Dude! It’s a month away!”

Lance sat up, turning to his best friend, one eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You say this like there’s such a thing as too early. And no, it’s only three weeks. We need to start now.”

Hunk groaned again, this time in only partial exasperation, and sat up. “Fine. The fuck are you planning this year?”

Lance just laughed. Hunk threw a pillow at him, collapsing in his own fit of giggling when a startled Lance took the pillow directly to the face. Lance’s alarm sounded, loud and annoying. He groaned, throwing Hunk’s pillow back, and fumbled for his phone to turn the blaring sound off.

“Fuck me. I have to get to rehearsal.”

In an apartment just off campus, Keith stopped playing and pulled the pencil out of his hair, making yet another correction to his scribbled sheet music. He started over, again, ignoring the key in the door and his roommate coming back in. He ignored their slight form dropping their overpacked backpack on the floor and throwing themselves onto the other end of the couch with their laptop and notebook. Keith was too focused on his music to pay much attention to Pidge.

Except that Pidge wanted his attention right then. “Hey. Asshole,” they said, throwing a ball of notebook paper at him.

“Yes, hellspawn?” he asked casually, setting his guitar on its stand by the couch, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m on the committee for the party. You’re coming,” they said while typing away on their laptop.

“No. I’m not. I don’t go to parties, and you know it. Why the fuck are you so determined for me to go?”

Pidge looked up, fixing him with their stare. “Because I said so. And because Matt’s going to be there. His girlfriend’s going too. You actually like Neve. So you’re going.”

“Including you, that’s three people I’d be willing to talk to. Why should I bother?” he stopped, a dreaded thought sparking as to why they were so hellbent on his going to the party. “It’s because it’s a week after my birthday, isn’t it?”

“What? You mean that thing you ignore every year except for the proliferation of doodles from your soulmate? Why would that have anything to do with it?”

“I'm still not going,” Keith insisted.

“We’ll see about that,” Pidge answered cryptically. They went back to their laptop, typing furiously. They stayed that way, ignoring Keith’s death glare until he gave up and went back to his music.

Eventually, Keith decided that the music portion of his brain was fried and gave up for the night. Pidge was buried in their laptop, writing a paper for their robotics class at top speed. Ignoring them for the moment, Keith opened his own laptop, going back to the English assignment he still hadn’t finished. It was due by the next class, which was two days away, but he’d been putting it off for longer than that. He typed lazily at it for a while before a horrible thought hit him and he realized that his previous assessment had been wrong. He glared up at Pidge over his screen.

“She’s going, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Who?” Pidge asked back, pretending they didn’t know what he meant.

“You know who.”

“If you’re referring to your sister, then yes, she is.”

Keith sighed. “Just because she knows who her soulmate is now, that doesn’t mean that you’re right. Mine could be literally anyone.”

Pidge closed their laptop. “And you’re in denial. I can not believe that your twin sister happens to have a soulmate who has a younger brother who is also a twin and his soulmate has a twin. The odds of that happening are so small as to be inconceivable! Not to mention the part where Acxa’s soulmate and her brother both connected with theirs on the same day.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that it’s weird. But you don’t know anything about Acxa’s soulmate’s siblings, and neither does she. And not everyone’s met theirs yet. You haven’t! All you know is their handle on Steam!”

“So? I also know that Beezer’s on the other side of the country. I know that we won’t get to meet in person until after graduation. All I'm saying is that this is a little too weird to be a coincidence.”

“And I’m not going to let you harass my sister’s soulmate about her siblings on the day they’re meeting face to face for the first time. Leave it alone, Pidge.”

“Fine,” they said, going back to their paper.

Keith knew full well that Pidge would not leave it alone, but there was only so much he could do to stop them.

A few days later, Lance dragged his twin sister, Hunk, and Shay to the nearest Halloween pop-up costume store. None of them had found anything they liked, and Lance was getting bored. Shay had wandered off to the decoration part of the store, and Hunk was making sure the twins didn’t get into trouble. But Hunk had gotten briefly distracted and lost them.

“Jules no.” Ah, there was Lance.

“Jules yes.” And his sister.

“Are you two still arguing?” Hunk asked as he approached the twins.

“Hunk,” Lance said, putting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, “She wants us to be the Wonder Twins again. I absolutely refuse. We did that once when we were like nine.” He felt something hit his back and whipped around to find his sister holding a Wonder Twins costume. “Ana Julieta Alameda-McClain, get that fucking thing away from me.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” Jules pouted. She put it back, then turned around, spotting something else. “Ooh! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch?”

“What the fuck – no! I’m never going Halloween shopping with you again. You’re on your own,” Lance said, wandering off and taking Hunk with him.

Hunk was laughing. “Why do you keep letting her do this, dude?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I say we go over to The Costume Company. I think I’m done with mass-produced crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go find Shay and meet up with you two at the car,” Hunk agreed, heading in the direction he’d last seen Shay.

Lance reluctantly went back to his sister. “We’re going to The Costume Company,” he said without getting her attention.

“Hm? Ok,” Jules answered, not paying attention to her twin.

“Bye, then.” He started to leave without her, getting halfway down the aisle of the Halloween pop-up before she realized what he’d said.

“Lance! Get back here, you ass!” she yelled after him.

He ignored her as payback for her insistence on twin costumes and kept going. She chased him all the way to his car, where Hunk and Shay were already waiting. Lance finally lost his composure, cracking up when he reached his waiting friends.

“Leandro. Alejandro. Alameda. McClain. I am going to kill you,” Jules growled while out of breath from chasing him.

“No you won’t,” he said, “Mamá would kill you in return.”

Shay saw her opportunity and took it. “Shotgun!” she announced, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Shay, I love you,” Hunk said, getting in behind Lance, effectively separating the twins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Acxa, just promise me you won’t give in to Pidge. They’re being totally insufferable with this,” Keith said. He lay on his bed, earbuds connected to the call he was on with his twin.

“You know me better than that. Gremlin won’t get shit out of me. And she’s not getting anywhere near V at the party."

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[weregonnaneedmorewhiskey]

Covet

Chapters 1, 2, 3

Chapter 4. “You Know That Guy I Hooked Up With In Miami?”

Warning: Strong Language

Let me know if you wish to be tagged by sending an ask, DM or reply :)

Songs for this chapter:

Streets- Doja Cat

Early Mornin'- Britney Spears

April 5th- 11:45am

Karla

"I'm sorry, that's not possible. I'm calling to pay my share of this month's rent. It can't have been paid already". Turns out my attempt to pay my rent has been prevented. Maybe Adrienne covered my share by accident or there's a mistake.

"Karla, I got your share yesterday" Our landlord David explains. "It was paid by someone else, not Adrienne. I'll just search that up for you. Someone called J.Brooks. They paid for your next six months".

"J.Brooks huh?" I immediately know who he's talking about and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Ok, thanks David". I should probably end this conversation before he starts asking questions.

"Do you know this person who paid your rent?" He asks.

"Yeah, he's... a family friend. I guess he just wanted to be nice and do me a favour" Or be a fucking weirdo. Who the hell pays their one night's stand's rent? Unless he thinks I'm his sugar baby. Oh shit, why did I sleep with this guy. This is what happens when I let Taty talk me into dumb shit.

"Well he seems like a really generous guy" David snaps me out of my inner monologue.

"Yeah David, I got to go" I abruptly hang up and flop back onto the couch.

"OH MY GOD!" I scream.

"You ok babe?" Adrienne walks through the door. Based on her sweat soaked clothes, she just got back from her morning jog.

"No. I'm totally screwed" I tell her.

"What happened?" She takes a drink from her water bottle before joining me on the couch, forgetting she should probably cool down from her jog.

"I tried to pay my rent and I called David and someone had paid it for me" She sees the annoyed expression on my face and immediately she goes to say...

"It wasn't me".

"I know it wasn't you. It was James. You know that guy in Miami I hooked up with?" I confess to her.

"James paid your rent?"

"Not just my rent. He paid for the next six months. What the actual fuck?! We only went one date and had sex once and now what? I'm his sugar baby?" I feel myself getting more annoyed at the situation.

"Yeah I don't think that makes you a sugar baby Karla. Maybe he's just nice" She tries to convinced. I am not buying that shit at all

"No one is that nice Adrienne unless they want something!" I shout back.

"Then call him and ask him why he did and probably ask how he knows our address because that's the only way he'd be able to pay your rent and maybe ask if he'll pay your best friend in the whole world's share" Her voice sort of trails off at that last part of the sentence but believe me, I hear what she said.

"Fine. Give me a few minutes, I'm going into my room to make a phone call". Quickly, I go my room and searching through the contact list on my cell. Ok, look under J, there he is. First ring, second ring, fourth ring, fifth-

"Hello Karla" His baritone voice travels through the speaker and for a brief moment, I remember him whispering in my ear. And I remember I'm pissed off at this motherfucker.

"Hi, where do you get off paying my fucking rent?!" I ask him.

"And how are you this fine San Francisco morning?" He asks

"I'm pissed off and wait- aren't you in Miami? Why are you asking about my morning here?" I start looking around for any hidden cameras I should be aware of, in case this creep is watching me on his laptop.

"I am in Miami and I just got out of a meeting. Yes, your rent. I felt like being charitable and wanted to help out. Is that not ok?" He asks. His tone doesn't seem sarcastic, it almost seems...genuine.

"If you wanna be charitable, then donate to fucking Make-a-Wish" I tell him with a stern tone.

"I'm sorry. I've clearly overstepped the mark. I'll tell you, it would probably be better for you to yell at me in person so how about this? I take you out to dinner tomorrow night since I'm gonna be in San Francisco for four days?" He asks. He still seems genuine.

"I don't know what kind of arrangement you think this is but-"

"I'm not looking for an arrangement" He interrupts.

"What?" He actually has me stumped. This is rare.

"If I was looking for an arrangement, there's a whole website I can do that on. Contrary to what you probably believe, I actually enjoy your company. If you want to see me whilst I'm in town then I'm staying at the St Regis hotel. If you don't want to see me, then have a nice life. Bye Karla" He hangs up the phone. I sit on the bed, staring at my phone, completely stumped and just wondering...what the fuck just happened here?!

"That was some phone call" I see Adrienne leaning against the door. Lord knows how long she was standing there.

"I know right?" I reply.

"So, you gonna meet up with him tomorrow night?" She asks.

"That's a good question. I don't know. He's...interesting you know?" I tell her.

"Good interesting or "interesting" " She puts up air quotes around the second interesting.

"Good interesting but with a bit of a mystery. Like those guys you see in film noirs and Alfred Hitchcock films. Those guys you can't really figure out what side they're on and they only let you know piece by piece" I explain to her

"Like a puzzle" She chimes in.

"A bit. It's all so confusing A. I can't help but think if I see him again, I could be going down a very stupid road"

"I think you're overthinking this" She says. "Karla, he may just be a nice guy, no mystery and you can only find that out if you go on a date with him. No point trying to create a story here. I'm just saying "

"You got a point" She's always right. Damn it.

"Well, I'm gonna take a shower. Wash off the sweat from my jog. You wanna get brunch?" She asks.

"Sure. I'll just get ready". She closes the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room. I pick up my phone and go to messages.

"Is eight thirty ok?" I wait for a reply. Thirty seconds has barely passed by when I hear my phone vibrate

"See you then"

Tagged: @emjayewrites @laketaj24

[koishua]

𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝘼𝙂 !

tagged by: @luvvseong @yangyangify @spookybias @iuwon @floraljae (thank you, my loves <3)

tagging: @zhongwrld @moonbeamsung @rutosruru @lyjikyu @armysantiny @kopikokun @mochiable @envirae @channoticedmeuwu @radiorenjun @lebrookestore @whiteprincessofnohr + anyone who would like to do it!!

notes from vie: oml what the hell was this. honestly, this was so long, but i think it allowed me to reflect upon myself for a moment lmao.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮

october twenty eighth! on winwin day, nonetheless!

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩❜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧

i adore every single one smh. if it were palettes we were speaking about, then it would probably be greyish blue tones and beige to yellow ones!

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩❜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧

my lucky number does not work, because my misfortune overpowers it way too much. i like the number eight, though!

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙨

i used to have pet baby cobras, fishes, yellow and blue budgies, and aquatic turtles!

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪

i am aspiring to reach 170 cm, but i am currently 159-160 cm! that would be 5'2"?? i think.

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚

a pair of combat boots, white canvas shoes, and one sneakers for sports class... not many lmao i am not a shoe gal.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜

changes everyday. as i am typing, however, it would be lose it by oh wonder, rush hour by gaho and run by one republic!

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙚

i have three: rise of the guardians, room (2015), and... any studio ghibli movie tbh. whoops.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚

i say that i do not have a type all of the time, but all of the people i have been attracted to and had a crush on were the wild, fun, and cute guys in my class. they also tend to be very kind and understanding as well. i am a sucker for people who smile often.

they would have to be accepting of all of my flaws and love me regardless, just like the way i would do the same for them if i love them as well. i am also extremely touch deprived haha, so i would honestly be over the moon if they don't mind hugs and physical affection.

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣

only after i have a stable income and have things sorted out, because i don't want to struggle raising them because of financial and mental issues. no kid deserves parents that can't take care of them ig.

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙬

the law from where i come from are terrible and something pretty bad has happened, but i'd rather that's kept in private haha. i swear i didn't commit any crimes lmao police are just incredible blind and unfair there.

𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

shower. i am way too impatient for baths. also, i feel weird sitting in a tub filled water while naked lmfao it's so weird for me.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

grey.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘

k-r&b, indie, pop-rock hybrid ig, lo-fi.

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝

only one below my head.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣

it varies. i sleep like a rock even though i can’t sleep for long, so i wake up in the exact position i initially fall asleep in. either on my back or my right side, since my left side isn’t too good lmao.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣❜𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪❜𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜

buzzing mosquitos and damp, hot air (which is very rare, so i guess we are okay). i also hate being cold, so i sleep with two blankets even during summer haha. my limbs are ice-cold all the time smh

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩

oats mixed with chocolate chunks.

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙮

i never went to a club or took lessons, but we had a backyard where my dad allowed me to shoot at stuff with a bow and the few arrows he made. i was pretty good at aiming, but my eyesight has deteriorated, so i left it at that lmao

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙩

watermelons and mangoes... also rambutan and mangis, but we don’t have them in germany ;-; i missed them.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙

fuck. and i am sorry to say that i use it here quite a lot.

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨

tons.

𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙧

some have called me a psychopath before, but they just don’t understand that i was raised by very strict parents and learned how to lie lmao. i am pretty ashamed to say yes.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩❜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚

i have tested twice. once when i was fourteen, which showed that i was an infj-t, but then i took it again last year and it showed that i was an infp-t. i heard that 16Personalities was trash, though, so take it with a grain of salt.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩❜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

my best friend. she is a wild character, ngl, but she and i communicate extremely well. she is outgoing, courageous, hilarious, and has no qualms with being the odd one. she isn’t overly obnoxious, but she has a nice kind of self-confidence going on.

𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙚

i love yang jeongIN. definitely an innie, because i don’t even remember what the front of my house looks like haha. i don’t go out unless someone literally grabs my arms and physically drags me out and i am not even joking with this one. 

𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙

i was originally right-handed, but then i got paranoid of breaking my right arm and having to study with my left arm all of a sudden and get bad grades, so i learned how to do stuff and write with my left hand as a kid.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙

don’t have one. call me when we’re talking about dessert.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙

don’t have one.

𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙮

my entire aesthetic is chaotic academia irl, so you tell me.

𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙚

oml, how tf, bahaha, bestie, no because-, hehe, lmao, i’m sobbing, i guess, toodles, etc etc.

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮

i can techincally be ready in five, but procrastination is the sole thing i excel at, so yeah, definitely half an hour.

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛

cnversations happen in my head, my the office-esque reactions happen out loud. i talk a lot and imitate phrases i hear from someone to myself and reenact scenes from my daydreams bahaha

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛

i don’t shut up. someone save the people that live with me.

𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧

definitely not the most technically sound vocalist, but i can hold a tune or two. i was a soloist in my choir for a few years and was the vocalist for a band, but we disbanded smh i am still very sad about that :/ i loved them so much.

𝙗𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧

seeing my loved ones die before me.

𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥

i don’t feel comfortable talking bad about people :/ just ignore and move on.

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧

i have hair that reaches my knees, but dear god do i want to chop it all off in one motion and get a yeeun-style bob cut.

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙨𝙪𝙗𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩

sports and art. to hell with everything else. i’m not bad at them at all, but oh gosh i want to burn them all.

𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩

... idk. i hate speaking to strangers and feel so awkward during one on one conversations with friends. i don’t go out a lot and social events tire me out, but i also crave noise happening around me. so,,, ambivert? i do tend to be the life of the party often during the few times i go out, but then i just lug myself back home and crash for the week lmao

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨

anything related to school. i have regular panic attacks /gen. also, i have thalassaphobia and megalophobia, so things larger than life and the vast, empty ocean terrifies me and movies like that just make me nauseous. 

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝

my first real crush this one guy in my band. he was the other vocalist and was so pretty and fun. he always used to tease me smh. at least, that was something. but then we had to disband last year, because the older guys were moving away to study and us high schoolers were also moving to different cities ;-;

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙪𝙣

i was in my middle school track team and used to compete a lot since i was pretty agile, but then i started to hate running, stopped, and now i am just a little above average bahaha.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧

black. i want to dye it with cotton candy colored highlights, tho!

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙮

unnecessary comments, rude and obnoxious, self-entitled kids and people in general, people who tell you how to do your own job, hate comments, the basic dni criterias as well 

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚

kind of?

𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙

i would want a girl.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝𝙨

i have cold hands if you want to cool down. i can adapt to any kind of environment instantly, since i have moved twelve different times to fifferent schools and countries. bless my parents. i have gained the ability to conquer shifts in social environments at the cost of my mental health :’) i also consider myself to be nice and can get things down quickly, so i am a fast learner.

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

kanemoto yoshinori, yoshi, eye smiles, and brownies. i am also very impatient, a perfectionist, a procrastinator, and have absolutely zero self-control over aggression against my own body. i have trouble reacting to other people's emotional outbursts, be it crying or anger and don't know what to do and how to comfort them. i also have trouble opening up and am never authentic around people, so i don't have... friends, if that makes sense? i don't feel comfortable being myself and feel like i have to be the person that they want me to be? idek.

i get bored extremely easily and nothing interests me that much ig

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩❜𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

blue.

𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢

white and hints of blue.

[rhysismydaddy]

My Little Brawler - Feysand Headcannon 2

I’ll just go ahead and preface this by saying it’s long as SHIT. I went a little crazy. But here’s the second headcannon for Feysand. Thank you for the love on the last one! Next one out tomorrow. 

Synopsis: Feyre Archeron is a 31 year old researcher who has devoted her entire life to her work. Her dating history is a mess, from an ex-husband to one night stands. A serious relationship? Hell no. 

Rhysand Turner is a Virginia-born quarterback living it up in a football-crazy city. He doesn’t date and sticks to dumb blondes who look good on his arm and think how far he can throw a football is better than sex. Marriage? Not in a million years. 

________________________________________________________________

Feyre swung the lab door closed, locked it behind her, and headed toward the hospital exit. 

“Calling it a night?” Howie, the night-shift security guard asked from behind his desk. 

She glanced at her watch and winced. “More like a morning now, but yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He laughed and went back to his crossword puzzle. Nothing interesting happened in the hospital this late at night outside of the ER, so Howie was basically only there for her. Feyre frequently was the last staff member to leave the place, something her coworkers never understood. 

She came in early, left late, and worked holidays. To say she was married to her job would be an understatement. 

Grabbing her keys and walking out to her car, she had to admit they had a point. She’d given up her entire life for her work, but she had no regrets. 

She’d made countless breakthroughs in nuclear medicine and had changed the face of chemotherapy and radiation. It payed off every day when she heard from the oncologists that one of their patients was cancer free. 

As she drove to her townhouse--only four minutes from the hospital--she wondered if it was strange she preferred to be alone.

Then she remembered how she’d ended up when she committed herself to a relationship and shook her head. If you can’t trust the man you’re married to, who can you trust? No one. 

She didn’t miss being married. At all. She didn’t miss having to come home from a long day at work and muster up the energy to talk about whatever was bothering him. 

She did miss sex, though. She never went out, never invited anyone over. It’d been so long since she’d been with a man, she was pretty sure she had cobwebs down there.

Ignoring that thought, Feyre walked through her front door, threw her keys on the kitchen table, and went to bed. She had to be in the hospital in four hours if she wanted to get ahead of her schedule. 

_________________________________

Rhysand jogged off the field, grinning at the look on his coach’s face. 

“If you’re in love with me, I don’t want to know,” he joked. 

Coach Matthews was at least five inches shorter than Rhys, but he reached up and smacked the back of his head anyway. He wasn’t actually mad, though. There were about three people in the world who could get away with talking trash to Adrian Matthews, and Rhys happened to be one of them. 

“Shut up, smartass. I’m just excited. If you play like this tomorrow, we’ll wi-”

Rhys cut him off. “Don’t jinx me.”

A raised eyebrow. “After all this time, you’re superstitious?”

“It could be my last game,” he said, ignoring the look on the man’s face. “I don’t need any bad luck.”

He’d never admit it, but losing tomorrow’s game was easily the scariest thing in Rhys’s life. 

Talent wise, there was no one better than him. He wasn’t cocky, but he knew it. He had better stats, better knowledge of the game, better everything. 

But, according to sports, Rhys was old as dirt. 

No matter how good you are, football isn’t a lifetime sport. Even though thirty-eight would be young to almost anyone’s standards, network channels and reporters were all wondering how long he would push on. 

The guys he was competing against were all in their twenties, young and fresh and without back pain. And knee pain. And-

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, idiot. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve had the most impressive career as a NFL quarterback in history. So get your head out of your old ass and play the game you know how to play.” 

Rhys just laughed. “My old ass? What about you? When did you even sneak out of the retirement home?”

Before Matthews could attempt to kick his ass, a beefy hand smacked into Rhys’s back and Cassian--the other person allowed to talk shit to coach--said, “Oh, I see. You made a few good passes out there and now you’re over here drinking water and gossiping with coach like a couple old ladies. Cute.”

“Both of you, get your asses home and in bed,” the coach ordered, rolling his eyes. “I cannot believe I let myself draft two hard-headed, pain in the ass hillbillies,” he muttered, walking toward the other players. 

“He’s just mad because he’s in love with you,” Cassian said, throwing a thick arm around Rhysand’s shoulders, and dragging him to the locker room.  

Rhys pushed him off and laughed. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“So about tomorrow-”

“I swear to god if you mention the game one more time, I’ll tell everyone you wear women’s underwear when you play,” Rhys threatened, then ducked to avoid the helmet flying towards his head. 

“Shut the fuck up, man! That was one time! And I wouldn’t have done it, but you made me watch Bull Durham and it seemed like a decent idea at the time. And I wasn’t even gonna talk about the game.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. If Cassian wasn’t talking about football, he was droning on about women, booze, or hunting. Sometimes a mixture. Before he could continue, Rhys made a bet it was women on his best friend’s mind this time.

“Anyway, me and Az were thinking we could go somewhere new tomorrow night. Regardless of how the score turns out.” 

That caught his attention. The three of them had been friends since high school and had all played together till Azriel blew his knee out two years ago. They all lived in the same apartment complex still and got together almost every weekend. In all their time of friendship, they’d maybe gone to five bars. Once Cassian found a place and racked up enough of a tab, he stayed until they wouldn’t let him through the door anymore. 

“Where?”

“There’s bar about twenty minutes from here. Az apparently knows the owner or something.” It made sense. After his injury, Azriel had gone into broadcasting and had made a ton of connections in the PR world. 

“I don’t want to go anywhere crow-”

Cass cut him off. “He said it’s a small bar. No crowds.”

The one negative aspect of his life was the never-leaving pack of fans and paparazzi following him around. After the game tomorrow, it’d be hectic. He didn’t want to deal with that if they won, let alone if they lost. 

Rhys shrugged. “Fine by me. Either way, I’ll be needing a lot of booze.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic man,” Cassian laughed. “It’s just a game.”

Rolling his eyes, “It’s the Super Bowl, idiot. It’s not just a game.”

“Okay,” his best friend and defensive tight end said lightly. “It’s a big game.”

As he thought about how a loss tomorrow could be the end of his career, Rhys could only nod and agree. 

________________________________

Feyre walked through the front doors of the cancer wing and halted. John Weatherly, the Chief of Staff of the hospital--and not to mention a huge pain in her ass--stood at the threshold. 

“You look annoyed,” she stated, ready for whatever lecture he was about to give her. 

After all the time she’d worked for him, she’d never really gotten past her dislike of her boss. Or his misogynistic rants. Or the fact that he smelled like cigarettes. They worked in the cancer wing of the hospital, for crying out loud. And he had the nerve to smoke a cigarette every chance he got. 

“I am,” he said, equally as blunt. “Are you aware you’ve worked at least 120 hours a week for the past two months?”

“Considering I log my own hours, yes.”

“That is a huge waste-”

“Are you aware that I’ve published three research articles during the past two months? Generating publicity, not to mention patients, for the hospital?”

“Considering I’m not an idiot, yes,” John snapped sourly. “But this isn’t about me. The board is implementing a new rule this week. No more work weeks over 100 hours.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up a hand in annoyance. “Don’t bother. I already tried to tell them you practically live here. It’s not flexible for anyone.”

Feyre allowed herself to steam for a few moments before muttering, “Fine.” She tried to walk around him to the lab, but he stepped in her path. 

“Since you’ve already worked over the limit, you’ll have to go home. Come back Tuesday.” 

“Tuesday?!” she practically shouted. “Why not tomorrow? The time cards reset every week.”

“You’ve worked 115 hours this week. They told me to tell you specifically that if you want to continue to receive a paycheck from them, you will come back Tuesday.”

“This is so-”

“Have a nice two days off, Dr. Archeron.”

She couldn’t not work for two days. “What am I supposed to do all day? Just let me go get my paperwork, and I’ll work from home.”

“Feyre, I have specific orders from the hospital’s board to have the security guard escort you out if you try to go in the lab.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could tell him how ridiculous this was, he said, “Go home. Sleep. Watch the game.”

“Game? What game?”

It was his John’s turn to look shocked. “The Super Bowl is tonight. Did you really not know?”

“No, of course not. I don’t care about football.”

Her boss was silent, stuttered a few words, then said, “How do you not like football? You live in Boston! Rhysand Turner is practically a celebrity around here.”

She didn’t know why any medical professional would encourage grown men to smash into each other for sport, but kept that to herself. “Who is Rhysand Turner, exactly?”

“For a genius, you’re such an idiot,” he said bitterly. “He’s the quarterback about to win us the Super Bowl tonight. You should watch the game in your time off. Speaking of, leave. Now.”

“But-”

“Nope. Now.” 

The urge to call him a jackass was so strong, she left before it slipped out. How ridiculous was this? She worked her ass off every day researching nuclear chemistry and the effects of chemotherapy in the body. It was important. Her work changed lives. 

And they were telling her to go home and twiddle her thumbs. Or watch football. 

She drove home angrily, wondering what on earth she would do with 48 hours of uninterrupted free time. 

After finishing two loads of laundry, scrubbing her entire bathroom and kitchen, and grocery shopping, Feyre was bored. She tried to sit down and watch TV, but there was nothing on that interested her. 

She flipped to the news, thinking she’d distract herself with politics. But no, everyone was talking about the game. Apparently, John was right. No one cared about anything except football today. 

An idea popped in her head, and she smiled and picked up the phone. 

“Finally!” her best friend shouted happily as she answered on the first ring. “I’ve been waiting for you to call; I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Hi, Mor,” she laughed. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Work is-”

“-crazy, I know,” she finished her sentence. “What’s up?”

Trying not to sound bitter, Feyre said, “Well, I actually have today and tomorrow off, so I was wondering what you were doing tonight.”

A pause.

“You know I own a bar, right?” Mor asked, as if Feyre were dense. 

“Yes, of course.”

Another pause, then, “And you know it’s Super Bowl Sunday, right? It’s a busy night for us. Well, as busy as a tiny ass bar in the suburbs can be.”

Feyre laughed. “Oh, no worries, I’ll see you some other-”

“Wait! Why don’t you come?” 

“Oh... uh...” How could she get out of this? Fake illness?

A knowing town crept into Mor’s voice as she said, “Don’t even think about telling me you’re sick, bitch. You already said you don’t have anything to do tonight. Or tomorrow. Which means you can get drunk! Ooh, or laid!”

Feyre sighed. “Mor, I don’t want to watch a football game. And I definitely don’t want to get drunk.”

She could tell her friend was smiling as she said, “Just laid, then.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and stayed silent, trying not to think about how true that statement was. 

“Fine. Come at like 11. It’ll be pretty empty by then. But you’re definitely drinking.”

She debated arguing, but Mor would likely show up and drag her out herself if she tried. “Fine. One drink.”

____________________________________________

Rhys couldn’t stop smiling as he drove himself and Cassian through the city in his truck. 

“You know you’re a millionaire, right, Rhysie?” his best friend asked with a laugh. 

He just rolled his eyes, having heard this argument at least 20 times. “Don’t hate on the truck. I’ve had her since senior year.”

“It’s rusting. You’re a millionaire. Buy a new one.”

“Nope.”

Cassian groaned. “Why not?”

“She’s been with me through every win, every loss, everything. You know I lost my-”

“Stop! You already told me, and I almost throw up every time I get in this ass-mobile.” 

Rhys laughed and punched his shoulder, then said thoughtfully, “You know, I think it was right where you’re sitting.”

Cassian swore and scooted as close as he could get to the door. 

“Don’t worry, you can get out. We’re here.” 

As soon as he put the truck in park, Cassian jumped out of the cab and wiped the seat of his jeans off with his hand, making Rhys laugh. 

He climbed out of the truck, his body still lined with adrenaline. He’d played his ass off, crushed the opponent, and carried his team to victory. 

He supposed he had Cassian to thank, too, considering he’d also played his ass off and kept Rhys from getting pummeled. 

Their success was echoing through the city on excited whispers. Both of them had already turned their phones off they were getting so many calls from team managers. 

They walked into the wonderfully slow bar, nodded to the few people still around who luckily didn’t ask for pictures, and went to find Azriel. 

He was sitting at the bar, chatting to the bartender. Even though the bartender was hands-down one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen, it was the woman near Azriel that gave Rhys pause. 

Cassian saw the look on his face, smirked, and nodded toward the empty chair between Az and the girl. 

A good end to a good night.

He winked, then slid in the chair, nodded to Az--who rolled his eyes--, and turned to the woman. 

She had clear blue-gray eyes, dark blonde hair, and full lips. She was... exotic. Different. 

He smiled confidently and said, “Hey. How you doing?” 

It was a simple line, but one that worked countless times when paired with a southern accent. 

He couldn’t tell if the look on her face was amusement or shock. “Where the hell are you from?”

That reaction was one he was used to, so he grinned and said, “Virginia.”

“What are you doing in Boston, then?”

He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from pulling together. She was in a sports bar, where his face had just been plastered on every TV for four hours, but she didn’t know who he was? “Work,” he said simply. 

Rhys could feel his best friends’ eyes on him, but he ignored them. “So, what’s your-”

The girl turned to the bartender, ignoring him completely, and said, “Mor, I’m going to make a call.” She cut her eyes toward the men around her and murmured, “Watch my drink.”

Every single one of their eyebrows shot up. Did they look that much like criminals? Sure, they wore a lot of black, but every one of them were multi-millionaires. Did he come off like a date-raper or something?

The bartender, Mor apparently, rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t take it personally. Even balls to the wall drunk, she’s cautious.”

Rhys could tell there was more to that story but shrugged and asked for a beer. 

Mor slid it across the counter and smiled knowingly. “She’s pretty, right?”

He just turned to Azriel and asked, “How have you been, man? Did you report the game?”

“Yeah, they had me follow your stats the whole time. Boring shit,” he replied, laughing. 

“I bet you could hardly talk fast enough.”

“Cocky bastard,” Cassian muttered. 

Azriel nodded to the bartender and said, “This is Mor, by the way. I’ve known her since I left the NFL. Mor, this--as I’m sure you know--is Rhysand and Cassian, although I call them Dumbass 1 and 2.”

“You’re a funny, funny man,” Rhys muttered. 

Mor’s friend came back and slid into her seat. Mor put another drink on the counter. The woman raised an eyebrow. “I said one drink, Morrigan.”

“Morrigan? Jesus, you’re already drunk aren’t you?” 

Before she could respond, Az said, “Mor, perhaps you’d like to introduce the guys to your friend?”

She smiled and said, “Guys, this is Feyre Archeron, my very best friend who loves me so much she’ll stay and have another drink.”

“Since you’re buying,” Feyre said sweetly, picking the drink up. “And because I know you’ll make me feel bad about leaving so soon.”

Cassian asked, his accent even thicker than Rhys’s, “Why the bad mood, gorgeous?”

She turned and leveled a look at him. “I’d rather be doing something else.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as his best friend leaned down towards the woman and smiled slowly. “Well, you should’ve told me sooner. I’d be glad to do something else with you, baby.”

Azriel and Rhys both looked at each other and shook their heads. Cassian flirted with everyone. It drove them insane, but it was at least predictable. 

The woman unlucky enough to have his current affections set her drink down with a little too much aggression, making Rhys chuckle. “What’s your name?”

“Cassian,” he replied confidently. 

“Cassian, believe me when I tell you I have absolutely no interest in having sex with you. Leave me alone and go shook a chicken or something.” 

The look on Cassian’s face was priceless, and Rhys bit his lip to keep his laugh in. Like Rhys, he was used to women being very... open to his suggestions. 

Before Cass could even retort, the woman looked to her friend and asked, “Who the hell are these guys? Your friends?”

Mor pointed to Azriel and responded, “He is my friend. Those two rednecks,” she jerked her head toward Rhys and Cassian, “I don’t vouch for.”

Rhys put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “We’re Azriel’s friends, which makes us pre-vouched.” He turned to Feyre and smiled. “You single?” 

________________________________________

“No,” Feyre said at the exact same time Mor yelled, “Yes!”

The man next to her smiled smugly. “Since you’re single, let me buy you another drink.” She opened her mouth, but he said quickly, “Say yes. It’s just one drink, darling.”

His accent was so ridiculous, it sounded like he should be riding on the back of a horse in cowboy boots and a hat. 

“I said I’d have one drink,” she stated to Mor. “I’ve had two. I’m going home.”

“Of course you are.” Her best friend sighed dramatically. “You don’t care about me at all, do you? I haven’t seen you in a month, and you come to my bar and stay for all of ten minutes-”

“Mor-”

“Then try to leave, and I probably won’t see you for another-”

Feyre gave in with a huff. “Oh, my god, fine! I’ll stay. You’re so damn dramatic.” 

Her best friend jumped up and down like a toddler, clapping her hands stupidly. 

“Now I don’t have an excuse, do I?” She tried not to roll her eyes at how big Rhysand’s smile grin grew.

“Don’t get so excited. I’m just using you for liquor.”

“Fine by me,” he replied smoothly. “I’m trying to get you drunk.”

Despite herself, she laughed. She wasn’t used to such honesty. She definitely wasn’t going home with the guy, but she couldn’t deny how insanely attractive he was to her. The kind of attractive that drove women crazy. 

He was so tall, he towered over her even sitting down. He had dark hair, tan skin, and the most unique shade of eye color. They seemed almost purple and practically glowed as they raked over her. 

She turned to Mor and gestured for another drink. “You associate yourself with the strangest people.”

Mor just shrugged. 

“So, what do all do for work?” she asked the men around her, trying to make conversation. 

Rhys quickly said, “We’re- uh- in sports.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn’t give her a chance to ask any more questions. “What about you?”

She saw Mor roll her eyes, but she kept it simple as she said, “I’m a scientist.”

“That explains it,” Cassian said with a laugh. 

This man had a special talent for pushing peoples’ buttons, it seemed. 

She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that you ‘being in sports’ means you’re a football player, since everyone in this city is so obsessed with the sport. And you know what? Between the constant head trauma and the accent...” She looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, then said sweetly, “It explains a lot.”

Rhysand launched into a coughing fit. She saw Azriel glance towards Mor, but her best friend just shrugged and said, “Not a big football fan.”

“We can tell,” Cassian muttered. 

“What kind of scientist are you?” Rhys asked, ignoring his friend. 

Mor sighed, but Feyre said, “It’s complicated, but I’m basically a nuclear chemistry-”

“It is boring as hell, I assure you all,” Mor cut in. 

Feyre rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. 

Mor got a strange look on her face, bent down, and grabbed a bottle of tequila. “Who wants a shot?” 

All three men at the bar raised their hand. Feyre just rolled her eyes.  Looks like it was going to be a long night.

_____________________________________

As Feyre got up to use the bathroom, ignoring all of their taunts about having a small bladder, the bartender looked at Rhys and waggled her eyebrows. 

“What?”

“Oh, we’re going to act like you weren’t just eyeing my best-friend’s ass?” She laughed, then said, “Feyre.”

“What about Feyre?” he said, keeping his voice neutral. 

He liked her, sure. Over the past couple hours, she’d loosened up around him. She was... funny. And smart. And sarcastic. 

And yeah, she was beautiful as all hell. He’d love to take her home, but... he wasn’t a relationship guy. Football took all of his time, and he traveled practically every weekend. The women he slept with were all young and didn’t care about anything other than his latest game. 

Feyre was different. 

“You like her, don’t you?” The bartender was nosy, that was for sure. 

“She’s... serious.” 

Mor raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to continue, so he said, “I don’t date. And Feyre is... serious. She probably wants a relationship and marriage and all sorts of shit-”

“You know,” Mor interrupted, “I thought people were crazy for saying a southern accent makes people stupid. But you have got to be one of the biggest idiots I’ve ever met if you think that girl wants a relationship.”

“What?” 

“She works over fifteen hours a day. Spends all her time in a hospital with nerds looking in a microscope. She wants nothing to do with a relationship, let alone marriage. Trust me.”

“Oh.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and nodded to where Feyre was walking back to them. 

Before she made it to the bar, he turned to Cassian and said quietly, “Get a ride back with Az.”

“Gladly. I hate that truck.”

He glanced toward Feyre and muttered, “Now, idiot.”

Cassian, brilliant actor he was, yawned obnoxiously and said, “Well. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He winked at Feyre. “It was nice meeting you, honey. Call me if you ever need some southern hospitality.”

She shook her head but a smile ghosted on her lips. 

“I’ll refrain from the innuendo, but it was nice meeting you, too,” Azriel said to Feyre.

Mor followed the two of them toward the exit to say goodbye.

“You’ve had too much to drink to drive home,” Rhys stated as soon as they were alone. Feyre laughed, clearly onto his game. 

He rose and extended a hand. “Come on. I’ll drive you back. I only had one drink.”

“Is this your version of southern hospitality?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

She seemed to consider this, then murmured, “It’s very different from Cassian’s.” 

Rhys smiled. “I’d be happy to show you that version. Let me drive you home.”

“I live close to here,” she laughed. “I’m walking.”

He tried not to be too disappointed. The odds of her taking him home were slim anyway-

She slid off the stool and put a hand on his arm. “But Boston can be a dangerous city. Come with?”

_____________________________________________________

Rhysand got up from his seat and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Lead the way, darling.”

“You really have to stop calling me that. You sound ridiculous.”

She didn’t really mean it, though. His accent was... different. Sexy. He was sexy. Something he was most definitely aware of, but Feyre currently didn’t care. 

Cobwebs. 

He was funny and seemed nice enough and... 

She ignored Mor’s knowing smile as they left, telling her she’d call her later.

“I have a feeling you’ll be busy,” she said knowingly. 

She ignored that, too. 

As they started the short walk toward Feyre’s townhouse, his arm still slung across her shoulders, she asked, “So, did you win tonight?”

She could feel his chest rumble as he laughed. “Yeah, we won.”

“And you played the...”

“Steelers.”

“Right. Congratulations, then.”

He seemed to think her lack of football-knowledge was amusing. “Why the hell do you live in Boston?” he asked with a smile.

She froze. 

“What do you mean?” she said, trying to be casual. 

She led them around a corner that led to her block. 

“You hate football. You don’t like crowds. You could probably work anywhere. Why not live somewhere else?” 

They walked up to her house, and she answered simply, “I moved here to do my PhD at Harvard, and they offered me a job. Made sense.” 

“And do you like it here?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She smiled, unlocked her door, and replied, “Ask me in an hour.”

He mirrored her grin, then pushed her by the shoulders through the door. “Give me two, and it’ll be your favorite place in the world.” 

Feyre laughed, locked the door, then turned to him. Leaning against the door, she looked him up and down and muttered, “Clocks ticking, Rhysand.”

________________________________________________________

As Rhys opened his eyes, he was wonderfully aware of the weight atop him. 

The naked weight.

Blowing Feyre’s hair out of his face, he smiled as she murmured something in her sleep. She was probably tired. 

They hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

Given how cautious she was when they’d first met, he’d half expected her to kick him out pretty early. Needless to say, he’d been pleasantly surprised. 

When the feeling of her on top of him grew to be too tempting, he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured her name.

She shook her head, making him grin. 

His fingers drifted over her back and he loved the way she felt in his arms. After a minute, she turned her head, chin resting on his chest, and looked up at him. 

“Good morning,” she said simply. 

He just pulled her up to him, pressing his lips to hers. She smiled against him, legs coming up to straddle his waist. 

Rhys took in their position and smiled, leaning up to kiss his way up her neck. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Cowgirl’s your favorite position isn’t it? And you say I’m country.” 

He snickered, proud of his joke, then practically choked on the sound as she slid herself onto him. “Shit, Feyre.”

"No more jokes, Rhysand?” she murmured, rocking her hips slowly. 

“Just Rhys,” he panted. He leaned forward to take one of her breasts into his mouth, and she gasped, the sound music to his ears. 

“Rhys,” she moaned, fingers digging into his back. 

“Yes, Feyre?” He gripped her hips to keep her still as he asked, “Do you need something?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he tried not to grin. 

“I said ‘Good morning.’ Don’t make me liar.” 

This woman would be the death of him. He laughed and released her hips, reveling in how she responded to every movement, every touch. 

She picked up the pace, and Rhys just sat there with his teeth gritted and tried not to ruin the moment for both of them. 

He could tell when she was close, her legs tightening around him, voice shaking as she called out his name. He pulled her hair, kissing up her exposed neck and across her jaw to her ear. 

“Come for me, Feyre darling,” he whispered, pulling on the shell with his teeth. 

She moaned, falling apart in his arms, and Rhys had to use sheer will to wait until she was done to finish. 

This woman... was the definition of seduction. Even after a whole night together, he couldn’t get enough. 

As they came down together, he looked at her and smirked. “Good morning.”

She smiled and kissed him, biting his lips gently. Even though he’d just had her, his body was ready for more. 

He was about to flip them over when she ruined the moment and said, “You have to leave.”

She climbed off him, and he watched with amusement as she sprung from the bed, ripped the sheet off of him, and started pacing around the room. 

She found his pants at him and threw them at him. “I’m serious, Rhys. I have to... do stuff.”

He ignored the clothes on his chest. They were both completely naked, and if he had anything to say about it, they’d stay that way for a while. “Like what? You told Mor you have the day off.” 

“I do, but-”

“Then come here.”

She crossed her arms. “Rhysand.”

He sat up and extended a hand. “Just shut up and come here. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

_________________________________________________________

Oh, I’m sure you will, Feyre thought as she rolled her eyes and took his hand. 

Then gasped as he used the other hand to rip the sheet off her and throw her on her bed. 

She barely had time to process before he was on top of her, pressing kisses across her chest, down her stomach. Further. 

Sweet Jesus, she thought. The man hadn’t let her sleep more than two hours last night. Not that she was complaining. The cobwebs were completely gone, that was for sure. 

A moan escaped her lips as his teeth scraped her thigh, and he chuckled. She was about to flick his shoulder, but then his lips slid higher, and every thought emptied our of her head. 

She couldn’t keep herself still as he kissed her, so he held her hips with both hands. 

Hers found themselves in his hair and she pulled as he ran his tongue up her center. 

“Rhys, baby,” she panted. She didn’t care how she sounded. Didn’t care about anything but the sight of his head buried between her legs. 

She didn’t know if it was because she was out of practice or because he was some sort of sex god, but she was already close. Again.

By the time she came, her entire body was limp with pleasure and she was close to seeing stars. 

When she opened her eyes, he was above her, smirking like a cat. 

He leaned down to kiss her, but she flicked his nose in annoyance. 

“If you try and fuck me again before I get some food, I’ll strangle you.” 

Ignoring the warning, he buried his head in her neck and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Feyre darling.”

She laughed against her better judgement, but pushed his shoulders until he let her up. If she didn’t eat something, she might pass out when they went again. 

She grabbed his t-shirt from last night and threw it on as she walked to her kitchen. It came down to practically her knees, making her look ridiculous, but she didn’t care. It was soft and big and smelled like him. 

“Pancakes?” she asked, turning around to catch him looking at her in amusement. At what she was wearing. 

She raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something. 

“Pancakes would be great.”

Feyre ignored the look in his eyes and started cooking. And kept ignoring it as he watched. 

Every time she looked at him, he looked like he was five seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her back to bed. 

The idea of messing with him a little more was too tempting to ignore. 

“Close your eyes,” she ordered secretively, reaching into her fridge. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but gave in when she raised her eyebrows. 

She used a finger to tip his head backward, then whispered, “Open your mouth.”

His lips curved into a smile, then opened. She took the can of Ready Whip and sprayed some whip cream in his mouth, laughing as his purple eyes shot open, full of amusement. 

“Cute,” he muttered, swallowing the whip cream. 

She leaned in and licked some of the remainder off his bottom lip. He froze, then reached for her. Before he could get those arms around her, she walked to the stove and took the pancakes off. 

Sliding an unhealthy amount toward him, she said, “Eat your breakfast, dear.”

Rhys gave her an annoyingly perfect smile and devoured the food. She looked at him as he ate, wondering how he looked like a Greek god when he ate like... that. 

He looked up as he finished and laughed at the look on her face. “Baby, don’t invite a football player over if you don’t expect him to eat all your food.”

She took their plates and stuck them in the sink. When she turned around, he immediately strode over and grabbed her face, pulling her lips to his. 

He kissed her thoroughly, then pulled back far enough to say, “Meet me in your bedroom.” Another kiss. “And Feyre? Bring that whip cream.”

__________________________________________________________

By the time Rhysand left, Feyre could hardly stand up. She had no idea how she was going to make it through her shift tomorrow, given that she was so exhausted she could sleep probably for a day straight. 

That’s when she realized that for the first time in her career, she didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to call Rhysand and tell him to come back. 

That’s not an option.

A relationship was out of the question. It’d be cruel to him to invite him back, knowing it would never go anywhere. For all she knew, he was trying to settle down. With a nice girl who’d give up her life to have his babies and be a football wife. 

Hell no. 

As she got out of the shower, giggling at how shaky her legs were, she told herself to forget him. 

But when the phone rang, she was surprisingly disappointed when she looked at the caller id and saw it wasn’t him. 

As soon as she picked up, Mor practically yelled, “How was it?!”

“How was what, Mor?”

“The sex last night, idiot. Was it good? I bet it was good. You don’t look like that and not have a seriously huge-”

“Mor! Calm down.”

She could tell her best friend was enjoying this way too much. “I’ll calm down when you tell me. Everything.”

Feyre laughed, then gave in and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“How long did he stay? Oh, you made him walk back to his truck in the middle of the night, didn’t you? Mean woman.” 

When she didn’t respond, Mor pushed, “Unless you didn’t. When did he leave, Feyre? Hm?”

“An hour ago,” she admitted. 

The howl that Mor let out was practically inhuman. “Oh my god! You nasty bitch! Or, wait. Is he the nasty bitch?”

Feyre laughed. “You have no idea.”

“I cannot believe you let him stay all day. He must be good. He’s good isn’t he?”

She didn’t have to think back to remember the answer to that question. “You have no idea,” she repeated. 

Mor laughed. “I’m so happy for you. Are you seeing him again?”

“No, probably not.”

She stopped laughing. “And why the hell not?”

“I don’t date. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep sleeping with him and lead him on-”

“You’re both idiots.”

That stopped her. “What?”

Mor sighed on the other end of the call. “He doesn’t date. At all. He’s seen with 20 year old blondes who probably don’t know their head from their ass. You don’t have to worry about him trying to tie you down.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. 

Of course he wasn’t the dating type. He was a professional athlete. Women probably threw themselves at him. 

“For someone so smart, you really are an idiot.”

“You have a point. Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” It was only eight PM, but she could hardly keep her eyes open. 

“Worn out, aren’t you?” Mor asked in a knowing voice.

“Good night, Morrigan.”

____________________________________________________________

Rhys wasn’t surprised to see Azriel and Cassian in his apartment when he got back the next day. 

“You dirty dog,” Cassian said smugly, throwing a pillow at his head.

Rhys smiled and told him to shut his fat mouth. “What are you idiots doing here? Get evicted?”

“Waiting on your ass,” Azriel said. “We’re going out.”

“Not everyone got laid last night,” Cassian said sourly. “Ruined a good win.”

Az and Rhys both ignored him. “Wanna come?” 

“I’m gonna crash, actually. I have an early meeting tomorrow with coach.” It was an excuse; he’d barely made it home without falling asleep at the wheel. 

“Mmhm, an early meeting with coach,” Cassian said knowingly. “More like a late night with a pretty blonde.”

Rhysand just winked and said, “We made sure to avoid your seat in the truck.”

“Disgusting,” his best friend said bitterly as the pair walked toward the door. “I hate that truck.” 

As soon as the door swung close behind them, Rhys showered and passed out. 

_______________________________________________________

Three days later, Rhys was watching highlights from the game when his phone rang. He smiled as he saw the caller ID. 

“Unless the hospital is calling to tell me I’m dying,” he said as he picked up, “I’m going to assume this is Miss Feyre Archeron.”

“Wow, an athlete with a brain,” the sarcasm flowed through the line clearly.  

“I’m a package deal, baby. So, what’s up?” If this was a booty call, he’d make her say it. He’d definitely give in, but he’d make her ask first. 

“I don’t date,” she blurted suddenly. 

He paused, then said, “Me either.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he just mimicked, “Okay.”

“Then come over.” 

Rhysand smiled, looking at his watch. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

_____________________________________________________

Two months later, they’d spent practically every night together. Either he’d stay at her house and get kicked out at the ass crack of dawn when she left for work, or she’d stay with him and he’d wake up alone.

On the rare days her boss forbade her from working, they’d spend all day together, running errands, cooking, fooling around. Hell, she’d even come to one of his football practices. “Out of pure boredom,” she’d claimed. 

He’d never tell her, but seeing her had become the best part of his day.

Sure, he’d resigned his contract for the next year to keep his dream job, but even that paled in comparison to her coming over. He’d started to depend on her. He’d started to care about her. 

Only Cassian--who gave him shit about it daily--knew. And had been told to keep his mouth shut about it. 

Because he knew that as soon as he told Feyre, she’d bolt. He just had no idea why. 

Sure, he’d said he didn’t date. He was thirty-eight and had a terrible relationship track record, having only had a handful of serious ones. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try, right? 

He’d never felt like this before... never been so desperate to spend time with someone. And it wasn’t just the sex like he’d thought for the first few weeks. 

Because even when they weren’t having sex, he wanted to be around her. Wanted to hear her laugh, the one she let out when he surprised her or she made fun of his accent. Wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see her asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt. 

He wanted her. 

Ridiculous.

The first woman to openly not want a relationship with him, he can’t get out of his mind. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed her staring up at him. “What?” he asked, worried everything he’d been thinking was written on his face.

“Nothing,” she said for the fifth time, stifling a giggle. 

He rolled his eyes. “Just say it.” 

“I cannot believe Dirty Dancing is your favorite movie!” She exploded, gesturing to the screen as if he were blind. “You’re a football player.” 

“Which means I can’t have a good taste in movies?”

She shrugged. “It’s just not what I was expecting when you suggested we watch a movie. I figured you just wanted to come out here and have sex again.”

He grinned. “I did that for your sake. I figured if we stayed in bed any longer, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

With her head on a pillow in his lap, she looked completely adorable as she looked up and stuck her tongue out at him. “How considerate.” 

“Southern hospitality knows no limits.” 

As they watched the movie, Rhys couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. She was... distracting. The ocean eyes, full mouth, and delicate features were pretty much a constant distraction for him. 

When the final scene started playing out, Rhys grinned like an idiot and said, “Dance with me, Feyre Archeron.”

“What?”

“Come on. I wanna show you something.” He took her hand, hauled her off the couch, and took her to the biggest open space in his apartment. 

He put his hands on her shoulders and told her to stay put, then walked to the other side of the room. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said immediately, realizing what he had planned. “Absolutely not.”

Rhysand laughed and said, “Run and jump.”

“Hell no! You’ll drop me.” She crossed her arms and stayed put.

He rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t drop you. You’re about a hundred pounds soaking wet.” 

“No.”

“Chicken.”

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously. “You seriously think that’s going to work on me?”

“Yep.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, barely giving him any time to prepare as she ran toward him, yelped, and jumped.

His hands wrapped around her waist as he lifted her up above his shoulders. She hollered like a wounded cat, but she stayed in the air and lifted her legs as he spun her around slowly. 

She giggled as he held her up, and the sound was so adorable that as he let her down, he slowly dipped her. Her hair brushed the floor as he held her, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

He could tell she was surprised when she froze, but then she melted into him. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and opened her mouth for him. It was like it was the first time they’d kissed, and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her like his life depended on it, and she responded to every movement. She sighed into his mouth and he drank the sound in. 

When he finally brought her back up and pulled away, she had tears in her eyes. 

“What?” he asked, concerned. 

Feyre’s brow was creased as she brought a hand to her mouth. “I have to go,” she whispered. 

“Feyre.”

She paced around his apartment, picking up her clothes and throwing them on as she went. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You always have an early morning. What’s wrong?”

She pulled her boots on, zipped her jacket, and smiled tightly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll... see you later.” 

He didn’t have time to say anything before she sped out the door. 

Shit.

______________________________________________________

“He kissed me,” she said as soon as Mor answered the phone.

A pause. “He hasn’t kissed you before?” 

Feyre sped down the road to her house, explaining, “Of course he’s kissed me. But this was different. He dipped me, Mor. Like actual dipping. And he kissed me. Not to get in my pants, but just because. Like he couldn’t stop himself.”

“Oh. You think he has feelings for you?” 

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” This was the last thing she needed. The past month had been good. So good. 

But it had to end. She didn’t want a relationship... even if the idea of never seeing him again hurt so much she couldn’t breathe. 

He’d become someone to her in the two months they’d spent together. And even though it’d hurt like hell, she had to cut it off. Before it got worse. 

“Feyre-”

“Don’t ‘Feyre’ me. I’m fine.”

Her best friend didn’t let up. “No, you’re not. Ever since Tamlin, ever since that night, you haven’t been fine.”

“Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Mor-”

“He hurt you, and now you don’t trust men. You got freaked out tonight because this thing with Rhysand could be real, and you’re scared. You’re scared if you let yourself love him, he’ll hurt you.”

Feyre suddenly yelled, “Wouldn’t you be?”

The line went silent, so she continued, “Yeah, I’m fucked up because of my marriage. It’s pretty easy to figure out. But wouldn’t you be? I was with Tamlin for eight years! Did you know that after hearing your worthless and pathetic and that you deserve what happens to you for so long, you start to believe it? So unless you’ve dealt with that for eight years and been trapped in a marriage to someone like that for eight years, don’t you dare bring it up to me. I have to go.”

She didn’t give Mor a chance to respond as she hung up. 

She pulled into her driveway, took a deep breath and told herself the tears flowing down her cheeks were from her fight with Mor. 

_______________________________________________________

“We’re closed,” Mor yelled as Rhys walked in the bar, then looked up and froze. “Oh.”

“Tell me, Mor. Tell me what happened to her.” He knew there was a reason she’d been freaked out after he kissed her. He just didn’t know what it was. 

“To who?”

He came and sat in one of the bar stools, leveling a look at her. “To Feyre. Why did me kissing her send her running for the hills? I know she told you. She hasn’t answered my calls in six days.”

She shrugged, trying to make herself look casual. “Maybe she’s just not into you.”

“She’s into me.”

Mor snapped, “Maybe she’s not.”

His eyes softened, and she knew he saw it for the lie it was. “What happened to her?”

He could tell she was struggling with not telling him. She might not. But he wanted to fight for her. Wanted to make her happy. He just had to know how. 

She took a deep breath and said, “Feyre and I used to live in New York, you know. That’s where we’re from. And Feyre was married.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“They got married young, and he... changed. He... just.. he was so angry. All the time.” She took a shaky breath. 

“At first, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t see that anything was wrong. But one night, about five years into their marriage, I went to their apartment for dinner, and I saw that she had makeup on her cheek. Not a lot, but... like she was covering something up.” A tear that rolled down her cheek. 

“And he saw. That bastard saw me notice it.” She wiped her cheeks, trying to compose herself. “And I didn’t see her for three years. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere besides work. And he hardly let that happen.”

Rhys closed his eyes sadly, but she continued. “I didn’t see my best friend for three years. Until she showed up in the emergency room.”

His eyes snapped open. 

“I’m her emergency contact. I don’t know why she never changed it when she got married, but she didn’t. So I got the call, and drove to the hospital, and she was-”

She swallowed a sob. “She was in a coma for two days.” 

Mor cleared her throat. “When she woke up, I don’t know how to describe it. She was... different. I helped her divorce him and get a restraining order, but it wasn’t easy. He controlled all her shit. Bank accounts, everything. She was never the same. We left, packed up, and moved to Boston together. She didn’t want him to know where she lived. I think... sometime I think she’s still scared he’ll track her down.” 

“It took her three years to even go on a date. Another to have sex. She says she’s fine, but ever since that night, she won’t let herself actually let anyone in her life. She’s always been a workaholic, but after what happened... I don’t know. It’s like moving on, having a life, makes her remember her life before.” 

Mor sobbed, “And I don’t know how to help her. Because he’s a cop, you know. That’s why it was so hard for her to leave him. We had to go to the freaking governor to get the restraining order.”

A sob wracked her body, so Rhys leaned across the bar and pulled her into a hug. It made sense. Why him showing any sort of feelings freaked her out. Why she’d been cautious around him, Cassian, and Az when they’d first met. Why she didn’t want a relationship with him. 

But it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight for her. That he couldn’t tell her that he’d never hurt her. 

“Mor,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Well, now you do.”

“I want to be with her.”

She nodded, and smiled sadly. “I know.”

“And she wants to be with me, too.” 

Mor nodded again. “Go get your girl, Rhysand. But, just be careful. And I swear to God, if you’re anything like him-”

“I’m not,” he interjected. 

“-I’ll shoot you. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“I’m never going to hurt her. You can count on that. Do you think she’s still at the hospital? If she’s not going to answer the phone, I’m gonna track her ass down.”

________________________________________________________

Feyre scribbled down her note, then peered back into the microscope. She knew it was late, but it’s not like she had anywhere to be. The thought sent a pang through her chest, but she ignored it.

She was so distracted thinking about how big of a mess she was that she didn’t hear him come in the lab.

“Feyre,” a familiar male voice said from behind her. 

She spun around and opened her mouth to scream, but he was faster. She cried out as his fist connected with her ribs, but he stifled the noise when he slapped a hand over her mouth and shoved her against the door. 

She tried to swing a fist toward him, but he pinned her arms against the door. 

“It’s been a long time,” Tamlin said, smiling. “It took me a long time to track you down. You know how I found you? Paparazzi posted a picture of you leaving some football player’s apartment at three in the morning. Little whore.”

She whimpered as he squeezed her jaw. 

“So I came to see you. At first, I wanted to punish you. You were my wife. Mine. And then you go and divorce me. For no reason. I wanted to know why.”

Howie, she thought desperately. If she could signal Howie, he’d come and save her. 

She ignored what he was saying, blocked it out, and bit his hand as hard as she could. 

Tamlin jumped back with a surprised yelp and she barely had a chance to scream before his fist connected with her eye. She fell to the ground and he kicked her in the side, making her curl into a ball. 

“You bitch! Why are you screaming? If you’re trying to get that fat security guard, he can’t hear you.” 

No one’s coming. A tear ran down her cheek onto the floor. 

“Now, as I was saying,” he continued as if nothing had happened. “At first, I wanted to punish you. I had it all planned out.”

He knelt on the floor, brushing the hair off her cheek. 

“But then I realized something. I realized you ruined my life. You told everyone I worked with, hell you told the governor, that I abused you. You got me kicked off the force.” 

“Why are you here? What do you want?” 

Please leave please leave me alone-

“I want you to suffer for what you did-”

“I do-” 

Her cheek stung as a palm connected with it, making her cry out. 

“Do not interrupt me again.” His voice was so cold, so calculating. “I want you to suffer. I want you to lose everything, like I did. But the only thing you ever cared about is work. And I couldn’t get you fired. No, you’re too good at your job.”

She shook with fear as he smiled down at her.

“But then I thought, if the job won’t lose you, you can lose the job.”

He ran a thumb over her lip, and she was paralyzed with fear when she realized the bitter taste in her mouth was gas. 

“What did you do?” she asked softly.

His fist closed around her throat. She clawed at his hand, kicked at him, tried everything, but she was stuck. It had never mattered how hard she fought. 

When her vision started to fade, he let go. 

“Don’t question me,” he snapped as Feyre hauled oxygen into her burning lungs. 

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a lighter, grinning down at her.

Feyre’s stomach bottomed out. 

She had to think, had to do something. Or else she was going to die in here. 

“You were so consumed by your work, you didn’t even smell the gas I lined this fucking room with. Always so distracted by your work.” 

He laughed softly, “And now you’ll burn with it.”

He flicked the lighter open, and time seemed to stand still. Feyre didn’t let herself hesitate as she reached onto the counter, grabbed the beaker she knew was sitting there, and broke it over Tamlin’s head. 

He swore and closed the lighter, then swung at her. She rolled away from him, placing a kick in between his legs that had him gasping for air. 

She got up and sprinted for the door. Her fingers were closing around the handle when he caught up to her, grabbing her head and slamming her face into the metal door frame. 

Feyre sank to the floor, and Tamlin knelt in front of her. She tasted blood, felt it running down her face, and knew from experience her nose was broken. 

As he punched her in the stomach, she could tell she’d have a ruptured spleen. 

He was still dripping wet from the beaker, but he leaned close and laughed. 

He opened the lighter close to her face, the heat warming her skin. 

“You always were a fighter.” 

This is it. If she didn’t fight now, it was over. He’d drop that lighter, and they’d both go up in flames. Together at last. 

Gritting her teeth, she told herself she wasn’t going to die here tonight. She was going to live. 

She was going to kill her ex-husband. 

Bringing her knees close, she rallied her strength and kicked his chest as hard as she could. As he fell backward, she jumped to her feet. 

Before he could react, she grabbed the lighter out of his hand, threw it on his chest, and rushed out the door. 

What Tamlin hadn’t realized when he’d lined the room with gas was that there were more chemicals in there than anywhere else in the hospital. He didn’t even have to use gasoline. But now that he had, one open flame, and the whole place was going to blow.

She ignored the growing flames on the other side of the glass as she engaged the door’s security lock. Ignored Tamlin’s screams as the petrol from the beaker reacted with the oxygen in the air and the present flame, erupting in flames twenty times hotter than usual. 

She ignored everything happening around her except Rhysand. 

Rhysand, who was running toward her, a confused and terrified look on his face. 

She had no idea what he was doing here, but she sprinted full force at him, also ignoring the fact that he was a professional football player. She wrapped her arms around him and tackled him to the ground as the room behind her erupted. 

Glass and debris and pieces of paper still on fire rained down on them as she looked down at him. 

She laid on top of him, shielding him as best she could, and grabbed his face. Please be alive, please be alive.

His eyes shot open, arms coming around her to brush debris off her back. 

“Feyre, are you all right? What the hell happened?” His voice was fuzzy, like she was underwater. 

She probably had a concussion from where Tamlin had slammed her against the door. 

Tamlin. 

Tamlin was dead. She’d killed Tamlin. 

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”

Rhys was shaking her, telling her to stay awake. Alarms were going off, the sprinkler system sensing the fire and raining a flood down on them. 

He was screaming her name. 

She just looked at him and smiled softly. “I love you, by the way,” she whispered. Like it was the easiest thing she’d ever said. Like she’d been waiting to say it. 

“I love you,” she whispered again.

Then passed out. 

_______________________________________________________

There was something warm and heavy on her lap. And it had hair. 

She opened her eyes and looked down at Rhys, peacefully sleeping with his head resting on her legs. 

Gently, she ran a hand through his hair. 

She was in a hospital bed, that much was obvious. There were probably police men outside waiting for a statement from her about why her much-beloved lab had been blown to pieces under her watch. 

She knew from experience that as soon as she officially woke up, she’d be surrounded be nurses and police officers and doctors asking how she felt and... 

She ran a finger down Rhys’s cheek. 

She knew he was awake when his mouth twisted into a smile and he murmured, “Do that again.”

She did. 

His eyes opened to meet hers, full of worry and passion and anger. 

“Hi,” she whispered. 

“Hi.” He picked his head up and put a hand on her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. This gown suits you.”

She knew he said it to distract her, and smile tugged at her lips, even as tears sprung to her eyes. 

She was in the hospital. Again. Because of her ex-husband. And Rhys was here. He’d probably never look at her the same after this. Would probably pity her now. 

He leaned in, and she thought he was about to kiss her, but his mouth landed on her cheek instead. As he licked her tear off her face. 

“That’s disgusting,” she murmured, not pushing him away as he moved to the other cheek. 

He pulled back and grinned. 

“Mor told me about your ex-husband,” he said softly. 

Before she could reply, he surprised her by murmuring, “And I honestly don’t know why you say you don’t have any country in you.”

Had he hit his head when she’d tackled him?

“What?” 

“Considering you barbecued his ass,” he finished with a laugh.

Despite how awful and wrong that was, a giggle escaped her. And another. And another, until she was laughing along with him. 

“That’s so fucked up,” she said, still smiling. 

“Yeah, it is, but it’s all I’ve been able to think for the past four hours.” 

Then his smile faded and his eyes grew serious. He put both hands on her face and pulled her close to him. “Feyre.”

“Rhysand.”

“It’s over now. He’s never going to hurt you again. No ones ever going to hurt you again. I’m so proud of you.” He said it all in the softest tone possible, and it made her chest hurt with how much she needed those words. 

“I killed him,” she whispered, the reality of it crashing into her. 

He shook his head. “You defended yourself. He was going to kill you. You fought like hell, and you won.”

Feyre nodded, pulling him closer until his weight was on top of her and his arms were around her. 

“You kicked his ass,” he murmured through her hair. “My little brawler.” 

She smiled, running her hands over his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. 

She pulled back far enough to say, “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster and I didn’t protect you-”

“Rhysand.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head and flicked his nose. “Shut up.”

“Okay.” 

He hugged her again. “You should know,” he said a moment later, pulling back to give her a smile, “that Mor is outside with Azriel and Cassian.”

“Oh, God.” 

“Yeah. I think they had to give Mor a sedative to calm her down. I’ll go get her if you want.”

Feyre shook her head, deciding to give herself another moment before dealing with that brand of crazy. 

“Do you remember what you said to me? After you tackled me? Which, by the way, was insanely sexy.” 

She knew under the humor was a twinge of anxiety, so she said, “I could talk about the homo-eroticism of what you just said, but I’ll give you a break. You’re under a lot of stress.”

Rhysand grinned and raised an eyebrow. 

“I love you,” she murmured. “You know I do.”

“I do,” he replied smugly, smirking like a cat. “I love you, too.” 

He leaned down and kissed her softly, ignoring the probably nasty black eye and bruised jaw. He kissed her, and she didn’t care about anything in the world. 

Until the door banged open. 

“You’re awake and you didn’t tell me!” Mor screeched, running in the room and throwing herself on Feyre, bruises be dammed. “Of course you didn’t because you wanted a chance to make out with your boyfriend before you did. Selfish, Feyre! Selfish!”

“Mor,” she muttered, hugging her back tightly. “I’m awake.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he best friend laughed.

“I love you, too.”

Rhys laughed and got out of his chair, probably going to talk to his friends and update them. 

For the first time in years, everything felt right. It felt good. She was excited for tomorrow, not because of work, but because for the first time in a long time, she had people in her life she was going to fight to keep there. 

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid. 

_____________________________________________________

FUCK sorry this is so long! I literally had no intention of taking this route when I started writing it, but shit happens when it’s 2 am and you’ve had a long week. 

As always, feel free to send me requests/asks/whatever. I love hearing from yall. 

@bamchickawowow

[brittle-bone-gabe]

The Forgotten: Chapter Ten - The Old Times

Chapter One , Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Epilogue

Summary: Barry Berkman couldn’t remember much of his childhood; he knew he used to live in Derry, Maine, but that was about it, besides being taken by his “Uncle Fuches” at age 16 to move to Cleveland, Ohio. Eddie Kaspbrak moved from Derry, Maine to LA, becoming a police officer, surprisingly enough. Normally things were quiet for the most part, besides the occasional drug busts, but it’s when someone named Barry Block enters his line of sight as a possible suspect for the recent string of murders he has to push the feeling of remembrance to investigate.     Pairing: Adult Reddie  (Richie x Eddie) Or, technically, Barry x Eddie Read on AO3: Here

Back at his and Fuches’ hotel room, Richie was sitting on his fold out bed, drinking heavily with the goal in mind is to get drunk so he could forget about this whole fucking day. It was goddamn awful… First, he accidentally spills his entire life and basically all the crimes he’s ever done, and second, he wanted to change his name. Yeah, that second point shouldn’t have been something Richie would regret, but it only seemed like there was one person in his corner and that was Mr. Cousineau. Richie honestly couldn’t tell if Eddie was supporting him or just trying to pile up enough evidence to get him arrested, but at this point whatever happened to Richie happened. He wasn't going to fight anymore, he was too tired and depressed to do so. Besides, it wasn’t like Fuches was going to help him, not like he could help anyways…

Richie had his head bowed, his head pounding as he was holding a vodka bottle in his hands that he didn’t even notice Fuches had walked up to him, looking extremely disappointed. Well, what else was new? The real question should be who wasn’t disappointed in him?

“What the fuck are you doing, Barry?” Fuches demanded, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor.

“‘y name’s Richie now,” Richie slurred, raising his head so he could look at him, chugging the bottle again.

“No the fuck it isn’t!” Fuches snapped, snatching the patched up glasses with tape on the bridge from Richie’s face.

“Give those back!” Richie whined, making no attempt to reach for the glasses, knowing he was getting too tipsy, so if he did he would end up falling off the bed.

“Not until you drop this Richie business!”

Richie was silent for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as he stared at the bottle in his hand trying to think of what he wanted to say to him. There was so much he wanted to say in general, but he had nobody to talk to about anything. Sometimes he wished he could go to therapy, but Richie was sure that any therapist had to report anything he told them to the police or something. He was trapped in his own mind with no way to escape.

“Fuches… why did you make me change my name?” Richie asked, looking up at the older man with a sad look in his eyes.

At first, it seemed as though Fuches was going to spill another lie, but it took an entirely different turn of direction. He let out a sigh, taking a seat next to Richie, holding the glasses out to him.

“Because,” he started, “you were going to have a different life after I took you from Maine, right?” Richie blinked, not understanding what he was getting at, but still nodded in response. “A different life means a different name, right?”

“I guess…”

“And now that you’re in this life your name’s Barry now, right?” Richie didn’t say anything, he just stared straight ahead past Fuches like he wasn’t paying attention. Great, he was manipulating him again… not like that wasn’t new, Fuches has been manipulating him since they left Maine. “ Right, Barry?” Fuches said through his teeth, as if he was getting irritated with him.

“‘m still going by Richie…”

Fuches shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You gotta see Hank tomorrow, Barry. He’s getting impatient that Bell isn’t dead yet.”

“...Who?”

Fuches groaned, standing up from the bed, confusing Richie about what he did wrong this time. Well, he was just fucking everything up today, wasn’t he?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all Fuches said as he grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“ Out.”

Richie opened his mouth for him to elaborate, but Fuches was already on his way out, slamming the door behind him. He let out a deep sigh, suddenly feeling more depressed than he’s ever had before. Nothing was going right, his whole identity was being pulled into two different directions; Fuches and Sally were basically telling him that he was Barry and nobody else, while Mr. Cousineau and Eddie were encouraging him to be whoever Richie Tozier was. He smacked himself as hard as he could in the face for no reason other than he was drunk and frustrated. He slammed the bottle of vodka on the end table before grabbing a pillow to muffle his frustrated screams as that was the only way he could think of to release some of his anger.

He clutched the pillow tight, holding it against himself as he began to cry silently. Every wrong thing that Richie’s ever done was flooding back to him all at once and it drove him mad. The night he had to kill Chris so he wouldn’t go to the police, the person who he had considered to be his best friend; the night he practically lured Janice over to the tree where he had his gun hidden in case he needed to use it and proceeded to kill her and hid her car and body so he wouldn’t get arrested, ultimately destroying Mr. Cousineau’s life. Hell, even all the fights that Richie and Sally had came back to him and made him realize that he couldn’t even hold a relationship or connect with anyone at all, and there was nowhere he felt he could run to.

As a last resort in his drunken state of mind, Richie wiped the tears from his eyes before reaching over the side of his bed. From underneath the thin, flimsy mattress he pulled out an extra pistol he kept there for emergencies. Richie tucked his legs to his chest, rocking back and forth with the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He felt lost, scared, alone, and extremely hopeless.

Richie didn’t want to do this anymore.

It was a struggle since he was so drunk, but Richie managed to stand up from the fold out of bed, swaying slightly as he did. He grabbed the bottle that was still on the nightstand, taking a swing of it when he noticed the piece of paper that had been sitting underneath it. Richie tilted his head to the side, replacing the bottle with the paper that had Eddie’s personal number written neatly over it in pen. Would it be worth it to even call Eddie? Would he even answer? Letting out a sigh, Richie took out his phone from his back pocket, drunkenly dialing the number as he stumbled his way over to the bathroom, as he suddenly felt anxious and needed to puke.

Richie dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, puking up his guts from the anxiety and all the alcohol he consumed. If he didn’t feel awful before he did now, his stomach and throat burning. He felt like he was going to suffocate from lack of oxygen, not being able to even suck in a little bit of air from the constant puking he was doing.

Once he was able to regain a bit of control, he wiped the tears from his eyes, hearing someone on the phone that was sitting next to him on the floor. That’s when he remembered that he had called Eddie for… for some reason that he couldn’t remember.

“Richie? Richie, are you okay?” Richie heard Eddie ask him as he pressed the phone to his ear, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

“‘m so ready to kill myself,” Richie slurred into the phone, leaning against the tub that was next to him, still on the floor. Tears were still burning in his eyes, it had been a long time since he actually let out a real, breakdown cry, and Richie felt like it was something he needed, minus the breakdown part.

Eddie was honestly taken aback, he wasn’t expecting Richie to say something like that. That just… wasn’t something his Richie would ever say… Even though he had told Eddie so much of what happened from the time he left Derry to now, Eddie felt like he would not be able to truly understand what he’s been through to make him feel like this.

“What’s wrong, Richie?”

Richie couldn’t help it as he started to breathe heavily, feeling like he was going into a panic attack. He looked at the gun in his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“What’d you call me?”

“Richie. That’s what you wanted me to call you, right? I can call you Bar-”

“No! No, no, no… Don’t call me that… I’m Richie.”

“Yeah… you’re Richie.”

Eddie was trying to be as careful as possible with what words he chose, maybe it was all his time at work with the training he had for situations like this, or maybe since he knew Richie and knew he wouldn’t say anything like that without a reason that raised some flags. It was extremely obvious that he was distressed, clearly drunk from the way he was slurring his words. Hearing him throw up as soon as Eddie picked up had made him cringed.

“Hey, Richie? Do you have… anything that could hurt you?” As much as Eddie hated asking that question to anyone, it felt awkward and pushy, but if Richie did have something that could possibly be a harm to him then Eddie needed to know.

Being as drunk as he was, Richie couldn’t even phantom the idea of lying to Eddie. He was that type of drunk who spilled everything even when he wasn’t prompted, that being the reason he didn’t get too hammered while out in public, especially when out drinking with those from his acting class. Sure, they may take whatever he may have spilled out as him practicing monologue or a script or something, but there was no way Richie was risking it. “I have a gun,” he admitted, pressing the side of the weapon to his forehead, feeling the cool steel against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rocking back and forth slightly enough for his back to bang into the tub wall.

He was conflicted, as much as Richie wanted to end his own life, he felt like talking to Eddie was helping him greatly. Like having that comfort that somebody was willing to be there for him was enough to make him rethink all of this…

“ Okay… is it-” Before Eddie could even get his question out, Richie cocked the gun he was holding, hearing it made Eddie panic, his heart now slamming against his chest. “ Where are you at, Rich? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Richie sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “In my hotel room…” he admitted, that’s when it hit him that he’s never actually told anyone where he lived, not even Hank knew where he and Fuches stayed. It never made sense to Richie why they didn’t just get an apartment like a normal person, it would save money if they did that, but if there was ever a reason they both needed to bail quickly the lease couldn’t backtrack to them in any way.

“Your hotel room? Okay, cool, cool… How about this?” Eddie was prepared to do anything to get to Richie, to make sure that he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt himself. He had no idea what was going on with him, but Eddie had an idea and he still didn’t want anything to happen to Richie. “I can come pick you up and we can drive around, get some fresh air. How does that sound?”

Even though Eddie couldn’t see him through the phone, Richie still nodded as if he could. To be honest, driving around and getting out of the cramped hotel room did actually sound nice. Yeah, Richie was free to basically go wherever he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he really had anywhere to go. The only time he ever left was to go to his acting classes, to get food at the small, cheap restaurant that was more or less right across the street, but that was about it. What a sad, sad life he lived… What would’ve happened if he never left Derry? If he stayed with that group of friends that Eddie reminded him of when showing Richie that photo… Maybe he would’ve gone to college, get a degree in… something. Fuck, Richie couldn’t even remember what his interests were before being forced to leave. What did he want to go to college for? He did remember that it was that time in high school where everyone in their grade kept getting pressured by almost every teacher about what they wanted to do with their lives.

What do you want to do with your life, Richie?

I dunno, kill people for money. No big deal. Don’t need to go to college for that, right?

“Please…” Richie finally squeaked, hearing Eddie let out the breath that he had been holding. Apparently Richie had been lost in his thoughts longer than he thought he had, which had made Eddie panic silently.

“No problem. Which hotel and which room? I’ll come get you.”

Richie more or less slurred in words together, but it was enough for Eddie to understand which hotel he was in at least. It wasn’t too far from his apartment, about ten minutes, maybe twenty minutes depending on the traffic.

“Jus… just let me know when you’re here-”

“How about you just stay on the phone with me?” Eddie told him as he was rummaging around his apartment for his keys that he of course couldn’t find at the last goddamn minute.

Richie didn’t say anything, he wasn’t used to somebody caring so much about him, especially not enough to come to him to make sure he was going to be okay.

“Okay…” He finally mumbles into the phone.

                                                                 -----

Eddie had raced down the flight of stairs of his apartment building, his keys held tightly in his hand, the brass keys were digging into his skin as he held the cell phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he opened the door to the parking lot. He could understand that Richie wasn’t in the mood to talk, but Eddie needed him to keep talking, so he could make sure he was doing okay. Or… at least not going through with anything. This entire situation is delicate and Eddie needed to make sure he was going to make the right choices here.

“Richie?” Eddie asked into the phone, hoping that he was still there and still doing okay. Or, as okay as Richie could be. “What are you doing right now, man?”

He could hear Richie drop a bottle on a tile floor, the sound was loud, causing Eddie to flinch. As Eddie was waiting for an answer, he put his car into drive, speeding off out of the parking lot and down the road.

“ ‘m not doin’ anything,” Richie more or less whined into the phone, his back still pressed up against the tub wall. He felt as though if he stood up to go back into his bed he would tumble over from how drunk he had gotten. He said he wouldn’t do anything, yet he was still holding the gun in his head, his brain still contemplating whether or not he should just pull the trigger and get this over with. “ I swear ‘m fine.”

“I trust you… I just need you to keep talking to me, okay?”

“ I don’t have anything to say…” Richie admitted, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around his knees, pulling them closer. He chuckled, it wasn’t like someone telling a joke chuckle, it was more like he was having a dark thought. “Would think you’d hear if I shot myself.”  

“Don’t think like that, you’re going to be okay, alright?”

It was silent for a good minute or two, the longest moment of silence Eddie’s been through. He had no idea what to say, it was as though all the training that Eddie has done for these exact moments flew out the window. Almost like he wasn’t even thinking like a cop right now but as a concerned friend.

As Eddie opened his mouth to speak, a faint sob came from the other end of the line. The sound broke his heart, as kids Eddie must’ve only seen Richie cry once, to this day Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about, but he knew that it was something to do with family matters. It sucked, Richie had always seemed like such a happy kid, but from piecing what Eddie could together it seemed like his home life was awful… Sure, his wasn’t the best either, but goddamn…

“Richie?”

“I’m tired.”

“I’m almost there, okay? You gotta hang on. … Richie?”

Richie took a swing from his alcohol, sniffling before answering. “ I’m here…”

Eddie turned into the hotel that Richie had been staying at for an undetermined amount of time. Thankfully there was an easy parking spot right up front by the door, Eddie would’ve been pissed off if he had to go around over and over to find a goddamn spot. Road rage was certainly one of his downfalls.

“I’m coming up, alright? I’m almost there,” he told him as he walked up to the elevator, repeatedly pressing the floor up button, hoping that somehow that would make the elevator doors open faster. As soon as he entered, Richie was trying to tell him something, but all that was coming out was static and everything was cutting due to the lost connection just from stepping inside the elevator.

Cursing under his breath, Eddie removed the phone from his ear, pressing the fourth floor button, trying to go back to his phone app to call Richie back. No matter how many times he tried calling him back it either didn’t go through, or it rang a couple of times before going straight to voicemail, which made Eddie believe that Richie was declining his calls. Fuck.

The moment the elevator stopped, Eddie slipped out the doors as they were still sliding open. He paused for a moment, getting a feel for how the room numbers were laid out. Since Richie’s room was twelve, it should theoretically be in the center of the hallway. The entire time he was looking at each door to check for door numbers he was trying to call Richie again, just to be sure he was doing okay, even though it’s been less than a minute since the call dropped.

Once he found Richie’s room, he couldn’t help but immediately try the doorknob to see if it would be, hopefully, unlocked…. But it wasn’t… Fuck, fuck, fuck… Eddie started pounding on the door, hoping that he was able to get Richie’s attention. Hoping that he didn’t do anything in that short time span. It only took a few seconds to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger. Eddie pressed his ear against the door, trying to determine if there was any movement coming from inside, but there wasn’t. Goddammit.

“Richie!” Eddie called, pressing his hands against the door. Normally he’d be concerned with people staying in the rooms around them, he would hate to disturb them, but this was important. “Richie, I swear to god, you better open this door or I’ll kick it down!”

Pressing his ear against the door again, this time, thankfully, Eddie could hear small footsteps coming towards the door. Oh, thank god.

Two locks from the otherside became undone, Richie opened the door, just standing there, staring at Eddie as he was swaying slightly side to side due to the alcohol. In fact, Eddie was sure if it weren’t for Richie holding onto the doorknob he would’ve fallen over. Richie’s eyes were red and puffy, tear stains down his cheeks and the gun still in his hand. Eddie was extremely concerned, as he was, hearing him over the phone and seeing him in person were two heavily different things.

“Put the gun down, Rich,” Eddie said in a low voice, so nobody could hear him, yet it was in a cautious tone.

Richie didn’t say anything, in fact, he turned around, leaving the door opened as he shuffled his feet through the carpet flooring on his way back to his fold out bed. Eddie let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him out of habit. Richie tossed his gun down on the bed before taking a seat, burying his face in his hands, rocking back and forth. He began sobbing again, again, seeing this in person was way worse than hearing it over the phone…

“Richie… hey…” Eddie started, moving over to him.

It was as though Richie had forgotten that Eddie was even there, that he had been on the phone with him as he was sitting on the bathroom floor, because once he heard his voice the tears instantly stopped, as though nobody was allowed to see him cry. He moved his hands away from his face, wiping the tears away. When he noticed Eddie was starting to get too close Richie instantly stood up, causing Eddie to jump, moving back as not to scare him or making him feel uncomfortable.

Richie didn’t go very far, he moved over to the mirror that was hanging up horizontal to a dresser. All he did was stand there in silence, staring at his own reflection. Everything Richie’s ever done was flashing through his eyes; killing Chris, killing Janice, the things he did while in the Marine, his time in the hospital… Why the fuck couldn’t he have a normal life like everyone else?

Eddie wasn’t sure what to do now… He felt like he should go comfort Richie, but he was worried about what was going through his mind right now, he didn’t want to risk startling him.

“Richie-”

Before Eddie could even get this sentence thought out, Richie’s face scrunched up in frustration before sending his fist against the mirror as hard as he could. Glass shards flew everywhere, startling Eddie, making it hard to wrap his head around what just happened. Blood droplets dropped to the floor, running down Richie’s arm with shards of glass stuck in his skin.  Richie was numb, he couldn’t even register what he had done, not only was he emotionally numb, but his hand and arm became numb from the shock. The entire time he didn’t stop looking at himself now through the cracked mirror. His breathing became heavy, face twisting up like he wanted to cry, once he felt hands on his shoulders he tried his best to compose himself to show that nothing was wrong when that obviously was a lie.

“Breathe,” Eddie told him as he moved Richie away from the broken mirror to sit back down on the fold out mattress, “you gotta breathe.” It was getting to the point where it sounded as though Richie was about to start hyperventilating.

Richie let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands as he was trying to gather his thoughts. He was drunk, the world around him was spinning and he wasn’t completely sure what was going on. When he looked up at Eddie again there was blood smeared across his face, causing the shorter man to cringe.

“Why’d you come here, Eds?” Richie asked in a still shaky voice, almost gasping for air as he was almost forgetting to breathe.

Was he serious?

“I thought you were gonna fuckin’ kill yourself!” Eddie said a little too loudly, gesturing towards Richie’s bloodied up hand, “now I gotta take you to the hospital.”

“No hospitals!” Richie said quickly, panicking as he stood up quickly, almost stumbling over. Eddie had to grab him so he wouldn’t topple over.

“Okay, okay… no hospitals…” Eddie said carefully, not sure why he was so against it, but whatever… “Do you have a first aid kit?” Richie shook his head, holding his injured hand close to his chest. “Okay, um… I have one at home. Lets, uh…” Eddie paused, looking around to find something he could use to cover up Richie’s hand until they got him patched up. He grabbed a towel that was sitting on the dresser. “Let's get this wrapped up.”

Richie plopped back down on the fold out mattress, too anxious to say anything, instead he held out his hand to Eddie, who knelt down in front of him. Richie refused to look at him as he felt the towel get tightly wrapped around his hand, causing him to flinch. Some of the glass get pushed deeper in his skin. He whimpered in pain, snatching his hand away after the towel was secured in place.

“Let’s go, Richie.” He wrapped an arm around Richie’s shoulders, helping him stand up so he wouldn’t stumble over when trying to get up. Richie tried to grab the gun that was still on the bed, bringing it for God knows why… Eddie moved him along so he couldn’t grab it, there was no reason he needed to bring it along. “You don’t need that.”

“But-”

“C’mon.”

Eddie guided Richie out of the hotel room, which was a big help on Richie’s end since he would be stumbling without him. Richie was trying so hard to focus on something so he wouldn’t end up throwing up all over the carpeted floor. Surely the hotel wouldn’t appreciate that. Especially with all the possible complaints that were against him and Fuches for yelling at each other all the time, ruining the carpet would most likely get them kicked out for sure.

Getting Richie to Eddie’s car was surprisingly easy, Eddie honestly was expecting for him to start fighting with him and to refuse to leave, but the whole trip to the car he was silent. Eddie opened the passenger side door for Richie, he slid in while holding his injured hand close to his chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, so not only was Richie starting to feel extreme pain in his hand, he was starting to feel exhausted both mentally and physically. Richie had no idea what he was doing, he had his head leaning against the passenger window, staring out of it as Eddie got into the driver's seat.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Richie noticed that they had begun to drive, pulling out of the parking lot. The movement and bumpiness of the road was starting to make Richie feel sick, he felt like he wanted to puke again, but he would have to wait until they stop. To try to help the car sickness, Richie closed his eyes tight, but it wasn’t doing much to help.

“Eddie?” Richie asked suddenly, startling Eddie who already had a tight grip on the steering wheel.

“Hm?”

Richie opened his eyes again, they were now wet as he kept on looking outside. “Am I a bad person?”

“I think…” Eddie paused, he needed to choose his words carefully while also wanting to say how he really felt, “you were just a kid who got caught up in some bad things.”

Richie lifted his head up from the window, glancing over at Eddie, who had his eyes still locked onto the road.

“I mean…” Eddie continued again, feeling Richie’s eyes on him, “you want to walk away, right?” From the corner of his eye he could see Richie nod in agreement. “Well, that’s good. I think you changing your name is a great start. Put all of that behind you.”

“I’m really trying to, Eds. It’s hard, I keep getting pulled back into it.” Richie paused, was he saying too much again? Usually he kept to himself, but around Eddie… it was almost like he forgot how to filter himself. “You’re not gonna arrest me for this, are you?”

Eddie let out a sigh, which made Richie silently panic. He truly felt as though these were going to be his last few moments of freedom. Eddie knew that he should arrest him, he’s known that since they first talked in the car across the street of the precinct, but there was a mental block preventing him to do so.

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to, alright?”

The rest of the short drive was silent, they didn’t have anything to say to each other. It was the same back and forth. Richie felt overly paranoid, now he didn’t feel like speaking to Eddie about anything. He shook his head, leaning forward in his seat with his face buried in his hands again. Richie was feeling so sick, the anxiety and paranoia was certainly not helping mixed in with the alcohol.

Everything around Richie was a blur, from what he could remember he was sitting in the car with Eddie with no sense of time, now he was sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar place. The lights were bright, making Richie’s already pounding head worse. Fuck. Everything was moving both too fast yet slow at the same time. Yeah, Richie would never be drinking this much ever again.

“Eddie?” Richie called out, looking at his wrapped up hand, he couldn’t tell if blood was soaking through or if it was old blood. Either way, it made him concerned about how injured his hand actually was.

“I’m right here,” Eddie said as he came out of the bathroom from across the room, holding a first aid kit in his hand as he made his way back over to Richie. “It’s alright.”

“What if we leave?” Richie blurted out as Eddie set the first aid kit on the coffee table, he could see Eddie’s confused face as he opened up the box and started to go through it.

“Leave?” He wondered, taking out a couple of things that Richie couldn’t make out.

“Yeah, you and me. We leave LA and never come back.”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle as he took a seat next to Richie on the couch. “Why would I need to leave?” He asked, taking Richie’s hand and removing the towel. Thankfully the majority of the bleeding had stopped, it didn’t look like he would need stitches, so that was a good thing.

Richie wasn’t sure what to say, hell, he had no idea why he said that. It wasn’t like they knew each other that well, or… at least anymore. There was no way Eddie would drop his entire life to leave with Richie, that would’ve been stupid. Fuck, why was Richie so stupid?

“Um…” Richie said, watching Eddie take a small alcohol pad, wiping down the small pair of tweezers in his hand. “I dunno, man.”

“You’d want me to come with you?” Eddie asked, focusing on Richie’s hand as he began to pull out the small shards of glass that remained.

Richie flinched every time Eddie dug around in his skin. “Kinda… is that weird?”

Eddie shook his head. “You have your class here, Richie. You should stay.”

“But… a guy… wants me to kill someone because he thinks he’s a rat. I don’t wanna do it.”

“Then don’t do it.” Eddie wiped down Richie’s entire hand with a couple of alcohol pads to clean the wounds and clean up the blood. “You have a choice, y’know?”

“I’m kinda on thin ice with my uncle right now.”

“Oh well.”

Richie couldn’t help but chuckle as Eddie put gauze pads on his hand. “I missed you Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie quickly looked up at him, remembering that stupid fucking nickname. It was clear that some of Richie’s memories were coming back to him and that was great. Maybe that would give him the extra push to leave this life behind for good.

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “I missed you too.” He finished wrapping up Richie’s hand with a self adhesive bandage down to his wrist. “You’re staying here tonight,” Eddie added as he stood up to put away the first aid kit.

That caught Richie off guard, he wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting for Eddie to patch him up then drive him back home.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I won’t, I-”

“You’re staying.”

[hitchell-mope]

(Third film. After “Substitutiary Locomotion”. Jaylos’s room. Carlos is working on a new machine to help them with finding Ben)

Jay: so run this by me again. This is gonna be a...?

Carlos: This IS a DNA tracking device. Two months after dad got the crown we were paired up for an intergrade scirnce fair.

Jay: yeah?

Carlos: I only needed him for one thing. Hair. Hair from dad. Nail clippings from mom, skin flakes from Doug, lipstick blotter from Evie, towel from lonnie, dessert spoon from Jane and I already had loads of dna from you. Because you never clear out the shower drain

Jay: I’ve gotten better at that

Carlos: uhhhh...no. No you haven’t. Hence the inordinate tips I give the cleaning staff

Jay (dryly): thanks sweets

Carlos: you’re welcome dear. Now. Once it’s ready we can go back to the others and finally find my father

(In the halls of the school a certain pirate is lingering near a suit of armour)

Harry (drolly): I can feel you lurking Jay

Hadie (brightly): Jay’s still with Carlos. It’s me. Your brother

(Harry jumps a foot in the air, startled and laund in Hadie’s arms bridal style)

Harry: why...

Hadie: you looked distracted. I thought I could help

Uma (walking up to them): well, ya can’t. Move it or loose it Silkrobe. I wanna talk to him.

Hadie: ok, ok. But (he grabs her upper arm) if you upset him you’ll have me to answer to.

Uma: I’m not scared of you.

Hadie: oh of course you’re not. You’re the sea witches scion. You know what? I see it. I really do. Slimmer. Younger. No lines on your face yet. But the personality. The physicality. The voice. You’re more like Ursula then you care to admit.

(Uma looks like she swallowed an owl whole)

Hadie: I’ll leave you two to chat

(He leaves and Harry approaches her)

Harry: you’re getting called out a lot ain’t ya?

Uma (calming down): I just wanted to tell you that I was wrong.

Harry: hmmmmm?

Hadie: take this dictaphone and commit it to memory. It’ll help when you have another lovers tiff.

Huma: OUT!

Hadie: sorry

(He slinks away)

Uma: I’m sorry.

Harry: for what?

Uma: not believing you, calling you a liar. You know. That whole schtick.

Harry: that’s god. What tipped you off.

Uma: the eye glow and fire hair.

Harry: ahhh. Well then. You’re forgiven. But I am gonna hold it over you. For a long long time

Uma: I’d expect nothing less

(Off towards the side Evie’s looking pissed off)

Evie: great. Now they’re both happy.

Celia: you really do hate them don’t you?

Evie: more then you will ever know

(Near there entrance Mal’s vainly trying to call Ben again)

Mal: please please please work. You have never not answered me when I needed you before so there’s no use in starting now GODDAMIT!

(She throws her phone against the walls and squats down in frustration her head in her hands. She lets out a guttural shuddering screams and vines shoot out from the floor. Hadie pulls Gil away, Evie pulls Celia away, Uma pulls Harry away and Harriet pulls Cj away from the violent magical burst)

Gil: remember what Milo said. Focus on what you can do right now and not what can’t be immediately fixed

Mal: I know I know. It’s just that URGH. I want Ben to be here. Cause at least then I know he’s safe.

Gil: my brother has magic just like yours. He’s fine.

Hadie: Gil’s right.

Mal: how? How could you possibly know. You heard the gunshots. Ben could be anywhere. Unconscious. Bleeding out. Dying. He could already be dead.

Hadie: well. A. If he has you’re magic as you well know he has then he’s nigh invulnerable. B. If he died I would’ve felt it. Doug too. I have this sort of. Radar. Not a gaydar Evie. A real one it’s sort of a feeling. I can feel the exact moment someone’s died. Two people have died in this building. But they’re fully human. Their stamp is different. And the second gunshot was a cover up. I think.

Mal: then how do we find Ben.

Carlos (sauntering in with the tracking device and followed by Jay who’s got the biggest grin on his face): I may be able to help with that oh mother of mine. Behold ladies and gentlemen. And sea witch and bastard pirates. My DNA tracking device. And one of dad’s hairs.

Mal (walking hopefully over to him): really. You brilliant child MWAH (she kisses him on the forehead) uh how does it work?

Carlos (slightly embarrassed but still a little smug): like so

(He puts the strand into the slat. It beeps getting faster and faster and more and more higher pitched. The fizzles out and dies)

Carlos: This didn’t happen last time. And no Evie I literally just fixed it up. I did everything correctly. Why isn’t it. Why isn’t it working? CMON DAMN YOU. WORK. I WANNA FIND MY DAD. ARRRRRGH

(He throw the machine away and copies Mal’s previously hunched over forlorn stance)

Carlos (near tears): I just want my dad back.

(Jay crouches down and hugs him tight)

Gil: what hair did you use?

Carlos: dads! What kind of hair do you think I would’ve used for finding the fucking king?

Gil: purple.

Carlos: huh?

Gil: Ben’s hair is purple now. Like Mal’s. He’s got her magic. And the ember finished the metamorphosis. His hair’s completely purple now. Ergo cinnamon coloured hair wouldn’t work anymore because he’s not fully human anymore.

Harry: what the fuck

Uma: you never used to be this comprehensible

Gil: I’m not just a pretty face and a hot bod now. Cranial gears are turning constantly in this ol noggin of mine. I like it here

Carlos: so, I’m not a failure

Mal (smiling reassuringly): not even close

Evie: you never were C.

Jay: at least we know it still works.

Hadie: our nephews a genius

Harry: he ain’t my nephew. He’s my would be victim

Mal: I can turn into a dragon so watch your cartoonishly lipless mouth

Harry: or what?

Mal: how does a gangly fillet mingon sound?

Harry: I dunno what that is but since you’re the one that said it then it’s gonna mean my death

Mal: so you finally managed to win at connect the dots. Congratulations dickbrain

Cj: Harry

Harry: give me one good reason I should snap you’re fugly little neck right now

Jay: Mal

Mal (sarcastically): uhhhh I’m a dragon which is how we started this ridiculous skit in the first place

Gil: HEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!! Look!

(The other ten follow the direction he’s pointing in. While Mal and hook were arguing the suits of armour snuck up on them. A hundred of them from all over the school. All to stop them in their tracks. This is when the opening to “this is war” happens)

Carlos: oh. My. Grandfather

Evie: what do we do?

Mal: uhhhh

Evie: Mal! WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO?

Uma: we fight. This is what we know.

Mal: I think they want me

Jay: nuh uh. No way. Ain’t gonna happen. You are not pulling the self sacrificial care. Not again.

Celia: I can take em

Core five, Huma, Hadie and the hook sisters: think again kiddo

Celia: oh I can fight

Mal: it’s a warning

Jay: a what?

(This is when “this is war” starts fully. After the song Mal nearly collapses but Jay catches her)

Mal: ohhh I cant believe that worked

Jay: you alright

Mal: don’t worry about me. Celia, you doing ok?

Uma: she’s fine

Celia: I can speak for myself thanks. I’m fine Mal.

Mal: good. Now we need to send a message to Maleficent and Chad. Maybe if I

Harry: oh for fucks sake. There’s more of them

(Sure enough. Thirty more suits of armour are marching towards the eleven vks)

Mal: of course. Oh my god I’m an idiot, not one word, from any of you or your tongue will disappear. If it’s Maleficent’s spell then

Jay: only another spell will counteract it

Evie: but what spell can counteract that of a dark fairy armed with the fairy godmothers wand.

Hadie: that of a god

(They all turn to look at him)

Hadie: with a little help from a free genie and child prodigy of course

Jaylos: we’re in

Mal: I hope to our father you know what you’re doing

Hadie: I’m a disciple of Dionysus. The first of this generation actually. What better way to stop the embodiment of evil with the embodiment of fun?

Mal: I wouldn’t know. I was never much fun

Evie: it’s true. I have it written on record in my diary.

Mal: oh that reminds me. Now we’re really sisters. I can read your diary with impunity

Evie: you can’t. Seriously. You can’t. It’s locked in a chest in my macrame room. And no one but Doug and I are allowed in my macrame room

Mal: That’s because it’s not a macrame room isn’t it? It’s you and Doug’s own private little love

Carlos: ohhhhkay. Let’s break this up before someone, Evie, gets thrown through a window or shot apart with glass.

Hadie: I concur nephew. Now everyone get to safety. Jay, Carlos and I will handle things from here

(Mal and Uma poof everyone else out of the room)

Hadie (eyes glowing a steely grey): suit of armor strong and true/make this metal bust a move

(This is when “cha cha slide” happens. After the song Hadie steps up to the final suit of armour)

Hadie: I believe my dear sister should have the honour of felling this one don’t you?

Jay: I should think so yes. What about you C?

Carlos: just tell em it’s safe to come back and dispense with the bullshit

Jay: Mal, Evie, Gil, Celia. Guys, it’s ok to come back now.

Hadie: Harry too

Jay: urgh...fine. Fathead as well.

(Two streams of smoke, one purple and one turquoise, swirl up from the floor and the other eight vks appear)

Mal: so what’s with the, uh, lone cyberman?

Jay: first of all, impeccable reference. Second of all, the three of us thought that you should do away with this yahoo

Mal: why?

Uma: yeah, why should she do it

Jay: because Mal is queen and you, captain calamari, barely qualify as a peasant. Go on M.

Mal: ok, ok. Ok. How do I...? OOH! I know. Ahem. (Her eyes start glowing). Go back to your masters, tell them that the vks are back in Auradon. We are running them out of town. And we are not gonna rest until they’re defeated. GO!

(The final suit of armour marches away)

Hadie: you’re incredible

(Uma looks mortally offended)

Mal: thanks. If you’ll excuse me (she takes a long swig if whiskey out of a hip flask) ohhhh that’s much better

Uma: is she seriously gonna be doing this most of the day?

Mal: probably. Milo’s asleep. So I’ve not got my therapist in hand.

Jay: if you don’t like it you can go

Hadie: please, please go

Evie: and ideally take a long walk off a short pier

Carlos: and get eaten by sharks

Celia: she’s my sister guys

Jaylos, Evie and Hadie: Sorry Ceels

Celia: Don’t be. She’s a drag

Mal: we need to find Ben

Carlos: agreed

Mal: so here’s what we’re gonna do. Evie, Uma and I are gonna take Celia to Evie and Doug’s place you’re rest up, I know you say you’re fine but your dad told me to look after you and I’m not ready to gain my inheritance yet

Uma: huh

Celia: dad’ll kill her if I get hurt or die

Uma: ohhhh

Mal: Jay, Carlos, Gil, Hadie. You guys look for Ben. The forest, the lake, surrounding areas. Any other places you can think of.

Hadie (joyfully): oh wait wait wait.

Mal: yeah?

Hadie: there’s a lot of intermagical tension within this little group and I personally feel that it could be dissipated if we do something about it

Mal: heh?

Hadie: an ice breaker

(The others groan outwardly)

Hadie (oblivious): I’ll go first. Harry

Harry (to himself): oh shit

Hadie: I love that your head has shrunk down from your infancy

(There’s a highly troubled silence)

Hadie (brightly): who’d like to go next

Carlos: I will. Gil. I love that you took to inventing like a duck to water.

Hadie: awww

Carlos: I’m not done yet. Uma. I hate you.

Hadie: ok...?

Carlos: I hate your. Idiocy. Your shortsightedness. Your malevolence. Your vindictiveness. Your. Obsession with one upping my mother. But if I’d course you don’t do you? Not if you’re the one in the right. Do you even know what he tried to do to me? Five years ago on my eleventh birthday I got lost in the marketplace. Separated from Mal and jay. I wandered into the docks. And I heard barking. Loud. Feral. Wolf like barking. I ran. But he cornered me. I yelled for help. And I heard you laughing. You laughed as I cried for someone to save me. Someone did. Evie. Did. She stabbed him in the leg. We left Harry bleeding out on the floor. But I still have nightmares sometimes. And I think I’ll always have them. But that’s ok. But you have to keep that away from me if you ever want me to see you as anything other than a petty vindictive shrimpy looking bitch.

Hadie (nonplussed): wow. Harry is this true?

Harry (very very surprised but not at all ashamed): well I uh...oh yeah. And I’d do it again. It was a really fun time for me

Carlos: I’m gonna kill him

Mal: bury the body in the forest. We’ll split up into two groups. My sister and cousins with me. Jay leads the search for Ben. Carlos Gil and Hadie go with him

Uma: and what about them?

(She points to the hook sibling)

Mal: honestly I blocked them out. Uhhhh.

Carlos: they can go with us.

Everyone else: what?

Carlos: my boyfriends a genie. My uncles a god. They can keep them in line. And as the cliche goes. Keep those you hate in short spikes

Cj: that is not the

Mal, Jay and Evie: yes it is.

Hadie: so I guess this is where we part ways. Awww. Our little family’s breaking up. I’m sad now

(Audrey walks in just as Hadie’s about to bear hug Evie)

Audrey: Mal?

Mal (relieved): Audrey? Good. You’re not asleep. He’s not gotten to you yet.

Audrey: no. Ben told me to activate the defensive mechanisms. Then I heard you fighting. Carlos you were great by the way. And who are these guys

Hadie: my names Hadie. I’m gay.

Audrey: I’m Audrey. And do I really look desperate?

Evie: don’t talk to me, I hate you

Mal: RIGHT! Of course. Introductions. Hadie’s my oldest brother. The one with a raccoon face that’s eyeing you like a piece of meat is my other brother Icarus. Sidenote: Evie’s my little sister and she’s 24 hours younger than me. Scary looking girl is Uma, my cousin. She’s hates me. Redcoat is Harry’s ever something truthful sister Harriet, their father is very imaginative. And the other one eyeing you like a piece of meat is Harry’s other sister Cj. Listen gormless. Audrey’s straight. You’re not getting lucky

Cj: dammit

Audrey: Uma...oh yeah. I’ve heard of you. Though judging from your frankly terrifying expression my longevity relies on me not saying what I’ve heard so I’ll shut up now

Uma (scowling): good choice

Mal: lets go to your room. We can talk there. I’m still not entirely sure this areas safe. Walls could have ears

(They all go to Audrey’s room. Outside the school Hades is trying to explain himself to Elsa)

Hades: what else do you need to know? I’ve said everything of importance

Elsa: but what I don’t get is why show up now

Hades: to help. To help my children defeat my ex wife

Lonnie: whoah whoah uhuh um. Ex wife?

Hades: yes. Maleficent. She left the morning after the ceremony. Can you imagine?

Lonnie: sadly yes.

Hades: I feel your pain. She was exquisite in the

Lonnie (hands covering her ears): LALALALALALALALALALALALALAIMNOTLISTENINGLALALALALALALALALALA

Elsa: it’s a tetchy subject

Hades: so I can see

Jane: are you really here to help

Dizzy: more to the point. Is Harry really my uncle?

Hades: yes. And yes

Dizzy: this is proof more then ever that there is no god. Except there is. You’re it. But he still exists. Why

Hades: I was hard up

Dizzy: I’m gonna need so much therapy after this

Elsa: agreed. Well my lord hades. I’m sorting this out so there’s no need for you here. If you’ll be on your way I can help my daughter and her friends

Hades: my daughters and their friend could do with my help

Lonnie (aside to the other two): you’ve heard of fighting in-laws? Well here’s the rarer but just as intense biological parents vs adoptive parents. I saw it on tv once

Dizzy: and?

Lonnie: nothing made sense. But hades seems nicer then Regina.

Dizzy: mom wouldn’t let me watch that show. She hated that woman

Lonnie: many do

Jane: and the rest?

Lonnie: think she’s a lesbian and in love with the biological parent. Who’s also her step granddaughter

Jane: some people are very weird

Lonnie: tell me about it

Elsa: I don’t want to hear it. You left them to their mothers and that cannot be forgiven. So no. I’m not gonna let you interfere with my daughter or her friends

Lonnie: here’s an idea. How about we all go help? Hades is more powerful then Maleficent. Elsa is an entirely different class of magic. We’re up against the fairy godmothers wand. Aka. Jane’s inheritance. So it’d be more productive if we all pooled our efforts, locate my boyfriend and his family and then take down chad and Maleficent. How does that sound

(The adults murmur their agreement)

Lonnie: now we can concentrate on

(A window on one of the upper floors explodes and a giant shadow flies out followed by a couple of gauntlets and pieces of chainmail and four helmets)

Jane: oh that is not good

Hades (worriedly): Celia. Oh this is not good

Lonnie: what do we do?

Hades: I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to get my children and my boyfriends daughters

Jane: I’m sorry what?

Dizzy: Uma and Celia are Doctor Facillier’s daughters. And how come you never told me you were dating him

Hades: it’s only been six months sweetheart. No one really knows yet and I’m an idiot cause he swore me to secrecy. Great. My wife’s going to be so thrilled

Jane: you have a wife? But Maleficent divorc

Hades: Persephone and I have a standing agreement from three million years ago. We’re gods. As long as she know most of them she promises not to smite them and vice versa

Lonnie: I hope Gil and I have a love like yours

Hades: thank you dear. You were being sarcastic weren’t you?

Lonnie: yes I was sir

Hades (smiling genuinely): I like you

Lonnie (smiling as well): I wish I could say the same

Elsa: how do you propose we get into the castle “milord”?

Hades: magic. Obviously.

Elsa: your move

Hades: gladly. Is everyone ready?

Elsa: oh we’re ready

(He steps forward and ignites his hands. This is when “the Phoenix” happens)

[deputy-sarah-sux]

The OC Interview

I got tagged for this three times so I���m gonna do it three times as three separate characters (in separate posts obviously).

Thank you so much for the tag @returnofthepd3​ 💖💖💖 This was so much fun to do!

Answering as Sarah Lamb

Name: Sarah Ophelia Lamb. Wait did you want my middle name? Only Joseph uses that name to talk to me and even then it’s not often.

Are you single: Haha, no, far from it. I’ve got my fingers in— shit no that’s gross I’m not saying that. Uh, yeah I’m dating all three of the Seed brothers actually.

Are you happy: To be doing this interview? Sure, I guess. In general? Depends. If I’m alone then odds are I’m drinking so we can safely say I am not happy but if I’m with friends thing are usually pretty great.

Are you angry: Shit who wouldn’t be in this place? I came to Hope County looking for a close-knit quiet country town and now I’m fighting a fucking cult. I’ve got cultists shooting at me and my friends on one side and the Resistance crawling up my ass on the other. I’m this close to going on a rampage in the middle of Fall’s End, I swear to God.

Are your parents still married: Well, my dad is dead so that’s a definite no. My mum remarried at some point but we haven’t talked in years so no clue what’s going on with that.

Nine Facts

Birthplace: San Francisco, California baby! I’m a West Coast girl through and through!

Hair color: Brown, but I like to color it blonde so right now it’s both.

Eye color: Blue, but not as blue as John’s

Birth date: April 19, 1988

Mood: Is exhausted a mood? Because if so, then that’s my current mood.

Gender: Female

Summer or winter: Winter, always winter. Honestly fuck summer, it gets so hot and the AC in my house barely works. In the winter I get snow and sweaters and Christmas.

Morning or afternoon:  Tough question honestly, I love mornings but under normal circumstances I’m not usually awake before the afternoon. How about I just choose neither and I pick night instead?

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love: Uh, bit personal but... yeah.. Honestly I’ve never loved anyone more. And now I love three people. Three? Don’t, uh, tell anyone in the Resistance though, they definitely won’t approve of this thing and I’m not quite ready to deal with everyone hating me.

Do you believe in love at first sight: Not really, I believe in attraction at first sight which is what I had with John, but love comes later. You gotta know someone before you can love them, at least I do. (Didn’t stop me from jumping into bed with that yes-kink loser though.)

Who ended your last relationship: Me, I think. Honestly, neither of us were happy, it was sort of a mutual thing. Plus I was moving out here so it only made sense.

Have you ever broken someones heart: Yeah and honestly I’d rather not talk about it.

Are you afraid of commitment: I want to say no, but based off all of my previous relationships and everything my friends, ex-family, co-workers and department-appointed shrink say yes, yes I am. I think it stems from how shit went down with my parents and then my first few relationships were shit shows too. But who needs commitment when you have vodka right (I wonder if they have AA meetings in the middle of holy wars because I should probably attend one).

Have you hugged someone in the last week: Of course! Sharky, Adie, Nick, Staci, Rook, my baby boy Boomer, John, Joseph, and, uh, oh yeah Wheaty. That kid deserves some hugs he’s too good for this world. I tried to hug Jacob but he just glared at me until I sat back down.

Have you ever had a secret admirer: Hell if I know, aren’t they secret for a reason?

Have you ever broken your own heart: Yeah, John and I, well things weren’t always sunshine and daisies, hell they still aren’t. But I caused a lot of my own problems. Almost destroyed myself a few times with him.

Six Choices

Love or Lust: Both, definitely both.

Lemonade or Iced Tea: Iced tea, but not the sweetened kind. Lemonade is too sweet for me, it makes me gag.

Cats or Dogs: Both! My cat, Finny, is the light of my life, but Boomer is my best boy and I don’t know what I’d do without him. I used to have another dog named Sadie, but she died a few months after I got here.

A few Best friends or Regular Friends: Best friends, I need people who I can actually trust.

Wild night out or romantic night in: Well you can’t get very “wild” in Hope County unless you wanna break some laws (which I’m technically not supposed to do). Honestly though, I prefer romantic nights in. Not too gushy though, just cook me dinner, light the fireplace and let me snuggle you on the couch, then when the time is right throw me over your shoulder and take me to bed.

Day or night: Night. Day is so... boring. At night the world is mysterious and you feel like you can hide from everything, you can’t hide in the day. I love sitting outside on one of the lounge chairs at the ranch with a mug of tea and just falling asleep looking at the stars. And don’t even get me started in the pure joy I get from swimming in the rivers at night, once your extremities go numb it’s amazing.

Five Have You Evers

Been caught sneaking out: Many times, after Dad died my mom became an even bigger control freak. She wouldn’t let me go anywhere so I was constantly sneaking out.

Fallen Down/Up the Stairs: Both, *laughs* I have the tendency to try to sprint up stairs for some reason which usually means I end up tripping. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen down the stairs when I was drunk.

Wanted someone/something so badly it hurt: Fuck yes, who hasn’t.

Wanted to disappear: Yeah, a lot when I was a kid after Dad died, not so much once I hit adulthood but lately... fighting a holy war is hard man, sometimes you just wanna fade away for a bit.

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: Eyes.

Shorter or taller: Taller, or the same height (no shade to John). I’m 5’10” so it’s not always EASY to find someone as tall or taller than me. I lucked out with my boys though, John and I are the same height, Joseph’s a few inches taller and Jacob is a fucking giant.

Intelligence or Attraction: Both. I want my men attractive but if they don’t have a fucking brain I’ll blow my own.

Hook up or Relationship: Relationship. I love hook ups, (I mean that’s how John and I started) but I can never keep my feelings out of it.

Family

Do you and your family get along: I got along great with my dad before he passed. My mom and I never got along and after dad we got worse, constantly screaming at each other and shit. I moved out on my 18th birthday and I haven’t really talked to her since.

Would you say you have a messed up life: From an outsider’s point of view: yeah. But I don’t really think so. This is just my life, it’s pretty normal to me at this point, which I guess is kinda messed up in its own way. I had the stereotypical rough childhood, immediately went to the academy, was a cop in SF for a while, came out here 2 years ago, and now I’m fighting in a war and in love with my enemies. It could be worse.

Have you ever ran away from home: Twice. I never made it very far. First time I was 8 and got all the way to the end of the block before I crashed my bike, my dad found me crying in a bush five minutes later. Second time I was 17, made it halfway to Monterey before realizing I was making a huge mistake and turning around.

Have you ever got kicked out: Yeah, Mom kicked me out once but she let me come back a month later. I just went and stayed with my grandparents down in Pismo Beach while I waited for her to cool off.

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: Kind of? We’re not really friends so that’s where I’m fuzzy. It’s Jess. We hang out because of Rook, but she and I will never be friends. It’s not secret we don’t like each other, but we do our best to hide it around Rook, she hates that shit.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: Most of them yeah. All of the ones I normally spend time with at least.

Who is your best friend: Staci, Nick, and Sharky, I literally can’t choose just. Rook and Kim are pretty high up on that list too.

Who knows everything about you: No one knows EVERYTHING. Nick and Joseph probably know the most. John and Jacob know a lot too but not as much. I’m not someone who likes to share about my past, I do my best not to actively think about it honestly.

Tagging @fluttyseed @farcryfuckmeup @onl-you @minilev​ @goodboiboomer-fc5​ @deputy-janai​ and anyone else who wants to do it!!!

[reject-princess97]

FP Jones Imagine (3)

I sat at the table of my one bedroom apartment, starring at the letter that sat in front of me. This letter was what was to determine my future as a doctor. I mean sure, graduation wasn't for another couple hours and I will be awarded my doctorate, but this letter was what I had spent the last eight years of my life working for. I took a deep breath and turned the letter in my fingers.

"Come on Y/N, it's just a letter. That's going to tell you weather or not you can return home after being away for so long." I told myself.

I left Riverdale 8 years ago to attend NYU then NYU Medical school where I was to graduate in less than three hours and in my hand sat a letter from Riverdale General, telling me weather or not I would be starting my residency there in the fall or not.

Now, don't get me wrong, I would be thrilled working at some of the places I had already been accepted into but working at Riverdale General meant I could move back home, I could be with my family on the Southside, The Serpents. I would be able to be with my older sister Alice and her girls Betty and Polly but mostly I'd get to go home to my boyfriend of ten years FP and FINALLY be able to build our life together, something we both agreed to put off until I was finished with school.

"OK, on the count of three, I'm going to open it." I told my self. "Or I'm gonna have myself admitted into Riverdale General for talking to myself."

I picked up my letter opener, I held it to the envelope and I took a deep breath.

1...

2...

3...

A knock at the door made me jump as I dropped my letter opener at my table. I stood up, and straightened my dress, a simple black one shoulder dress hugged my curves perfectly and I padded bare foot to my front door. Passing the million boxes that had been packed ready for my move to, where ever I'm going to end up. I passed my Serpent jacket hung by the door and opened my frond door wide to see a sight that shocked me completely. There in front of my stood FP Jones, in a shirt, dress pants and a tie. He still had his Serpent jacket on but he looked so smart.

"Holy fuck!" I gasped as I took in the sight in front on me. This was not something I was used to, FP wasn't a suit and tie guy, he was a jeans, flannel and leather jacket kind of guy and this, right here, was so much more than I could comprehend.

"Well, hello to you too." My boyfriend grinned.

"What...what are you doing here?" I asked, still stood in shock.

"You didn't think we'd miss your big day did you?" He asked.

"We?" I asked confused and he moved a side and winked as three more faces came into view. Jughead Jones, FP's son and My niece's Betty and Polly Cooper. Betty and Jug both wearing their jackets too.

Then a face I wouldn't have ever thought I would see at my graduation appeared beside Betty. Alice Cooper. My sister, Alice Cooper.

"A..Alice?"I asked in disbelief.

"Hey, baby sister." She smiled as she stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.

"I'm dreaming, right, you guys aren't really here. I know because Alice Cooper said she would NEVER forgive me for choosing the Serpents over her?" I questioned as I stepped aside to let them all into my apartment.

"Nope, I'm really here." She smiled. "And it's Alice Smith now."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be sisters again. Can you forgive me and we can start over?"

"I forgave you years ago Ally." I smiled as I pulled her into a hug and pulled away.

"WAIT!" I yelled as I turned to see FP stood in my apartment, grinning wide.

"There it is!" he laughed as he held his arms out and I dove at him, kissing him roughly.

"Guy's, there are kids in the room." Jughead called out. I laughed as I pulled away and turned to my niece.

"Polly, Lizzy, my girls!" I squealed as I pulled them both into a long hug. "I've missed you guys."

"We missed you Aunt Y/N." Polly smiled.

"Yeah, when was the last time you were home?" Betty asked as she pulled away.

"About three months." I smiled. "I'm so happy you're all here." I smiled at my family.

"We're all happy to be here." Jug assured me.

"You look great baby." FP called as he pointed at my outfit. I looked down and laughed as I shrugged.

"What can I say, I like to leave things to the very last second." I joked.

"Come on Y/N, we'll help you finish getting ready, FP, you and jug...bond."Alice ordered as she grabbed my hand and pulled my into my room.

"We'll run and grab some coffee's!" FP shouted and we left them.

"Good god, look at this mess." Polly chuckled as she moved some clothes off of my bed.

"Yeah, I couldn't decide what I wanted to wear so I had everything out." I shrugged.

"OK, so hair?" Alice asked as she cleared a space on my dresser.

"Curled and down, I have to put a cap on and it would be nice to let my hair down for once while I'm on campus." I chuckled as I plugged my curling iron in.

"Make up?" Polly asked as she grabbed my make up bag.

"Classic. Smoky eyes, bold red lips."

"As I remember, that was a signature look for you back home." Alice smiled as she picked up the curling iron and began fixing my hair.

"Yeah, well, I had to tone down my 'Serpent' style while I was here. Not a lot, just enough to be taken seriously in the classes." I smiled up at her in the mirror.

"What about shoes and accessories?" Betty asked from behind us.

"Black stilettos in the closet and I have some jewellery in my dresser draws you can pick from." I called over to her.

I sat quiet for a while while my sister and my nieces dressed me and told me all about what I had missed while I was away from home.

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted as the Polly and Alice finished my hair and make up. I stood up and ran out.

"What? What's wrong?" Alice called as she and the girls followed me out of the room as I ran into my dining area and grabbed the letter.

"What's going on?" FP asked panicked as he came into the room. Jughead too.

I looked up at my family and then I opened the letter and read it out loud.

"Dear Miss Smith,

Thank you for applying for our paediatric and family medical residency....We are pleased to inform you your application as been reviewed and we are happy to offer you a place with us this fall." I read, getting louder as I read. "OH MY GOD! I GOT IT!"

"Got what?" My sister asked.

"A residency." FP answered. "Somewhere good I assume." He smiled at me. I looked up at my family with tears in my eyes and nodded.

"Best place I could possibly imagine." I grinned as I held out the letter and carefully wiped the tears from my face. Thank god Polly had the sense to use waterproof eye makeup.

"You've got a residency at Riv...Riverdale General Hospital!" Alice read. I smiled wide as I nodded.

"What?"

"Really?"

"Holy shit!"

"I'm coming home." I cried as I was pulled into a huge group hug. "I'm coming home FINALLY!"

After about twenty more minutes of basking in my news the six of us decided we should set of to the NYU campus so we grabbed everything we needed and walked out. I grabbed my Serpent Jacket on my way out.

"You're gonna wear your jacket to your Med school graduation?" Betty chuckled as I slipped it on.

"What, and let you losers show me up on my big day by looking better than me...I think not." I smiled.

"OK, so, there are six of us and two cars." Alice pointed out.

"Who's with who?"

"Juggie, you and Lizzy take my car." I smiled as I chucked him my keys but FP caught them and handed him his instead.

"Lizzy?" Jughead asked looking at Betty confused.

"It's something Y/N has called me ever since I was a baby." Betty explained as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards FP's car.

"I'll go with mom." Polly smiled as she and Alice walked off.

"That leaves me with you." FP grinned as he held my car keys up. I nodded and smiled as I reached for them but he moved them out of the way.

"Wow, not so fast baby, you gotta trade." He smirked as he grabbed my hip and pulled me closer.

"Oh yeah?" I smirked as I lent up closer.

"Yeah." He mumbled. I let my lips graze his and quickly grabbed the keys why he was distracted. I pulled away laughing as I walked of to my car.

"That's just wrong!" FP called as he ran behind me and grabbed my hand.

"Tough luck baby." I smiled as I reached my car. I climbed in the drivers side and FP sat shotgun as I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, my car roaring to life.

The ride to the campus was short and quite. I let the radio play as we drove and FP rest his hand on my thigh, a smiled smile on his face as we pulled up.

"Wow, it's big." He gushed as I parked.

"ha, that's what she said." I  yelled as I turned my car off and climbed out, leaving FP chuckling.

"You're graduating medical school and an hour and you're making 'that's what she said' jokes?" My man chuckled, shaking his head is I walked over to meet him.

"Damn straight." I giggled.

"Honestly, I'm in love with an childish genius." FP sighed as he looked down at me and moved a piece of hair from my face.

"And I'm in love with a big lovable biker idiot." I shrugged. As I rest my hands on his chest "We all have our weaknesses."

"Yeah, and you're mine." He grinned as he smashed his lips to mine, in a heated but passionate kiss. He pushed my back up against my car and I let my hands slid under his jacket and onto his hips.

"Oi, loser, put that smoking hot dude down and grab your shit!" I heard a voice call. I chuckled and turned to find my best friend Sherri (like sherry the drink) standing holding a white box.

"Sherri baby!" I yelled. FP moved away and I grabbed his hand, leading him to meet Sherri.

"Sher, (Cher) this is FP." I smiled.

"Oh, the boyfriend." Sherri nodded as she looked him up and down. "I approve." She nodded.

"Babe, this is Sherri, my motivation while stuck in the hell hole."

"It's nice to meet you Sherri."

"Hey, there you are." I heard Jughead call as he and the three girls walked over.

"Oh, more people." Sherri smiled as she introduced herself.

"OK, Ladies, extremely hot gentleman..." Sherri began but I elbowed her in the ribs and she let out a loud laugh. "I'm going to steal this beautiful rebel away from you to go be given a piece of paper, if you just follow the crowd of...the most boring people I've ever seen in my life and you'll find some seats." Sherri instructed as she grabbed my hand. I kissed FP quick, handed him my jacket and waved to my family before I allowed Sherri hand me the white box and help me pull on the black robe and tassel cap. We then walked hand in hand to where the rest of the students were stood.

"So, you gonna tell me where the hell you've been hiding him?" Sherri asked as we waited for the ceremony to start.

"I haven't been hiding, he's been in Riverdale with his kid." I laughed.

"How the hell did you manage to lock that down for ten years without being in the same state most of the time?" She asked unbelieving.

"We made it work. He visited and stayed with me when I was in school and I spent our breaks back home in Riverdale." I shrugged.

"Well, I like him. Extremely hot, like her could turn me straight." she joked, making me laugh. "So, what's with the matching jackets?"

I looked at her confused, then I remembered, I never spoke about home much. Not because I was hiding anything, I just missed home so much, I would always get upset so I just never mentioned it.

"Oh, that's...ermmm, The Southside Serpents." I smiled at her sheepishly.

"Southside who now?"

"It's sort of a biker gang in Riverdale, the Northside reckon we're all bad news and are full of drug dealing murderers but I promise you that's not the case. The Serpents are some of the most caring and loyal people you will ever meet." I explained.

"So all this time, I've been making jokes about to being the class rebel and you actually are a rebel biker chick?" She asked astounded.

"Pretty much." I shrugged. "That's amazing. I bet you can't wait to get back, for a little while anyway."

"yeah, but here's the best bit." I grinned at her. She looked over at me, eyebrow raised. "I got a letter in the mail this morning. From Riverdale General Hospital."

"You got the Residency?" She asked hopeful. I nodded and she let out a squeal as she hugged me. "Oh Smithy baby I'm so happy for you." She congratulated. "So, does this mean all that stuff you wanted with FP can finally happen?"

"Oh, god I hope so, I love him with all my heart and now that I'm home we can look at settling down and seeing what happens next." I hoped.

Pretty soon the ceremony started and I waited anxiously waited for my name to be called out. I got a peak at the audience as I waited behind the curtain and smiled when I saw my family waiting for me.

"Y/N Smith." I heard my name being called and I walked up to the stage, shook hands with the professors and I stopped, smiled and waved at my family who all cheered the loudest as didn't stop until I shot them a wink, stuck out my tongue and throw up the Rock horns, making them all laugh and cheer louder before I walked off the stage and took a seat.

The rest of the ceremony dragged but once it had finished I forced my way though the crowd until I spotted FP searching the crowd of faces.

"Looking for someone in-particular?" I asked as I reached him. He looked down at me and smiled at me.

"Only the girl of my dreams." He shrugged.

"Well, looking no farther hot stuff, she's right here." I smirked.

"What? Where?" He asked again looking around us. I gabbed him in the stomach making him let out a laugh as he lent down and kissed me, softly.

"I'm so proud of you baby." He informed me as he hugged me tight.

"Right, let's get the photos over and done with." I ordered as I pulled away and looked at my sister who already had her camera out. She smiled wide and nodded as she set us up how she wanted and the grabbed Sherri, who was close by with her family and asked her to shoot the photo. The order went as such, Group photo. Alice and I. Polly, Betty and I. FP, Jughead and I. Sherri and I. FP and I and then one last one with The four girls, Alice, Polly, Betty and I.

"Come, on, let's see it." Betty smiled as she rushed over and took my award off of me and took a look.

"Dr Y/N Smith...it just doesn't sound right." Betty suggested as she looked over at Alice who nodded.

"I mean I'm not saying you should change your name...but you should change your name." Alice joked and I nodded.

"Oh, too what exactly?" I wondered.

"How about Jones?" Jughead asked. I looked at him a little shocked.

"Dr Y/N Jones...now that sounds better. What do you think FP?" Betty asked as she closed the little folder the award came in and smiled at me wide. I saw Jughead and Alice had a camera on me and then Sherri look behind me, shocked. Confused, I turned around to see FP, knelt down on one knee smiling up and me and holding a ring. A big one too I might add.

"I think it sounds perfect. What do you think Y/N? Would you consider taking the plunge and becoming a Jones?" He asked as he took my hand.

"What the hell is happening right now?" I asked shocked. I heard the group laugh and I looked around to see we had gathered quite the crowd, all watching as FP chuckled and shook his head.

"For a genius doctor you're pretty slow babe, I'm asking you to marry me." He explained. "Look, Smith, we've been through a lot these last ten years, you've been living away for 8 of them and it hasn't been easy but we got through it. I was always planning on doing this today even if you wasn't moving back home because I would have followed you anywhere baby, you're my ride or die baby. Now with you coming back home to work things are just falling into place and I just want us to FINALLY start live out life together. So, Y/N Smith, will you be my ride or die forever. Will you marry me?"

I couldn't find the words, I just nodded as tears fell from my eyes and a lump grew in my throat. FP Slid the ring onto my finger and stood up, pulling me into his arms and kissing me hard as everybody around us clapped and cheered.

"FINALLY!!! MY DAD HAD THE BALLS TO PROPOSE!" Jughead yelled making everybody around us laughed including FP and I.