#i have a tendency for coming up with the best way to make characters sad

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter One

First DBDA multichapter, yay! let's hope I finish it 😅 Nah should be fine, I already know exactly what happens, just gotta get it on the page! The ending will be happy, but there WILL be angst along the way, please heed the tags/warnings!

WARNINGS: This fic references or directly addresses traumas from the characters' pasts. So that's of course bullying, abuse, homophobia, hate crimes, death etc. There's also a very, very brief reference to a possibly creepy teacher eyeing up Edwin (more on that in the end notes), but nothing comes of it, it's just part of the tapestry of his shitty school experiences. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

I'd like to shout out my bestie kieren-fucking-walker/electricteatime for the absolutely banger headcanon about Charles sometimes manifesting his trauma by getting really cold/his breath misting. It's such a visually cool and emotionally rich idea and the show SHOULD have done it. Chapter one is 6.6k. Chapters 2/3 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?" asked Crystal, ever practical. She'd been inordinately serious today, clear-headed and straightforward. Taking pains to rein in her more combustible tendencies. She'd also been casting worried glances at him and Charles all day. Edwin was trying to take the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended. Even if it did make him feel like a mad old maid, half-expected to succumb to hysterics at the drop of a hat.

"We've no way to know for sure," said Edwin. His eyes flickered to the imposing main doors, then upwards, scanning each storey window by window. It was well past lights out, but a single lamp glowed through from the third floor, east wing. The dorms. Most likely the night steward, on the listen for boys up and about and causing mischief. In Edwin's short and tragic experience, such staff were not the most effective of deterrents. Still, best avoided. They didn't want to call attention to themselves.

He flipped to his notes from their client interview. "The groundskeeper reported a low, continuous droning sound, along with unease, malaise, and a sense of being... 'called' to."

"Any words? Phrases?" asked Charles. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. His tension was audible as well as visible – Edwin could hear the subtle clenching of his jaw where it clipped his words. "No spooky voices whispering 'come to the cellar?'"

"No, nothing so helpful as that, I'm afraid."

"So what's the plan?"

"We begin searching for causes or disturbances in a methodical fashion," said Edwin, putting his notebook away. "I suggest we leave bedrooms and dormitories for last, to minimise the risk of interruptions. Crystal, you'd best wait outside until we call you. If anyone wakes you're more likely to be seen; not to mention liable to stand out. This is a boys' school, after all."

Crystal looked unhappy about it, but for once didn't rush to argue his logic. "I don't know. Are you guys gonna be... you know...?"

"We'll be fine, Crys," said Charles, giving her a strained smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Got each other, don't we?"

"Yeah – in the place you both got killed," she said. "You really shouldn't be back here."

Edwin rather agreed with her. And yet, undeniably, he still felt that strange, morbid draw that had coaxed him into accepting the case. There was a mystery afoot, and he and Charles would answer the call. "We'll be quite alright, I'm sure. With any luck, this will be a flying visit. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Charles, have you the torches?"

"Yeah, just a tick." Charles crouched down and riffled through his backpack, disappearing up to the shoulder in its daunting expanse. "Better be careful with them, eh? Try not to flash 'em about too much, make anyone come looking."

"Agreed. For empty rooms only – we'll switch them off at the first sign of footsteps."

"Here we go." Charles handed the two stout electric torches up to Edwin. "Oh! Got something else, too." He dove back in, and re-emerged holding three black plastic blocks. He passed one each to Edwin and Crystal with a grin. "So we can stay in touch with Crystal – and each other, 'case we get split up."

Edwin sincerely hoped such a thing wouldn't come to pass. But he inspected the device with curiosity, its buttons and mesh panel and its little protruding antenna. "Oh. This is one of those... portable radio contraptions."

"Walkie talkies," Charles corrected. He held down the yellow button on his device and a babble of static erupted from the speaker. "Hold the button to talk, yeah?" His voice rattled out through Edwin and Crystal's handsets.

"We gotta get you guys cellphones," Crystal muttered.

"Excellent idea, Charles," said Edwin, ignoring her comment. "But I'd advise against using these except in cases of emergency. The noise could alert people to our presence."

Charles gave a lax salute, and tucked his handset into his coat.

"I really don't like you guys going in there alone," said Crystal, crossing her arms.

"I know," said Charles. "But you get it, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence passed between the three of them; the school looming at their back like a slumbering monster. Inside that building lay several dorms full of teenage boys. Different boys than from Charles and Edwin's times, but alike in breeding, in privilege and temperament. Those boys had tormented Edwin for his mannerisms, and beaten Charles to death for daring to do the right thing – undoubtedly, his parentage had also factored into their violent recourse.

None of them stated their precise fears out loud. The fear of what could transpire if a lone, dark-skinned teenage girl were to find herself in the belly of this particular beast in the dead of night. Even one with considerable psychic powers and two ghost bodyguards at her disposal. No one said a word, but the possibilities hung over their heads like a dark cloud nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, to imagine a school full of modern boys could devolve so abruptly into The Lord of the Flies. But Edwin wasn't prepared to roll those dice with his friend's safety. Against his own better judgement, he'd grown... fond of Crystal Palace. He shouldn't like to see her hurt, or killed. In fact, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, he'd be most perturbed by such a thing.

Crystal sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I get it. Just..." She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, tightly. "Be careful. Okay?"

"I'm always careful!" he lied, a smile in his voice. It didn't match his face which, thankfully, was hidden from her view in her hair. But Edwin could see it; Charles' careful mask, knocked askew.

He averted his eyes.

Crystal snorted. "Great. Thanks. Makes me feel way better." She broke away from Charles and looked at Edwin, who took a reflexive step back. "I know, I know – no hugs," she said with a roll of her eyes. She compromised by giving his upper arm a firm squeeze instead. "Don't die. Again."

"We'll do our level best," said Edwin, patting the back of her hand briskly. "Now, we really must away – while we have the night on our side."

"There's some pretty dense trees off that way," said Crystal, gesturing. "I'm gonna wait there, should be easy to stay out of sight – hopefully it's close enough to stay in walkie range."

Charles stiffened. "The trees... near the lake?"

"Uh. Yeah, why?"

Edwin watched him closely.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, don't matter. Just – stay safe, yeah?"

"You too." She looked between them. "Hey... look after each other. Okay?"

Charles glanced at Edwin, and his posture softened. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a gentle smile. "Always do."

That assurance, at least, was not a lie.

~

"Charles, we're wasting time," Edwin hissed. Honestly – five minutes into their investigation and they hadn't even made it inside the building, yet! "We can simply walk through this door and bypass the lock altogether."

Charles didn't spare him a glance, preoccupied as he was squatting on the doorstep with his lockpicks across his knee. He'd been faffing with the old iron lock on the main doors to no avail for some time. "Yeah, but what if we've gotta call Crystal in to help us out right quick? Dunno if her psychic powers stretch to door hypnotism." He tossed Edwin a cheeky grin. "Only polite to open doors for ladies, innit?"

Edwin, unable to argue the logic or the etiquette, settled for squeezing his fists together and lurking discontentedly. So far he'd not heard the droning the groundskeeper had spoken of, nor felt any ominous supernatural feelings. At least, he assumed he hadn't. But it was a mite hard to focus on anything besides his own anxiety at being back in this place after so many years. Hard to differentiate between personal discomfort and something more sinister.

The lock gave a promising click, and Charles grinned. "Abracadabra."

Edwin stopped his hand when it went to turn the handle. "Best not. We mustn’t announce ourselves."

"Yeah. Yeah, good point." Charles straightened up, tucking his lockpicks away. "So. Hop right on through, then?"

"Indeed."

Charles' jaw gave a nervous tic. "...On three?"

"...Yes. yes, on three." Edwin braced himself. "One..."

"Two..." said Charles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Three!"

Their voices joined on the final count; and together they stepped through the ancient, unyielding oak, and into the hall within.

"Oh," Edwin exhaled, taking in the great hall with darting eyes.

"Huh," said Charles, squinting. "Thought it would look... different."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

The entry hall had changed very little from Edwin's day – and by extension Charles'. Evidently, money and care had been put into the upkeep of the place; Edwin had spotted a plaque on the outside labelling it a registered building. Biggest change to speak of was the burgundy carpet now covering the floor; to protect the old boards from the footfall of thundering teenage boys, no doubt. Other changes were limited to minor modern conveniences. A plastic hand sanitiser dispenser beside the door. A corkboard papered over with glossy flyers for local sports and after school clubs. They surely must have updated the lighting, as well, but he and Charles weren't to benefit at this time for obvious reasons.

The familiarity was unsettling, to say the least. Like stepping back through the decades, into a time he'd gladly leave behind for good. Edwin cleared his throat, and straightened his jacket. "Well. I suppose we must set to. We're wasting the night."

"Where d'you wanna start?"

Edwin pulled out his notebook. He had notes and sketches in there based upon the floor plan that Crystal had sourced via her miraculous internet. Though he suspected he wouldn't need them. Already the sprawling skeleton of this old haunt was reassembling itself in his mind's eye. "It is as I said. We'll scour the lower levels, then work our way up." He furrowed his brow. "Strictly speaking, we should have started lower. This is the first floor, thanks to the stairs outside the main doors – the ground floor is below us, but it's mostly utilities. Kitchens, laundry, storage. Still, we shouldn't rule out that something of import could be down there."

"Easily solved." Charles got down on his knee and stooped, until he could press his forehead to the floor. Then he kept pressing forward, bent double with his backside in the air, and his incorporeal head bobbed through the carpet. Like an ostrich in the sand.

"Laundry room," he called, voice muffled by carpet and floorboards. "No one there. Should be safe to drop right through."

With a fond smile at Charles' bobbing back end, Edwin steepled his fingers. "A quick detour, then," he said, and hopped neatly through the floor and into the room below.

~

An unnecessary detour, as it turned out. But attention to detail was a key part of any detective's toolbox. After scouring the warren of utilities, they rejoined the first floor via a small service staircase between the kitchen and the mess hall.

"Ugh," said Charles, wrinkling his nose as he investigated the new (since Edwin's time) glass-fronted serving station. "Can't believe the last thing I ever ate was school dinner. Didn't even finish it, it was that rank.

Edwin blinked at him, pausing in his inspection of the head table. "You were permitted to leave food on your plate? They excused you?"

"...I mean. Yeah?"

"Goodness," Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. "What a liberal time you lived in."

"Not that liberal, mate. Got beaten to death, remember?"

Edwin smirked. "Perhaps if you'd been disallowed from leaving until you'd cleared your plate, you might not have found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His deadpan achieved the desired effect. Charles laughed, a bright spot in the dreary gloom. "Right. Brills. Bob back in time and tell myself to choke down the sweetcorn, then."

"Wise course of action."

"Right." Charles lifted the lid of a pot that someone had forgotten to clear away, and mock-gagged. "Nope. Not worth it. I'll take death, cheers."

~

The dining hall turned up nothing. Nor did any of the offices, lounges and staff rooms. Their exploration of the first floor came and went with no discoveries or fanfare, and soon it came time to move on. To the central staircase, and the second floor where the majority of the classrooms presided.

Edwin felt his apprehension mounting with every step. Two floors of fruitless searching was starting to irk and unsettle him. He longed for something decisive; a supernatural feeling, an apparition, even a blood-curdling scream. It felt worse to worry incessantly with no stimulus, unable to prove there was anything amiss outside of his own childish fears.

"They've replaced the blackboards," Edwin commented upon entering the first room. Craving a discovery, a distraction, anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I remember – they started switching them out my last year here. Headmaster was mad about these shiny new things. Probably got whiteboards in every room, now." Charles squinted at the plastic panel with its chunky black frame. "These ones look different to what I remember, mind."

"What do you write on them with?"

"Pens. Special pens, like."

"Hm. Probably for the best. Chalk dust was bothersome. I always developed the most wretched cough when it was my turn to beat the erasers." Edwin found the pens attached to the board and picked one up. "Let's see. No lid..." He tried an experimental scribble. "And not a drop of ink. Dry as a bone." He eyed the branding on the whiteboard's frame, sceptical. "Smart Board, indeed."

"Don't think there's anything in here. Unless we're looking for something sucks the ink out of whiteboard markers." Charles took the pen from Edwin's hand, turning it over and inspecting it. "What d'you think? Some sort of ink vampire?" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Don't see any fang punctures."

"I hardly think an ink vampire is what we're looking for," said Edwin, activating his torch and sweeping it in a wide arc. The abandoned classroom came into hazy, yellow-tinged relief under his beam. This had once been his English room, many decades ago. Save for the impractical board, it remained largely unchanged – although the wooden chairs had been replaced with ones of metal and plastic. The bookshelves at the back of the room remained in situ; the thick, leather-bound volumes of Edwin's time supplanted by new editions with glossy cardboard covers.

Edwin hadn't much cared for his English lessons. He was good at them, of course, and he loved reading. Since escaping hell, he'd revisited a number of the books he'd once studied. But his heart had always sunk whenever he was called on to stand before the board and read aloud for the class. The snickers and guffaws of the other boys, the mean-spirited whispers and unsubtle name-calling. The nancy boy's, the Mary Ann's, and far worse when teacher's back was turned. God forbid he was asked to read a sonnet.

The sting of the memory hadn't faded with time, but had taken on some light and shade in the wake of his travails in hell. In the jeering blur of faces, he could imagine Simon's swimming into focus. Was that mockery in his eyes, or pity? Recognition? And was he really the only one? The only other boy in that room who'd wanted to reach out to Edwin, and felt compelled to push him away instead?

How many of them had passed through this room, like living ghosts, lost to time and to shame?

A cold, iron fist of grief clutched him by the throat. So tangible it damn near bowled him over. He caught himself on a desk, lest he lose his grip on the physical plain and plummet through the very floor.

"Edwin?!" Charles was beside him in an instant, hand on Edwin's back. "Edwin, what's the matter?"

Edwin screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Trying in vain to dislodge the ice that had seized upon his very soul, but it held him fast. He shivered, and Charles rubbed his back as if Edwin could feel it; as if he could coax the warmth back into a dead, frozen thing.

"There's... there's something wrong," Edwin bit out – alarmed at the resistance he faced. It felt like he had to force the words through chattering teeth. "Do you feel it?"

Charles hesitated, before exhaling a shuddering breath. "Thought it was just me," he said quietly. "Y'know. How I get."

Ghosts were beings of trauma – and dying of hypothermia was fairly traumatic, to say the least. Charles couldn't feel warmth anymore, but he could certainly feel cold; and in times of distress it seemed to shroud him, clouding his speech in icy vapour.

A small pang of guilt pierced Edwin like a thorn; perhaps Charles had already been feeling the chill for some time, and hadn't deemed it worth a mention.

"No. No, it's not just you," said Edwin, reaching back to pat Charles on the arm with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "It's not just you at all."

Charles gave a lopsided, flimsy smile. "Dead comforting, mate. Come on, let's get you up. There we go."

With Charles' support, Edwin managed to regain his footing, but the feeling remained. It had settled upon his essence like a dense snowfall; all-shrouding, all-permeating. Chilling him to the figurative marrow.

"D'you think this is it? What that bloke was on about?" asked Charles, jerking his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

"Struggling to see what else it could be. Although he said nothing about a sense of cold..." Edwin rubbed his head, trying to think past the immediate, intense discomfort. An image came to mind, unbidden, of Niko across from him at a café table. The drinking straw dropping from her lips, her entire face crumpling as she clutched her head and cried out "brain freeze!". Had he any inkling of how distressing the sensation was, he might've said something more consolatory than he had at the time.

The secondary knife of grief at recalling her face twisted itself deep in his back, pressing so hard on his shoulders his knees nearly buckled.

"Well," he said, strained. "At least we know we're not on a wild goose chase. There's definitely something here." He rubbed his gloved hands together. A peculiarly vivid, instinctual muscle memory, leftover from the days when cold wasn't a distant memory. "We must continue the search. Let us check the desks while we're in here."

Charles gave a sharp nod, his face drawn, the first phantom wisps of breath creeping from his lips. Normally, Edwin would have offered his own coat to fend off the psychic, psychosomatic chill by now. But with Edwin likewise affected, it felt like any attempt to shrug out of the garment would be met by cracking and splintering. Spectral wool rendered asunder by devouring ice. For the first time, they were each as incapacitated as the other. Not a drop of warmth between their two dead, insubstantial forms to make a dent in the frost.

But their hands found one another, nonetheless. And it did make him feel better, warmer, even only infinitesimally.

There was something to be said for the placebo effect.

~

It was a long shot, hoping they might happen across some kind of obvious cursed artefact or hex doll in a pupil's desk in the first classroom they searched. Still, best to leave no stone unturned. In they end they had to concede that whatever it was they were looking for, they weren't going to find it in the English room.

They passed through the other classrooms in a similar fashion. Each presenting them with no evidence, but an abundance of unwelcome memories. The maths room, where Edwin had acquired a small scar on his jaw from a compass flung in his direction. The geography room, where he'd once been soundly caned for a book he'd 'defaced' – while the real culprits got off scot-free, of course. The old history study, where he'd often sought refuge of an evening. Where he'd tried to focus on the kindliness of the professor; and not on the unreadable, uncomfortable way he would sometimes sit and watch Edwin from across the room. Like he knew something about him. Like he had half a mind to bid him come closer.

The feeling, such as it was, seemed to bear down on them with every room checked, every memory unearthed. By the time they reached the stairs to the third floor, they were both near panting from exertion; wading through the empty corridors with all the ease of stomping through snow drifts.

"If it isn't even down here, what's it gonna be like when we're closer?" asked Charles, blowing on his hands and stomping his feet. He looked pale and peaky, his words and breaths escaping in ragged puffs of phantom condensation.

Edwin was faring no better. He felt tight in the chest, frayed in the nerves. The chill had penetrated so very deep, he had begun to hear it; like a cutting wind, like ice creaking under foot. Like a crackling, throbbing drone in the back of his consciousness.

There were two more floors of this wretched place left to investigate, and already he felt crushed under the avalanche of ill feeling and dreadful recollections. He was tired of dredging up things he'd worked for decades to put behind him. Tired of wading through this viscous mire of magic and memory. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at the agency, where it was calm and safe and the walls were imbued with a kinder history. He wanted to find whatever was causing this disturbance at once, and put this damnable case behind them!

He about-turned to face the end of the corridor – and there was the mirror. An ancient thing, ornate frame carved from finest mahogany. He remembered it well. A hundred years it must have stood there. More than a hundred – it had already been old in Edwin's time. It had survived well, save for a small patch of woodworm damage in the lower right corner. Edwin used to stand in front of it, sometimes, when the other boys were outside shooting clay pigeons or playing rugby. Used to gaze, forlorn, at his own reflection; wondering if there was a way to be anything but what he was.

There was no reflection now, of course. He'd seen his reflection only once in the last thirty-odd years; on his return to hell, his introduction to Lady Despair. He'd seen himself a hundred years on from this mirror, marred by filth and bloody gouges. So different to how he remembered. And yet still, always and forever, the same frightened little boy. Trapped and miserable; searching for a way out.

Don't... Don't...

A whisper on the gale, barely intelligible as words. Was the call coming from himself? Or from the thing they sought? It was impossible to know, but whatever it was, it was crying from the back of his soul. Clawing out, grasping for him with icy fingers of terror and desolation.

"Edwin?"

Charles' voice seemed to fade behind the whisper. Behind the steadily growing cacophony of creaking wood and shuddering glass. If this was real after all, and not just a trick of the mind, then this thing, whatever it was, could bring the entire blasted building tumbling down.

Edwin held his hand out to the mirror, no coherent thought behind the action. It was where he needed to be. Reaching out, reaching in, making contact with the space behind and between.

"Take me," he breathed. "Take me to the root of this."

"Edwin," Charles' voice came from far away. "Edwin, stop! You dunno what you're bloody walking into!"

No. He didn't know. But he needed to. He needed to find the cause, the catalyst, the beating heart under the floorboards. Needed to find the source of that cry – needed to know that it was external, and not a result of his own mind coming undone in this foul place. He reached to the mirror, through the mirror. Rigid glass parted for his fingers with a gentle ripple; the softly broken surface of a still pond. Calm waters, a silky embrace.

And then it gripped him tight, and dragged him under.

~

He was distantly aware of Charles' panicked cries, but they were cut off in moments as the mirror's surface froze over behind him.

Severed from the material plain, Edwin tumbled into freefall. Through that familiar trans-dimensional space behind the reflection; but it didn't feel familiar anymore. It felt tumultuous, violent. He toppled through the in-between space like Alice down the rabbit hole; twisted and turned, tossed from current to savage current. Beaten and battered from all sides by vigorous currents of nothing and everything and not-quite-almost-something. All the time followed by that whispering in his mind, growing in frequency and fervency: Don't. Don't. Don't leave...

And then he was through. Spat out without ceremony, without so much as a by-your-leave. He barely caught himself as he staggered back into the world – a cloud of thick, grey dust erupting under his skittering feet.

"Edwin?!"

Ah, there was Charles again. But he sounded different – smaller, further away, tinny. It took longer than Edwin would care to admit to realise he was hearing him through the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Edwin, where the fuck are you? The bloody mirror closed up behind you!"

Edwin fumbled for the device – an uphill struggle, with frozen fingers and a brain yet to cease spinning. It was even colder here, wherever here was. Sub-human temperatures. Had Edwin any blood, it would have flash-frozen in his veins. "Charles," he gasped, as he clumsily depressed the transmit button. "Charles, I'm here. I'm in one piece."

He released the button. Shortly afterwards, a static-clouded echo of Charles' incredulous laughter cut through the speaker.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Charles blurted, with feeling. "You just went for it! You... you absolute wanker. We're meant to stick together, yeah? Fuck. Tell me where you are. What's it look like?"

"I'm..." Edwin blinked through the dust and dark, eyes adjusting. He didn't want to chance the torch until he knew for sure that he was alone. He squinted at the lines and surfaces illuminated by the feeble moonlight through the dirt-encrusted window. Piles of assorted dross and clutter, caked with dust. Ropes, shelves, broken chairs, ratty sports equipment and bedding...

Oh.

"Oh." He pressed the button. "Charles, I'm – I'm in the attic. The attic."

Charles' short, shocked breath whistled over the line. "Shit. Really?"

"Quite positive." He straightened up from his awkward stance, but couldn't find it in himself to dust off his coat. He moved stiffly, sluggishly; frozen down to his very ectoplasm. "Why would it bring me here...?"

"Edwin? Edwin, listen to me – just stay put, yeah?" Charles implored, his voice punctuated by hollow thumping. No doubt he was throwing himself up the stairs with reckless speed. "I'm coming to get you, I'm gonna leg it, just – don't move!"

"Don't wake up the entire school," Edwin countered, through chattering teeth. He received no response, so he put away the device with shaking hands and took stock of the situation. The space, like much of the school, had barely changed in the years since he'd last seen it. None of the clutter had been removed, only added to. New objects – including the large, cracked mirror Edwin had stumbled through – lay propped against the old. The only distinction between the two lay in the differing thickness of the covering dust.

He was alone, as far as he could tell. No people, no ghosts that he could see. But he didn't feel alone. He felt, in that sinking stone of dread in his stomach, that there was something else here. Something cold and desperate and far, far more lonely than he, and it was crying out to him. Tugging at his sleeve like a child. It wasn't a voice, as such, but it was a plea. It wanted him closer. It wanted him.

Don't move. Charles said not to move.

But his neck nonetheless craned of its own volition. Drawn towards the needling drone that he could neither hear not not hear. The sonorous buzz that cried out look at me look at me see me please see me. It seemed to grab him by the jaw and force his gaze over, over, to that same miserable pile of boxes and blankets where he'd once read Charles Rowland to his rest. No. No, not to the boxes or the blankets.

To the trunk.

He recalled it, dimly. The large black trunk with its brass clasps and corners. He'd perched atop it as he'd read to Charles. It still had his scrounged selection of dusty comics balanced on the lid.

The cry was coming from inside, he was certain of it.

Don't move. Don't move.

The floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He felt heavier, here. More tethered to the physical realm. To the strange call that gripped him by the collar and demanded he come closer, closer still. To the leather and wood under his gloved hands as he ran them over the chest, fingers trembling on the clasps.

Up close, the drone was no longer a drone. Had never been a drone. It was a rattle. A dry, endless rattle.

Wait for Charles. Please. Just wait for Charles.

Brass clicked. Leather creaked.

The trunk opened.

~

"Edwin?!"

Charles barrelled through the wall at speed, eyes wild, cricket bat brandished. He skidded to a halt that was near cartoonish; just before his momentum could carry him right across the small attic space and through the opposite wall.

It might have been amusing – were Edwin not currently beset by the notion that he may never laugh again so long as he continued to exist.

"Edwin?" Charles hollered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Edwin's voice was small, fragile despite his best efforts. He was struggling to support it.

Charles spun on his heel and dashed to Edwin's side. "Edwin! You scared the shit out of me! What're you thinking, blinking out on your own like that?!"

"I had a hunch. At least, I think I did..." He looked up – when had he sat down on the floor...? – and drank in the sight of Charles. He looked a bit like he might want to wallop Edwin with his cricket bat. Edwin had never seen a sweeter sight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

Charles huffed, his face softened. "You? Not thinking?" Charles hunkered down beside him, bat across his knees, hand reaching out to palm across Edwin's shoulders. "What's going on with you, mate? I mean, I feel it too, but... it's really getting you, innit?"

"Yes," Edwin exhaled, voice shaking. "And I believe I know why."

"You found something?" Chales leaned in closer. "What? What did you find?"

Edwin closed his eyes, and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk once more. "Myself. In a manner of speaking."

He waited, focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids. He'd already seen the contents of the trunk, and he had no desire to see it again. No matter how mournful its cries to be seen.

A moment of silence passed, and then Charles swore, voice cracking around the expletive. "Oh, fuck. Edwin. Mate, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The weight lifted from Edwin's hand as Charles took hold of the lid of the trunk. Edwin gratefully relinquished it.

"Did you know these were up here?" asked Charles. He sounded close to tears, close enough that Edwin almost opened his eyes to look. He couldn't bring himself to, in the end.

Edwin shook his head. "I wasn't even aware they still existed. When that demon took me, it felt like... like my entire being crumbled into nothing. There couldn't have been anything left. I was sure of it..."

"Are we sure they're..." Charles cleared his throat. "Um..."

"Mine? Yes. It's... difficult to explain, but I can... feel them." Edwin held up his hand, and even through his glove he felt an answering prickle in his palm. "Like they're trying to... pull me back in. Like they've been waiting for me."

"Have they just been here all this time?"

"My death was labelled a disappearance. No remains. So... yes. I fear so." He breathed out a ragged sigh, turning his head to Charles before he risked opening his eyes. "Whoever's responsible likely sequestered them up here at the earliest opportunity."

Charle visibly blanched. "So these were here? When we – when I...?"

"When you died. Yes." Out of the corner of his eye, a sickening blot of ivory white. He kept his gaze resolute, fixed on Charles and only Charles. "I suppose they were."

They sat in silence, staring; Edwin at Charles, Charles at the wretched horror they'd unearthed. Edwin found himself, for once, quite speechless. One's thoughts tended to scatter, when faced with the grim sight of one's own withered bones. Tucked out of sight and out of mind, piled into a trunk in an attic and forgotten like a former child's abandoned toys.

Charles sniffed, shrugging his shoulders sharply. "We can't just leave them here," he said, adamant. "We – we need to take them, yeah? Leave 'em on the coppers' doorstep, prove what happened here."

Edwin shook his head. "I disappeared in nineteen sixteen, Charles. Without a trace. The very definition of a cold case. I know there's been significant advancements in the forensic sciences, but even if they were to glean some evidence, what would they compare it to? What in the world is there left to connect these bones to me?"

"They'll find something."

"Next to impossible."

"Don't you want people to know, Edwin?" Charles burst out, turning to look at him at last. There was rage burning in his eyes, his voice straining under the force of it. Not rage at Edwin, he didn't think. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it. Frustration bubbling over. "You said it yourself; no one ever solved our cases. You could be the first. Show everyone what goes on here, tear this fucking place down."

"And if nothing gets done, Charles?" Edwin snapped back. "We don’t trust the police for good reason. If we hand this new evidence to the them on a silver platter and they bury it again, what then?"

He regretted his outburst in an instant when Charles fell silent. Guilty, grief-stricken. It was a horrible expression on his face, far worse than the anger, and Edwin immediately despised himself for putting it there.

Edwin sighed. He couldn't look Charles in the eye. But he could reach out, tentatively nudge his hand with the back of his own. A little bit of the ugly rift healed when Charles accepted the olive branch without question. He wrapped his fingers around Edwin's and squeezed – for all the good it did them.

"My parents are long gone, Charles," said Edwin, when he'd gathered himself. He kept his eyes trained on Charles' thumb, and the way it traced small circles on the back of Edwin's hand. With their gloves in the way, Edwin could almost pretend that was the only reason he couldn't feel the gesture. "Every relative I ever knew, everyone who could possibly miss me. And the boys who did this..."

He thought of the massacre that preceded his own abduction. Thought of Simon, rotting in that dingy pocket of hell, textbook pages tarred with tears and blood.

Edwin closed his eyes. "Everyone who could've been punished for this has been. I've... I've no more closure to gain."

The truth of the statement came as a surprise even to him, but he couldn't deny it. Everyone who would have cared to know what happened was long, long gone. The best he could hope for was a black mark on the school's record, a curious obituary in the local news.

Charles huffed, but he didn't argue again. "Alright. Alright, mate." He extracted his hand from Edwin's to put it on his neck, just briefly. Just holding his face a moment, almost as he had on that very long staircase some months ago. He cracked a barely-there smile. "It's your bones, innit? Your rules."

Edwin returned it, weak, but grateful. Too exhausted even to think about their proximity, about the intimacy of the gesture. He hadn't a single thought except for how dearly he'd like to sink into it and let Charles carry him, now. Let him take over, just for a little while.

"We can't just leave 'em here, though," said Charles, with a glance daring Edwin to argue.

"No," Edwin agreed, somewhat feeble. He didn't want to look at them; and yet, paradoxically, he'd never wanted to look at anything more. He looked at Charles instead, drawing comfort from his familiar countenance. "No, I suppose we can't."

Charles stared into the trunk a moment longer, a soft, ethereal glow playing on his fine features. Why the bones seemed to be possessed of their own faint light, Edwin couldn't possibly begin to guess. Nor could he guess why they'd altered the spectral temperature so drastically. Or why the chill had alleviated somewhat, the very moment he'd opened the box and looked upon them. Under Charles' gaze, the thaw was even more profound. Edwin could almost be fooled into thinking himself warm.

Upon looking away from the bones, Charles met Edwin's gaze. And he held it, steady as a rock, as he pulled his hand from Edwin's neck and reached into his own coat. A burst of static broke the silence.

"Crystal," said Charles, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. "Crystal, you hear me? Over."

"Yeah, Charles, I hear you," came her voice – the signal was weak, but stable enough. "And you don't actually have to say 'over'."

"What? 'Course I do, that's the whole point of – actually? Doesn't matter right now. Crys, need you to do us a favour. Go home."

"What–?!"

"Back to the office, I mean," he rushed out. "Run back and dig out that other mirror from the spare room. The proper big one, should be buried somewhere. Probably under the surfboards."

"You guys have surfboards...?" She made a noise of indignation. "Wait, and a spare room?! I slept on that stupid couch for two weeks!"

"Have a go at us later, yeah? Just – right now, please, go dig it out, and put it in the office, alright? Please, Crys." He scanned the trunk with his eyes. "Somewhere with lots of space in front."

"Ugh, fine. But Charles – what's going on?"

"We found what we were looking for." He closed his eyes, and then the trunk – and Edwin wondered if he, too, could hear the plaintive cry in the back of his mind when he fastened the clasps, committing the bones once more to darkness. "And we've got something important to shift. Over and out."

~

Reeeaaally hope you liked it! Any thoughts? I'm still in the process of pulling together the rest of the story, but I think it'll probs be 3 chapters overall, could really use the motivation to get the tricky second chapter into shape! Some commentary! - not much Crystal in this chapter but I promise more of her in 2/3! - writing them bobbing through floors and things was SO fun, I get that it adds a whole load of special effects they need to budget for but I think the show should have more fun with them walking through walls lmao - the weird history professor is kind of inspired by Hector from the History Boys. Which, if you've never seen it, is a play/movie about a bunch of boys whose favourite teacher is also, well, kind of a fucking creep. It's sort of a dark comedy and honestly just really interesting with the way it depicts this bizarre relationship, the way this person in these teens' lives is objectively doing something Shitty to them but he's still their favourite because he also supports them and inspires them and makes learning fun and, in Posner's case, makes him feel less alone in his queerness. I didn't put him in to imply that in the canon of this fic, Edwin has actually been sexually abused - but the Hector-type character slotted rather neatly into the strange culture of this setting and this era. It just added another little layer of tragedy I couldn't resist. Another queer person in Edwin's immediate vicinity, warped by the repression and loneliness of the time into another potential abuser/antagonist, and unfortunately irresistible despite the red flags. - as mentioned in the intro notes, s/o to Ande for the Charles' misty breath idea! It wasn't originally gonna feature in this fic but then it slotted in so perfectly I had to borrow it! Everyone say thank you Ande for immediately coming up with the most banger headcanons like 5mins into joining the fandom. - I know the popular headcanon is ghosts can't feel stuff but CAN feel other ghosts, and while I generally subscribe to that it doesn't fit this fic for Reasons. Bear with me! - the bones in the attic is from the comics. I haven't actually read the main DBDA comics, but I've read the issue of Sandman they initially appear in. I'm assuming the show isn't doing the bones in the attic, since it looks like Edwin disappeared completely and all the boys who sacrificed him got killed, but it had such delicious angst potential I wanted to do my own take on how it could work in the show and that's basically what kicked off this fic! The ideas have been developing as I write though and the shape has changed a lot from my initial idea! Anyway, that's enough out of me, I've babbled enough today 😅 But I hope you liked this, please consider dropping us a comment if you did! Or come talk to m, honestly, I'm just excited about these guys and wanna yap xD Hopefully get the next chapter out in the next couple of weeks or so, but chapter 2 is probs gonna be the most awkward one bc it's the one where my ideas need to most work to string together! Until next time! 💛

[arson-09]

“A Court of Bones and Dust, A burning star falling to spring.”

“They told her he was a beast, an untameable monster doomed to roam his own lands after causing his own downfall. Catrin isn’t so sure of that.”

I haven’t written a single chapter for this fic yet but i have made art, the outline, and a handful of ocs who i have gotten very attached to and made way too much lore about. also writing those little summaries are the devil, i wanna yap too much :(. so i decided to leave that out and just post the art and let anyone whos curious ask questions! ill be posting little teasers and shit while i work on the chapters but i just couldnt keep the art to myself anymore, too excited :D

Tag list: @achaotichuman <3 if anyone wants to be tagged lemme know (and if u asked before and i forgor. i forgor alot)

[thatanimewriter]

SPRING HAS SPRUNG.

➳ synopsis: it's spring time and your bird-like tendencies are hitting at full force

➳ character/s: dan heng, jing yuan, dr ratio, aventurine, sunday, midoriya izuku, tokoyami fumikage, uraraka ochako, shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki

➳ warnings: swearing, you got wings and you like nesting, very mildly suggestive (jing yuan, aventurine, sunday), spoilers for aven backstory

➳ notes: i'm back at it with bird!reader stuff because i think it's cute. will i ever do any other content with bnha that isn't birds (this is like, the 4th-), probably not LMAO

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆.

he's just come back from the luofu n is lowkey kinda stressed cause memories n stuff

so he chooses to go to your room on the express to get some cuddles in

but as soon as he walks in, he sees you on the bed, wings spread and a bunch of shirts and blankets around you

he gave a little 'aww' and removed his shoes and coat before slipping under your wing

you grunted quietly n he was lowkey like 0_0 cause he didn't wanna wake you

but you just shuffled a bit and returned to sleeping

if he doesn't fall asleep with you, he's probably slapping everything from the luofu onto the databank from his phone

he is also in vidyadhara nesting mode probably

so it's just a mess of clothes, blankets, wings and a tail in this strange huddle

maybe you can convince him to get out of the databank and ditch his futon on the floor

── 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍.

he loves being a little bit lazy, so he's probably come home earlier than he should be (don't tell fu xuan)

he's watching as you build your nest on his bed and he just chuckles and comes to help you set up PRIME abode

you have to convince him to do some of his work in the nest though, otherwise he'll just sleep under your wing

the birds that hide in his hair are living for the nest though, they all come out to have fun

the birds will preen you in your sleep ;v;

you'll be taking a nap and they're out doin whatever and then they start hoppin all over your wings and preening your wings

they don't let jing yuan do it for you, they nip him if he tries and that's the only time they'll be somewhat aggressive to him

this also sucks if you experience any form of heat or rut

all of his birds and his partner are going THROUGH it and you're all such a handful

he's gotta find a way to separate you from his birds so he can spend quality time with you

── 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎.

he also does all his work in your little nest if he isn't soaking in the bath (unlike jing yuan, he's willingly productive)

dude's a nerd, so he probably does know how to preen your wings for you if you let him

he might be reluctant to bathe WITH you if you bathe similarly to a literal bird though

thankfully he has a beeg bath though, so you have room to splash and flap the wings about

he might've gone out and bought the best blankets and pillows for you to make a nest

maybe even bought a circular bed for you both to fit so it's more nest-like

is also probably mildly annoying cause he's a smartass, so any angsty moment is kinda like guys askin if it's shark week

like a swear jar, he has a jar for how often you smack him with your wings

accident or not-

he's coping, but he loves you, so he'll stay with you in your nest and let you shove shiny things in his pockets

── 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄.

he lives for nesting season, this is his favourite time of year EVER, hands down

does call you baby bird all the time, but it's worse now that it's spring

sorta sad note, but he probably enjoys nesting season so much cause he feels a love and a warmth he never got as a kid-

wrapped in wings and you're a bit more possessive than you would normally be

comfy bed, naps (for you at least, he's got ipc work-)

he once went to work with a feather stuck in his clothes, but he ended up keeping it as an addition

maybe not in the original place, but definitely somewhere on his 'uniform'

would be annoying and keep saying he's very happy to satisfy any SPRINGTIME needs for you

to which you kick him out of your nest :))

he gets invited back in after a few hours, but he's got some groveling to do

── 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘.

he gets it, he sorta has it too

joint nest for the both of you with all your favourite blankets and pillows

obviously he doesn't have big wings like you do, but he helps preen your feathers and you get to do the same

if you nap together, he flaps his wings in your face to wake you up with a lil :3

he has all the blankets as part of the nest but his favourite blanket is your wings

kinda gatekeeps you a bit in spring, he doesn't want people he doesn't trust going near you

n he doesn't wanna leave you either, he wants to stay in the nest and cuddle and nap ;v;

probably sex as well, but-

he brings you shiny things daily, but it becomes a slight problem when you run out of shelf room

the wind power than generates from you flapping your wings in a fit is definitely more than his and he's a lil bit jealous ._.

── 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

he's got all your care instructions in his little quirk notebook, so he's all set to be by your side all spring

he will never say no to a nap in the nest, ever

when the dorm rooms come in, you've got a sunken circular bed for your nesting habits

he has a lot of photos of you tucked in, sleeping with your wings outstretched

a lot of sketches as well cause he thinks you look oh so adorable when you're hidden away in bed

highkey wishes you could permanently live in the same dorm just to have access to your nest

turns all your loose feathers into quills for fun

he brings you shiny things if he sees them when he's out and brings them to you

he thought he'd have to convince you to leave the dorms, but it's actually the opposite way around

he likes the warmth, he likes your company, why can't he stay >:((

── 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄.

he gets it pt. 2

his head is actually hair, not feathers (yeah i know right-), so you'd have to teach him how to preen your wings for you

BUT you have dark shadow as well, so tokoyami has one wing, dark shadow has the other

and you get your care done twice as fast

tokoyami nuzzles his beak into the crook of your neck when you nap

probably nibbles on your wings a little bit by accident to preen you, but you don't mind, you think it's funny

he will help you tidy and make your nest, but it might cause arguments sometimes over where pillows should go

it's a bit of a squashed bed situation if you did a sleepover

the dorm beds aren't super big for this stuff, so you can't curl up that much

but you make do with what you have

── 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐎.

she loves spring time ;v;

the nice weather, the flowers, the warmth of your nest when you set it up

also, what a great excuse for a day in should she want one???

just say that her partner is having spring time blues and you need her with you to get through it

she brings the fluffiest blankets for you both to snuggle under, but she's still getting used to the sheer size of your nest

more squish than she thought there would be cause there's SO MANY pillows

turned some of your feathers into jewellery like earrings and probably a dream catcher tbh

she can float, so if you wanna do little flying sessions, she's so down to come

chilling in the nest with a hot chocolate and a movie or series is a great way to relax at the end of a day

she will also stroke your wings if you fall asleep before her, but she'll fall asleep soon after if you do-

── 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈.

listen, he'll take ANY reason to stay home that he can, and he will be so happy to spend his day in with you

he might be a little shit and tease you for how fussy you get about your nest and your grooming

but he will cuddle with you and he will help you tidy yourself if you want him to

probably for feathers nearer your back, cause you can't reach as easily

he has a lot of photos of you sleeping in his camera roll, and if you snatch his phone in spring, it's all you

lots of little butterfly kisses all over in the mornings when you're both waking up

he also tells people to fuck off if they want either of you for something when you're actively isolating from society

his bed hair is WILD though, so maybe you have to preen him more than you initially thought

it's already a mess, but it's even more of a nest

he made a joke that you could sleep in his hair once and he spent that night in his own bed ._.

── 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈.

he will combust n explode

you're so cute when you're nesting and snuggling into your bed, his heart can't take it

he thinks you're trying to kill him, but if you are, he'll die happy at least

sometimes will grow his own wings to get double wing action when you nap in the nest

he appreciates the domesticity of spring time for you and probably thinks about what this might be like when you graduate ua

but he blushes so hard thinking about a future (with you) that he hides under your wings and doesn't resurface until he has to

it's not him who has photos of you in your nest, instead it's mirio who has the photos

he permeates through the dorm walls to tell you guys things but you're usually sleeping in your free time in spring

he says it's for the inevitable wedding so he can do a presentation about how he's your no. 1 supporter

you're jealous of tamaki, cause he doesn't have to preen his wings, he just eats chicken and grows amazing wings ;v;

[emilybeemartin]

A whopping, like, 2.6 people have expressed interest in my recent adventures in watching Bean films, which is all the encouragement I need to present to you:

An Incomplete Guide to Sean Bean Roles (Investigation Ongoing)

Our guy has a vast filmography, and I'm not even close to being halfway through it, but I've watched a lot of his significant ones in the past few weeks thanks to a perfect storm of illness, injury, and lapses in client work. Crucially, I have created superlatives for a variety of them and present them here for your benefit. Disclaimer: many of these films are violent! Or have butts and/or tits! Some have dick! Some have dated bits that didn't age well! So, if you have triggers or are watching with young viewers, do your research first! Also, these are just the opinions of one solitary millennial! Nothing is objective! Nothing is real! I care not!

Okay, CYA done, let's begin. I'll get the two most obvious ones out of the way up front, otherwise they'll dominate half the categories:

ACT I

Greatest Bean: Fellowship of the Ring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he achieved more pathos with Boromir than a lot of his other roles have allowed for, and every note he hits just sings. No debate.

Best Bean for Your Buck: Sharpe. For the best confluence of quantity, quality, physicality, emotion, humor, and action, you can't beat Richard Sharpe.

Favorite Dramatic Bean: Time; he earned that BAFTA fr

Softest Bean: The first date scene in Stormy Monday, where Brendan shyly gets to know Kate, slow dances with her, lends her a shirt and strokes her back after she asks if they can just go to sleep instead of have sex.

Most Dashing Bean: Vronsky in Anna Karenina, that uniform cuts, damn

Swooniest Bean: I know I'm supposed to say Chatterley, and he is undeniably sexy as Mellors, but there are parts where his character is actually kind of off-putting. I'll lay a good chunk of the blame on the weirdly ominous score, the very of-the-time depiction of dubious consent, and Joely Richardson's tendency to look like she's having the worst time of her life while shagging the hot gamekeeper. No, I'm giving this category to Stormy Monday again. He's just so gentle and genuine in this one, without some of the obligatory "heartthrob" overtones of his nineties stuff. He never raises his voice at Kate or manhandles her. He really does feel like some kid who just wants to be sweet to his girlfriend.

Laddiest Bean: When Saturday Comes, specifically the strip club and bathtub scenes.

Favorite Sad Bean: As a collective, he has some great grief scenes in World on Fire, but! The railroad track scene in When Saturday Comes?! That was RAW.

Favorite Mad Bean: Black Death; there are plenty of movies where he doesn't smile at all, but unlike some others, his grimness and anger felt proportionate to the story, rather than just rage because he's good at rage.

Favorite Bad Bean: There are so many great Bean villains (Goldeneye, obvs), but I think my favorite is Patriot Games. Bonus points for all the different hairstyles he has in this film (long locks-shag-shag ponytail!-buzz-wet spiky buzz). Also HUGH FRASER AAAA

Favorite Dad Bean: Wolfwalkers, where Bill Goodfellowe literally turns his own convictions and beliefs upside-down in order to protect and support his daughter.

INTERMISSION

A note on GoT: I haven't watched it. When season one was first coming out, it was during a time where I really couldn't handle watching any kind of sexual assault onscreen, and while I have a higher tolerance now, I just... don't want to. I like seeing gifs of Ned Stark and appreciate that it's one of his great roles, but I just can't make myself take the plunge.

ilysm you grizzled dead wolf man

ACT II

Favorite Costumed Bean: Odysseus in Troy: curls, leather, thighs.

Favorite Un-Costumed Bean: He strips in quite a lot of his films, so let's give it to Lady Chatterley for sheer screentime, exertion, and the bonus of being naked and wearing a flower crown. Honorable mention to When Saturday Comes for the totally not homoerotic amount of butts and also dick in the locker room bathtub scene.

Hurtin'est Bean: Bravo Two Zero. Oof, don't watch this one if you have an aversion to seeing pain, although---you're a Sean Bean fan, and we all know one of his MOs is being GREAT at pain. This one was directed by Tom Clegg, who directed Sharpe. Also lol at the sickle-shaped wound on his shoulder, which is covering his 100% Blade tattoo (he gets a lot of sickle-shaped wounds on his left shoulder).

Best Inside References: The Frankenstein Chronicles, where he plays a former Peninsular soldier, and every reference to his service is a reference to Sharpe, including shots of his greenjacket, pistol, sword, and flogging scars. Honorable mention to The Martian for the Council of Elrond line.

Most Unsettling Bean: Cleanskin for moral grayness, The Frankenstein Chronicles for body horror

Most Inefficient Use of Bean: Black Beauty. Despite getting high billing he's only onscreen for about two minutes and I'm convinced the long shots are a body double. Criminal.

Biggest Missed Opportunity: We were robbed of a Sean Bean Odyssey. R o b b e d

Funniest Bean: Deploying Bean for comedy is woefully underused, but he made full use of his ~15 seconds in The Vicar of Dibley ("Spring" episode). He's also hilarious in Wasted, though I haven't watched the show, only the clips he's in on YouTube, where he plays a mock version of himself serving as a spirit guide for a stoner. IMO, though, Sharpe gives him the most room for humor.

Favorite Character Quirk: In World on Fire, when Douglas is having WWI flashbacks and really coming apart, he kept putting his hand to his mouth. My modern brain first read this as talking into a phantom radio, but of course that wasn't right, and then I realized--he was reaching for a phantom gas mask. CHILLS. AMAZING. (Honorable mentions to the Mouth Rub and the Tongue Thing [pictured above]).

Most Nostalgic Bean: National Treasure. The concept may be utter silliness, but you have to admit, this is a fun movie to watch.

Best Dismount from a Horse: Henry VIII, he goes pshwing out of the saddle

Best Swordplay: You may think there's no possible answer to this, but there is---two moments, specifically: the preparatory sword-spin he does at Balin's tomb just before the goblin attack in Moria, and the four lunges he does at 1:26:22 of Sharpe's Battle. It's just facts.

Prettiest Bean Film: Wolfwalkers, hands downnnn

Favorite Bean Death: All right, you knew we had to eventually end here. It's Boromir, obviously--- nothing tops that. But if we're looking at other roles, I think Patriot Games is my favorite, followed by Goldeneye.

So! That concludes this installment of Bean films, though I'll be continuing the labor, and I hope you will, too. What are your favorites?

[maelialuv]

Call It What You Want, Steve Harrington

Summary: Going to a party at your bully's house had to be your worst nightmare come true. But you know what they say; don't get over someone, get under them.

Warnings: SMUT! slow burn filth. I need a hot shower level. breeding kink if you squint. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) fem!reader :)

NOTE: some characters have been aged up, like chrissy, so that everyone is in senior year at the same time :)

Word Count: 5.9K

You loved a party. Couldn't get enough of the heat of a group of people, the roar of laughter overlapping with the excited chatter of friends reuniting. The inevitable crash of dropped glass making the whole crowd hush before resuming their nestled talk. You were, in every sense of the word, a party girl. But that wasn't always the case.

Before this year - your senior year at Hawkins High- you'd been riding the coat tails of your childhood best friend, Nancy Wheeler, all throughout your school life. You were the sad little puppy that followed her around, but Nance never minded. She was always happy to have you by her side, or just behind her. Everywhere she went, you were there a few seconds later. That was until she started hanging out with, and later dating your sworn enemy.

Steve Harrington.

The guy had tormented you since middle school, along with his minions Tommy and Carol. The two of you used to make fun of people like them, stuck up and out of touch, and then she became one of them. Just like that. You could tell she felt guilty, by the way she would send you a furrowed glance at lunch as if to say 'I'm sorry, I have to!', like she had no control over who she surrounded herself with. As if she had no choice but to curl up beside the guy that broke your elbow in seventh grade.

Like she couldn't help but fall into the arms of the guy that had made your life a living hell for more than six years.

You still occasionally spoke to Nancy. After all, you lived across from one another, and thus had to see each other at some points. She would sometimes invite you to study, but you had started to make excuses after you had seen Harrington climb the garage roof and into her window, not liking the thought of his impulsive tendency for a romantic rendezvous interrupting a study session whilst you were there. You didn't want to put Nacy through the grief.

Your 'Lost Lamb' persona left you the moment you started hanging out with someone you never thought you'd consider a friend in your wildest dreams, or nightmares, Chrissy Cunningham. Expecting her to be a total Queen Bee, she was nothing of the sort. She was warm and kind and sisterly, all the things you missed from your friendship with Nancy. She sat with you at lunch, went to the movies with you, and eventually secured you a seat at the table with the rest of the cheerleaders, their boyfriends and the rest of their gang. They welcomed you with unexpected sincerity, and that was that.

You started going to house parties on Saturdays, diners on Wednesday nights with the girls, study sessions with some of the basketball team that couldn't quite pass a class or two. People waved at you in the halls, remembering your name for once. You and Chrissy would have sleep overs, and you felt the hole in your heart that Nancy left slowly start to heal. More or less.

But then you got that stupid invite.

"Gotcha!" Chrissy closed your locker door, scaring you senseless.

"Jesus, Chris!" you stacked your books in your arms. She was smiling wide, as always, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What?" you said, a raised brow and half a smirk making its way across your lips.

"Before you say anything, just let me talk," she made tiny praying hands to her chest, puppy dog eyes gleaming. "Promise?"

"Okay," you sighed.

"There's a party this weekend, and we're all going, and we all really want you to come." You looked at her with raised brows, as if to say 'go on?'. "It's Steve Harrington's party."

You'd managed to avoid almost every one of Harrington's parties with some believable, and some not so believable, excuses in the past year since your surge in popularity. "I don't know, Chris, I'm so busy with college applications this weekend-"

"Who needs them!" she cried, "We all know you're gonna get into Yale or Hardvard or Brown or whichever super crazy smart college you want to go to." She grabbed your hand, swaying it back and forth, like a child begging their mother for a candy bar at the grocery store. "Pretty please?" she did the puppy eyes again, knowing it would sway you to agree.

"Fine."

"Yay! I'll come to your house at nine tomorrow to get you!"

And that's how you found yourself in your old bullies house, red solo cup in hand, full of whatever lethal punch one of the football players had concocted. Already tipsy, lingering by the kitchen so that the constant stream of drinks wouldn't slow. Bodies moved ungracefully around you, shimmying and shoving through to the living room or to the ruckus of the back yard where people were throwing each other into Steve Harrington's large pool. You sipped on your drink thoughtfully, feeling the confidence built over the last year slip away from you as you returned to your old wallflower state.

"Why are you hiding in here, silly?" Chrissy came to your side, the shimmery pink eyeshadow on her lids making her green eyes luminous in the low light of the kitchen. "The gang's all next door, come on!" She grabbed your hand with surprising strength, dragging you into the large living room. Deep sofas lined the walls, each with a basketball player and their girlfriends curled up on one. On the one furthest from you, was Nancy and Steve. Next to them, Tommy and Carol. It made your stomach turn to see her with him. You avoided her persistent gaze. But Harrington's gaze, raking you in and eyes darting up and down, was harder to lose. He stared at you adamantly.

When the buzz of chatter died down, a few of the basketball players and their girlfriends left to find more entertaining activities, it was just a handful of people left in the living room. Including you, Nance and Steve. Tommy had the glint of wicked amusement in his eyes, and it made you uncomfortable. "I know what we should do," he said, eyes falling to you. "Let's play a little game." Carol perked up beside him, as if their minds were connected in some twisted way. "Yeah, let's do something fun."

"Games, come on guys," Jason, Chrissy's boyfriend, spoke up. "We're not in middle school anymore." Carol got her own wicked smile.

"Oh, certainly not." her eyes fell on you , analysing how your style had changed. You were wearing dark make up, smoking out your eyes and giving them an alluring pull. You showed off skin, knew how to present yourself. Her eyes narrowed, her smile a venomous sneer. "No, if this were middle school, I wouldn't be caught dead at a party with her."

You simply cocked your head to the side, giving carol a tight lipped sarcastic smile. Inside, you felt thirteen again. Instinctively, you grabbed your elbow, as if you could feel the pain of the break there now. Tommy barked out a laugh at Carol's comment. "Yeah, who knew the black sheep would turn into a black swan, huh?"

You felt gross as he raked his eyes over you, unashamed as he stared at the place where the hem of your dress ended.

"Fuck off, Tommy." you retorted, voice calm but heart racing a million miles a minute behind your ribcage. You felt like you were a lamb on a platter for the lions, ready for the slaughter.

"She speaks!" Carol squawked. Next to them on the couch, Nancy squirmed. Never one for confrontation, she excused herself to grab a drink. You caught her eye as she left. She looked guilty. You wanted to follow her, grab her by the shoulders and tell her to wake up. Tell her that her friends, and her boyfriend, were assholes. But she never listened before. She just couldn't admit it to herself.

"Been a while since we've seen you, babe. Where've you been hiding those legs, huh?" Carol smacked her gum as she spoke, obnoxious and loud.

"I found some better people to hang out with." Beside you, Chrissy stuck her arm over your shoulder. Her face was hard. It made her look older, the serious glare that she was sending Carol. Carol sneered at her, and the expression aged her terribly.

Steve caught your eye, shifted hard away from Tommy. He was gripping his beer with a tight knuckled grip. His eyes slithered down your neck, over your chest, and landed similarly to Tommy's. You grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked downward.

"One of the cool kids now, are you? Not following Wheeler around like a dog anymore?" Tommy took a long sip of his beer.

"We drifted apart." you said simply.

"Oh yeah? Since when?" Carol chimed in again and you felt your blood boil beneath your skin. Steve continued his obvious oggling.

"Since she traded her spine for a shiny new basketball player"

Nancy stood by the door, drink in hand. Her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. The whole group erupted into astonished laughter, Chrissy struggling to hold back as she clutched her stomach. Steve glared at the floor, as if willing it to say a comeback that would sting you back. Nancy sat down beside him, silent.

"Woah, you gonna take that Wheeler?" Carol guffawed.

She remained silent as a mouse at Steve's side.

"Nance was never one for speaking up anyway. "

You grabbed your cup and flittered out of the living room, the atmosphere suffocating you. You needed another drink, a cigarette, and some alone time. Drink secured, and obscenely strong, you crept up the stairs to the second floor. Once you found a room that didn't stink of puke or had two people sucking face in, an ensuite bathroom, you locked the door and sat in the tub.

Shutting the shower curtain, doc martens resting on the taps, you lit your cigarette. You still couldn't believe you were in Steve Harrington's house - let alone one of his bathtubs - after everything that went down all those years. Yet there you were. Nancy lost to the dark side, you in with the cool kids. Your middle school self wouldn't believe it. You rested your eyes for a moment, breathing in the smoke and taking gentle sips of your drink.

Your thoughts were interrupted by muffled yelling in the next room. You stubbed out your cigarette, trying to get out of the tub as quietly as possible, when you heard your name. It was Steve and Nancy, and they were fighting. About you.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" Steve said, exasperated.

"You guys were awful to her, Steve!"

"Yeah, like you did anything about it, huh Nance?"

You recoiled back into the tub, feeling invasive but caring more about what Nancy had to say for herself than your moral compass. It was a years' worth of pain cementing your form in the tub, ear preened toward the doorway.

"You tormented her!"

"And you watched! If anything, that's worse!"

"How is that worse than what you, YOU, did to her Steve?!

There was a pause. You could imagine Nancy's face; pouted lips, furrowed brow, cheeks blotchy from an ill-fated attempt to hold back her angry tears. Steve laughed humourlessly. It was a cutting sound, and you could hear Nancy take deep breaths.

"What we did, sure, it was stupid. Do I regret it? Of course, we never meant to get her hurt back then."

"You're still awful to her!"

"And there's the kicker," Steve chuckled darkly. "She always stuck up for herself. That's why we did it, we knew she'd give us some fun." There was a long moment where no one spoke. "You never stood up for her once, Nancy."

His words hung in the air like smoke, seeping into your clothes and clogging your throat.

"You never defended her, then or now."

Nancy was flustered, stuttering over her words.

"You never stood up for your best friend? Thats...awful, Nance."

You could hear as Nancy struggled to find a defence, as she used to with you. She would blubber to you, relaying how guilty she felt with enough tears that you eventually ended up comforting her, forgetting that you'd even come to her for help.

"Fuck you, Steve." You could hear as she grabbed her things, storming out of the room with vibrant language. The loud declaration that "it was fucking over" made a laugh - vindictive and partly delighted - rise in your chest.

You smacked a hand over your mouth in realisation. Your movements froze, fear jolting through your bones as you heard Steve pattering about the next room. His movements stopped abruptly as your foot knocked a bottle of shampoo off the edge of the tub.

In a split second - idiotic- decision, you decide to make a run for it. You rip back the curtain, jumping to the floor and striding for the door, the door you had so stupidly locked. A warm hand grabbed your wrist in a vice like grip.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

His voice was low, deep. It echoed in your chest. It made your heart thump. It made your blood boil.

"Get your hand off me." you seethed. His grip remained, making the skin of your wrist tingle. His touch was firm yet feather light. Unwilling to let you go, but not trying to hurt you. When his hand remained unmoving, you struggled against his grasp. "Get off, Steve."

He was leaning over you, shoulder blocking the door. He hovered above you, taunting, as he looked you over again. His gaze was relentless, inescapable. Confusing.

"Let go, Steve." You sighed out, defeated and embarrassed as he held you in place. You felt unnervingly calm. Strangely glued to the floor under his honey brown eyes as they bored into your own. You wanted nothing more than to move your feet - maybe stomp on his own so he would release the grip on your hand- and get out of the claustrophobic bathroom. You risked a glance up at the boy.

Christ.

Steve was never unattractive. Never had an awkward phase. He was always tall, athletic and tanned. Your hatred for the boy hadn't blinded you to the painfully obvious. But in the dim green light of the bathroom, shadows accentuating sharp cheekbones and jawline, you saw it. Saw it as the other girls did. Steve Harrington was gorgeous. He was painfully attractive, in every sense of the word. From the symmetrical lines of his cupids bow to the dark lashes framing honey eyes, he was hypnotic. And he had you completely under his spell.

"How much of that did you hear?"

His voice was aggravatingly quiet, gentle. Intoxicating. There was a gap between the two of you, small enough that you could feel the warmth of Steve's breath on your cheek as he spoke. You felt like a child being scolded by a parent, guilt driving you to complete honesty. It was the same tone that would make you confess to a teacher, had the same soft lilt.

"Enough." You replied, and your voice was hoarse. Rough, like you needed water desperately. You did, you felt as though your throat was bone dry. "Enough to hear you chew out Nancy."

Steve's eyes were inexplicably soft as he looked at you, and at the mention of Nancy they hardened almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, well," he sighed, languid and frustrated, "that was gonna happen, no matter if it was about you or not." When you raised as brow - both in shock at his willingness to detail the state of his relationship, and as a sign to continue- he went on. "All we do is fight."

"Hmm."

""What?"

"Karma came and bit you both in the ass."

The look Steve gave you made you feel bad for saying it, but it was overruled by the vindictive joy you felt at hurting his feelings. The way he backed up slightly, as if he'd not expected you to say something, made your heart jolt a bit. He'd been so awful to you for so long that the knowledge of his relationship being far from perfect made a smile creep its way across your lips.

Steve huffed, frustrated again.

"You are incredibly hard to understand." He said, the same sickeningly sweet voice at play. "You're very different...to how you used to be."

"You mean I'm not a loser anymore?" You quirked a brow.

"You were never a loser," he stepped closer to you, hand still on yours. "You were just...," he trailed off. His gaze was unashamed, staring straight down at your lips as he spoke. "Different."

'What a crock of shit,' you thought. This coming from the guy that bullied you all throughout middle school, even through high school. it was the biggest load of bullshit you'd ever heard. But your ears rang with the rush of blood behind your ears as your heart hammered inside your chest. Steve Harrington was a flirt, and a good one. You were experiencing his best lines. And they were working.

"Different?" there was hardly any space between the two of you now, Steve's lips brushing over yours as he shifted. You didn't stop him when his hand brushed your sides.

"Yeah," the hand that had been holding your wrist against the doorknob came up to cup your cheek. Steve's top lip was on yours as he spoke, "different."

The two of you crashed together with teeth and lips, a brawl of desperate hands and angry grudges. Fingers tangled in hair immediately, tugging and scratching. Steve tasted of smoke, beer and something innately Boyish. His hands settled at your waist, grasping the fabric of your dress there. His lips were pillowy and soft, addictive. You suddenly understood why Nancy put up with it; kissing Steve Harrington was like having your own personal drug. The kiss deepened as you shifted heads, turning for better angles and access.

Steve groaned as his tongue slid across yours, and the way he so clearly enjoyed the kiss made you feel powerful. He backed you up against the bathroom counter. "Jump," he whispered, your bottom lip between his teeth as he nipped the skin there. You did as he said, his voice husky and hypnotic, and he lifted you to rest on the sink. Legs parted, Steve rested between your open knees. One hand resting there, one working on shrugging you out of the jacket that clung to your shoulders. He pulled away from you, an amused smirk on his face as you whined, to rip the jacket away. Shoulders and neck exposed, Steve got to work on the skin there.

You were suddenly way more aware of what you were doing.

"You better not leave a mark, Harrington." you panted out, as Steve nipped a particularly sweet spot just below your ear. He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

"Why?" he asked, smug lilt to his words. "Afraid of people knowing?"

"More ashamed than afraid," you said, choking on your words as Steve nipped at the skin of your throat. "Can't have people thinking just anyone can have me."

Steve pulled back, and god you melted right there. Hair a mess, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It was a glorious sight. "And I'm just anyone?" He was smug, overconfident. Irritatingly attractive.

"Yeah," you gripped the belt loops of his jeans, yanking forward. The bewildered look on his face made you grin. "so this stays between us."

"Aye aye, Captain."

And off you went again, lips colliding in heated snarls. There was a primal anger behind it, driving you into his strong arms as he encased you. Was this self sabotage? Maybe so, but it was the hottest thing you'd ever experienced. Steve's nimble fingers caressed their way up your back, finding the straps of your bra with ease. He snapped one against your shoulder, making you yelp and using the sound to slip his tongue back into your mouth. If it didn't make your bones feel like jelly, you would have chastised him for the cheap move. Carnal desire taking over your mind, you let your cold hands scrape up his chest, lifting the hem of his shirt to graze his stomach.

He tensed up at the touch, a stuttered breath fanning your face as he sighed. His two hands landed firm on your knees, creeping up your legs and stopping as he stroked your inner thigh with his forefingers.

"Permission to come aboard?"

You nodded, arousal coursing through you like a stake to the heart.

"Words, please...Captain."

"You find yourself funny, don't you?"

"Very." His fingers were so close yet so far from where you wanted them. "Do you want to?"

"Yes, I do."

"There we go."

He kissed you again, this time slow. It was harder than before, and as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, Steve slipped your underwear down your legs. He groaned into the kiss as he felt you, excitement clear by the wet patch on your panties. "God, you're wet."

You should have been embarrassed. You should have pulled your panties off the floor and run out of the house and all the way home without looking back. But you were putty in his hands as Steve slipped a finger inside of you, hooking upwards and finding that special spot almost immediately. A high pitched whine - one that shocked even you- made its way out of your mouth, muffled as you buried your head in Steve's neck as he set a slow pace. "What a pretty sound," he groaned, catching your face in his hand as you threw it back against the mirror. "You gonna keep making 'em like that?"

You nodded, breathless, and then he was out of your sight.

Steve kissed down your chest, shoving your dress over your stomach and kissing the skin as he went down. His fingers intwined with yours as they gripped the marble counter. You sat up to catch his eye, and what a pretty sight it was. Steve Harrington, pupils dilated with lust, with his head between your thighs. He kissed your thighs, and you mewled; so close yet so far.

"Please," you moaned. Embarrassment crept up on you, and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "God, please Steve."

Steve dug his fingers into the skin of your thighs, toying with them. He kissed his way to your knees, enjoying the sight before him as you writhed about. "Please what?" he said, and had you not been desperate for him to bury his head between your legs you would have kicked him. He grinned as you fought the urge to beg. "What do you want?" He left surprisingly tender pecks to your knee.

"I want you."

"Where do you want me?" he was taking his time with you, partly for himself - savouring the moment, rejoicing in the way you fell apart before him- and partly to tease you into insanity.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned as he nipped the supple skin of your thighs.

"Steve is just fine." He laughed, putting you out of your misery as he licked one broad stripe up your centre. It was the stupidest, most reckless thing you could be doing, which made it even hotter as Steve hooked his hands under your hips, holding you on top of the counter as your legs wrapped round his head and your hands wove themselves into his hair. Almost immediately you understood Steve's reputation, and you felt a pang of possessiveness as his lips encased your clit, humming as he went. Your back arched off the tiles, mouth agape in a silent 'O' shape. Harrington knew what he was doing, that much was clear as your first orgasm crept up on you.

You could hardly muster words, the only sound in the jade coloured bathroom being the obscene wet sounds and your whimpers as Steve continued to ruin you on the counter. "I'm gonna - oh shit, Steve." The way you moaned his name - like it was the only one you knew, the only one that mattered- made Steve's jeans feel impossibly tight, palming himself for something, anything to relieve himself. He was just as desperate, just as wanting, as you were - if not more. The thought of what was to come made you clench around Steve's fingers, exploding in a white hot scream on his tongue. You fell back against the mirror, hairs sticking to the sides of your face, cheeks flushed with both heat and bashfulness. Steve crept up your stomach again, stealing a kiss when he made it to your lips.

You could taste yourself as he kissed you, slow and deep. His hands swiped the hair from your face, in a gesture entirely too sweet for a boy that had just ravaged you in his bathroom. It bothered you. That wasn't part of the interaction - there was no sweetness involved. It almost took you out of the moment, but as your hips bucked into Steve's, and he let out a strangled groan, the moment was saved. As his lips found purchase on your collarbones, your hands made work of unbuttoning his shirt - purposefully slow, you enjoyed watching his stomach tense as you grazed it. The sharp intake of breath as you began unbuckling his belt made you feel powerful, made your stomach do flips. "Here?" you asked, kissing down his neck to the space where it met his shoulders, "or somewhere else?"

Steve's eyes lit up like a christmas tree at the prospect that this - whatever this was- wasn't over just yet. He gripped your hands on his belt buckle. "Not here." With little effort, he hoisted you over his shoulder - much to your shock and dismay. You swatted his back but couldn't help the swell of arousal as his arm tightened round your waist. He set you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you with one hand on your cheek. In the dim light of his bedroom, Steve Harrington was devastatingly handsome. The soft glow of peaches and oranges made his eyes a molten chocolate, skin peppered with a red hue from...exertion.

"It's rude to stare." he said, voice void of the smugness from before. It made your ribcage rattle, heart thudding with the weight of his stare. It felt like he was looking at your soul, and it made you shiver. The boy who'd tormented you for years, was seeing you. Staring right back at him, your hands made their way to his belt loops. It was your turn to make him writhe a bit.

"Can't help it," you said, voice all airy and entirely foreign to your ears. It dripped with a lust, husky and soft. "You're somewhat of a looker."

You ripped his jeans open, nimble hands ridding him of the garment in seconds. As you grabbed the waistband of his boxers, the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, his hand stopping you. "As amazing as that would be," he said regrettably, "if I don't get you on that bed, I think I may lose my mind." He said it so breathlessly that it made your thighs clench together. He wanted you so badly. You cocked your head to the side, half playful and half serious as you said, "Do something about it then."

Steve didn't need to be told twice. He dove into you, hand steadying your head as your lips locked together - an irritatingly perfect puzzle piece finding another. You were a tangle of legs, arms, and lips as the two of you buried yourselves in Steve Harrington's bed, ridding each other of the clothes that stopped your from touching one another completely. His knee found its home between you, shifting your legs apart to make room for hips. You were encased in Steve; his scent, the feel of his lips on your skin, his legs locking yours in place. His hips rocking into yours as he kissed your neck with sinful skill.

Your hands grew restless, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck as if he would understand the morse code in the pulling. "Steve," you groaned as he knocked his hips into yours, "please."

You were begging, and you were embarrassed. You couldn't bring yourself to say the words- couldn't stand the thought of asking your middle school bully to fuck you in his bed at his own party. But the boy had other ideas.

"Say it." he toyed with your clit, thumbing it as you whined. When you stayed silent, he pinched one of your nipples between his fingers. he smirked at how quickly they puckered underneath him. "Say you want me."

Your cheeks burned with shame. You couldn't - wouldn't- beg him.

He hovered over you, hands either side of your head, nose brushing yours. You could feel the ghost of his lips over your own. His hand came to rest on your chin, thumb sliding over your lip, tugging it down and letting it slide back. "Open."

You did as he said, opening your mouth wide enough for Steve to slide his thumb into your mouth, a teasing smile on his face as you swirled your tongue around it. "Say you want me to fuck you." He pulled his thumb out of your mouth slowly, grinning as it made a satisfying pop. He leaned down to the shell of your ear. "Tell me you want me to ruin you," he whispered.

The burn in the pit of your stomach raged as Steve kissed the hollow of your throat, waiting for you to speak. Your breath was shallow, eyes closed as you whispered into the air, hoping the buzz of the party below would swallow your words.

"I want you to ruin me."

Steve grinned, wolfish and smug, as he lined himself up with you, locking eyes with you as he pushed himself in. You knew you were gone when he moaned your name like a prayer, said it like it was the cure to his troubles. Like you were something to treasure. One strong arm gripped the headboard as he panted. "God," he grunted out, "you feel incredible."

There was something electric about hearing praise from the boy that tormented you for years, something wickedly delightful about watching his mouth hang open with pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You clenched around him, desperate for any friction to satisfy the burning between your legs. "Can I move?" he groaned.

"Yes, please."

In public, Steve was an athlete. Behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an Olympian. He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The sounds of the party- the drunken teens stumbling, the music blaring- were drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin, of your whines and Steve Harrington's moans as you fell apart beneath him.

"Shitshitshit- man, you're amazing." he moaned as he rutted into you. You were frozen in pleasure, mouth open from silent screams of pleasure. You bit your lip, so hard you would have tasted blood had Steve not being everything you felt in that moment. "Oh, fuck," you groaned at a particularly deep thrust, "I'm s-so close."

"Me too," Steve whimpered, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you'd ever heard. "Where should I-"

"I'm on the pill." you sputtered out.

Steve's eyes darkened, delighted at the permission, determined to get you to your peak before he fell apart himself. "Yeah? You gonna let me come inside?" His hand reached between your conjoined bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Gonna come for me?"

Your back arched off the mattress, the coil in your stomach snapping at the same time Steve collapsed on top of you, his stuttering as he came. You both panted, recovering from the exertion. Rolling over onto his back, you and Steve stared at the ceiling, the weight of what you had done sinking in.

It was wrong, so wrong. He'd just broken up with Nancy, seconds before you let him crawl between your legs. You would have felt terrible, like you'd betrayed her, had it not been so good.

You would have felt guilty, had you not felt the shake of your legs still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.

Steve turned his head to face you. You turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry about how I treated you, before."

You snorted.

"You don't have to apologise just because we had sex, Steve." The ridiculousness of it made you laugh. "Thanks, though." You were both silent for a while, just laying there. You tried spying your clothes across the room. "Where's my underwear?"

"Oh," Steve mumbled, getting up from the bed and into the bathroom. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating form, back muscles flexing as he stretched. You did the same, a soreness washing over you. Steam filled the bathroom, the sound of the shower running loud against the dying party below. Steve returned in his jeans, smirking as pulled your lavender lace panties from the back pocket, tossing them at you. You caught them with one hand.

"Perv," you said, sliding them back up your legs. Steve smiled from the bathroom doorway. He was looking at you that way again. It made your stomach uneasy. "What?" you said.

"You can, uh, clean up here. If you want." He scratched the back of his neck. He gestured to the shower. You stomach flipped again. You rose from the bed, using the sheet to cover your chest. You stopped in front of Steve, who was struggling not to look down at your loosely covered front.

"This is not a thing, okay?" you said slowly, as if saying the words aloud would make them true. As if hearing them from your own lips would stop the way your lips yearned for Steve's the second they left your own. "This goes nowhere else."

Steve nodded, mockingly serious.

"Aye aye, Captain."

He grabbed your hand, making you drop the sheet, and led you into the steam filled bathroom. You let him wash your skin, all soap and too much affection given who he was to you. You didn't stop him when he kissed below your eye, on your nose, or when he placed an all too tender kiss on your lips for just a second. But it was long enough. You let him wrap you in a towel, drying you with gentle hands. You didn't object when he dressed you in his old basketball shorts and a tattered sweatshirt. You let him tuck you under his sheets, didn't flinch away when he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You let him wrap his arm over your waist when he returned, having kicked the last stragglers out of the house. You let yourself fall asleep in his bed, warm and soft and all too inviting, much like its inhabitant.

What you wouldn't do was let yourself fall for this, you thought. You wouldn't fall for Steve Harrington. Wouldn't fall for his moves, his overused lines. Wouldn't get wrapped up with the wrong guy.

But as morning came, and you turned to see Steve already looking at you, that look on his face, you thought that maybe it was too late. And by the looks of Steve Harrington, it was too late for him as well.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight

As always, I have edits:

This will make more sense at the end.

I came across some theories about this song, and wanted to look at it in depth.

We are reading with the understanding that he may be referring to Eddie.

[A gentle piano and bassoon track begins playing.]

The sun is low, it’s cold and dark,— end of season, but could also be a reference to night and danger after dark

Just wind and snow, I must remark,

The bugs all head to slumberland,—interesting given the use of toyland, also the commercial about remderem/insomnia (some must sleep but Wally is in the opposite state. Too aware?), but could be a reference to death, like “the big sleep”

Some might find it sad, but I understand,—on face value, he will miss his friends, but knows that it is inevitable.

Even if I might not be able to see you,—can’t see Eddie because he is gone/buried

I know it’s for the best, I can’t keep you,—Eddie staying would lead to serious consequences for Eddie

It’s time for all of you to get some rest,—after what we saw Eddie go through, I bet he would be better in a different state

To tuck you all into your arthropod nests,—bug stuff; also Julie's hibernation?

At this point, those last few lines could refer to a sort of death for Eddie. Almost like frank can preserve him in some way by giving him a death in this universe. If we are talking puppet world, which we did see in commercials, most of Eddie’s anxiety happened in that state. So, can Frank give Eddie a suspended or death like state in one of the layers of reality and he is preserved in storybook world or our real world?

With one last check, that nothing is amiss,

I can see you safe into your chrysalis,—this reads that he will put Eddie into a different state of being that he can come back from. The coming back is my interpretation only at this point because I assume frank wouldn’t choose death for him or would for sure be hurt by Eddie’s death. Things would have to be very bad if true death is a better option for Eddie.

Also, it hearkens back to the horror butterfly image. Another also, caterpillar to butterfly, an insinuation of emedging into a new form. I don’t see allusions to Howdy in here, but I suppose it is possible that this could refer to more than one neighbor and Frank is taking them all out.

As you snuggle down into your dirt,—reference to being buried?

I want to assure you that I won’t be hurt.

This clarifies that it is a sleeping type state, not death. Ok, here is we’re Eddie’s Halloween costume comes in. Frankenstein, changed from the Scarecrow in earlier art (presumably from wizard of oz). Interesting thing about scarecrow vs. Frankenstein is that we see scarecrow taken apart during that film and Frankenstein is famously assembled from parts of different people. Interestinger is the fact that they are both afraid of fire. (I love that Young Frankenstein shows up more than the original in a search.)

Frankenstein (and scarecrow) are both put back together, but for Frankenstein it seems more of a new being, not just a reassembling. Frankenstein (aka frankenstein’s monster) is a thinking, speaking individual that was horrified at the situation he was in. Frankenstein in the book murders to punish his creator for the immorality of creating him and the resulting loneliness that the monster feels. As such, the choice is very interesting. If the puppets of welcome home come to be aware or sentient, I wonder how they would feel about Ronald Dorelaine or their situation?

If the movie version is the focus of Eddie’s costume choice, then he would be a potentially thinking and feeling being (he is afraid of fire), but without further evidence we don’t know his thoughts.

Scarecrow is a guy without a brain, with the power of speech, so a kind of opposite. I think they all end up just needing to be confident, which is why some shyster from the Midwest is able to help. This almost seems to be more in tune with Eddie's character--Eddie has a tendency to appear kind of ditsy, is constantly being dismissed by others. In the end, we find out he is actually smart but lacks confidence. I can see that being true for Eddie as well.

If I had to pick out a character for Frank, it would be the Tin Man. Poppy is the Cowardly Lion, Wally is Dorothy. Home is Home. There are more parallels here than I was expecting. Howdy is the Wizard, Julie can be Glenda, and the Wicked Witch...is kind of no one? Sally can be a flying monkey. She works my nerve. Also, the whole spying thing was done by the monkeys in the movie.

But now that I am thinking about it, this comparison makes a lot of sense, in terms of the complex relationships, as well as the levels of reality that you find in Wizard of Oz. A big event leads to a shift in the understanding of reality, and the lead finds themselves in a very colorful world that doesn't much resemble their own, but is very flashy, has songs, beloved characters, and a sense of danger. There are some things when thought about in the context of real life, or the black and white portion of Wizard of Oz, would be truly frightening.

Of course, Wizard of Oz shares a lot of parallels with Alice in Wonderland, which also seems somewhat related. In terms of source material, the Wizard of Oz is considered to be a parable that expresses the thoughts about US economic policy in the 1890's. This is a theory that you can read more about here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_interpretations_of_The_Wonderful_Wizard_of_Oz

It isn't super related, and not everyone believes that this is the case. However, it seems to be a very American type story, no matter what you believe, that touches on the experience of normal people while much larger forces lie and fuck around with everything.

As the holidays begin to approach,

I gently kiss, each and every roach,—kisses for Eddie. We have seen a realistic roach on the secret page with the mishmash of one script where Wally is deciding what to draw

I made sure to keep, my garden cozy,

So you can safely sleep, in fallen posies,—this whole stanza shows a desire to and promise of a quiet death and maybe even a maintained grave. I looked up posies to see where Eddie could potentially be buried. Posies refer to a nosegay, or small bouquet of flowers. It was a Victorian secret code thing, a way to declare love or even reject people based on flower and color. One that sticks with us in the form of red roses signifying love. On the map, there is a cluster of yellow flowers to the side of Frank’s house. Not sure this counts as his garden, since it is on the other side of the house. Julie has a group of flowers behind her house, but once again, not his garden. No fallen flowers that I can ID.

When googling posey, this is what comes up. I felt that there was a flower called a posey, and these do look like the big yellow flowers by Frank’s house. If any flowers fall in updates, I am going to assume someone is buried there.

There is also the ring around the roses rhyme, which could relate, but I don’t really see a correlation.

It’s time to get comfortable in your honeycomb,

take your winter intermission in your garden loam,—dirt, burying again

neatly nestled from the cold in roots and rhi-ya-zomes, — cozy dead

sleeping side by side under stately stones,—2 dead? Headstones is the link I make there--OK, now look at the pic! (I know, it's a reach.)

…And I’ll be inside of my home,—frank is staying to oversee something. It reads like calming the person who will die. This seems to bolster that arguments that I addressed in the post about bugs on the previous website, that Frank is working against, or at least parallel to Wally. With the bugs, the whispering to Eddie, and using his first name, I think it is reasonable to suggest that Frank is working against Wally and/or Home.

Another potential clue is the hidden video with the clothespins where 1 is upside down. I have theorized that it is a reference to Barnaby dying, but it could be Barnaby and Eddie. Only one clothespin is shown upside down though, so Barnaby or Eddie?

Regardless of how I feel you need to go away,

I’ll be the one to tell you, you just can’t stay,—he likes bugs but this is extreme of Frank, if he is talking about actual bugs

Thankfully I lack a sentimental sensibility,—true that, he generally seems calm.

I enjoy my Methodical Mundanity,—why is this capitalized? I looked and looked but I can’t find the origin of this phrase, though it came up a few times in random posts and articles. Clown does have a tendency to capitalize things that seem random. Me below is also capitalized. I listened as well, and I have to wonder why the singing is so bad? I don’t think the voice actors are bad at singing, seems like a deliberate choice to have reedy and unsteady vocals, pitch issues and pacing problems.

Where all that’s left is… Me.

So, this is a bit extreme for a song about hibernating bugs. I think that given our many references to bisecting or otherwise putting people into pieces (Eddie butterfly horror, frank in a pile of body parts, look I made a dog, and slinky Barnaby, now Frankenstein and Scarecrow) that we could be looking at death in a sense that works in one layer of reality. You disassemble a puppet, it is no longer a puppet. So what if Frank = Frankenstein and Eddie is Frankenstein’s monster? Frank can take him apart and put him back together in puppet reality?

If I had to guess, I am sticking with my working theory. Frank, as the smartest guy in the neighborhood, is the resistant force in the neighborhood. Wally/Home is/are the catalyst for the scary stuff. They are central to everything, physically and otherwise.

I have mentioned that in the last update, Sally and Poppy have the appearance of spies or managing Eddie. Given that Poppy doesn’t attend to party, I am anticipating that Eddie was isolated and watched by Sally during this planning period, where Wally and Barnaby walk the neighborhood to find out what Homewarming is. Given that it is said that Wally and Home instigated Homewarming, it is strange that everyone knows what it is except for Wally. It reads more as an attempt to achieve a goal, despite everyone knowing about the holiday. Even Julie is at the party, and she is supposed to be hibernating. Well, they don't say exactly when Julie hibernates (maybe there was something about her doing it after the holiday?) Anyway, Poppy isn't at Homewarming. She could be at home, but the book stating that they are all here seems like an attempt to cover up her absence. What is she doing? Snooping in the Post Office while Sally watches Eddie? Does Eddie want to go home for not feeling well or he has an idea of what is happening while he is gone?

Maybe Frank sees his boyfriend and comrade at arms about to get hit with something bad, so to preserve him and the opposition, he is going to disassemble him (cue Johnny 5) for protection.

In the past, Sonny (the Brazilian bird) was cast as the opposition to Wally, and included in a relationship with Frank. This work in particular comes to mind:

Clown has stated that they removed Sonny from the project due to the story changing from one with a hero, to one without, as that wasn't the story that they wanted to tell. What if, though, instead of Sonny being written out for the hero reason, there was another reason? What if we are seeing Frank taking on being the neighborhood's savior? He is just snarky enough to make it seem less like a hero situation and more because it was impacting his garden.

[corynation]

OMG NO 😂😂

From what i saw from greys he isnt dereks brother i think ??

Also... Mark slept with dereks sister in the show so i thought it was ok to ask?

Sorry if i didnt make myself clear tho 😂

But she can totally not be dereks sister

Anyway sorry for the confusion

New Beginnings

alex karev x reader

tags : angst, some fluff, uhhh more tags, this is a little everywhere but i hope its okay, not that sad but enough to need a part 2

“Derek? Wha-“

“I need to stay here tonight.” He kept his head down as he shuffled his way through the door, water drops flowing off his hair.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Addison?” The look Derek gave you was almost enough to answer every question that was running through your head. You stood silently as he threw his duffel bag on the couch, his soaked jacket following. He plopped down in the arm chair, palms rubbing his face.

“I’ll get you some hot cocoa to warm up.”

“No don’t I’m fine.”

Your eyebrow raised at his poor attempt in deterring your concern.

“Oh god you look like mom.” Derek chuckled, lighting the heaviness in the room.

“What happened with Addison Derek? Why are you here?”

His face dropped once more almost immediately. The change drawing regret straight out of your core. “I found her sleeping with Sloan.”

“Mark!?” Hearing the most unexpected name come out your stomach churned in a way that made you swear you were about to hurl. The barriers around your emotions all crumbling at once.

“Are we really surprised.” Derek sighed, flattening himself out onto the couch.

“I mean? Yes? No? I don’t.. I mean he’s your best friend?” Surely it wasn’t out of character for Marks sexual.. tendencies to say the least. But still there was a part of you that couldn’t believe he’d sleep with the wife of the man he practically called a brother. Especially after growing so close to him in the past months. You shared everything together and nothing that was said or done could’ve prepared you for this. Your heart ached more then it ever did before, both for Derek but also yourself. Mark was your first, and you had naively convinced yourself he’d be the last. And though you wanted more than anything to curl up in a ball on the floor with Derek and sob your eyes out until the numb feeling that soared through your nerve endings disappeared, Derek didn’t know anything about you and Mark, and you sure as hell weren’t about to have this be the time he finds out. It took more then you thought you had in you to conceal your emotions. Fighting back the familiar sting of tears became a war for the first time, but you stood your ground against it. Sure you and Mark hadn’t taken the time to talk about making things exclusive, but really you didn’t think you needed to. What you felt with Mark was enough to flood your senses full, not able to even consider someone else entering the picture.

And maybe you were stupid to think he felt the same.

It felt futile to hide the burn in your chest, knowing it was evident in your face. But still you tried to mask your feelings, hoping it would be seen as nothing but compassion towards your brother. You’d drag the sun out by your bare hands to bring sunshine after a life of darkness if it meant the best for Derek.

“Yeah well obviously that doesn’t mean much.” The scene of Derek face down on the couch with his arms dangling at weird angles was almost comical enough to bring you out of your anger. In a sad attempt to stifle your laugh, a small giggle escaped your lips. Derek just looked up from his resting spot and gave you the warmest smile you’ve seen from him all night, the picture perfect resemblance of a child.

“Derek I don’t-“ You were cut off mid sentence by the ringing of Dereks phone. He was hesitant to pick it up, most likely praying to himself it wasn’t the two talks of the night.

“Hold that thought I have to take this.” He cleared his throat before answering the phone, his eyebrows stiffening. “Hi Richard, sorry for emailing so late..” Was all you caught as he stepped out of the room.

The anticipation building in you was almost enough to drive you mad. Derek had been on the phone for ten minutes now and you weren’t able to hear any of it. You had began your (what felt like at least) 100th lap around the room, as Derek finally stepped back in. The suspense in the room falling instantly as his demeanor brought nothing but a strange joy.

“Richard Webber from Seattle Grace just called.”

“Okay..?” You sat down on the couch, Derek following.

“He found us both a job, very well pay, I’d be head of neuro, and you’ll be a trauma attending ! It’s perfect! He said he could even throw in a sign on bonus for you for the sudden notice! We start Monday.”

“At Seattle Grace?”

“Well obviously.”

“Derek? Are you insane? Like are you actually going insane because if you are I can understand why.”

“Am I.. Are you going insane? Y/n this is the perfect job opportunity! It’s everything you’ve worked for come on!”

There was a shared silence between the two of you, you each studying the other trying to feel out the mix of emotions you both had been throwing out into the room. Derek looked at you with eyes of an insane man, his lips a curl of typical mischief.

“Derek. This job is in Seattle. Seattle Washington! We live in New York! You can not bring in a life changing job, and move, that I have to do in two days and expect me to jump at it! I know you want to get away from Addison right now but Seattle seriously? Don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?”

“Yes! That’s the point. Come with me or don’t but you’ll sure as hell look idiotic for not.” You let out a sigh at his words, your jaw tensing.

“Derek we’re talking about both of our whole lives right now. Our family is here, our homes, hell our jobs!”

~

“Y/n! welcome to Seattle Grace. I know the offer was a short notice but I appreciate you coming.” Richard Webber, the chief of Seattle Grace, greeted you at the entrance. A great smile plastered across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Of course Richard. Thank you for the offer. I know you wanted me out sooner but like I told Derek, it was insane for me to do the move in two days. So I really do appreciate the exception, it was more than generous of you.” You smiled, accepting the greeting.

“Oh i know it was. But anything for an old friend’s family. And it would be great to have another genius on hand.”

“Old friend?”

“Oh yes, Dr. Shepherd and I have worked on a few cases together in the past. I’ve spent my fair share of time in New York.” Richard spoke as he began to walk through the hospital, his hand reaching behind him to motion for you to follow. “Now I know Derek has been working here for a week now, and could show you around, but I’m going to go ahead and assign you an intern for the day. Someone to show you around and have do all the unnecessary paperwork for you.”

“Oh no Dr. Webber, no need to do that. You’ve already accommodated so much around me. Surely I can find my way around today.”

“Absolutely no need for that Dr. Shepherd. Let me make the day easier for you please.” You smiled at Richard and nodded, fully appreciating the gesture. He nodded and turned around, his finger pointing to a shorter woman across the room at the nurses station.

“Bailey!” The woman whipped her head around, eyebrows raised and an unfazed expression spread on her face. She began walking towards you and Richard, five other doctors following her lead almost immediately. You giggled to yourself as they all looked like a scene of baby ducks following their mom; though these baby ducks did look particularly tired and worn.

“Can you give me one of your children please. I need someone to be with Dr. Shepherd for the day while she settles in. You know like show her around yada yada.”

“Karev go.” Dr. Bailey ordered turning around and beginning to walk back to what she was doing.

“Me? But I’ve got-“ One of the doctors that had been following Bailey began saying, walking backwards to keep up with her in order to plea.

“Karev. GO.”

He stood in the middle of the room, arms up in defeat. You almost felt bad for him until he turned to face you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as if this was somehow your fault.

“Come on lets get this over with.” He snarled while walking back towards you.

“Hey don’t be pissed at me, I sure as hell didn’t want you to be the one showing me around.” Karev stopped to take a good look at you, almost completely dumbfounded after your response. He scanned your face, either trying to decide who you were to talk to him like that, or the opposite of the spectrum and he was just trying to hide his admiration.

Your grand hospital tour was finally coming to an end after almost two hours. Alex had taken the time to show you each wing, introduce you to each head of department, and even showed you the vending machines that are least likely to scam you. At first he had seemed like a nightmare to be around, almost like a brooding angsty teenager who didn’t like anyone, but after warming up to him (or maybe him warming up to you?) Alex actually seemed more then tolerable. He made you laugh more then you have in awhile. His presence lighting you more than you’ve felt since your first night with Mark, which in all honesty bewildered you more then you imagined. Questioning yourself on how, or why you had become so comfortable around Alex in such little of time.

Honestly he felt like Mark felt. But for some sick reason, that maybe was just a play on your emotions, the man you had just met three hours ago made you feel lighter then Mark had in 20 years. He felt like a flow of fresh rain water after a drought, cleansing you of all toxins and slowly making you new. He was rain and you were the starved flower.

Yet Mark felt like the water saved from the last rain. Still coursing through your veins and settling into your heart and soul. Something that once kept you alive, was once your everything, now something you couldn’t get out of your system without feeling like you were sucked dry, moments away from an inevitable end.

It hadn’t quite struck you how much the Mark situation had hit you before now. Really you hadn’t had time to feel how the situation made you feel. The thought of butterflies returning to you uncovered a deep empty void that was quick to cover your senses.

The sudden wave of emotions hit you hard, but still you tried to remain as unaffected by it as possible. Though you knew you had done quite the shitty job of that after you caught Alex glancing at you with concern from the corner of your eye.

“So,” he coughed, obviously trying to diffuse the odd tension that had began. “What department do you plan to work in after residency?”

“Well actually I’m a trauma attending.”

“Attending? You look younger than me!”

“Well I am 24.” You giggled at the widened eyes of Alex, his jaw practically on the floor.

“24!?”

“Yep! Baby of the family.”

“Baby of the entire hospital! I mean how’d you even get here?”

“Well Dr. Karev that is a long story we could discuss over coffee tomorrow morning.” It was out your mouth before you could even sit to consider it. Alex looked taken aback for a moment, obviously not expecting that just as much as you were.

“Deal.” Alex warmly smiled, his eyes gleaming with something more than before.

okay hii!!! this req is so late im so sorry😭 also this isnt the og post but i cant find that one so I am using this!!! im gonna be honest ive wrote this little by little over the past few months so i really hope its all somewhat cohesive ????? idk atleast readable but im also crossing my fingers that this is okay cause its my first req :)

so without being said i hope you guys enjoyed and i will be making a part two trust 🙏🏻

and listen i know being 24 and being an attending is like damn near impossible but its greys. there was literally a unfazed bazooka in a guys chest.

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥: 𝖮𝗎𝗋 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5 || chap. 6

word count: 4.5k+

tag list: @s0r0ws @starvviss @kjisbae17 @lov3rgiiirl @starless-nightz @random-girls-loves

author’s note: anyways, i hope you liked this chapter! please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter. also, i hoped you cried immensely because that was the ideal intention of this chapter; to make it as depressing as it could possibly get (for now 😉)

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

‼️ DISCLAIMERS FOR THIS CHAPTER ‼️

Main Characters Deaths, Just An Overall Sad Chapter & Angsty Ending

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Everyone’s huddled up in the car with your parents in the front seats and the children in the back. You hated the middle seat so you told Grover to get comfortable there, for the greater good, and you sat on the left side, right behind your mother.

Right now, Grover is updating you and Percy about everything demigod-related.

“My job has been to guide you to this moment. It’s always an emotional rollercoaster for young demigods, so providing a support system is really–“

“Who are you?” Percy interrupts him.

Grover stared blankly at your brother, “I’m Grover. I’m your best friend and–“

“What are you?” The blonde recorrects.

“That is a very good question,” You chirped up, “I would like to revisit my previous question.”

“No, Y/N, let it go!”

“I’m asking the important questions here!”

“Irrelevant questions!”

“To answer your question, Y/N, no, I was born like this,”

“You sure? You know parents tend to lie a lot too,”

“I’m fully aware of adult tendencies to lie frequently, but I was born like this. I’m serious.”

He removes his tam, revealing two small goat horns. “I’m a satyr, and I’m your protector, both of you.”

“You’re our protector?” Your brother asked rhetorically.

“If I hadn’t gotten you kicked out of school, you’d never have survived the night. And what’s chasing us now would have found you there easily.”

“Oh, because that’s so comforting to hear.” You cross your arms.

Percy turns his head to the car window and Grover looks dejected at the action.

“I’m sorry.” Grover breathes out, sincerity laced in his tone, “Usually, I can sense danger coming a mile away, but this time…Well none of us saw Dodds’ coming.

“So you knew about that…creature?” You inquired, gaining Percy’s attention back onto his friend.

“That thing that Dodds turned into, you saw it happen? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I saw some of it.”

“What part did you see? Where she flung me across the sky or when she attacked Percy?”

“Well, yes and no. The Mist kept her hidden even from us until it was too late.”

“I think I have a concussion from that,” You wince at the memory, holding the back of your head. “Besides, what the hell is Mist?!”

“The Mist is a veil that hides the magical world from the human world. My legs, Dodds’ wings, Even Dodds’ absence, but it isn’t supposed to hide things from me. That never happens. Something more powerful is at work here.”

“Maybe we’re the power sources.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, right,” Percy scoffs.

“The sooner we get you two to camp, the better off you’re–“

“Camp?! Who’s going to camp?!” You backtracked.

With a baffled expression, Grover turned to your parents, completely unimpressed by their timing, “You told them about camp, right?”

“We were getting there!” Your parents shouted simultaneously at Grover.

Grover nods his head, leaning back into the seat.

“Camp is a sanctuary for half-bloods. A safe space where you can learn who you are and what the world is like on the other side of the Mist.”

“Wait, hold up this an actual summer camp with mosquitoes and other dangerous animals lurking in the woods?!” You deadpanned. “Nah, you can keep that, I’m not going.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Your mom states.

“Uh, it’s not far, actually, just a little way past the bend up there.” Grover directs your mother.

“Mom, what else haven’t we talked about?” Your mother, Sally stayed quiet, anxiously glimpsing at her son. “What else haven’t you told us?”

“There are more secrets?!”

“Oh, there’s more like you wouldn’t believe, sweetie.” Jessica grins.

“Jess, that’s not helping whatsoever!” Sally exclaims.

“Sorry, it just slipped out of my mouth.”

“And you wonder why Y/N is a mini you.”

A flash of blinding light appears from mid-sky and disposes of a creature, which instantly starts running on all fours, chasing after the speeding car.

“Is that the Minotaur?!”

“Holy shit!” You and your mom said simultaneously in bewilderment.

“Once the attacks start, they never let up. Okay? Dodds was just the beginning.”

“Then who’s the freaking ending?! Because I’m ready to slain as many monsters as necessary.”

“He is next. He- he is brutal, he is relentless–“

“He’s still wearing underpants.”

“Out of all things, you could have noticed, Percy, you chose that?! Us trying not to die should be your main priority, not if the Minotaur is playing goddamn dress up!”

Percy and Grover kept their eyes on the large bulky monster.

“It’s gone!” Percy shouts, astonished.

“Gone?! Gone where?! I hoped it vanished back to wherever it came from!”

“Like it’s ever that easy!”

Then, the Minotaur’s loud footsteps and rough grunts halted and it almost calmed everyone’s racing heart rates.

“I think it’s gone for good now.”

Until it reappeared, now gaining up on the speeding car, The Minotaur ran up closer to the car front, beside Sally’s car door, aiming for severe damage.

“You just had to say something, didn’t you?!”

“How was I supposed to know that would happen?!”

“Because you jinxed us!”

“Don’t blame me because I’m stating the obvious!”

“I will push you out of this car!”

“Do it! I dare you!”

“Little Blondie, don’t tempt me with a good time!”

“Who are you calling Little?!”

“Someone who hasn’t had their growth spurt yet.”

“Hey, I’m still developing!” Percy gasps.

“Yeah, just very, very slowly.”

“Can we sacrifice Y/N to The Minotaur?”

“Oh please, you don’t have the balls to do it anyways,” You scoffed, “Besides, you need me. I’m always saving your dumbass, you can’t get rid of me!”

“Stop! Nobody is going to push anyone out of this car!”

“He started it–“

“No, I didn’t you, liar–“

“That’s it! Don’t make me come back there! I don’t care who started it, just know that it's ending!”

“Is there any more insight you’d like to add, Grover?” Sally calmly questions, acting like her children and wife didn’t have a screaming match a few seconds ago. Your family was truly a chaotic mess whenever they wanted, dismissing the matter as if impending death wasn’t lingering over their shoulders.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then, go right ahead,”

“The Mythomagic cards were training. Everything has been training for what’s still ahead of you.”

“What’s ahead of us?!”

“Kids…”

“I’m actually 24,” Grover confesses quickly, causing two heads to turn in unexpectancy.

You and Percy shared the same shocked expression, “Wait? What?”

“Hold on, please.”

The Minotaur roars loudly.

“Moonlight…listen to me.” your mom looks at you through the mirror as your gaze hesitantly meets hers. “You and Percy are forbidden children, monsters are going to attack you every day, this camp can protect you both.”

“Why can’t you and Sally come with us then?” you bargained with her, tears forming in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine, much less experience your life without your mother and Sally. The same women who nurtured you since you were babies and taught you everything you knew. You refused to give up on them, everything they did was to protect and love you, and now it was your turn.

Sally starts to talk, eyes stuck on the road, “We humans are not allowed there. Only demigods like you two.”

“But we don’t wanna leave you two.” Percy persisted.

“You’re our moms.”

“You’re gonna have to, that Minotaur isn’t gonna stop until he kills both of you.”

All of a sudden, a collision hit the car with enough brute force to send the car off the road and everything went black. It was all so quick, the collision, the swiveling of the car and landing on the side of the road, far from bypassers to rescue.

The rain pattering against the car turned into a heavy rainpour as everyone in the car, hanging upside down with the seat belt anchoring them, remained still, all unconscious.

After a while, the dulling pain in your head sharply woke you up, being the first to recover from the crash. Holding your head in pain as you slowly opened your eyes, feeling the blood trickle from your head, surveying your surroundings as you saw Percy and Grover still unconscious. Quickly unbuckling your seatbelt, you got out of your seat, repeating the same action to your younger brothers.

One by one, you carefully got everyone from the car as they began to wake up. A growl from the distance urges you to move faster as you help your other mother, Sally, get out of the damaged car.

Sally, Percy, and Grover were recovering, standing on their feet, checking for any injuries and your mom was the last one who needed rescuing.

“Mom…” you shake her but her body is motionless as the tears well up in your eyes.

You felt Sally’s arm pushing you back, sending you into Percy’s and Grover’s embrace as you nervously observed.

“Come on, come on, Jess…” Sally murmurs, kneeling down, searching for a pulse. “You gotta survive, we have children together, we can’t lose you right now.”

“Is she okay?” Percy chirps up, deciding to speak for you.

You found everything incomprehensible around you, your senses became deafening and a high-pitched ringing in your head matched the loud heart beating in your chest.

When Sally stayed silent, it only worsened your anxiety, “Mom, is she okay?!” Percy speaks again, adding some base in his voice yet his tone slightly wavers.

“She has a fading pulse…” Sally whispers, sparing a sad glance at you and quickly turning back to Jessica, “It’s decreasing rapidly,”

Dropping to the muddy slippery ground on your knees, tears quickly filling the brim of your eyes, threatening to fall as you moved closer to her.

“Mommy…” you cradle her face into your chest, saddened by her face, eyes closed as blood trickles down her forehead.

“We can revive her, right!” Your voice cracks, whipping your head to Sally, “Tell me we can revive her!”

“Y/N…” Sally sighs deeply, trying to contain her tears. You turn around, looking down at your mother, resting on your lap, body motionless yet her face looks peaceful.

“No! We- I can save her. We can do heart-to-heart compressions,” you shake your head, starting to do heart-to-heart compressions. “Why isn’t she waking up? Mommy, this isn’t funny anymore now, you have to wake up and help us. Please I can’t do this without you, I can’t do this whole new demigod thing without you.” your voice was dry, as you leaned down, blowing air into her mouth, hoping for a miracle to occur.

You didn’t truly believe in miracles, but for your mother, you’d start believing it. Right now, you would do whatever it took to bring her back even if it meant wishing on the impossible.

“We didn’t do plenty of things yet, I wanted you and Sally to meet my first girlfriend, attend my graduation, be there when I move out and eventually get married, and get grandkids from Percy because we both know I’m not going through that torture.”

Your senses became intensely heightened, catching onto Grover’s whisper to Sally, ignoring him as you spoke up.

“I refuse to leave her alone, she isn’t dead, just having some problems waking up and getting a pulse back.” You were in extreme denial, “Come on, mum, you focus on her face, giving her air and I’ll do her chest,” you beckoned Sally forward.

“Sweetheart…she’s already….gone.”

“She’s my mom and Percy’s mom, your wife. She wasn’t supposed to die this early. If all you’re gonna do is stand there and be useless, don’t bother talking to me.” It wasn’t intentional to snap at your other mother, but your emotions were driving you crazy and brazen.

“You’re the sun to my moon, Mommy, I can’t shine when you’re not there with me. Y-you promised me, you pinky promised that we were all going to survive, but you lied. Why did you lie to me?” You sobbed. Despite being physically exhausted, you weren’t giving up on trying to revive your mom, she would have never given up on you so you would stop trying until you had something, anything; a pulse, a gasp, her eyes shooting up. “Remember…” You weakly asked, holding onto the moon-shaped necklace on your neck, staring at your mom’s sun-shaped necklace.

The sky crackled with slight thunder as the rain poured down heavier. Finally understanding the meaning of your nickname, you sobbed desperately until the broken cracks of your voice gave out.

There was no sunshine without her moonlight, always them being in a pair, nothing without the other. Sadly, you lost your sunshine, darkening your moonlight to its deepest depths, harvesting it into something vengeful and heartless. Something that even scared you to a certain extent, like this was another new side flourishing because of the horrible circumstances.

You rested your mom on the ground, ignoring the cold rainpour.

“She’s gone…” Sally cries, grabbing your arm and pushing you into her body for a hug. You cried into the hug, tightening your grip as your wails echoed throughout the forest. Maybe this was all a nightmare, where you’d wake up and relax in reality. This was the time that your mom needed to wake you up and reassure you that she was right there, staying with you and protecting you.

Your chest clenched against your rib cage, devastation wracked throughout your entire body as the tears relentlessly spilled out.

“But she- she can’t be gone!” You hiccup, eyes glossing over with fresh tears, feeling another arm snuggle around your side.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” she caressed your face.

“What kind of demigod I am, if I was blessed with all these supernatural powers, can’t even save my Mom from death? What kind of daughter am I to just stand by and watch her own mother die? I don’t want this demigod life anymore, please take it all away if it means my mother is coming back, to me, to home. I’m so fucking tired and I just wanna go home! Home is wherever the four of us are!”

“Don’t you ever say that again, you did everything you could, your perseverance is one of your strongest qualities that Jessica adored very much. She wouldn’t want you to doubt yourself like this nor would I,” Sally reassures you, resting a thumb on your cheek, “Our beautiful daughter, she’s so proud of you, I want you to know that.”

Your eyes were puffy and red from tears as you listened to your mother’s words of encouragement and reassurance.

Much to your dismay, another loud roar broke the semi-family grievance, reminding them of the harsh reality.

“We have to go now!” Grover hastily urges.

“I’m not leaving my mom here like this,” you point to her still figure on the ground.

“We won’t, I promise you, sweetie. I’ll give her a proper burial, but right now we have to go!” Her tone was urgent as she quickly scanned the dark forest with the illumination from the car light.

You hurriedly rushed towards your mother’s still figure on the muddy ground, leaning down.

“Goodbye, Mom,” you whisper hoarsely, kissing her forehead for the last time. You stared down at her neck, gazing at the sunlight necklace she wore yanked it off, and shoved the meaningful jewelry into your back pocket. Your heart broke again, realizing she can’t respond, despite being in extreme denial.

Percy struggled to plant you on your feet as Sally walked over to Grover.

“Grover, I am entrusting you to protect my children, my only son and only daughter.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Jackson, Percy, and Y/N will be totally safe at camp–“

“Swear it.” She commands.

“What’s happening?”

“Swear it, Grover! Keep my children safe from anyone or anything that comes for them, that wants to harm them, that looks at them in the wrong way. Do you understand me?”

“I swear!” Grover persists, with determination and sincerity in his voice.

Sally nods at the boy, venturing over to you and Percy.

“I gotta go now,”

“Go? What do you mean go? Y/N stop her from going on this suicide mission,” He stares at you, waiting for a response. The first time you didn’t respond to your brother’s words caught him off guard, knowing you’ll always be his first defender.

The boy winces seeing your shaken body and red puffy eyes. It didn’t take a genius to know that you were still traumatized from witnessing your mom’s death. Seeing this sad broken-hearted face of yours, devastated Percy beyond any words to ease the pain. All those times, you’d reassured and defended him countless times, and yet he was speechless about how to comfort you right now. He felt like such a horrible brother to you.

“Your sister isn’t in charge, I am and what I say goes!”

“But–“

“This is no buts! You’re gonna be brave now. Remember what I taught you, remember the stories I told you. Especially the stories, they will tell–“

“No way! Mom, I’m not leaving you, not like how we left Mother stranded and alone to die.”

“Perseus!” She snapped, tired of his persistent attempts, cupping his face, “Listen to me! You…are not broken. You are singular. You’re a miracle and you are my son. Hold fast, brave the storm.”

“And Y/N,” She caresses your face, her saddened expression increasing at your blank eyes, “You are not neglected in this family, you’re just as important. You are one of a kind, my beautiful baby girl. You are my daughter and I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

Those words melted in your heart and words rambled from you without hesitation, the guilt of everything came crashing down.

“I’m so sorry, mother, for not being able to protect any of us. I failed at what I was best at.”

“You’re a kid, be a kid, stop worrying if you’re not going to save everyone. That’s too much of a heavy burden on yourself, it’s not good for your mentality. Live life, get a girlfriend and don’t force yourself to grow up too fast because you'll regret it. Let me tell you something unfair; you can’t save everyone all the time. I love you two so much,”

“We love you too.”

Just like that, The Minotaur had the worst timing of moments erupting with a loud search roar.

“We need to move!”

“Give me your coat.”

“Why?” Percy asks but removes his coat anyway, “What are you gonna do?”

“He smells half-blood, that’s what he’s tracking, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

Sally grabs the coat from her blonde son, “So if he smells you in two directions at once, maybe I can confuse him, buy us both a little time to get away.”

“Mom, please don’t…we can’t afford to lose another parent on the same night.” Percy pleads, stepping forward, gesturing to you, “Y/N is one of the strongest people I know, and a few hours into this demigod madness, she’s broken, possibly going to recover from trauma at the camp where we’re supposed to rediscover our true potential for a man who wasn’t even here our whole lives.” He whispers, a string of desperation in his voice, “You can’t do this to us…please don’t do this to us. You’re all we have left.”

“Hey! It’ll be okay.” She reassures the blonde boy with a weak smile, “Y/N bounces back, she always does. For the first time, she needs you more than you need her right now, so be her anchor for right now, and don’t ever let go.”

Another yell echoes throughout the forest and trees falling down a few feet away meant the Minotaur was getting unbelievably closer. Your heart raced in your chest, once you saw the bulky overgrown monster, standing on its hind feet, intimidating everyone who bore witness.

Sally wastes no time, giving Percy a forehead kiss and then moving over to repeat the same action with you.

“Go now!” She shoves you away into Percy’s and Grover’s arms, now facing the Minotaur as the trio escapes into the rainy forest night.

Her plan for using Percy’s coat as bait to seemingly distract him and draw him away from the two demigods was successfully executed.

After maintaining some far distance from your mother, Sally, and the Minotaur, the trio still kept on running, nobody turning back. Until a loud roar reverberated across the forest broke your concentration on getting to safety and intensified your worries for your mother. You stopped running, turning around as your heart hammered inside your chest, the adrenaline pumping.

Despite being miles away, you and Percy viewed the fight, flinching when the monster knocked your mother down with its horns.

The Minotaur held in its hand, lifting up something in the air…someone more life-like…that’s someone who was your mother, Sally! You gasped and shoved at the revelation, wondering about your mother’s fate and you continued to watch the heartbreaking scene. Your body wasn’t acting upon cooperation with your mind, telling you to run away before it gets you next or attempting to save your mother. Having already lost one parent was devastating as it is, and losing your other parent would cause a lifetime of trauma for you.

Your heart clenched in fear as Sally struggles to escape from his grasp.

You felt Percy’s scared face hide into the fabric of your cotton shirt, clenching onto the shirt as he squeezed his eyes as tightly as possible.

For the last time, your mother, Sally looked over at you, stretching out a hand, guiding you out to safety, content you’ll be fine. Just like that, she closed her eyes, slowly disintegrating into gold ashes. Huh, that was weird. Humans don’t shrivel up and fade into ashes like that. That definitely was magic.

It was quiet, the rain pattering over you was now a background noise as you struggled to process the incident.

You gulped down the harsh lump in your throat. “It’s…mother’s gone, too…” You informed Percy, tone hoarse as he slowly pulled away from your body.

He looked ahead again, seeing nothing, Sally wasn’t there and the Minotaur was staring into nothing, seemingly distracted.

“Where did she go? What happened to her?”

“…She disappeared into gold ashes.” You whispered slowly, trying to comprehend your mother’s demise in your mind. Once again, your vision becomes blurry and the tears start to form at the loss of yet another parent. “It looked so unrealistic,”

After that Percy began to speak, but your focus wasn’t even directed on him, but rather at that charging furious Minotaur, hungry for more blood.

The pain and suffering became a dangerous mix of anger and hatred directed at the Minotaur.

Grover’s statements fall on deaf ears, partially drowned out by the heavy rainfall. “Y/N and Percy come on, we’re almost there.” you glance at your blonde brother who holds the same on his face.

‘So what happens when the protector is unable to protect? Do they give up instant hope and cower in shame? Or do they fight back, willingly seeking a second chance to redeem themselves? Whether you make a change or just be a bystander like others? This time the answer to that is simple, mourn your losses later and avenge them now. For all you can do right now is fight on the battlefield, because this is no place to cry and admit defeat.

No, you refused to give up hope and you weren’t going down without a fight. This monster had already taken your worlds away, so you had nobody else to lose.

Grabbing the pen from your pocket, holding it out, and witnessing it transform into a golden sword at will. The fight with the Minotaur was brutal and intense, alongside the heavy downpour of rain that attempted to slow down the intensity of this fight. Despite double-teaming the monster, he resisted surrender, determined to win and kill you both. Surprisingly, you gained the agility to climb onto his back while Percy distracted him.

Somehow, you gained the ultimate advantage with the lighting sword in your hand and stabbed the monster in its eye, ignoring his roar of pain. If anything, its pain only further encouraged you to continue.

Too full of adrenaline, you grab his two horns, gripping them and pulling them out with your utmost strength. A new sudden strength you just obtained. Gasping in shock was quickly outlived when your sword slipped out of your hand and dropped onto the muddy ground, disappearing from your eyesight. Stumbling onto his feet, inflicted by the pain, you groaned, gripping the monster by his rough skin as he attempted to shake you off.

“Percy the sword!” You yelled at him. Your brother throws the sword upwards as you catch the weapon.

You stab the monster in the neck, wincing at his loud screeches, but continue to stab his neck. Once the monster was deemed weak enough, you sliced the sword right through his neck, seizing the opportunity of successfully killing it. To be certain of killing that wretched monster, you deactached its horn from its head with your uppermost strength, then using it to pierce its own eye, another terrifying wail leaves its mouth.

This was all this stupid monster’s fault. If it hadn’t chased after you or slammed itself into the car, your mom would be alive. If it didn’t have such a bloodthirst for demigods, Sally, your mother would still be alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. You just wished your moms were alive, to see you mature into such a courageous daughter to avenge their deaths.

Soon enough, the monster staggered on its feet and its body began to disintegrate into black dust before your eyes.

“Y/N!” The voice becomes disoriented as you stumble on the ground, two arms catching you as you faint, everything fading away into a black abyss.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

“Is she okay?”

“Did she do it alone?”

“Is the blonde boy, okay too?

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

Grasping onto your fading eyesight, there were four shadowy figures above you, all their voices sounded childish except the girl’s voice which sounded very mature.

“They must be the ones.”

“Hush, Annabeth.”

“They’re waking. Everyone give them some space, please.”

Obeying the command, the four unknown kids gave the siblings some space, revealing a half-man with the…bottom of a horse. Okay, it’s finally official, you’ve completely lost it!

“Welcome to camp, Percy Jackson and Y/N Matthews. We’ve been expecting you two.”

Oh my god! Who are these people?! What in the absolute fuck is going on?! This demigod shit is not cut out for me.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[adiluv]

❥ PHOTOGRAPHER + GENERAL HCS. ˚⊹꒷

⚜️୧・꒰word count꒱ 1129.

📕୧・꒰warnings꒱ none!

👑୧・꒰adi moment꒱ unfortunately i am writing for french 'people' now… how sad… /j lol—to be real, though, i’ve actually started playing identity v again and ended up sparking some interest for joseph ꒰netass gave me tranquility, as a treat꒱, so here we are! feel free to send in requests, whether it be for him or other characters! hope you enjoy! ꒰ㅅ´ ˘ `꒱

꒰⚔️꒱・A closed-off aristocrat with a slight tendency for egotism, Joseph is certainly one of the more tedious residents to woo. Congratulations for ꒰somehow꒱ managing to do so! Beneath his haughty and withdrawn persona, he’s an incredibly observant, caring, and loyal individual—and he does his best to make sure that you feel loved whenever he’s by your side.

꒰⚔️꒱・Although I consider him to be far from optimistic, considering everything that’s happened within his pre-manor days, I do still imagine him to be a sort of hopeless romantic. This is a sentiment you’ll become well aware of through the many dates that he plans for the both of you—whether they be candlelit dinners, strolls in the garden, or something else. These dates do occasionally go astray due to the ever growing amount of inhabitants sharing the space, though he does his best to keep/get things back on track. Please reassure him if things get a bit too hectic—he’s very much prone to panicking.

꒰⚔️꒱・As a man of the arts, you’re quick to become his new muse. He loves taking photos of you at any and every moment he can, regardless of how mundane it is. Depending on your own sentiments of the matter, this could potentially be a root of disagreements—especially considering that the camera seems to follow him every time you’re together. Similarly, he’s a big fan of painting you, originally using the photos he took of you as references, though he quickly abandons them once he gets the hang of things—he’s a fast learner when it comes to you.

꒰⚔️꒱・Of course, though, he values your happiness far more than his desire to preserve you, and he’ll try to stop taking so many photos of you if you ever express discomfort. ꒰Of course, the keyword here is ‘try’.꒱ He slips up on occasion, so please try to be patient with him—it’s his way of showing love, and he tends to get a little over dramatic at times.

꒰⚔️꒱・Joseph is also a rather clingy type of lover, and jealousy is ever quick to sink its fangs into him. The fear of losing you, whether it be physically or emotionally, is relentless in haunting him once you start dating. Even so, it isn’t something he vocalizes often, due to his fears of being considered as weak. Whether it be him hovering close to you whenever you’re too close to another survivor, or the way that he subtly begs you not to leave his side, it is something that you come to notice.

꒰⚔️꒱・Ignore his signs of jealousy, and you might just find that other survivor being targeted during matches—but he’ll ꒰reluctantly꒱ catch himself if you call him out on it. Afterwards, he’ll just resort to being a pouty mess around you, though some extra affection is quick to restore his good mood. You might even catch the Joseph Desaulniers apologizing to the other survivor afterwards—though you’d best bet that he’s swearing them to secrecy. It’s embarrassing, truly! You know nobles like him are meant to be composed at all times..!

꒰⚔️꒱・When it comes to facing you in matches, well… It really does depend. His most common strategies include going friendly for your entire team ꒰and spending the time by your side꒱ or simply avoiding you until everybody else has been chaired and he can give you dungeon. However, there are times that he’ll have to go full swing on you—he fears that the baron might punish the both of you, otherwise. He tries to be gentle on you when this happens, grazing you ever so lightly with his rapier, but he’ll always come running to Emily’s infirmary once the match is over… just to make sure.

꒰⚔️꒱・Assuming that you haven’t been hurt by him in a match, though, it does take some time for him to catch back up with you. Joseph is a massive cleanfreak, and absolutely despises the idea of being dirty—something caused both by his social status and the illness that took Claude away from him. He tends to make a beeline to his shower whenever he returns from matches, a habit that you’ve gradually come to pick up due to his hesitancy to cuddle with you when you haven’t. All things considered, it is a good habit, so you don’t mind it all that much.

꒰⚔️꒱・When it comes to things like PDA, I do imagine Joseph falling more on the conservative side ꒰once again due to his upbringing꒱. He’d really only engage in it when he’s feeling jealous, and for the most part prefers to keep all amorous gestures private… though he won’t complain nor attempt to stop you if you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, or something similar. He does, however, use a lot of French nicknames and terms of endearment for you—both in private and public. Mary enjoys teasing him for it, and offers to translate them for you if you don’t know French.

꒰⚔️꒱・Circling back to his fixation on cleanliness, the worst thing for him is falling sick. He’s quick to become upset if he notices himself falling under the weather, and he’ll quickly try to find something to blame for it. While this can grate on the nerves of whoever’s caring for him, being angry distracts him from his fear—though he’ll try to tone things down if he notices that he’s riling you up. Regardless, he’s grateful that you’re putting in the effort to care for him, even if he initially tries to shoo you off for the fear of getting you sick, too.

꒰⚔️꒱・If you’re the one sick, however, things tend to go much differently. He’s a mix of worried and distant whenever it happens, constantly obsessing over your condition and endlessly pestering Emily—begging her to make sure that you’re alright. At the same time, however, you won’t catch a single sight of him while you’re still ill—the thought of seeing you in such a state causing his stomach to churn. He’s quick to apologize once you’re better, pressing kisses on every part of skin that he can reach… Though expect a slight scolding to accompany his tenderness.

꒰⚔️꒱・Ending this with a cuddling headcanon..! Joseph absolutely adores having you close to him. Whether it be you sitting in his lap while he reads a book or him having an arm wrapped around you as he rants about bad matches and annoying survivors, cuddling is a necessity for him. He’s not against the idea of falling asleep while holding you, either, but be warned that his grip gets shockingly tight once he drifts off. While attempts at escape don’t fully wake him, he’ll try to convince you to stay with half-asleep murmurs of ‘don’t leave, mon ange…’ or ‘stay a little, mon amour…’. Unfortunately for you, they’re rather effective.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[barrenclan]

I think overarching plot is relatively easy to come up with, but how do you come up with smaller more filler-like events for your stories, like the plum-bee spats and corm training with egret? I’m having some trouble filling in the flesh of my own story, and was wondering if you had any insight.

Oh boy, real softball questions! Haha, but I can try to give you an answer for these.

I think the best way I can explain the first question is how I wrote PATFW, since it was much more heavily structured than my other comic (and more recent).

So, I started with the premise, the characters, and the general arcs I wanted each of them to go through. The premise helped me to establish the guidelines of this world, what kind of tone I would have for the story - moody and mysterious, so I knew that comedy would not be as frequent and characters might often take a turn towards more realistic drama.

The arcs of each character came with understanding what I wanted to do with them - do I want this person to get better, or get worse? Will they be a force of antagonism, or a side character, will they live or die? What point am I trying to get across with this character? Those kind of questions helped me know how they would interact with each other as well, so for instance a character like Daffodilpaw being friendly and cheerful, with her arc, would interact a specific way with dramatic and egotistical Beeface, for her arc. (Sorry I can't be more specific, but the comic's not done yet.)

Once you have a strong understanding these things - tone and characters - it's not too hard to let the story percolate in your mind. There's nothing wrong with just letting ideas float around in the back of your brain, instead of trying to force them all out right away. I actually wrote the ending of PATFW a couple months after I had started the comic, because the characters naturally led me to that conclusion. Here's an example of what I'm talking about with tone and characters leading to a small interaction that I hadn't previously planned like you asked about:

I have Rainhaze, and Ranger. Rainhaze is kind and brave, but currently very lost. Ranger is sadistic and enjoys feeling in control. So, I need a plot reason for Ranger to have not found BarrenClan. Well, Rainhaze being self-sacrificial, told him that BarrenClan all died and he's the last survivor. When Ranger finds out, it makes him feel tricked - he doesn't like that, so he threatens to kill Rainhaze. Rainhaze is self-sacrificial, as previously mentioned, and is now showing some suicidal tendencies, so he doesn't care if Ranger kills him. But Ranger then refuses to do so, having regained control, and twists the knife by letting him live while feeling suicidal. That's a pretty grim scene, which fits with the tone of the story well.

There you go - that's an interaction I hadn't plotted out the story with, but I was able to come to naturally by understanding the characters, the way their arcs are moving, and the tone of the story.

For this question, it's a little more tricky. The sad, honest answer is that there is no reliable way to do this. That's kind of how the Internet works. Unless you pay money to advertise, I suppose, you can't push a button that says "popularity points" and have it spit out readers. And sadly, sometimes movement only comes after you grind away, day after day, and don't give up. Here's a few things that might help, though.

Use multiple platforms. It's simple, but the more places you post, the more eyes you'll catch. Different websites/apps have different readerbases, too - Webtoons, ComicFury, Instagram, DeviantArt, Tumblr, Hiveworks, and others all have varying levels of attention and algorithims, and work that you have to do to keep up with an audience. Find whatever feels right for you and focus on one or two, but keep the others in your periphery.

Be consistent. People are more likely to actually keep up with a comic that updates every single week, rather than that posts a page or two and then ghosts for a month. Cough, cough, maybe you'll say - but I always set out with this comic to be a side project, and posting asks like this helps me continue to engage with an audience even when I'm not completing issues.

DON'T CARE! I know that seems like counterproductive advice, but seriously; you have to be okay with the fact that you might not get any attention. If you make a comic with the set goal of being popular, or even just worry about having readers, you're going to make yourself miserable. Obviously having attention is more fun, and more motivating, I won't deny that. But you need to be just as happy making a comic for 3 people than 3000 to make something you're proud of and not burn out in the process. If you're making something earnest, fun, interesting, passionate - people will come eventually.

[bangsinc]

Heyyy uh, I love your work! Your idea of The Spot just feels so in character and I absolutely adore the sad soggy noodle of a man (I mean that in an affectionate way)

If your commissions are open, Id like to make a request…

Are you comfortable writing for an Autistic Reader (with or without ADHD involved)? It doesn’t have to be anything specific, maybe just how he would deal with the pros and cons of it all?

No pressure in doing it, just take care of yourself and remember to set yourself at a comfortable pace and to make sure to care for your needs!

OhmygodivbeentalkingforsolongIamsosorryillshutupnowhaveaniceday!!!

🖤Spot x Nerodivergent Reader🤍

YES!! I’m also autistic so I’d love nothing more than to feed y’all. Autistic readers and readers with ADHD are never common and it’s really sad to see.

AUTISTIC READER:

The Spot, with his own experiences of feeling misunderstood, demonstrates empathy and acceptance towards their partner's autism. He recognizes and appreciates their unique perspective, and even try’s to promote it as much as he can. You can truly understand him in that sence, and it makes him even more likely to be able to open up to you.

The Spot and you easily bond over shared special interests, whether it's science, technology, or other intellectual pursuits. You both engage in passionate discussions, exchange knowledge, and explore these interests together. Sometimes it might even be hard to have a conversation without accidentally interrupting one another!

In many situations (myself included lol), it’s often hard to stim as you might think of it as embarrassing or useless because of how ‘stupid’ you look. The spot of course, loves to see you happy and express yourself, even if it isn’t conventional. If he notices this pattern of behavior, he might try to help by stimming with you! He thinks it’s sweet and he wants you to feel comfortable around him after all.

Sensory issues are one of the many obstacles that come with having autism, and the spot most likely is aware of this. Even tiny things such as the fabric of your pants Can set you off, and the spot tries his best to make you as comfortable as he can. If you happen to become overstimulated, then he’s going to stop everything and aid you. Even if you feel guilty about all of the attention, he hates to see you distraught.

If you’re feeling overstimulated at home, then he might turn off/dim the lights and give you something to fidget with. If you don’t want to talk about how you feel, he understands, and is willing to console you physically if you wish!

If it’s in a public setting, then the spot is willing to safely (and hopefully slowly, the poor boy might be freaking out alongside you) get you out of the situation and somewhere more quiet and secluded.

Dates during sensory hour at certain places! The options are limitless, but I can imagine he’d enjoy taking you to places such as the aquarium during those hours. It’s quiet, nice, and you both get to see the sea creatures :).

Sometimes you want to be quiet but also in his presence, the feeling of just being around him comforting enough. He can understand, although it might be hard. Sometimes the spot has a tendency to talk your ear off, but in certain situations, espically if you convey so, he might just relax and do something while you do something else.

The spot is also willing to adapt if you have issues with certain ways of communication, maybe to the point of going non verbal or needing cards. Spot is a fast learner, and because of such will quickly be able to affectively communicate with you. He finds ways to accommodate different communication styles, such as using visual aids, written communication, or allowing time for processing thoughts. He’s very patient and knows that your feelings are complex.

Reader with ADHD

The Spot recognizes that your attention and focus may fluctuate and that you might exhibit hyperactive or impulsive behaviors at times. He can understand the feeling of being impulsive, and uses this to connect with you on a certain basis. Reminders are very common with him!

Back when The Spot worked worked as a scientist, he developed an incredibly strict schduale. If you have your own issues keeping schduale and keeping track of your own work, he might implement some of your own tatics for you. (And he’s kinda a total worrywart about it. He cares, maybe wayyyyy too much about if you get your things done on time.)

The Spot uses his powers to create a calming environment for you when needed. He may manipulate dimensions to create serene spaces or offer soothing sensory experiences that help reduce anxiety too!

[tumblingxelian]

How does RWBY's worldbuilding hold up for you?

Ooh fun question, and one I can answer in a short amount of time!

Long story short, yeah it holds up quite well, I don't need to make any significant leaps in logic or desperately headcanon things to compensate the way I might with some other settings.

For instance most super hero settings don't hold up to scrutiny, or present themselves consistently/coherently once they starts whipping out the more ridiculous sci-fi tech and or magic.

This isn't to say its perfect, nothing is, or that there aren't more details I'd like to see explored or various minor nitpicks I could probably pull out if I felt so inclined.

But as it is, I don't, but its not because I just love the series.

See, as much as I love world building, I do think it gets too easily used as a cudgel by bad faith critics.

Let's be real here, even some of the worlds best authors do not have Tolkein's patience to create a whole new language, & I imagine even his stuff raised questions or inconsistencies.

The absence of local languages/accents, them not explaining the praying statues in the V4 trailer don't bug me. Cos their absence is not harming the story.

Meanwhile if there's an inconsistency or question, that too is fine as they are watched enough to avoid any real issues & so I can focus on having a good time.

Hell, let's bring up ATLA, the golden calf for critics who never watched anything else in their lives without asking "Where's the Zuko though?"

Off the cuff & late at night I can name many ATLA world building issues.

The writers one hundred percent do not grasp the philosophical ideas they are trying to espouse, showing a grasp of "Letting go" almost as wrongheaded anti Jedi people.

The origins and nature of bending is inconsistent even just within the first series, being and or coming from education, gifts, blood, spirits, some combination there-of or what have you.

If we jump to Korra the Spirits themselves are weird, initially presented as physical manifestations of a given land, they instead become essentially alien invaders & stuff like the Lion Turtles, Koi, Badger moles & more are just left as ???? Plus again spiritual misunderstanding.

Or heck, one of my biggest gripes ties into the plot as well but would be the introduction of "Bad firebending" and its counterpart "Good Firebending" introduced very late in the game at season 3.

The problem with saying it was meant to be a surprise is we've seen every Bender tap into anger when bending. Toph cracks the ground, Katara broke an iceberg, Aang goes into the Avatar State, ETC.

Anger & fire was only tied to two characters, Zuko during his season 1 lashing out period & Zhao where it was specifically cited as being unique to him and something to exploit.

Worse still, we've seen people happily Firebend, Aang;s issues with Firebending comes from having too much fun, getting careless with it & accidentally burn Katara. & we have seen sad or direction-less Zuko Firebend like a champ before now.

The 'revelation' of "Good Firebending" is the wrong solution to Aang's issue cos it does nothing about fires tendency to burn, & a solution looking for a problem that had to be tailor made for it to fix & did not exist before, Zuko.

The thing is though, while I will happily harp on the last one as part of a greater collection of issues in season 3. The truth is people are not bothered by these things if they watch a show in good faith.

One doesn't even need to like a show to do this, its just part of the deal when watching fictional media that some stuff is not always going to add up perfectly.

What matters is if the writers made it interesting, feel like it fit coherently within the world and kept it consistent enough that it didn't break the story.

Which CRWBY very much do.

They created a wide, vibrant, varied and interesting world, where a multitude of stories could and do take place that can be expanded upon if one wants.

They created and kept consistent its internal logic as best as it can be conveyed to we the audience when the characters also don't know everything.

Above all they used it to tell a interesting and engaging story, where skill & strategy matter so much in combat Where its so easy to believe bandits and criminals can thrive in the wild. Where the introduction of something like the Ever After can actually fit and feel like a revelation rather than break the story!

So yeah, I really enjoy RWBY's world building :)

[dragonfly0808]

Helia: The Thesis

Kay, so, for Helia’s thesis there won’t be that many spoilers but there will be references to a big even in s3, if you haven’t read after the Eraklyon party in s3 then you run a risk of spoilers, the spoilers will mainly revolve around the changes I made to Helia’s backstory

TRIGGER WARNING: TALK OF SELF-HARM AND ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE SKIP THIS THESIS

First Things First

The first words I have in Helia’s character sheet are:

Sensitive artist that doesn’t kick your ass cause he choses peace.

Helia was always super interesting to me in the OG cause, in the 2000’s I honestly don’t remember many soft boys being portrayed as also being able to be badass and just super cool.

I changed quite a bit of Helia’s backstory cause in the OG we just hear that he drops out of Red Fountain and goes to art school before going back to Red Fountain with zero explanation.

There is a phrase that really inspired a lot of the changes I made to Helia’s backstory and that is: No one will ever know the violence it took to become this gentle.

Over the years I’ve learned that some of the loveliest, gentlest and kindest people are the ones who’ve hated and suffered the most in the past. And that is something that I could really see Helia being.

Helia is someone who really let him anger get the best of him in the past. In my version, Helia grew up angry due to heavy expectations of his parents and being Saladin’s grandson. He’s someone who grew up with endless anger and sadness and who had no real outlet after his art was taken away to not distract him too much from his training as Specialist and Wizard.

(Here’s where the talk of self-harm and attempted suicide starts)

Helia self-harms and tries to take his own life a year before season 2. This decision was… a tad bit drastic and to be honest it wasn’t even fully planned at first but it just made sense to me with his character.

Helia is someone who, after hitting rock bottom, seeks help and slowly starts to get better. He goes back into art to let out all of his pain, he works things out with his parents and gets his life back on track.

And it’s not like he is magically completely healed, like we see in season 3, when he has a reason, his anger can and will get the better of him and it can be scary. He has relapses when things get extreme. But he continues to heal and to grow

Helia isn’t born peaceful. He learns it. He grows into peace slowly over his year at art school where he learns to meditate and to just process his emotions in a more healthy manner and I think that makes his serene and mostly peaceful personality and thought process all the more impactful.

People can tell he’s wise and I think I mention in s2 that he just erradiates this comfort, people want to be liked by Helia.

Healing Isn’t Linear

In s3, we see Helia relapse into his self-harming habits.

This to me was important for his character because, whilst he has learned better ways to cope with his feelings, relapse is a realistic thing that can happen and doesn’t mean you’re doing horribly if that makes sense. Because healing isn’t linear. Especially with everything that happens in season 3, to me it made sense for Helia to snap both in anger and in his past self-destructive tendencies.

Helia attacks Sky when the truth of his curse comes out and we see him be ashamed of it, worried he scared Flora and telling Bloom that that isn’t who he wants to be

Helia is very conscious of his own issues and how he is/wants to be perceived. He is very conscious of when he needs help even if sometimes he still needs a little push to get said help

Something to Fight For

A big part of what helps Helia truly come into his own post s2 is figuring out what he is fighting for.

Before s2 Helia was furious because he didn’t know what to fight for, he was a Specialist mostly due to being a legacy.

He returns to Red Fountain because he always enjoyed the routine of it, but also to finally figure out what he wants to fight for.

So what does Helia fight for?

Well… I’d say that, at first he fights for his friends. He is inspired by them and wants to protect them, after that, he also fights for those who can’t protect themselves, much like his grandfather.

No longer being so pressured by his parents allows him to kind of see things like his family does and he finds that he feels the same way.

Kind of reminds me of the Argent family: We protect those who cannot protect themselves. That’s the same view of the Alarie family

Thoughts Behind his Main Relationships

Riven: Riven is Helia’s best friend and they are kind of two sides of the same coin. They both have had anger issues and, surprisingly enough, Helia was a lot more violent than Riven ever was since Riven had a better hold on his anger due to facing major consequences (*cough* *cough* his dad *cough* *cough*) but they bond over trying to better themselves.

Riven learns to meditate with Helia and occasionally even paints with him. Helia learns to fix stuff with Riven and they both love the routine that comes with being Specialists second only to Brandon so they often do work-outs and bets with each other.

Their friendship is one of very different yet similar lives. They get each other in a: we’ve both come face to face with the darkest versions of ourselves and came out on top, we’ve both hit rock bottom and we’re both working on figuring out how to be better.

They’re both very aware of their darker emotions but never judge the other for it. They both have nightmares regarding their pasts and they can open up because they know that they get one another.

Flora: They’re relationship is just… ufff. I love them so much.

To me, Flora and Helia have both been through a lot and have both learned to make light of the darkness in different ways. They are both on their healing journey and support each other unconditionally.

They are soft souls that have been hit time and time again but have refused to become harsh.

Their relationship is one of complete trust and support. They know what they’ve been through but never fear being pitied or feared by the other because they’re the same in a way.

Their relationship is ‘we’re both pulling ourselves and you make me feel like all of it will never drown me and I know that my soul and yours have known each other for a very long time.’

They find comfort, understanding and safety in their love.

They know they can trust each other with the darkest parts of themselves because they won’t lose them, they are very much connected in a way that is hard to even comprehend.

Their love is a soft one

Musa: These two are platonic soulmates.

They’re the artists of the group, the ones that communicate better on a page or when speaking in prose, they’re the ones that will spill their guts out in the middle of the night with a pen in their hands

They’re the artists that make art not just because they like to but because it’s crucial to their survival and an integral part of who they are.

They both struggle a bit to be vulnerable, Musa more so than Helia, but find that they can lower their guard with each other because they get what it’s like to finally find your voice after years of bearing the stifling forced silence that comes with not being heard by your own family

They just make sense to me as unexpected platonic soulmates

Who is Helia in this Rewrite?

Helia is a young legacy who has suffered the weight of his heritage. He is someone who used to be incredibly lost and angry at the universe and turned that hatred and frustration inward and into self-destructive tendencies.

He is someone who has grown incredibly and learned peace, learned self-love and learned vulnerability. He is someone incredibly aware of who he is and who he wants to be.

He is someone who took a long time to figure out what he is fighting for, what he wants to live for and become. But, once he figured it out, he will not go back, he will forge ahead, not forgetting his past but not letting it drag him down, allowing it to be a lesson

Helia is at his core, an artist: someone incredibly caring, soft and who wants to help people, even if it isn’t as a warrior, he wants to make sure others don’t have to go through the pain that he and his friends have gone through. He is someone who will fight to protect the vulnerable.

He is someone who learned to wring sunlight out of the darkest parts of himself.

Helia is a soft soul, the warm side of a warrior.

———

Masterlist

Helia Moodboard

Helia’s Instagram

Helia and Riven Moodboard

Flora and Helia Moodboard

Musa and Helia Moodboard

[modifieduchiha]

Part 4  - [ I | IV ]- rather read on AO3?

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7

·Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist · Series Masterlist ·

Word Count: 6,297

Chapter Summary : This was all very unlike you as of the past few years. Your normal now was the smart, innocent, safe girl; you were sick and fucking tired of it, ready to unleash the worst parts of yourself.

Characters in this chapter :Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Megumi Fushiguro, Reader

Synopsis: As you stood there, caught in his gaze, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Toji than just a case of mistaken emotions. Could it be that the attraction & connection between you was too strong to resist? Or would you have to fight your feelings and stay loyal to a Megumi who has been cheating on you with your bestfriend, no matter how hard it may be?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! Female reader, cheating, squirting, orgasm, toxicity , corruption kink, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, praise, fingering, toxicity, yandere behavior, PORN WITH A PLOT! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

♡Authors Note: Yes there is smut in this chapter, although it is going to continue over into the next chapter!! I will eventually update the warnings section for each chapter but as of now it will remain the same. Please remember with is porn with a plot. ♡ IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES REPLY TO THIS AND LET ME KNOW OR PUT IT IN MY ASK BOX

 !! TRIGGER WARNING !!

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

The following themes will be included from this point forward:Sex/blasphemy/dubious consent/death (of minor characters)/Drug use/Rape/etc

If you have a history of drug use/rape, etc- this story may trigger you.

This is not a soft story.

You have been warned.

Taglist; @breadbaker69

Ask to get added to the taglist in the replies section or send an ask

♡ Directory ♡ submit a fic request or leave me a note ♡ AO3 ♡ Ko-Fi ♡

18+ — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The interior of your car shook violently with the bass of your music that was currently playing at max volume as you sped down the road , swerving in and out of cars in your way. 

The leather on the steering wheel made a crackling noise due to the sheer pressure your fingers were squeezing it with, think about the fight you just got in with your father. 

He had a tendency to get pissed when you dressed up , something about how your ‘whore of a mother used to dress like that before she disappeared’  and here you were; a black mini dress with no bra underneath, fishnets on your legs, and matching black stilettos just to spite him.

And to add a cherry on top you had dyed your hair red , the shade of red resembling blood.

This was all very unlike you as of the past few years. Your normal now was the smart, innocent, safe girl; you were sick and fucking tired of it, ready to unleash the worst parts of yourself.

If your boyfriend didn't think you were sexy, you were determined to make sure every single person who saw you tonight thought it instead.

 It was nearly 11 at night, nobody was answering the numerous calls you spammed them with; specifically your best friends Nobara, and Yuta.

The pint of sake was in your hand, coming up to your lips occasionally for a swig as you drove thoughtlessly, your mind raced to try to identify that perfume. You couldn't quite place it, but it was definitely a familiar scent. 

Suddenly, a memory flashed in your mind - it was the same perfume that your best friend had been wearing when you last saw her. Your heart sank as you realized what that could mean.

Hot tears began streaming down your face as you drove through the downtown streets, clubs, and bars lit up the area. 

Saturday nights always caused this area to boom with life, while you felt your own lifeforce draining. 

An all too familiar metallic taste permeated your senses before you clicked on the interior light and glanced up into the rearview mirror, only for the reflection to reveal blood tickling down the corner of your lip.

Anger, sadness, confusion,  fucking rage had built up to the point you had gnawed the inside of your cherry glossed lip bloody.

With a grunt you turned into some high-end club and casino parking garage, going up a few levels before choosing to park on the floor that only had no other cars.

The car shifted into park and as if on cue, your phone buzzed against your thigh.

A few more gulps were taken from the bottle before you reluctantly lifted the phone expecting to see a message from Yuta , Nobara (even though you already knew you had to get revenge on her some how), or even Megumi. 

But to your surprise, it was a text from Toji.

"I know today was confusing and I don't want to pressure you, but do you wanna do something fun, take your mind off of everything?" 

Fuck yes you did. 

You read the message over and over, your heart racing. You knew that this was dangerous, that it could ruin everything. 

But you couldn't help the yearning that ran through your body at the thought of exploring this strange connection with Toji.

Despite the fact that you were Megumi's girlfriend, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper under Toji's spell.

"Yeah, I'm kinda stuck in a parking garage right now though. I’ll drop a pin.”

you typed back while drunken butterflies fluttered around in your tummy and then dropped a pin on the location, sharing it to Toji. 

In your backseat was a black furr coat that Megumi had gotten you for your 4 year anniversary. Fingers raked through the soft fur before putting it on. 

The tears that wetted your cheeks were dabbed away, and makeup was applied to your face with urgency to cover up any redness. 

All that hurt and betrayal being forced deep inside of you and bottled up for now. Besides , your brain had a way of turning sadness into anger , which would likely come in handy over the next few days. 

A scream left your throat when a series of 3 rapid knocks were tapped on your window. 

Nearly giving yourself whiplash from the speed at which your head spun to find Toji standing there wearing a devious smirk.

A palm pressed against your chest to keep your heart from leaping out. But you returned the same type of dark smirk as he opened the car door for you. 

"That was fast!" Your expression was adorable to Toji, and you took his extended hand to get out. 

Little did you know that he had arrived so fast was because he had been following you this entire time, you should really start turning your location sharing off.

When you reached back to grab your purse and wallet he tsked at you, a gentle grip on your wrist. Toji raised a brow and chuckled.

"You're not spending your money…tonight's my treat." 

Guilt slightly prickled at you, Toji could be so damn stubborn, your eyes trying to break down his motive while his scanned the skimpy garments that clung against your curvaceous figure.

“Hmmf, fine. I’ll just owe ya one” you slurred while forcing a smile , trying to play it cool.

When you thought about it you realized you never asked Toji or Megumi what Tojis's job was specifically, you only knew he owned a VERY successful company.

 For days, sometimes weeks he would be gone on business trips. Spending money on you really wouldn’t put a dent in his bank account, although you didn’t know that.

Toji had parked his black Porsche nearby, and you found yourself staring at it, swaying slightly as the alcohol began to take its toll. 

Toji noticed and quickly notched his arm around your waist to steady you, his nose picking up the scent of sake emanating from you.

"Let's go, I'm driving. You've been a bad girl," he said in a playfully stern tone before tsking again, tugging you gently towards the car , using the opportunity of helping you inside to feel you up just a little. 

You couldn't help but feel a clenching in your stomach at the sound of his voice, and the warmth of his hands exploring your body only made it worse.

As he settled into the driver's seat you released a gasp at the feeling of his hand resting dangerously close to your clothed cunt, the two of you making brief eye contact once he felt your thighs clench.

Toji raised a brow at you as a bottom lip slid between your teeth you remembering the events of earlier, and you were completely dedicated to really breaking free tonight. 

You wanted to lose your virginity and losing it to your boyfriends’ father would be the ultimate revenge on Megumi.

This was a dangerous game but the drunken part of your brain figured Toji would be amenable to whatever antics you would throw his way. 

Toji was working his brain thinking of an appropriate place to take you yet it just kept telling him to pull into some dark alleyway and absolutely ruin you for Megumi or any other man you’d ever sleep with, but before those thoughts could come to fruition his phone went off.

The movement he made was meant to seem like he was just shifting to get more comfortable , but he was really covertly checking the messages to see that a business partner needed him to meet up.

His stress level was immediately on level 10, should he really take you to the Underground? A place where other people in his ‘profession’ met up, it was neutral territory for criminals. 

Not to mention that Toji had played a part in funding the project of building that sinful place.

A place that had an underground casino, strip club, brothel,hotel, and more. Better yet it was located directly next to a large theme park , so people would just assume the large place was part of the park.

One of the most atrocious places hidden in plain sight.

Technically you would be safe there. Toji would always keep you safe although the definition of safe might be different than your version. 

But he would be exposing himself as a man who ran an empire that dealt fire arms, drugs, and even human trafficking. 

Though after all this time he’s spent with you , the dedication he held for you would allow him to take a leap of faith. 

If anything he could just give you something to forget tonight ever happened, but absolutely nothing would take you away from him, not even you.

The sake had you resting your head against the window as he started the car and pulled out of the parking garage the sound of the revving motor filling the air. You leaned back into the seat, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes, feeling the cool air from the air conditioning blowing onto your face.

Toji glanced over at you briefly as you connected your phone to the cars bluetooth, you favorite playlist playing and you humming along.

You were an adorable little mess sitting there looking like you were straight out of a playboy magazine . 

It made Toji run his hand further up your thigh before hooking his index finger through the crotch area of your panties, smirking at the wetness of the material and how you wriggled around in your seat whining his name, telling him to stop even though you wanted the complete opposite, you wanted more. 

My god did it make him rock fuckin solid underneath his business suit.

“Darling , I know you’re a bit drunk. We’re going to have a good time tonight s’you can forget about all the bullshit lately-” this is how people always sounded when they were trying to calm you before the storm. 

“Y/n, I trust you with my life.” A bold statement you thought to yourself, but it caught your attention. “I need to take care of something for work, and I trust that you’ll keep it to yourself?”

“Of course, Toji.” you replied instantly and giggled a bit at the tickle of his fingertips. 

“Nobody will question you , but you need to …fit in. Think you can pretend to be my fiance?” Toji swallowed a mouthful of spit and looked over to see you smirking at him. It wasn’t to often that he seen ‘this’ side of you. 

Maybe if you pretended to be his fiance for a while , eventually you’d just accept it to be the truth. 

“So i’m Y/N Fushiguro?” You playfully quipped by using your fake new name, enjoying how it made him react. 

“Soon to be” he winked and pressed harder on the gas . “I’ll be honest , babygirl…this place isn’t normal in any sense . There are a lot of dangerous people”

A frown tugged at the corners of your mouth , feeling a knot form in your stomach as he spoke. And then, in a moment of vulnerability and intoxication, you confessed, "I'm an addict in recovery."

The words came out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted letting your guard down. You looked at Toji, hoping he wouldn't judge you for your past.

Toji took a moment to process your confession, his expression unreadable. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him, but he couldn't deny the thought that getting you high might make you more susceptible to his charms. However, he pushed that morbid idea aside.

Your brows furrowed at his silence, cocking a look at him while trying decipher his reaction.

"I had no idea, but I did find your pills earlier," he admitted, his voice calm but firm.

“Fuckin hell-” You let out a groan, running your hand over your face. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I kept them."

Toji nodded understandingly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He knew why you had them, he knew you were close to a relapse. "It's okay. I’ve got you no matter what, I’m not going anywhere.” Toji had never spoken a sentence more true than this.

Toji was determined to make sure you were comfortable, but he also knew that it was time for you to learn the extent of his criminal behavior and he would make sure that you would learn to be okay with it if you weren’t at first , even if that meant making you a criminal yourself.

Afterall , he had to do that to Megumi . Another thing you never knew of. 

It might be easier to get you hooked to him if he got you high. Tojis eye twitched a bit at such a morbid thought but left it as a viable option.

“We are about to pull up to the underground though just remember to stay in character," he said before continuing, "a lot of us go by codenames here. I guess we can just call you-"

You interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, your eyes widening with excitement. "Hellfire," you said, giving him your nickname and codename. Of course you've heard of the Underground, you'd spent a lot of time around drug dealers and users alike. 

Toji raised an eyebrow at your quick response, impressed by your assertiveness. "Hellfire, huh? I like it," he said with a smirk but asked himself why it sounded so familiar. 

"You know, you might just fit in here after all. Such a bad girl sometimes" 

before you could react to his words you let out a lewd high pitched gasp, feeling the stinging impact of his hand slapping your clothed pussy harshly before retracting it.

How the hell did everything this man do say and say feel SO GOOD?!

A few minutes later the car approached the gates, a man dressed in all black came up to Toji's side of the window. Toji rolled it down and quickly flashed his ID to the man, who nodded and stepped aside to allow them to pass through. Now it was time to enter the Underground. 

The place looks like it could belong to some type of billionaire. Fountains and intricate stone statues decorate the well-kept garden. You couldn't help but stare in awe as the car made its way through the winding pathways.

You could only imagine how amazing the view must be from one of the highest floors of the building, especially when the sky turns a beautiful shade of orange as the day bleeds into the night.

It was like stepping into a completely different world, one where money, violence, and power ruled.

Ironically they had an actual underground parking garage where Toji found his usual spot before turning the vehicle off.

Toji turned to you. "Remember, don't act like a nervous. Act like you belong here, like you belong to me.  And keep your eyes open if you’re ever by yourself. You never know who might be watching." 

Tojis's hand found itself at the back of your head, his lips making contact with yours , he let out a desperate groan at the taste of your cherry-flavored lips .

With that, he got out of the car and opened the door for you. “Ready, Hellfire?” Toji eyed you up and down, his eyes were consuming every ounce of you and getting some pretty intrusive thoughts as he helped you out of the car.

Toji took out his phone and sent a quick text to someone while you were busy taking in your surroundings. You realized how the air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and exhaust fumes You followed Toji across the dimly lit interior of the building.

The two of you were connected hand in hand, your heels clicking against the pavement as you began walking with him toward the elevator. This entire thing seemed surreal.

The elevator was made with glass walls, allowing you to see the different floors as the elevator ascended, The view from the glass walls was incredible, with each floor revealing a new level of opulence and extravagance yet the different floors contained taboo and some illegal activities.

The intricate decor and expensive furnishings were unlike anything you had ever seen before. You couldn’t help but be awestruck at the types of things you were seeing, Toji wrapped his arm around your waist after noticing the amusing look on your face. 

It was both comforting and intimidating to be in the presence of such wealth and power.

The beaming smile was now directed toward him, your heart nearly jumped from your chest as he leaned down to kiss you passionately. Little did you know that during the distraction, he placed your bag of pills back into the purse that hung over your shoulder.

As the elevator doors opened, Toji pulled away from the kiss and led you out into a spacious and luxuriously decorated lobby. You looked around in amazement, taking in the high ceilings, marble floors, and intricate chandeliers hanging overhead.

Toji whisked you away to the front desk, where he flashed his charming smile and smoothly requested a key. The receptionist addressed him by name, he clearly frequents this place. She promptly handed him a sleek card, and Toji wasted no time taking your hand

"Excited to see the room, my dear?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mischievous tone.

You eagerly nodded, unable to contain the mix of emotions and alcohol coursing through you. Toji's confidence and easy charm made it easy to put your trust in him, even as he led you to the unknown.

Within moments, you arrived at the room, and Toji deftly used the keycard to open the door. The sight before you was breathtaking - a spacious, lavishly decorated suite that seemed to stretch on forever. You couldn't help but gasp in awe, marveling at the intricate details and luxurious furnishings.

Toji chuckled at your stunned expression. "Impressive, isn't it? But don't worry, we're just dropping off your belongings for now. We'll come back later to really enjoy it," he said, leading you inside.

The two of you made quick work stowing away your things, everything except for your phone which you popped into your purse before you followed Toji out of the room, eager to see what the rest of the night had in store for you.

Toji took your hand, leading you a few floors down only to step out of the stairwell into a dimly lit hallway. You could hear the sound of music and laughter coming from behind a closed door at the end of the hall.

"This is the place," Toji said, gesturing towards the door. with a backpack rattling on his back.

You looked up at him nervously, "I don’t even wanna ask what’s behind that door."

Toji gave you a reassuring smile, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He led you to the door and knocked three times before it was opened by a tall, muscular man with tattoos covering his arms.

"Hey, Toji. Come on in," the man said, giving you a curious look.

Toji stepped inside and you followed closely behind, feeling a bit uneasy. The room was filled with people, all of them drinking and doing drugs of their choice to loud music. 

Toji led you to a glass-walled room that had a small table in the corner, one clearly made for people who needed to do business in quiet, and before you could say a word, a woman was setting drinks on the table for the both of you.

As you sipped on your drink getting even more drunk, you couldn't help but feel out of place. You had tried to put this lifestyle behind you but this was a whole new level, this was so elegant that it almost felt okay. 

Everyone in this place seemed to know each other, and you felt like an outsider. Not only that but you REALLY wanted to get high now. 

Toji noticed your discomfort and leaned in close to you, "Don't worry, I'm here with you. Just relax and enjoy the night. A few associates of mine is going to be coming over in a moment, so just breathe and drink." he said with a smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Toji was running one of his hands up and down your thigh, and with each stroke, he seemed to get closer to your panties. Just like a good girl, you sipped your drink, letting out an occasional moan that made Toji give you a certain look and visibly tense up. 

Just as you started to feel more at ease, the door opened and revealed two men; Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo. 

Toji's grip on your waist tightened as he felt your body tense up, almost protectively, as Satoru approached with a grin on his face. 

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Hellfire. It's been too long," he said, his eyes lingering on you.

Dread washed over you as you took a sip of your drink, trying to compose yourself, but Satoru's greeting made you choke on it, drawing unwanted attention to yourself.

The sound of a thudding smack echoed in the room as Sugurus hand made contact with the back of Gojos head, a warning for him to shut up but he was clearly intoxicated.

“Shut the hell up and sit down Gojo.” Geto hissed as he pulled a chair out across from you and Toji, taking a seat and setting a briefcase on the table.

Toji glanced at you, confusion written all over his face as Satoru called out your supposed code name, unsure how one of his associates knew it. 

You could feel Toji's tension growing as he tried to piece together the situation, and you knew you had to act quickly to avoid any further complications. 

"I need another drink." you said, forcing a smile as you tapped the side of the empty glass. As you went to stand Tojis hand forced you back down, instead he looked to Satoru. 

“Go get her another drink since you know her so well.” The words were laced with condescension. Satoru nodded his head and flashed a grin as he went to do as told.

Suguru cleared his throat, shifting the conversation back to business. "We have some important matters to discuss," he said, giving Toji a meaningful look , his gaze flickering to you briefly with a questioning look on his face.

Toji nodded, his grip on your waist finally loosening as he turned his attention to his business partner. You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the focus was off of you for the moment because the alcohol was beginning to ravage your mind.

As the conversation shifted back to business you tuned it out and you took the opportunity to breathe and gather your thoughts. Despite your best attempts at not listening you quickly found out the specifics of what kind of business Toji was involved in, and it made your stomach churn.

This means that the drugs you got off of Suguru were drugs he had gotten from Toji.

Satoru returned with your drink, placing it in front of you with a smirk. You forced a smile as the sound broke you from your current thoughts. It felt heavenly as you began taking a sip and trying to ignore his presence. 

You leaned back in your seat, observing the three men as they talked in hushed tones. 

The way they looked at each other, the subtle gestures they made, all hinted at a level of familiarity that you couldn't quite grasp. And it was seeming like the conversation lasted hours, you had already finished 3 more drinks that Satoru had faithfully fetched for you like a trained dog.

But as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't quite right. The room felt too small, your brain felt muddy.

It was like being in the middle of a puzzle and not having all the pieces to put it together.

As Toji and Suguru delved even deeper into their business discussion, stacks of money and bags filled with illicit substances were scattered across the table.

You tried to distract yourself by sipping on your drink and looking around the room. But your mind kept drifting to Satoru, who was now sitting a few seats away, eyeing you with a familiar hunger in his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing that he had tried to pursue you romantically and rather aggressively in the past. And now, with Toji being none the wiser about your history with Satoru, you couldn't help but wonder if he would try something again.

Toji infact was so focused on the discussion that he didn’t notice you stand up and slip out of the room, turning a corner and stumbling a few feet into the empty hall so that you’d be out of sight. 

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru secretly followed behind you, his feet stopping directly in front of you.

Truthfully some part of you knew that there was something besides alcohol in those drinks, the room was swaying intensely. 

Satoru leaned over and whispered in your ear, "You look beautiful tonight, Hellfire. It's been too long since we last saw each other."

“I-it hasn’t been long’nuff” With a deep breath you internally scolded yourself for even getting up. Satoru's advances were not something you wanted to deal with, especially not tonight.

You tried to step away from him, but your legs were unsteady, and you stumbled, your back hitting the wall. Satoru took advantage of your vulnerability, pressing his body closer to yours and running his hand up your thigh.

"Stop it," you slurred, trying to push him away, but he was too strong.

"Just relax, Hellfire. It's just like old times except i’ll finally get what i’m owed," he whispered, moving his lips closer to yours.

But before he could forcibly kiss you, there was a loud banging on the wall. "Gojo what the fuck are you doing?!” Toji's voice boomed through the hall.

You let out a sigh of relief as Satoru backed away from you, giving you a sly grin before raising his arms in defeat. Toji rushed to you, his expression filled with concern as he saw you slumped against the wall.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked, his eyes scanning your body for any signs of harm.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. "I'm fine. I just needed some air," you lied, not wanting to worry him. But Toji wasn’t an idiot, he could tell you were drugged and knew Satoru goddamn Gojo was trying to take you.

Toji's grip on your arm tightened as he pulled you up from the floor. "Let's get out of here. I think it's time we called it a night. Satoru if you ever put a finger on my Fiance again I will fuckin kill you." he said, his voice firm.

Suguru was eyeing Gojo with a glare that could burn a hole through him as Toji and you walked away “Wonder what Megumi is gonna think when he finds out his girlfriend is apparently his dads Fiance.” Satoru uttered under his breath.

Toji carried you bridal style back to the extravagant room , the entire time you just kept slurring your words and falling in and out of consciousness. The only thing that made you wake up a bit was the feeling of plush blankets that made contact with your back as Toji laid you on the bed. 

He wanted to pull you out of your current catatonic state, breaking every moral boundary he had set, a vial and tiny little spoon was pulled from the bedside table, sighing as he held it up to your nose.

It must have been muscle memory because you sniffed the contents up your nose harshly, and your eyes blinked hard a few times in a row as the drugs took effect. 

"You're safe now," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before taking a seat near the end of the bed. "I won't let anything happen to you." Dilated pupils were fixed on Toji, a sly smile playing at your lips.

With a few adjustments and movements, you had removed your heels and were on your hands and knees crawling toward Toji. He bit his lip at the sight , the way your dress had rode up and how the fishnets clung to your legs .

You leaned into him letting your head fall onto his lap while savoring the warmth of his embrace and the scent of his cologne.

As you looked up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, a mischievous thought crossed your mind 

“I’m still a virgin in my 20’s” you blurted out your confession before shrieking with laughter. Oh, the boundaries you were crossing tonight.

Toji's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, a smirk forming on his lips. "Is that so?" he teased, leaning in closer to you. "Well, don't worry. I can help you with that, if you want." Toji figured as much 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but you couldn't deny the rush of excitement that his words sparked within you. With a nod, you leaned in to meet his lips, eager to explore the uncharted territory of intimacy behind oral and hand stuff you’d done with Megumi.

 Toji was quick to pull his phone out and connect to a speaker , letting music play, more specifically your playlist, and you were too busy pulling your dress off .

When he turned back to you he found you with a bare chest, pierced nipples pebbled and only those fishnets with panties underneath that read ‘Daddys Girl’  sitting with your legs tucked to the side , only propped up by your arm. 

His eyes traversed the contours of your face, stopping at your eyes. Looking into them, drinking the emotions that resided within them, he read you like the open book you’d become. You, on the other hand, saw the look in his eyes was animalistic, the half-lidded, manic mist which descended upon his very form. His touch trailed down your cheek, your throat, then stopped at your collarbones , a shiver running through you. 

Toji stood up and fixed himself a drink , knowing damn well that you were looking at him , confused, as he finished it quickly. The song had ended and during the brief period before the next started, the sound of your stifled breath filled the room.

“Y’sure you’re ready for this?” he questioned . His tone was different than you’d ever heard. It was as if someone else , someone evil had possessed him. Your observations would prove to be correct , his mind had finally snapped and he wanted to absolutely destroy you, make you his.

“Y-yes..” you hesitated but affirmed you did in fact still want him to free you from the mental restraints your virginity imposed upon you , and seek revenge against Megumi. 

His shirt became unbuttoned to reveal and extremely toned and muscular upper body before walking over to the bed , in front of you. 

Shaky hands of yours moved up to his pants ,the sound of his zipper coming undone by you made your stomach clench, tighten. With a shallow sigh, Toji felt freed of his garments and held his length in his large, willing hand.

Your heart stopped. He was huge - long and thick and painful, veins bulging along his shaft, leading to his throbbing, leaking, bulbous tip. You could just already tell he was going to struggle fitting it all in. 

The image of him growing impatient and slamming into you flashed in your mind. Your heart stuttered, a simultaneously tepid and baltic feeling washed through you.

“Mmh, can’t wait to see you try and take me,” Toji said, voice thick and dark, yet seductive in a fucked up way. Toji had gone through your laptop on days when you and Megumi weren’t home, he memorized the type of porn you watched and he wanted to give you exactly that.

“Be rough with me.” your lip quivered just the slightest bit , making your facade of confidence falter .

“Whats my name?” Toji crooked this thumb and index finger under your chin , forcing your to look up at him.

You paused a moment “Toji..” and then felt his other hand come up and smack your cheek hard enough the feel a sting , you moaned at it and tears prickled along your lash line.

“Try again , babygirl.”

“D-daddy?” Toji smoothed his thumb over the pinked mark on your cheek.

“Good girl.” he cooed “that's the only thing you’re allowed to call me tonight.” fingers raking through your hair . You felt instant gratification, this is what drugs felt like the first time ; you couldn’t help but make the comparison. 

Before you could get a word out Toji had pushed two of his fingers in your mouth , instinctively you began sucking on them drawing a string of praises from him , him free hand pressed you to lie flat on your back.

The fingers were removed with an audible pop “That was so goddamn sexy , babygirl.” he growled “Need to get these off before we start.” 

You wondered how he’d do it, with scissors, or bare hands–From beneath the bed, concealed, Toji withdrew a knife; thick, military and real. You gasped, tears clinging to your periphery as you felt the stimulants wearing off , the downers seeping back in and rendering you to jelly again ; useless.

 Toji’s head tilted as he poised the tip of the knife to your throat and dragged it, slowly, down the expanse of your abdomen. You tried not to breathe - tried to prevent any unwanted movement that would give the blade a chance to penetrate your skin. 

Toji‘s eyes trailed the blade. His breath shuttered as the tip came to the waistband of your fishnets. The holster of the blade was moved up and settled between his teeth as his hands made quick work of ripping your fishnets to tatters, handfuls being thrown on the floor until you were only in those panties.

Toji took the knife from his mouth and used it to trace over the lettering “Daddys girl , eh? Pretty fuckin’ accurate .” he laughed before sticking the blade back under the mattress , out of reach for you , before turning his attention back to you , sliding your panties off and sliding them into the pocket of his pants that reside on the floor. In moments notice he was on his side next to you.

Without warning his thumb pressed into your clit, forcing the beginnings of euphoria through you. “God, so small. I’m starting to wonder how i’m going to fit inside you–” he bit his lip as fear-soaked arousal sparked in your widened eyes, just visible to him as your head began to lol against his shoulder.

Toji pressed into you, forcing two fingers inside you, reminding you of who - what - you belonged to right now. Your eyes squeezed shut, a pained moan rippling through you. Even as he grew closer to your sweet spot, the weight and length of his fingers were difficult to take, especially considering how little you had been fingered. Perhaps this was how he was warming you up.

Toji’s free hand encompassed your breast with his grip, kneading it, plucking at your hardened nipple. You swallowed the gasps and whines that crawled up your throat, waiting for the right moment to pounce - to make your true arousal known. But Toji seemed to know regardless, his voice hot in your ear. “You’re soaking me, Darling,” he rasped.

★・・・★

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto sat in the dimly lit bar, both lost in their own thoughts and distracted by their phones. Gojo's eyes flickered with a mischievous glint as he typed out a message to Megumi, relishing in the chaos and drama that was sure to ensue.

Once he hit send, he turned to Suguru with a wicked grin. "This is going to be so much fun," he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, looking at Gojo with a mix of amusement and concern. "You never cease to be a complete asshole, Gojo. I hope you know what you're doing."

Gojo's grin only widened. "Of course I do. I'm always one step ahead of everyone else,besides I wanted Y/N first." he boasted, confident in his abilities to manipulate and control any situation.

As they continued to sip their drinks, Gojo's mind raced with excitement and anticipation, eager to see the fallout from his actions and the chaos that would ensue. Suguru simply tried to reel in his train of thought, hoping that Toji wouldn’t behead the two of them for this; that was his specialty after all. 

★・・・★

Megumi's phone pinged with a new message, and he instinctively reached for it, assuming it was a notification from you or one of his friends. But as he read the message from Gojo, his heart sank and a wave of anger washed over him.

He slammed his fist down on the table and stood up abruptly, causing his fellow shady coworkers to glance at him in confusion. "Excuse me, I have to go," he muttered, grabbing his coat and storming out of the warehouse.

★・・・★

➜Part 5

© ModifiedUchiha 2023 ★♡Please don't copy , paste , or plagiarize my works . Feel free to use them for inspiration , but give credit .♡★

[coeluvr]

Hello dearest!

I don't usually write messages because I have weird, shy internet anxiety, but I wanted to make an exception because compliments always motivate me to keep writing and I need u to keep writing so I can finally h*ld Vincent's h*nd!!! 😔😭🤡

This is one of the few IFs where I actually want to romance all ROs!!! Usually, I have a few I really want to romance and the rest I slog through cause completionist tendencies. But you've done a wonderful job of not only making the characters feel very alive and dynamic but also making them all appealing and attractive.

I usually always want to romance the hater because pettiness fuels me but also love angst with a kill them with kindness mc (I WILL H*LD VINCENTS H*ND OR DIE FIGHTING GOD). So, confirmed Vincent-mancer. His art? HIS EYES. HIS LIPS. PRETTY PRIVELEGE IS REAL AND ALL CRIMES ARE EXCUSED (also I really tried going into it being like he's not sad!!! But, as someone who's been in that place, while not an actual war, he definitely comes across as sad in the sense of a weariness at life and that he's struggling to fit back into his skin as pre-trauma Vincent. Artist did a 10/10 job with all the art because THEY'RE SO BEAUTIFUL I CREYYYY)

But the chokehold Hunter has on me? They were gonna be first because their personality is appealing to me both fictional and irl but omg everything I read I HAVE TO HAVE MORE. Like it's moved beyond I'd definitely vibe with this character and look forward to their route to i WANT TO SMOOCH THEIR PRETTY FACE OFF. So now confirmed Hunter-mancer (I actually died on the tattoo snippet on patreon is it a good or bad day to be bi?)

Helios kind of types I'm more of a 50/50 with, but obviously gotta do it for the juicy drama. But all stuff with him has just been so ??!!!???😳😳🫠 like he just leaves me more intrigued. Confirmed Helios-mancer. (The amount of times I'm gonna replay his route to try different things is actually gonna be crazy)

Soarine hot women nuff said. But also just ???!!!?!? I can't even form words. I'm so excited for more scenes with her. Confirmed Soarine-mancer. (Ma'am pls step on me respectfully and not so respectfully)

Fadiya as the official best friend (Hunter you're a bestie too but I feel bad like I'm making u choose between me and Helios :((( ) is usually one I'd keep strictly platonic. I love platonic routes as much as romance and nothing grabs me more than having a best friend character in IFs. BUT SHES SO ADORABLE. I WANNA SMOOSH HER CHEEKS. Also I feel her cause I'm that oblivious too 😭😭😭 I always appreciate ifs having the shy and bold type flirting but I need an oblivious idiot one because I'd be accidentally flirting with her like I do with all my friends without realizing I'm in love with her (and then be unable to speak to her once I realize because flirting? With people that aren't just platonic friends??? That I have feelings for????? Sounds fake). I gotta write the fanfic now (and perhaps share with u once I get over my shyness)

I really am looking forward to the next chapter! I'm so glad I subscribed on patreon too :))) keep up the good work (it also motivates me to cure my depression and post my stuff too)

💙💙💙💙💙

This is so sweet, anon 🥺 Thank you for sending me this message!!

I'm so glad all of the ROs are appealing to you! I love them all so much they're all beautiful and have so much to their stories. 🥰

Vincent's pretty privilege is insane lmao so many people folded when they saw him 😭 I guess Vincent's inner sadness seeped through because he's really okay #trust but then I probably have a wildly different definition of okay haha very low standards of living over here. He was also never trauma free lol my man just going through it. 🤭

I understand your love for Hunter!! They are just very... very. The tattoo part is one of my favs too they're so smooth with it like okay you're popular with everyone we get it 🙄 *cries to sleep*

Helios is super interesting to me because of the way he handles things and his mindset like I need to study him under a microscope. His route will definitely fulfill all your desires for drama! 🥳

Soarine hot woman. Real. She can ruin my life any day.

Fadiya is perfection and a gift from the gods because she's just so 🥹🥹 I love her to bits and she's going to be so fun to write.

Thank you for your kind words! I love these kind of messages so you're right hehe. Definitely gave me a boost! 💗

[total-drama-brainrot]

Hello hello ophe 👋😇

Just gonna say hockey bro Gwen

That it’s that is the ask

But I have a question? If you mind answering I’m fine if you can’t answer it really 👽

Do you have any writing tips for an amateur fanfic writer? (Me😔) cause I have a hard time with characterization. Just tips on that would be great😊 but it’s kinda sad to see that some people think of Rice Krispies like that even though it has been tagged and all that 😔

But I wish you the best of luck ophe! 😎🥳

-Ass Stars anon

Hello hello, Ass Stars Anon! 👋😊

(Is it obvious that I know literally nothing about hockey?)

As for writing tips, I'm not exactly a qualified or professional author, but I'm more than happy to share some of the tips and tricks I use when it comes to characterisation.

Primarily, it's really important to understand three key aspects of the character you're writing; their habits, their motives, and their temperament.

When you're writing for a certain character, always consider not only what they're doing, but why they're doing it. You can have your characters do something entirely OOC if you can justify why they'd be doing it, either through circumstance or by utilizing the three key aspects.

For example, when Trent gets uncharacteristically aggressive towards Cody in "Up the Creek", it's still in character because it's motivated by his feelings for Gwen- Trent's already established as a bit of a hopeless romantic, so having him act irrationally due to his uncertainty over Gwen's returned feelings excuses his hostility (despite his usual laid-back nature). We see later, especially in Action, that Trent has a habit/tendency of acting irrationally when it comes to anything that threatens his love life.

Of course, habits can also refer to the little patterns and behaviours certain characters have; for example, Harold's continuous use of "Gosh!" is a habit of his- something that can be easily identified as a Harold Behaviour, and something super easy to add to his dialogue to keep it feeling in character.

Another good example of utilizing dialogue habits is (not to self promo here) how I write Alejandro's speech in my stories. Throughout the show itself, you'll rarely hear Alejandro use contractions and abbreviations (he'll say "we all" instead of "we'll", or "is it not?" instead of "isn't it?"), and his manner of speech is very formal (for a ~16 year old) both due to the fact that English is his second language and the fact that he's the son of a high profile diplomat. That's why, when I write for him, I make a point of keeping his written dialogue as contraction-free as possible.

I hope that my little tangent there helps at least somewhat!

And thank you for the concern! I think some people misconstrued what my intentions were with the RK fic, which is understandable given one of the primary concepts used in the fic is generally used in a sexual context (which is such a waste of a perfectly good plot device by the way! Honestly, I wish people would stop associating cool concepts with The Horny to the point where people trying to explore them as narrative devices are assumed to be creeps 😓) but the anon who initially accused me of unsavoury things has since apologised, so no harm no foul. Though my fic is properly tagged, I should've made it more apparent either in the summary or the author's notes that it isn't as, uh, 'distasteful' as some might assume.

I wish you the best of luck too! 😁