#it's the one good thing she has in this hellhole

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long. 

It only makes him think, though. 

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it. 

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back. 

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal. 

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course. 

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on. 

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it. 

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek. 

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm. 

It’s a drawing. 

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes. 

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider. 

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own. 

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it. 

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are,  you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[dcxdpdabbles]

There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.

One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.

Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.

Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.

Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.

Danny knew that he was adopted into the Fentons. His parents had never hidden it from him, but they never treated him as anything besides their child.

He had come into their lives one day when one of Maddie's old high school friends had called, bawling that she had gotten pregnant and that her husband wasn't the father. He had discovered the truth and thrown her out, leaving her pregnant and alone on the streets of Gotham.

Maddie had been furious at the affair- she hated disloyalty- but had decided to help her only for the baby's sake.

She had driven over multiple state lines back to her home city to pick up the friend only to find out she had taken her life and left her newborn son to Maddie. While Maddie had been able to escape the hellhole that was Gotham, Rebecca never got the chance, not with her average intelligence.

In high school, the two were as close as sisters until Rebecca fell into the whisky bottles her father carelessly left around. She blossomed into a beautiful woman upon their graduation- more so than Maddie-, turning from a sweet homebody into someone who got into exclusive parties and powerful men.

Maddie had slowly drifted away from her, so far away at college, and Rebecca fell further and further into the party scene. It was a surprise that she settled down for marriage and Maddie truly believed that she had been happy with her husband.

That's why Danny was such a surprise. Maddie did not know who Danny's biological father was, but she did not care. Not after they placed the sobbing infant into her arms, and she realized that she was his mother now.

She immediately phoned Jack to tell him what had happened, and he told Jazz she was a big sister before the call ended. They told him the story about when he started to learn his colors. Not with her taking her life, of course; that was when Danny turned fourteen. This was only a few days before Danny revealed he was Phantom to them.

They were first shocked, but then they became supportive. Phantom now had two proud ghost hunters following him, shooting photos instead of guns.

It was embarrassing, but it was also nice of them.

And that was that. Danny is a Fenton, adopted, but a child of Maddie and Jack Fenton all the same.

He never gave his biological parents a thought. In fact, he all but forgot about them until Sam convinced him to take an ancestry test. He had allowed her to swipe his mouth, package his DNA, and send it off to see where his people came from, completely forgetting that he would not match with Jazz, who had done the same thing a month prior.

His results were shocking, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, Rebecca Silver had been in the system of DNA samples, and they had matched him to her alongside his biological father.

Bruce Wayne. Rebecca had an affair with Bruce Wayne, arguably one of the wealthiest men in the country, and they had sent him a message to let him know he matched with his son.

An eccentric billionaire has just been told that Danny was his. He knew that song and dance well, and it was never fun to dance to. Danny could only stare at the results with dread as Sam apologized profoundly.

"Maybe he won't see it." Tucker tried. "I mean, Wayne is probably so busy with rich people stuff he doesn't have time to even look at his emails. Especially ones that will come in spam since it's comersolized."

"Yeah, Maybe" Danny doesn't think he's that lucky.

A month later, the Fenton's home phone rings. His parents are working on a new invention on the dinning room table, Danny is stretched out in front of the TV watching a mindless cartoon and Jazz is crocheting in the love chair.

It's a typical Tuesday night where everyone is doing their own thing but close enough to each other that they can call it family time. Jazz is the closest to the house phone so she picks it up with a cheerful "Fenton house, this is Jasmine."

Her smile slowly slips away as all the blood drains from her face. Alarmed by her reaction, Danny sits up. "Jazz? What's wrong?"

His words have his parents' heads snapping up, zoning in on their daughter's rapidly growing destress. Yes, they get distracted often with their work, but the Fentons have always been loving parents.

They quickly spring into action.

"Jazzy-pants?" His dad says, walking up to her and taking the phone from her slack hand. He covers the speaking end of it, not paying attention to the call as his mom hugs his sister. "What's the matter?"

"It's... Bruce Wayne's lawyer," Jazz says faintly. "He's calling about Danny. He said that Mr. Wayne has been attempting to take Danny back and that they are going to take us to court soon."

The room goes dead quiet, and Danny snorts. "He can't do that without a letter or something. Come on Jazz, it's obviously a prank."

Someone at school likely found out and thought it would be funny to make "the biggest loser of Casper High" Danny Fenton, think a billionaire wanted him as a son. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the A-listers.

He laughs to show how stupid this prank is, but neither of his parents joins him. Instead, his mother closes her eyes and whispers, "We received his court papers weeks ago. We've been trying to get a lawyer."

What.

She pushes Jazz into his dad's arms, where his sister is slowly panicking. His dad tries to soothe her as his mom opens the drawer under the TV, pulling out three orange envelopes. She looks remorseful as she hands them to Danny. "We didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Vlad said he would help, but he wasn't sure what he could do against such a powerful man"

And there, in overly complicated terms, is clear as day. Bruce Wayne wanted full custody of Danny Fenton and was willing to take the Fentons to court to get it done.

The man- who has never so much as met Danny, much less have a right to say what happens to him- was accusing his parents of child abuse and child neglect! He not only was trying to take Danny away but Jazz as well!

Where did this man get the audacity!?

"I don't want to go with him!" He shouts rage, making his eyes glow green. "I don't even know him!"

"I know, sweetie. I won't let him take you" His mom says, yanking him into a protective hug, and he realizes that her shirt is getting wet with his tears. Tears that fall just like the woman who raised him. "Everything will be alright."

It won't be, he knows, but he won't tell her that. He just lets his mother hold him, and when his sister and father crash into the hug a second later, he holds them just as tight.

He's not sure how they will win against Bruce Wayne, but Danny will fight his biological father every step of the way. He will not be his son.

______________________________________________________________

Bruce stares at the photo of Danny Fenton- his son. His boy, whom he wasn't aware was alive until a month ago- and the reports from concerned teachers and whatever information Barbra could pull from his classmate's social media.

Dramatically dropping grades.

Clear signs of sleepless nights.

Flinches whenever his parents pull out "ghost hunting" gear.

Strange bruises and cuts along his arms and legs.

His small stature is no longer growing properly like his peers.

It all pointed to one thing. The Fentons were abusing his son and Bruce would bet the sister was suffering from the same treatment if her own grade dropping, sleepless eyes, and desperate race to adulthood were any indication.

Bruce laces his hands, resting his chin on them as the Batcomputer slowly flips through various reports being quickly dismissed by incompetent social workers who all claim it was Ghost Hunter related and not a cause for concern.

Those same social workers all seemed to have gotten quite generous donations from one Vlad Masters, a well-known family friend of the Fentons.

He hates corruption that allows children to be hurt, more so when it;'s his own children.

"When do we go retrieve Brother?" Damian asks, green eyes narrowing in rage as the reports scroll slowly. Ever since he found out Danny is a blood sibling, all Damian has been talking about is getting his elder brother home. "I am displeased with how long it's been, Father."

"Soon," Bruce promises, aware the rest of his children gather around him. They don't speak, but he feels their protective rage at what Danny has gone through, and he knows they will use every last bit of their training to get Danny home. "Either through the courts or in person. Danny will be with us come summer."

"Good," grunts Jason. "I'll have a little chat with his adoptive scumbags when we get him."

"I'll help," Dick tacks on.

"I'll make it look like an accident," Tim says, voice leveled but eyes blazing as the reports get to the neglect section. He has personal issues about that.

Bruce has never been so proud. "Court date is set for three weeks. They can't weasel their way out of it this time."

Don't worry son, he thinks to Danny, I'm going to save you.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#399

“Oh man, Fuck!...  Oh sorry you had to hear that call.  Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew.  It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off��.  Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig.  I am about to head home for four days of rest.  That’s a 7-hour drive, each way.  So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us.  My days of relaxing are shot to shit.  And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy.  I probably won’t even get head.  Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry.  I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field.  All they talk about is pussy.  Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.  Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head.  You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body.  That doesn’t even include blowing your wad.  You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again.  Sorry if I’m telling too much....  I do that when I start drinking.   Do you care if I talk about getting blown?...  Good.  Thought so.  What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard? 

“…Here’s to blowjobs!  Cheers! 

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer….  Nah!  Put your money away.  I got this. 

“So your car broke down?...  We are one of two taverns for twenty miles.  The other is by the interstate one mile away.  At this time of day it’s quite deserted.  We typically only get locals in here.  That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage.  There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek.  Was I right?  Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod.  So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend.  You are here until Monday?  …Again, that nod tells me everything.  Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles.  This is what this hellhole has to offer. 

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud.  And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up.  I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday.  She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family.  Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?... 

“…Huh!  Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single.  But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained.  She gives great head though.  She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat.  I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size.  It takes her a long time to throat me.  Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth.  Eventually it ends in her throat.  She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch.  The part she really hates is me dick slapping her.  As I said, I have a gigantic dick.  Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance.  So does a face slap with my hand. 

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive.  I am only after one thing, to bust my nut.  If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up.  If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole.  I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it.  I’m so fucking horny.  I would use any woman right now.  I can’t have a weekend of jerking off.  Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way. 

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home.  No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer.  Don’t we?  So this is what is going to happen.  I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet.  You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in.  Don’t say a word.  Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth. 

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss.  If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck.  I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it.  But OK.

“I really have to piss.  While I do that get in the stall and on your knees.  Be ready for me.  I swear, the beers just pour right through me.  Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck?  I’m not done pissing….  Oh?  So, you are one of those kinds of faggots.  Nasty piss drinking faggot!  Oh fuck, your mouth feels good.  You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog.  That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is?  You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck!  Right to the root with no problem!  Holy shit.  You faggots know what you are doing.  Oh man.  This is… fuck!  Oh my god! 

“Bob up and down.  Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root.  Fuck!  This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life.  Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off.  I said, ‘Pull off!’  Look up at me.  Hold still…. 

“…What?  Nothing?  I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it….  Wait, what did you just say?  Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up.  Get your faggot-ty ass up.  Let’s go.  Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge.  You are going to spend your night with me. 

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip.  Meet me outside…  A fifty?  You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot.  I have never used a fag before.  But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out. 

“Over here.  I’m the last room.  The lodge is free for us roughnecks.  The company pays for our housing.  My room is at the end.  It’s a glorified motel room.  I have tons of beer.  You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first.  Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days.  You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat.  You probably take it up your ass.  I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up.  I have no interest in you or your dick.  I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you.  You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you.  Understand me?...  Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’  I like the sound of that.  Here we are.  Faggot this is all new for me.  But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far.  I’m so ready to do this.  My cock has not lost it’s hard on.  I may never go back.  Faggot get inside and strip!”

[ma1dita]

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like a sailor lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already, so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, Trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. Both of you took up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointed you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), so there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk, pretending not to hear.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, Trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…” 

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing. 

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, Trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… so I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive.

You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, Trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. You ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, with a purple Zippo lighter in hand (the smoke grants temporary illusions through any space you blow it into, and it smells like grapes---thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror every so often, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he covers them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries running headfirst back into battle and towards to you, with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up, hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend.

But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, Trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[catherinnn]

Faking It, Feeling It

summary: fake dating with eddie! where jason and chrissy break up and they become a little too obssessed with Eddie and you. so much so that you start acting as if you two are already dating so they'd leave you alone. but you were never very good actors.

warnings: mature content (not actual smut but implies), jealously, swearing, just major fluff really.

6.8k words

The last few weeks at Hawking’s High have been hell, even more than normal.

Star couple, high school sweethearts, prom queen and king of the school: Chrissy and Jason had broken up.

They have been dating since their freshmen year, and now they’re currently in their senior year.

And while it was hell for everyone who thought they were the perfect couple, the ones that claim they no longer believe in love since they broke up; it was even more of a hellhole for you and for Eddie Munson.

A weird combo, I know. Why do you two randoms have anything to do with the break up? You may have had like two conversations with Hellfire’s Dungeon Master in total within all of your high school years.

All you knew of him was what the people here say about him, which you don’t really believe in. You don’t really care, you’ve learned the hard way to not care about the rumors they spread in this town.

But back to the original question, I’ll give you the answer: Eddie and you are involved in this whole situation because after the happy couple decided to break up and accept their new bachelorhood, they wanted to get back out there and be with other people, and guess who their first options were? You for Jason, and Eddie for Chrissy.

Not so random since Eddie and Chrissy have been friends for ages, plus, Chrissy knew he was the perfect guy to get back at Jason. That Eddie has had a little crush on Chrissy for ages was totally a coincidence. A happy one she would say.

And since you’ve been trying to ignore Jason’s longing stares at you while he was actually dating Chrissy, trying to forget about the time he had called ‘dibs’ on you if he was ever single again, so none of his other friends made a move on you— not that they really listened —it was not random either.  

Now the question may be: Why has it been hell for both of you?

The thing is, Jason and Chrissy have been flirting with you and Eddie at every given chance since they broke up.

For obvious reasons you didn’t want to go on a date with Jason. Not even if he was the last man on earth.

Eddie didn’t want to date Chrissy because, even if he has had a crush on her for so long, he realized that she would only use him as a rebound, a toy she plays with for a little while just to make her ex jealous. And even if his hellfire friends told him “fuck it, that’s the only chance you’ll get with a girl like her! Take it anyways” It didn’t feel right for him, so he decided not to do it.

As for right now, you were currently running away from the classroom you just had history at. It was one of the classes you shared with Jason, and even if you did have the luck to not be seated with him, it was in his plans to walk you out of the class to flirt a bit more and maybe you’ll finally agree to go on a date.

“Gorgeous! Wait up for me!” he yelled at you, but you were luckily faster than him and got out of the classroom before he could catch you. You did see him spot you in the hallway though, so you ran without even looking where you were going.

You turned to the left into another hall with a couple of doors. You tried to open the first one but it was locked, you tried the second one but quickly realized it was the boy’s bathroom— because a boy inside fixing his jeans looked at you with a horrifying look on his face and stared to yell at you to get out.

You heard Jason calling out your name, so you quickly entered the third door and closed it behind you.

You heard his footsteps slowing down.

“Hey, princess! Where did you go!” you heard him continue walking further into the hall and away from your hiding place.

You sighed.

“Caaann we help you?” a voice behind you asked.

You turned around and saw a full table of people staring at you weirdly.

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t know you guys were here”

“You didn’t see the sign on the door that said ‘do not enter’?” a younger boy asked you a little annoyed.

“Actually no, I was kind of in a hurry to… hide from somebody” you confessed.

“Who?”

“Jason Carver”

“Wait, I know you” The guy at the end on the table spoke, whom you did know too, Eddie. He said your name to confirm he did actually know who you were.

“The one and only”

“Why would you even run away from Jason Carver? Isn’t he like every girl in here’s dream boy?” The same annoyed boy asked you again, you recognized him as Nancy Wheeler’s brother… Mike was it?

“What, him? Disgusting, he’s been trying to make a move on me even before him and Chrissy broke up, so now he’s even more annoying” you told them.

“Alright, we’re kind of in the middle of something here-“ an older guy started but Eddie cut him off.

“He’s been annoying you too?”

“What? Did he try something on you too?” you joked.

“What- no! I mean that Chrissy has been flirting with me nonstop as well since they broke up, I already told her no, but she keeps trying to convince me”

“You rejected Chrissy Cunningham?”

“I ask myself that same question everyday” another guy commented, a curly-headed one.

“No! I don’t mean it in a mean way, it’s just- I thought every guy wanted to date Chrissy Cunningham”

“She’s only trying to use me to get back at Jason- you know what? Doesn’t matter. Just a funny coincidence that the same couple is annoying both of us” Eddie explained.

“Yeah, how funny” you said in a sarcastic tone. “Look, you can continue with your board game, I just need to hide for a few minutes until Jason finally leaves”

A few guys sigh in annoyance, but Eddie nods and signals a chair near him so you can sit.

“So… wait- you’re both trying to get out of Chrissy and Jason’s flirting with you?” the curly-headed guy speaks again.

Eddie and you nod.

“And you’ve both already rejected them?”

You two nod again.

“But they won’t listen?”

Again.

“Huh”

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, I just… thought of something funny”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Well, if this was one of those rom-coms my sister always watches, you could both start acting like you’re dating each other. That way both of them leave you two alone” he comments.

“Act like we’re dating?”

“Yeah, how would that even work?”

“Well, in those movies they usually act like an actual couple, like, maybe you could have lunch together in the cafeteria, or walk each other to your classes, come to school together, things like that” he explains.

“Umm- I don’t really see that working, they would see right through” you say.

“Yeah, how we even start dating in this fantasy? We’ve barely spoken before” Eddie comments.

“Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense”

“Okay, I don’t really care about this so, are we gonna continue the campaign? Because otherwise I could use the free time” Mike interrupts and Eddie is brought back to reality to continue with the game.

A few days after all of that, you were in the cafeteria trying to find your group of friends but you don't seem to find them anywhere in there, maybe they're still grabbing lunch.

"Hey you! I can finally talk to you again, you've been really busy lately, I barely see you anymore!" Jason corners you right when you're about to sit at a free table.

"Hi Jason... yeah, I've been -busy with school, you know?"

"Yeah I understand, you know I've been having a hard time with Spanish this semester, and I know you're very good at it" he starts and you fear where he's going with this.

"Yeah, I wouldn't say very good, you know Rachel Stinson? She's much better than me, the best in our class!"

"Yeah, but I don't really know her. Plus I think you'd be a better teacher than her, and a cuter one as well" he says giving you a smirk, very proud of his response.

"Eddie, look" Gareth tells Eddie and signals to where you stand with Jason, looking very uncomfortable.

"Fuck, yeah. He's definitely asking her out again" he comments.

"You could... help her"

"How? Is this about your little plan?"

"I'm just saying, you would totally save her and you'd like that if that was you and Chrissy instead of her and Jason" he points out. Eddie thinks about it for a few seconds. Gareth is right: he would be grateful if he didn't have to come up with another excuse to Chrissy.

Fuck it, he's already walking up to you two.

"Jason I don't..." you start but someone interrupts.

"Hi pretty girl, I haven't seen you all day"

You turn and see Eddie.

"What?" you ask confused but you see him blink at you and you remember what his friend told you about. "Oh! Hi Eddie, I didn't see you there"

"Have you been avoiding me, princess?" he asks with a smirk while putting his hands on your waist.

"I could never!" you say and put your hands on his shoulders.

"Um... hi?" Jason interrupts you two.

"Hi Jason?" Eddie greets him with a wondering tone, "Oh, we're you talking to him, baby?"

"Oh no, he was just telling me that he's having trouble with Spanish" you explain.

"Oh yeah, she's great at Spanish, good thing I have her as a personal teacher" Eddie comments quickly catching on.

"You're teaching him?" Jason asks you.

"Yeah, for like a month already I think"

"Thanks to this pretty little thing right here, I have a B in Spanish now"

"Wait, I- I'm confused, what are you two?" Jason asks with a frown on his face.

"Well, we haven't really put a title to it... but we've been seeing each other for a few weeks now" you explain.

"Seeing each other? As in... dating?" he asks again.

"Can you believe it? The prettiest girl in Hawkins gave me a chance" Eddie says and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"I can't believe it" Jason murmurs.

You hear your name being called from behind you, you turn and finally see your friends with surprised and confused faces looking at this scene.

"Hey girls, finally," you greet them, "Eddie, I'll see you later, yeah?" you say to him getting a little too close to his face to emphasize the flirting.

"Mhm, please" he adds and lets you go.

"Bye Jason" you quickly say to him and then walk over to your friends to explain everything.

Later that day, you were quick to find Eddie before he got into his van to leave.

"Hey, Eddie!" He turned around and waited till you got closer. "I just wanted say thank you for helping me today with Jason, you really saved me there"

"No problem, really. I'm still surprised it actually worked" he comments.

"Yeah," you laugh, "either Jason's really stupid or we're really good actors"

"A bit of both maybe" he laughs.

"Anyways, thanks for today, I owe you one" you finally say, and start walking away.

"Wait" Eddie stops you after a few seconds, "Maybe we could actually do what Gareth said"

"Which one was Gareth again?" you ask.

"The one with all the curls, he told us to act like we're dating" he explained.

"Oh, yeah. Umm, I mean it really worked. Jason left me alone for the rest of the day"

"We can try it on Chrissy next time and see if she buys it"

"Yeah, sure" you say with a smile.

"Do you need a ride? We can maybe work out the details on the way" he offers and you accept.

--

"So the story would be that I started tutoring you in Spanish and then started dating" you confirm.

"Yeah, that seems believable. Do we need any rules for this?"

"Like what?"

"Like... boundaries, I don't know"

"Yeah umm, well obviously no real intimacy, we should communicate openly to avoid misunderstandings, umm what else?" you list.

"How long are we gonna do this for?" he asks.

"Maybe we should see how it goes, I don't want to say that we should do it for the rest of the year, so maybe until both of them are no longer interested in us" you propose.

"Yeah, that's good. What about physically?"

"Umm well, the hugging was fine, flirting obviously. I don't know, what couples do"

"Kissing?" he asks.

"I guess we would have to do it eventually to seem believable" you say.

"Yeah, totally"

The next day Eddie came to find you in your locker.

"Are you ready to start, girlfriend?" he jokes.

"Yeah, sure... boyfriend"

He walks you to class, you sit together in the classes you share, you start doing everything together that morning.

Eddie and you are walking to his locker and when he opens it, a note falls from it. He grabs it and reads:

Meet me in the woods at lunch. -C

He sighs.

"Guess we're having lunch together too" you say.

"Yup, seems like it" he confirms.

And you sit at the Hellfire table next to him. Eddie explains to the guys what you two are doing and Gareth has a big smile because he was right, his plan actually worked.

After like 20 minutes, Chrissy shows up in the cafeteria.

"Eddie! There you are!" she walks up to your table and you quickly sit closer to him. "Didn't you get my note?"

"Note? Oh, I totally forgot Chrissy. Guess this one here distracted me" he blames you with a sweet tone.

"I did not!" you say giggling a little.

"Oh, I didn't know you were in hellfire" Chrissy says to you.

"Oh, I'm not, I just wanted to have lunch with him" you explain to her while you play a little with Eddie's hair.

Chrissy frowns, clearly not understanding anything that's going on.

"Sorry Chrissy, what did you want though?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you're doing something this weekend, maybe we could go see a movie?" she proposes.

"Oh, I'm sorry I already made plans with her," he puts his arm around your shoulders "right, sweetheart?"

"Yeah sorry, he's all mine this weekend" you joke and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, I didn't know you two were..."

"Dating? Yeah" you finish her sentence.

"Huh, well... congrats!" she says with a fake smile on and walks away.

"That was quite a show" one of Eddie's friends says. You should really ask Eddie for their names, it seems like you're going to spend more time with them than before.

As the week continued, your acting did too. Jason wasn’t bothering you as much, and if he did you just gave him the excuse that Eddie was waiting for you and walked away.

But on the second week you started to notice Jason’s stares while you were with Eddie, either at lunch, or class, talking in some hall. Anywhere. It was like he was studying or analyzing, looking for something between you two.

When you told Eddie about this, he said you would have to be yet more believable. So far you’ve only been flirting or close to each other if Chrissy or Jason were around.

But now you’re acting for the whole school. If one of Jason’s friends sees you two a little distant, they would tell him right away.

Right now, you two were standing in front of the door of your next class, a class you share with Jason. You were just standing there, talking closely to each other.

“The short one with the curls is Dustin, and his friend, the tall one with black hair is Mike” he said to you sweetly. From the outside it looked way more romantic.

“Wheeler, right?” you confirm.

“Yeah, exactly!” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, I figured because he looks just like his sister, Nancy” you told him, looking up at him lovingly.

“Yeah, is true…”

“Oh, Jason is coming” you tell Eddie as soon as you see him.

“Ok, do you trust me on this?” he asks and you’re a bit confused but you still nod anyway.

When Eddie is able to hear footsteps behind him, figuring it was Jason, he grabs your face with the one hand that wasn’t on your waist, pulls you closer to him and gives you a sweet kiss on the lips.

It wasn’t very long or short, just the right time for you to feel his soft lips on yours, feel his soft touch on your cheek. Just the right time for you to hold your breath for a second because your mind became so occupied by him that you just forgot.

Who would have thought Eddie Munson could be so sweet? Not you.

For a second there you also forgot why he had kissed you in the first place. But thanks to Jason you fell back to reality, since he walked right next to you two to enter the classroom while clearing his throat a little too loud.

-

“Why is Jason looking at our table so angrily?” One of the kids asks while sitting down. Lucas, you learned his name was.

“I may have kissed the girl he likes in front of him and now it seems like he’s pretty angry” Eddie explains with a smirk.

“You’re kissing now?” Dusting asks.

“Yeah, I mean we had to, he was already suspecting something”

“Lucas is right though, why is he still looking at us like that?” you notice.

“Are you done eating?” Eddie asks you.

“Yeah”

“Come here” he pulls his chair back to have more space between him and the table and pats his thigh.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit here with me, let’s actually give him something to stare at”

“I am sitting here with you, you’re asking me to sit on you” you tell him.

“Sweetheart, please. I know it will work, it will make him even angrier” he convinces you somehow and you end up sitting on his lap.

“Well, if you’re gonna do it, you should be more convincing” Gareth corrects.

“How?” you ask annoyed.

“Loose the attitude, you want them to think you like Eddie so much that you need to be as close as possible to him at all times, and right now you look like you hate this and you want to run away from him” Gareth explains.

“Wait, do you?” Eddie asks concerned.

“No! No, it’s fine,” you comfort him and adjust yourself on him, sitting more casual, as if you do this all the time, “Better?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s ok”

“Hey, I was meaning to ask you,” Eddie starts, everyone at the table went back to their own conversation so he’s only talking to you now. “you can totally say no, because it wouldn’t be at school, and I don’t know, we haven’t really discussed if we’re still doing this outside of school-“

“Eds, you’re rambling. Just tell me, what is it?” you cut him off.

“Well, you know I’m in a band with the boys and we’re playing this Thursday, so Chrissy came up to me today and told me that she was looking forward to Thursday because she was planning on coming to see us play, to see me” he explains.

“Oh” you cringe. “I’ll go too”

“Really? I don’t want to force you or anything, you’re already doing this here at school, wouldn’t want to bother you outside as well”

“Eds, I’m not just doing this, you’re helping me here too,” you tell him with a smile, he can be really cute sometimes. “It’s not trouble at all, I didn’t have any plans for Thursday night anyway”

“Thanks, really” he says.

“Besides, it would be weird if you’re playing with your band and your girlfriend wasn’t there to see you front row. Kind of suspicious, don’t you think?” you joke.

“Definitely suspicious, but your boyfriend will buy you a drink anyway for the trouble” he says and you feel like there’s a flirty tone in his voice, but… no, it couldn’t be. Nor Jason or Chrissy were around to listen.

Either way, you don’t know if it is because of how close his face is to yours right now, the possible flirty tone he’s using, calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, or because of the stupid kiss he gave you before that you can’t seem to stop thinking about, but you’re feeling a strong desire to have his lips on yours again. 

And you’re kind of acting on autopilot right now, but your faces are already realllly close, your hand comes up to meet his cheek, he’s not pulling away or looking at you weirdly, so you do it. Your lips meet his in a short kiss, a sweet and delicate one.

But as soon as your lips separate and you look at him in the eyes, you panic.

“Uh I- I’m sorry, J –Jason was… looking at us again and –I kind of just-“ you start but he interrupts.

“It’s fine,” he laughs at your nervousness, “We’re dating, remember? So it’s normal that we kiss. Besides, I don’t really mind kissing you, sweetheart”

Thursday night came along and here you were with Corroded Coffin getting some drinks before it was their moment to play. You were a bit exited to see Eddie play, you weren’t going to lie.

“Eddie! Hii!” you hear Chrissy greeting— only him —behind you and so it was show time for you two. If this was a movie, it would be the director shouting ‘action.’

“Hey Chris” Eddie greets her back while pulling your chair closer to him subtly.

“Oh I’m so excited to see you play, have you seen him yet?” she asks you.

“No, it would be my first time. I’m really excited too!” you explain to her but you look at Eddie with a smile during that last sentence.

“Oh it’s like you’re dating a rockstar! I’m so jealous!” she jokes… I think? But you laugh anyway.

“Guys, you can start in five minutes” the bartender lets the guys know that they can go up stage already.

It’s just a few minutes of alone time with Chrissy once they guys go, but luckily they start pretty fast and all of your attention is on the stage, or on one of the people on stage anyway.

And you have to admit, you didn’t really know what to expect, metal music isn’t really your type of music and you didn’t know if the guys would be really good.

But they surprised you completely, even if it’s not the music you usually go for, the show was great. And they all played so good, you can tell they take this pretty seriously.

Eddie was completely mesmerizing on the guitar and after every guitar solo he played, you were there cheering for him so proudly. Along with a couple of other girls your age, you couldn’t help but notice.

Once they finish and come down the stage back to you, you were the first one to go give Eds a big hug.

And you’re going to excuse yourself because Chrissy was right next to you waiting to congratulate Eddie too, but as soon as you two separate a little from the hug you take the chance and give him a good kiss that has all of his friends cheering as well.

This time it wasn’t a shy or short kiss. You had one arm around his neck and the other you used to grab his face by his cheek. He was already with his arms around your waist, but when he felt your lips on his, he pulled you in even closer.

And when you cut the kiss you look at him with an audacious look. “You were completely amazing”

A big smile forms on his face after your words and that kiss. “Thank you, baby”

An hour passed, you’ve all been drinking a little more, but luckily no one was actually drunk yet.

Chrissy had gone outside since one of her friends joined her and both went out for a smoke. So you and Eddie didn’t have to act anymore, he had gone closer to the bar with Gareth and you stayed talking to Jeff.

After a while, you excused yourself to go grab another drink, that’s when you see him again. But he wasn’t with Gareth. No, he was talking to another girl, one of the girls you saw cheering for him.

She was wearing a Black Sabbath cropped shirt with a little black skirt and boots, black hair with some red strands. Which made you feel… uncomfortable, like a little squeeze in your chest. She looked just like Eddie’s type.

Every time she laughed she would lean closer to him, and take the chance to touch his arms or chest.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable though, he was laughing too, having a blast. And you felt yourself getting angrier.

“Eds” you interrupt them, “sorry, I’m gonna steal him for just a second”

“What’s up?” he asks once you’re a few steps further from this girl.

“I just saw Chrissy getting inside the bar again. I’m sorry, but it would be weir if she saw you flirting with another girl” You lie… but just a little white lie, I mean, Chrissy could actually walk in again at any minute and see him with this other girl. Imagine the mess.

“Oh, yeah that would be weir” luckily he agrees, “thanks”

“Do you wanna go over there? I was chatting with Jeff” you propose.

“Yeah, I’ll be you with in a second, just let me apologize to this other girl”

“Yeah sure, and can you get me another drink while you’re there?” you ask him with a smile.

“Of course”

After a few minutes he meets you and Jeff. “Here’s your drink, princess”

“Thank you, how much was it?”

“Don’t worry” he says.

“No, come on. You already bought a drink for me, let me pay for this one” you insist.

“Buut I wanted to buy you another one, so let me” he says with a smile.

“Alright, but we’ll share this one”

After a couple of minutes of talking with the boys, Chrissy still didn’t show up and you were a little nervous he would discover your lie.

But thankfully, after ten minutes, she and her friend came back inside, walking right over to you. Eddie sees them too, his arm was already around you, plus you were both sharing a drink so you didn’t worry.

“Guys, we were gonna head home already” she announces. For a second there you were cursing internally fearing that once she left, Eddie would go back to the girl from before.

“Oh yeah, maybe we could head off as well, right sweetheart?” he asks you.

“Yeah, sure” you agree with a smile. Luck was on your side today.

You greet everyone and Eddie drives you home.

“Thank you for coming today, really”

“It was really fun. You really were amazing up there, I didn’t just say that because Chrissy was there” you confess.

“Thank you, and I’m glad you had fun, maybe –um, you could come again next time, if –if you want” he proposes a little nervously.

“I’d like that, count me in”

“Great” a little smile forms on his face from your words.

“You know… you’re not what I thought you’d be like” you confess, maybe you were tipsier than you thought.

“What? A freak?” he says and it breaks your heart a little that that is the first thing he thinks.

“No, just… a little scary maybe”

“Am I not scary?” he looks at you acting threatening.

“No, not at all” you laugh, “you’re really funny and really sweet actually, like a teddy bear—TEDDIE!”

“I’m not a teddy bear!” he defends.

“You are, a really cute one” you say without even thinking, and you don’t see this but Eddie blushes hard from your comment.

“Thank you, princess”

“You know Jason calls me princess all the time too?”

“Oh –sorry”

“No, I actually like when you call me that. When he does it is disgusting, but when you do it its actually nice… it’s weird” you ramble a little.

“Well, I’m glad you like it when I do it because I like calling you that, it suits you” he says, “We’re here sweetheart, do you need help getting to bed?”

“Eddie!” you laugh at his question, “you know it’s only acting, we can’t actually sleep together!”

“I didn’t mean it like that” he laughs a little at your reaction, but you see his cheeks also turn red, “I meant if you need help to walk, or go up the stairs?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thanks” you give him a kiss on the cheek, “Bye, thank you for driving me”

“Bye princess” he greets you with a smile.

--

The next day it was hellfire Friday, you walked with Eddie to the drama room where the guys were waiting for him. You weren’t going to stay, you just walked him to say bye to the boys and then go home.

“Ok, I should get going now. Bye everyone!” you greeted them and they greeted back. “Bye Eddie” you turned around to see him and gave him a smile.

“Bye sweetheart, see you next week” he gave you a hug and off you went.

“Wow, she walked you all the way here just to say bye?” Dustin noticed. “Even without Chrissy or Jason in the room you still seem to be acting”

Before Eddie could answer, he noticed that Mike and Lucas are practically biting their tongue to hold their laughs.

“It was nothing, she just said goodbye, what was so romantic about that?” Eddie explains.

“Last night at the bar they were both extra sweet with each other, even when Chrissy wasn’t around” Jeff joins in the teasing as well.

“They were?” Dusting asks concerned which seems to only be worse for Mike and Lucas since their faces are now fully red and with tears forming in their eyes.

“What’s up with you two?” Eddie finally asks them.

“Guys, stop please” Dustin complains to them, but this only makes them start screaming in laughter.

“You don’t realize?” Mike manages to say between laughs.

“You’re making little Dusty here soooo jealous” Lucas explains.

“Stooop” Dustin complains again.

“What do you mean ‘jealous’?” Eddie asks confused.

“He’s had a big crush on your fake girlfriend since he first saw her” Mike explains.

“God, I hate you two” Dustin tells them.

“Oh… you have?” Eddie asks him.

“I’s not like I’m waiting to get a chance with her, I know it would never happen, but it’s just –weird to see you kissing her and all of that” he explains himself. Eddie feels a little bad for him, but at the same time it bothers him a bit that Dustin has a crush on you. It’s like… you’re his, Eddie’s. It’s obvious you would never look at Dustin in a romantic way, he’s way too young. And it’s not like you and Eddie are a thing, you’re just acting, but it’s weir for him to know one of his friends has a thing for you.

And since that day—Eddie would never actually confess he’s doing this—but every time, after Chrissy or Jason would walk out after seeing you two all romantic, and you would move over and go back to your conversation with Dustin, he would come up with something to get your attention back on him.

Again, he would never actually confess he does this, it makes him feel like a little kid. Jealous of a literal fifteen year old, when he’s 20.

The following week felt different. The dynamics between you and Eddie had shifted since your fake romance began. Every stolen glance, every scripted touch, all the playful banter—they'd unconsciously started to blur the lines between acting and genuine affection.

Late at night, you find yourself replaying those moments. Holding hands while walking, his arm around your shoulder at any given time, every kiss, how fucking soft his lips were all the time, making you want to kiss them every second you’re around him. And when you’re not around him? You’re thinking of them, of him. Finding yourself actually missing his company.

Would Eddie feel the same? Does he miss having you around? Does he want your lips on his all the time like you do?

You were considering just killing yourself if he didn’t actually felt any of these things. Imagine the embarrassment it would be to have fallen for someone you’re pretending to date, and him feeling completely indifferent towards you. You’d have to move out of the country.

Thanks to these thoughts you were feeling a little uncomfortable around Eddie, so you started to—you wouldn’t say avoiding him—but trying not to be so close to him all the time. Until he started to notice you were being different around him.

One day, he decided to ask you about this. If it was really happening or if it was all in his head.

Because, if he was honest, he did start to overthink things when it came to you. You made him so nervous lately, he just wants to do everything right with you.

He was looking for you everywhere, even started to ask random people if they saw you today. A guy told him he had seen you going to the library a few minutes ago. And when he went to check, bingo. Finally he found you.

"Hey, there you are" he greeted you.

"Oh Eddie, what are you doing here?" he noticed your sudden nervousness. Fuck, what if he had done something to upset you?

"I was looking for you, I wanted to talk for a second"

"Now is not a really good time, you should get going, I'll find you later"

"Why?" he asks a little offended

"I think I saw-"

"Princess!" Jason finds you as well.

"...Jason" you whisper to Eddie finishing your sentence a little too late now.

"Oh and her apparent... prince" Jason comments referring to Eddie.

"Apparent?" he asks him.

"Jason, what do you want?" you ask annoyed.

"Why so defensive? You look way better with a smile on that pretty face" Jason started. "Is he bothering you?"

"No, I'm not!" Eddie answers. "Am I, sweetheart?"

"No, of course you're not" you lie for the sake of your fake relationship. Even though right now, they're both bothering you.

"See Jason, she was fine until you came, so why don't you go?" Eddie tells him while wrapping you in his arms. Fuck, you can already feel the stupid butterflies.

"Princess, I can tell when you're lying. Tell me and I'll take him off of you... with pleasure" Jason tells you.

"Jason, I’m fine!”

“Come here baby” Eddie said taking you to one of the tables away from Jason.

“Thanks, he’s so annoying I swear… Eds?” you started complaining but he wasn’t playing attention, still looking over at where Jason stands.

“He’s still staring at us, giving me looks” he complains. He looks back at you and brings you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you again.

“Eds…”

“Let me just do this” he finally says before kissing you. He gives you a sweet kiss. One where your lips are dance together until you someone interrupts.

“Excuse me?” The lady of the library says a little offended. “You can’t come here and do that, I’m going to have to ask you to leave”

“What?” you ask confused, but before you can even comprehend what’s happening, Eddie grabs your hand and starts running deeper into the library.

“Excuse me?!” You hear the lady from far away now.

Eddie turns in a random aisle and runs with you until you reach the end of the hall.

“Shhh” he says to you and tries to listen if the lady has followed you two or not, “I think we’re clear”

“Why was it necessary to run from her? She’s like 60” you complain.

“What is your deal today?” he asks.

“What?” you act as if you don’t know what he means.

“Why are you so annoyed?”

“It’s just… Jason, he puts me in a bad mood”

“That’s not true, you wanted me to leave you alone even before he showed up”

“I don’t have a deal, I don’t know what you mean”

“I think you do, and not just today, you’ve been weird with me for days now”

“Weird how?” you ask.

“You’re more distant. And I get it if you don’t want to be hanging out all day, but… you weren’t like that before” he explains.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would care so much” now you feel bad.

“You’re crazy if you think I wouldn’t care or wouldn’t notice. We’ve been hanging out nonstop for weeks now”

“A month and a half actually” you correct him.

“Has it been that much already?”

“Yeah” you laugh, “One would think they’d get over us by now and let it go” you joke referring to Jason and Chrissy.

“We’re too attractive and so interesting” he jokes but he says it with a straight face, as if it really was a struggle. And this makes you laugh harder.

“Shh” he laughs too. “She’s gonna find us”

“She’s another one who’s also jealous of us, that’s why she wanted us to stop kissing and kick us out” you joke.

“I bet she is, we have to be more careful. We’re too much of a power couple”

“Yeah”

“See, I missed this” he explains. “If I overstepped one time and didn’t realize, I’m sorry, or-“

“No, no, Eddie you didn’t do anything, it wasn’t your fault”

“Then what was it?” he asks.

"This whole pretending-to-be-dating thing… it's made me realize some stuff" you confess.

Your heart started racing, you were actually telling him.

"What stuff?" he could feel the gravity in her words.

"That maybe… maybe I'm not just pretending anymore" you finally say, looking at the ground, you fear if you look at him, it would make you even more nervous.

His gaze was fixed on you, his breath caught in his throat. The air suddenly felt charged, unspoken emotions crackling between you two. "Me too" Eddie admitted, barely above a whisper.

Your eyes are quick to look up at him, a mix of surprise and relief washing over you. "You feel the same?"

Eddie nods, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I didn't think you would too. I thought you wanted to end all this agreement actually”

You shake your head with a smile.

“Come here” he says and you move closer to him, his hands on your cheeks, bringing your face slowly closer to his. Your hands set on his chest, just because you needed to touch him, to feel him.

His lips crash into yours. You have kissed before but this somehow felt like your first kiss, ever. It wasn’t like any other kiss he had given you before, this was more passionate and romantic all at once.

"I guess all that acting wasn't so pretend after all" Eddie chuckles softly, after you pull away.

"It seems we're not really good actors” you reply, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

Eddie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Would you… maybe want to go out for real? No more acting, just… us?"

A rush of emotions flooded you as you look into Eddie's eyes. "I'd love that" you reply, heart pounding with newfound excitement.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

[calicough]

leave your heart alone until it beats for me – hazel callahan

— life is filled with uncertainties, with you being hazel's biggest.

pining. hazel is whipped but doesn't want to do anything about it.

hazel was aware about your existence even before the fight club started. you were the person who usually sits at the third row in every class that you both share. not too far from the board that every important information taught by the teacher would be drowned out by the noises of your classmates, but not too close to the board either that you'd need to pretend to be interested in the teacher's life story. you were the person that she once caught napping on the bleachers that one time she decided to watch the cheerleaders' train, purely out of boredom because she doesn't want to go home yet. you were the person who borrowed one of her pens but never returned because as soon as the class ended, you were already out the door. but she's not complaining because she has a lot of pens (that was her favorite pen and she is too shy to ask for it back).

when you entered through the gymnasium doors, hazel was surprised. she did not expect you to join the fight club because... well... you're you. you are the living embodiment of a celestial being in her eyes. a doll who came to life and is somehow in rockbridge falls. to her, you were the most beautiful girl to ever walk in the hallways of this hellhole. every time she saw you leaning by your locker chatting with isabel and brittany, you were somehow bathed in sunlight even though there was little to no natural light entering the school's halls. to her, your radiating beauty is so strong that the bathroom stall that you were in was somehow illuminating (your phone's flashlight was accidentally turned on that time). she didn't want to see your face painted in black and blue, and she definitely didn't want to be the one causing those nasty bruises.

she, however, did paint your face black and blue. her face was also in the same state. "twinsies!" you exclaimed with a huge grin on your swollen face and blood dripping down your nose, which hazel found extremely endearing. unbeknownst to her, the rest of the fight club took notice of this and made it their life's mission to pair you up in everything. from training to studying to even going to the bathroom. because of this, the two of you became close. pj and brittany had an ongoing bet on who will confess first: pj is betting on hazel while brittany is betting on you. but days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and eventually, the both of them forgot about their bet.

you and hazel are good friends at this point but she knows deep down that she just doesn't want to be friends with you. she wants to be more. she wants you to look at her like how she looks at you. she wants you to notice the quick longing glances that she would take whenever you are together and the way her hand would lightly graze yours whenever you're walking beside each other. she wants you to return her pen and jokingly steal it from her because that's what girlfriends do. she had contemplated on confessing the feelings that she harbors for you but every time she would find herself typing the words she had always wanted to say, she would delete and forget about her phone until it rings again.

life is filled with uncertainties, but to hazel, you are her biggest uncertainty. she doesn't want to get rid of her friendship with yours. heck, she's not even sure if you like her the same way. do you even like her? are you just being nice to her? is she even worth your time? thoughts like these plague her mind every time she's in bed. she doesn't want to force you to like her, no. that's the last thing that she wants. she wants you to like her for who she is and to fall for her naturally.

until that time comes, hazel will wait for you until your heart beats for her.

waaa ^^ this is my first entry on this account. thank you for reading and i hope you guys enjoyed it! feedback is always appreciated :]

[cosmic-whispers]

In the Shadows - Azriel x Reader

Summary: When Rhysand forces you and Azriel on a mission in Hewn City, you find yourselves in a pleasure hall with lowered inhibitions and rising tensions. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, mentions of childhood abuse, drug use (mirthroot), SMUT (no minors!!!), threesome (kind of? not really), Eris (lol), public sex in a pleasure hall

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: This is my favorite thing that I’ve written. It’s quite long and it took me over 3 weeks to write, but what else is new? I take forever, but I write when I can!  I hope you enjoy!

“What is this?”

The shopping bag that Rhysand had slid over to you held a small, neatly folded piece of clothing. He had called you into his office, telling you he had something he needed to give you. 

“It’s a dress.” The black, mesh garment held in your hand could hardly be called a dress. There was nearly not enough fabric.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

He rolled his violet eyes at you. “Feyre picked it out. She said it was perfect for tomorrow.”

You were confused for a moment. Nothing particularly exciting was happening tomorrow–no birthdays, anniversaries, or celebrations at all. 

“What is happening tomorrow?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, a frown hinting at the edges of his mouth. “Your mission in Hewn City…”.

You startled, eyes widening in surprise. This was the first you heard of this mission. And in Hewn City? You hated that damned place. It was always so cold–the chill seeping deep into your bones and it would not leave you for days and you weren’t particular to its inhabitants, either. It would be a mission that you would need time to mentally and emotionally prepare for.

Growing up in Hewn City was traumatizing. It was called the Court of Nightmares–a fitting name for the hellhole that it was. Your parents were high-ranking, always expecting so much from you. You were their biggest disappointment–despite all the emotional and physical abuse you had suffered at their hands, you still ended up being a decent person. 

Meeting Mor was your saving grace. You both grew up in similar situations and you found a sisterhood with her, meeting her while she was there with the High Lord. She saw herself in you, she had admitted much later and became your closest friend, the only family you had for a very long time. 

Until she decided to change your life and you found yourself in Velaris, your small family of one growing as you became close to the Inner Circle. 

The fact that this mission was in Hewn City and no one bothered to warn you made your chest twinge in pain.

“Rhysand, what mission are you talking about? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“Azriel said he would meet with you and brief you on it. By your reaction, I assume he has not.”

Ice spread through your chest, and you tried to contain the rage building within you. “And when did Azriel say this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Everything became quite clear at that moment. Azriel. Whatever you did was never good enough for him. Whatever you said was never right enough. You had fallen for him the instant you saw him; he was brooding and handsome and strong, but your crush was quickly smothered and buried deep. The male was distrustful of you since you met him and despite being with your friends for years, he had never bothered to know you. His critical words formed echoes that you heard in your sleep, making you insecure and confused for a very long time. Your pain had turned into anger not long after–you were smart and capable, and you’d proven yourself more than enough times. You did not need his approval or his friendship. 

You let out a slow, measured breath, unwilling to lose your composure in front of your High Lord. What you wanted was to scream and stomp your feet in exasperation. Then, throttle the damned Shadowsinger. 

“Your little shadow hates me,” you said.

Rhys leaned back in his chair, a smirk growing on his face. “I assure you he does not hate you.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “He does. And I’m going to kill him.”

Rhysand laughed and you stood, glaring at him. “Where is he?”

—-------------*----------------------

You barged into Azriel’s office and slammed the door behind you, the heavy wood slamming against the frame and the thundering thud filled the silence in the room. The large bookshelves in the office were filled to the brim, and the dark curtains covering the windows caused the bright afternoon sun to dim significantly. 

The Shadowsinger’s eyes continued to scan the letter in his hand, not a glance or flinch of acknowledgment your way. 

The blatant disregard of your presence caused rage to build within you, heat burning the back of your neck and the tip of your pointed ears. “Were you planning on not telling me about this mission at all?”

Finally, his hazel eyes raised to meet yours, the glasses perched on the bridge of his straight nose making your stomach clench. The feeling caught you by surprise, and you pushed it away to a dark crevice in your mind, focusing instead on the pit of anger growing within you like an uncontrollable wildfire.  

“You’re not going on a mission,” he said simply and looked back down to the papers in front of him. His features remain impassive and uncaring, causing the aggravation to build further and further, and your fist to clutch tightly around the dark dress you still held in your hands.

You held your arm up, displaying the rumpled fabric in your fist. “Rhsand and Feyre seem to have a different idea. She even picked out my dress for me.”

His eyes traveled to the small, thin fabric in your hands and his gaze darkened. His jaw was tightly clenched and he took a slow, measured breath. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his clear annoyance with you. 

“I’m able to handle the mission on my own,” he said, his eyes meeting your own with an unreadable expression. “You’re not needed.”

You actually rolled your eyes at that. Of course, he would come up with whatever excuse he could think of to keep you from tagging along with him. You knew that the Shadowsinger did not trust you and liked you even less, but the realization that he did not even want you there to do your job made your heart hurt. 

“As I said, Rhys and Feyre seem to think I need to be there, so that’s a lie. It’s also not a good excuse. If you can't give me a real reason, then you will brief me and I will be going with you.”

He sighed, frustration clear in his eyes as he glared up at you. 

He stayed silent, probably trying to taunt you. Well…two can play that game. 

“I’m waiting.”

His hands curled into a death grip at the top of his desk, the letter still within his grasp crumbling and he slammed it down on top of the mahogany wood, standing quickly. His massive frame filled the room, his wings expanding and ruffling slightly in anger. A flash of fear spiked in your chest, but you held your ground, tilting your head back to glare back at him–challenging him. 

“Fine,” he said, leaning down to be face-to-face with you. His eyes darkened, the black of his pupils the only thing visible beside the small ring of hazel surrounding it. The scent of cedar and icy mist filled your senses, and for a moment, you found yourself speechless at the male in front of you. Despite his disdain, it was hard to admit that you didn’t feel a draw toward the spymaster even still. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. And while that thought still rang true, his frigidity toward you made uncertainty and pain fill your heart, walls building to form a suit of armor around it. You would not allow him to best you.

“I don’t want you to go,” he snarled, leaning down to be face-to-face with you. 

“I don’t care,” you said. “I’m going. I don’t care if you don’t want me there. I don’t care that you don’t trust me or like me. This is my job and my responsibility to this Court. And I won’t let you–or anyone–stop me from doing it. So you can either brief me right now, or I can go get Rhysand and you can brief me then.”

Your jaw tensed as you both stared intently at each other, neither one willing to back down. Gods, you wanted to fight him. Perhaps it was immature, but you didn’t care. Perhaps it will prove your abilities and capabilities to him. Perhaps you will beat him and put him in his place. You needed to let out your rage and physically attacking him was a very tempting option. 

“Eris has been spotted frequenting an undisclosed location in the art district of Hewn City,” he said calmly. His entire demeanor relaxed, and his features became uncaring as he sat back down in his chair. “We suspect he’s been having secret meetings with someone there. I’ve sent spies, but they were unable to gather any information. Someone has to try to go inside. There’s music heard and well-dressed faes are constantly streaming in and out, hence your dress.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. The mission seemed simple enough, and you hoped you would not have any run-ins with your family. Parties in the art district were not something that they tended to stray toward. 

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow at dusk” His eyes moved to the papers in front of him once more, the action dismissal enough. 

“I’ll see you then.”

As you walked away, you felt his heavy gaze burning on your retreating back. Always judging you. Always scrutinizing you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself with the realization that you had much to prove in the Court of Nightmares. 

—-----------*-------------

You stared at yourself in the full-length mirror, half in horror and half appreciatively. The dress was revealing more of you than you ever had before. The plunging neckline reached down to your navel, exposing the soft skin of your cleavage and stomach. The soft flowy skirt reached down to the floor, with two symmetrical thigh-high slits on either side. You knew you looked good, yet still felt a wave of bashfulness crash over you. 

You made your way downstairs, your confidence growing with each step you took. You looked good, but you felt even better, loving how the material hugged your skin. It was out of your comfort zone, but you felt beautiful and desirable. 

When you made it to the foyer, Azriel’s eyes met yours and his eyes hardened. His analyzing gaze slowly made its way down your figure and his jaw twitched. You took a deep breath, pointedly ignoring the visceral disdain of you, and looked at Mor, who would be winnowing you to the mountain. 

“You look incredible, (Y/N),” your friend said, admiring the way the dress fit you. She approached you, fixing a strand of your hair that had fallen out of place. 

“To be honest, I feel incredible,” you murmured to her and you both giggled. 

A huff of annoyance came from beside you and you looked at Azriel as he rolled his eyes. Your smile faded and an embarrassed heat rose to your neck and face. You knew that he wanted you to hear it–the Spymaster would not let any of his emotions show without it being intentional. He wanted you to know that he did not agree with Mor and an inkling of doubt entered your mind that perhaps you did not look as good as you thought. 

You glared at him, unable to control the ripple of indignation that rushed through you. Mor sighed from beside you and his eyes moved to her, softening significantly. To yourself, you could admit that it hurt you to see the way he was looking at her. You understood that she had been in his life for a lot longer than you had, that he had been in love with her for a long time, but it still made you feel inadequate. Why couldn’t he trust you as he trusted her? What more could you do to be worthy in his eyes?

“We’re ready to go,” he said and Mor nodded, slipping her palm into his. 

She looked at you and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be right back for you.”

The air around you thinned and grew cold for a moment as they winnowed away. The silence intensified in your solitude. No one else was present in the Townhouse and your thoughts began to spiral. You felt out of place, suddenly wondering why you were even needed in this mission in the first place. You willed the intrusive thoughts away, focusing instead on the job in front of you. You were confident in yourself. You knew you were competent.

Mor returned quickly and smiled gently at you. 

“You’re feeling alright?”

You nodded. She raised her eyebrow at you and you sighed. 

“I’m just frustrated that I have to go there with him,” you admitted. “He didn’t even bother telling me anything about this.” She was silent as you walked towards her and slipped your hand into hers. 

“I’m sorry. I know Azriel’s behavior toward you hurts you,” she said. “I wish you would get along–you’re more similar than you think. I wish he would give you a chance.”

“Unlikely.”

She gave you a wistful smile. You shrugged and closed your eyes through the pulling sensation in your gut and the brief moment of total darkness as she winnowed. You found yourself next to Azriel at the entrance to the Hewn City and you took a deep, calming breath.

“Good luck, you two,” Mor said before winnowing away. 

Hewn City always brought up old, unwanted memories for you. The shadowed avenues, the dark stone paving the streets, and the many buildings with rising spires. This was the place that you grew up in–yet it never felt like home. You hated everything about it. Your exposed skin broke out in goosebumps, the cold from being so deep inside the mountain chilling you and sudden claustrophobia made the walls feel like they were enclosing you. 

“Focus.” The growl came from your left and you shook the sudden panic away.  Your eyes met Azriel’s intense stare, his eyes fixated on you and his hand was wrapped around your elbow. Despite the anger in his voice, his grip was gentle and his eyes shone with something resembling concern. 

“I’m focused.” You could never fight the urge to talk back to him.

“You’re panicking.”

“It’s this place,” you found yourself admitting after a few moments of silence. “It brings back unpleasant memories.”

He didn’t answer, not that you had expected him to. He let go of your arm and turned away from you, giving you a moment to take a few deep breaths and stop the spiraling of your mind. His shadows shot out from him, slinking into the darkness; invisible spies. They returned after a few moments, curling into the ear of their master. 

He turned back to you. “Your parents are not here. You can relax.”

You were stunned that he had sent his shadows to check. You were sure that he knew snippets of your past, but it was never something you had opened up to him about. He had always kept you at arm's length, despite your efforts to know him. Efforts that he had quickly crushed.

“Eris is heading into the art district. We should get there right away,” Azriel said, turning back and beginning to walk away. You quickly followed.

The bobbing faelights illuminated the way forward and you both clung to the shadows, silently tracking the Autumn Court heir. The art district in Hewn City was vastly different from Velaris. While the Rainbow celebrated life and love and drew crowds of reverent aesthetes, the Court of Nightmares lauded debauchery, hedonism, and lewdness. Every surface of the city within the mountain was engraved with haunting carvings of beasts and figures fornicating or reveling or killing. Despite the craftsmanship, the art had always sent a shiver down your spine. 

Eris walked at a brisk pace, his tall, lean figure moving quickly through the darkness of the city, his red hair hidden by the black cloak he wore. He easily blended into the large crowds of people trying to get to the many different parties held in this district, but Azriel did not lose sight of him once. 

He made an abrupt left, turning down an alley. You and Azriel observed from across the way as he opened a black, unmarked back door and entered the building. 

“Any idea what it could be in there?” you whispered to Azriel.

“I don’t know.” His eyes did not waver from the door as he shook his head. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in. 

Your took a deep breath and your nose twitched as a familiar pungent smell reached you. 

“Mirthroot?” you asked, your tone laced with humor.

He nodded as his shadows spiraled away from him and skulked toward the door and through the cracks between the walls. Within a few moments, the shadows returned, buzzing and curling around Azriel’s ear. His eyebrows furrowed and he reeled the shadows back toward himself. 

“What is it?”

“They’re telling me to go in,” he said. 

“What?! Did they say what is in there?”

He shook his head. “I can control where they go, I can’t control what they tell me.”

You rolled your eyes. “So we know exactly nothing? That’s useful.”

He glared at you. “They’re certainly more useful than you are.”

You suppressed the pang of hurt you felt in your gut and glared back at him. Without another word, you turned away from him and began stomping toward the alley. A firm grasp on your bicep pulled you to a quick stop and Azriel turned you toward him, his eyes hard and face furrowed in anger. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think? Your little shadows said to go in. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“No, you are not.”

Your hands clenched into fists and you tried to wrestle your arm away from his grip. “Yes, I am.”

“Are you really so illogical that you would risk your life running into that building?” You opened your mouth to retort, but he did not let you get a single word out. “Absolutely not. You will stay right here and I will go in.”

He turned away from you and began making his way toward the entrance. Indignant fury burned within you. How dare he order you to stay? This was your mission too; whether he disapproved of having you there or not, you did not care. You would see the mission through. You followed behind him, your steps quickening to catch up with his long strides. 

As his grip wrapped around the handle to the door and opened it, you squeezed through beside him and stood in front of the guard that that stood there. The rest of the room was shielded from your view by thick, black curtains but the beat of the jazzy music played in your ear. Azriel’s glare was piercing, anger rolling off of him like raging waves. You pointedly ignored his eyes on the side of your face and smiled at the guard, who looked unimpressed and annoyed.

“Any weapons?”

You and Azriel shook your heads. The fae checked you both, patting you both down thoroughly to ensure that you were being honest and you found yourself grateful for Azriel being able to hide your weapons within his shadows. You felt a pang of guilt for calling them useless, but you would never admit that to him.

The male looked at you. “Did you take your tea?”

You were confused but nodded anyway. “Yes.”

He stepped aside easily enough; the ward around the building probably offered security enough to its inhabitants.  You followed Azriel as he made his way through the thick black curtain. He paused for a moment in front of you and you shoved him gently. He stepped aside, allowing you to see the space before you. Thick smoke from the mirthroot being burned covered the room. The faelights flickered a dark blue, making the room look ethereal. You felt like you had stepped into a dream cloud.

Rhythmic music played from a corner of the room, enlightening your senses and your eyes were drawn toward the massive, impressive paintings hanging from the walls.  

A loud sigh drew your attention to the group of people on the couch. Males and females were gathered closely, completely naked and exposed. Some were kissing, others were touching, and others were fucking. The scent of arousal lingered weak under the mirthroot, but it was undeniable.

It was a pleasure party. 

You made eye contact with another female across the room. A male was underneath her, fucking her from behind and the other male was above her, fucking into her pussy. They moved in perfect tandem with each other and you were unable to look away. The female smiled at you, winking as another male approached her, and she shoved his cock into her mouth. Your legs began to tingle and you gasped softly, turning your eyes away from the sight, your face burning hot. 

“Maybe we should leave,” you said, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Well, well.” The voice from behind you was deep and haughty and you turned quickly. Eris Vanserra’s amber eyes shone mischievously at you and Azriel. 

“I figured Rhysand would send his hound after my scent,” he said, staring at Azriel. 

“We’re not here for you,” you said quickly. 

“Not that it’s any of your concern,” Azriel said, jumping in quickly and effectively shutting you up. 

“I think it is. It’s a matter of trust. I was under the impression that we were building an alliance. Was I mistaken?”

“No,” you jumped in again, attempting to salvage the situation. Your anxiety was rising, but you shoved it down, trying to remain calm and appear casual. You did not want to jeopardize any potential alliance between the Courts, knowing Rhysand would be very upset and it could potentially threaten the Night Court in the future. 

“You’re not mistaken.” You smiled reassuringly at him, amping your charm and batting your eyelashes at him. “We’re not here for you. Just looking to have some fun of our own. Explore a bit. Same as you.”

“Well, in that case…” He trailed off, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips as he bent down. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles and smirked at you. Your face felt warm as his gaze remained on yours. A shadow loomed over you, and you broke eye contact to look behind you at Azriel. His face was stoic, but his wings twitched in what you could only assume was annoyance. 

Eris tugged on your hand gently, pulling your attention back to him. “Would you care for a smoke?”

He began leading you to the table he occupied, where a group of fae sat and mingled. Azriel’s presence remained behind you as he followed close behind, ready to intervene. Eris grabbed the water pipe that sat at the center of the table and lit the mirthroot with a flick of his finger. He took a long drag, filling the glass with thick, potent smoke. He held the pipe to you, and you pressed your mouth to the cold glass, inhaling the heady smoke. 

You held the smoke for a few moments, exhaling slowly and the feeling of relaxation began to crawl its way through you.

Azriel’s large hand wrapped around your arm and turned you toward him. “Let’s go.”

He began to walk away, but your wrist remained clasped in Eris’ hand. Azriel turned back around and glared at Eris. His gaze moved to you, an indiscernible look in his eye. His face was stern, lips squeezed shut into a thin frown and his jaw clenched.

“We’re leaving.” His low, hoarse voice caused a shiver to roll down your spine. His darkened eyes did not leave yours, smoke swirling between you. 

“Why?” The haughty voice of the Autumn Court heir interrupted the moment, bringing you right back to the party around you. You looked up at him, finding a smirk on his lips and his eyes on your chest.

“She said you were both here to explore,” Eris said, and Azriel glowered at him. “And I would love to explore her.”

His hand raised slowly, his long, thin fingers caressing the skin of your wrist and traveling up your exposed arm softly. The warmth of his hands raised goosebumps on your flesh.

The loud, rumbling snarl that came out of Azriel in that moment surprised you. You tore your eyes from the redhead and looked back at Azriel, a  look of pure hatred and anger on his face. You froze as he grabbed your arm, pulling you gently towards him and out of Eris’ grasp. His shadows swirled around him, hiding you from Eris’ eyes. 

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

You looked up at him in shock. You had never seen his face look as twisted and angry as it did right then, a snarl on his perfect lips and a deep furrow on his brow. He was not a male prone to losing his composure easily. He was always so serious. But the dark, angry look in his eyes made a spike of fear strike in your chest and you wondered if he would be as smoldering and voracious with a lover beneath him to feast upon. 

“Someone needs to. She looks delectable.”

Azriel’s chest rumbled and his gaze stayed on Eris as he slowly pulled you backward. His grip on your arm remained gentle, yet firm, and you had no choice but to be dragged along with him. He sat before you on one of the large loveseats scattered throughout the room. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you towards him until you kneeled on the seat, straddling his thighs and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. 

You somehow managed to find your voice through the shock coursing through you. “What are you doing?” you whispered. 

His eyes were affixed to your face, still intense, but his frown had softened and his face had relaxed. 

“Fitting in. You said we came here on our own for enjoyment, so now this is what we’re doing.”

Of course, he would blame you for your current predicament. “Clearly he’s here because he’s a kinky motherfucker; there was no need to make him distrustful of us. I was quick on my feet,” you answered back, defensively. You felt like your body was buzzing on high alert. 

“Yes, well, now we have to fit in,” he said, his hands trailing your hips and lower back. Despite the sarcasm lacing his words, his eyes remained gentle, looking at you as if this was normal–as if it was wanted. 

No…you were seeing things, of course. Azriel did not want to be in this situation, and he definitely did not want you. 

A presence behind you blocked the faelights, shrouding Azriel in darkness. You glanced behind you, finding Eris smirking down at you. His hand rose trailing your shoulders and down your spine teasingly. You shivered, skin breaking out into goosebumps. 

The hands around your hips tightened and Azriel pulled you closer to him. Your chest was pressed tightly against his, and the scent of cedar and icy air filled your lungs. His presence so close to you and the warm hand still attached to your shoulder made your brain hazy for a moment. 

You looked at his handsome face, never having seen it so close before. He glared at the redhead that lingered behind you. 

“Leave.”

“No,” you said, moving a hand to place it on top of Eris’ hand. “Stay.”

Hazel eyes met yours, shock and surprise in them. Eris moved closer still, heat radiating from his body and onto your back, and his hands began to trace the exposed skin of your back and shoulders. The male ran hotter than normal, the unfamiliar heat leaving your skin tingling and craving more. Azriel’s breathing deepened and although his face remained as stoic as ever, a deep blush had risen to his cheeks and neck, and his wings were pulled taut against his back. 

The thin strap of your dress was nudged out of the way, and a steamy kiss was pressed to the exposed skin.  

“Is this alright, little one?”

“Yes,” you breathed, desperation coating your words. This was what you needed. You needed to fuck someone, fuck the stress and the frustration away. And if you weren’t going to get that from the male straddled beneath you, the heir to the Autumn Court was an enticing alternative. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened to an almost painful level, but the wetness in your core was continuously building and you had never been as aroused as you were in that moment. 

The other strap was pushed down your arm. The flimsy fabric of the dress fell easily and pooled at your waist, exposing your breasts to Azriel. His dark, heavy gaze finally left yours, eyes looking down shamelessly and staring at your body. Your nipples were hard and your breasts heavy with arousal. He froze beneath you, hands going slack against your skin, and he was unable to tear his eyes away from you. 

Warm lips pressed against the curve of your neck, slowly tracing down your left shoulder and down your back. Another presence–a small, dainty female–appeared on your right and her petite hands began running over your flushed skin. Heat pooled on your core at the overstimulation. Azriel’s hands gripped your hips impossibly tight and his eyes met yours again, Eris’ warm lips and hands roamed the left side of your body, and the spunky female at your right lightly caressed and suddenly pinched your nipple causing you to shiver and moan. 

You seemed to have no control over your body, you felt as if your soul had ascended and all you craved was pleasure. Your hips began moving, slowly sliding back and forth on Azriel’s covered length. He was hard as steel beneath you and you gasped in surprise at just how large he felt. Your eyes remained on Azriel’s, mesmerized at the rosy blush on his cheeks and the color of his eyes, thin rings of melted honey surrounding his onyx pupils. His wild gaze was fierce, striking you down to your core and a burst of hope to spark in your heart.

The female beside you traced her tongue over your neck before biting–hard. You moaned, the heat crawling through you intense and all-consuming. You found yourself close to the edge when the tip of Azriel’s clothed cock hit your clit and Eris’ ardent touch reached your breast and squeezed your nipple.

A pair of heated hands wrapped around you from behind and grabbed onto your breasts roughly. His lips continued to trail down your neck. You shut your eyes in pleasure, your head dropping backward until it landed on Eris’ shoulder. Where had the female gone? Did it matter when you felt this good?

“Keep rubbing, little kitten,” he purred in your ears and his long, skilled fingers pinched around your pink nubs. While you would normally argue against the cheeky nickname, the mirthroot had you entirely too relaxed and the male beneath you had you entirely too turned on. 

Eris gripped your jaw, turning your face towards his and he pressed his lips brusquely against yours with a bruising force. The kiss was messy, full of teeth and tongue. He tasted of cinnamon and burned embers–like a warm autumn day spent near a fire. Your arms wound themselves around Azriel’s neck, holding on tightly as Eris bent your head back. 

The deep growl that escaped the Shadowsinger made your heartbeat stutter and your hips increased their speed on his lap. 

“Fuck this.”

The delicious grip he had maintained on your hips was momentarily gone, and you feared he would stop you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist and pulled you forcefully toward him until your front was pressed flush against his. Your bare chest pressed against the rough fabric of his leathers and his own hips started moving in tandem with yours. Your noses pressed close together, and your heavy pants mingled, his scent intoxicating and making you think of only him. 

He looked completely fucked and you were sure you looked quite similar to him. He had not even entered you and you were both teetering on the edge of orgasm. 

A soft caress to your lower back brought you back to reality and you could still feel Eris’ presence behind you. Azriel’s large wings that had been held taut against his back abruptly expanded, and then curled around you, pushing the Autumn heir away and shielding you from his prying eyes and wandering hands. The frigid slivers of shadows tracing up your legs aided the male in hiding you away from everyone else. 

He pushed your hips back, one of his hands holding firm on the back of your neck, his other maneuvering to the front of his leathers, unlacing them easily, and pushing the fabric away. His large dick was exposed, his sheer size exciting you and you could not help but think of the rumors regarding wing size and just how true they were. You moved the skirt of your dress up around your waist and nestled your naked core on the velvety skin of his dick. Your hips undulated on his in a perfect rhythm, his head hitting your clit with precision each time, causing pleasure to ripple down your back. 

Beads of sweat dripped on his forehead, plastering strands of dark curls to his skin. His large, calloused, and strong hands gripped your ass, fingers digging deep into the skin, the slight pain making you moan. The thought of the bruises that he would leave on you made your clit throb, your juices flowing and dripping onto him. 

His forehead pressed together against yours and his eyes burned intensely into yours–bright fires of melted honey that you were entirely too happy to drown in. He moved one of his hands to your neck and pulled you toward him, his soft lips meeting yours and he kissed you slowly, ardently, taking the time to explore your mouth.

The frenzied humping of your hips slowed to a gentle rhythm and your stomach suddenly exploded with butterflies, nerves starting to spread to your heart and too many thoughts to wander through your head. 

His hands turned gentle, slowly sliding up and wrapping tightly around your back. You slowly broke the kiss and looked at him. 

“I thought you didn’t trust me,” you said. Despite the worry that he would dismiss your fears and turn back to scorn and sarcasm, you decided to be vulnerable with him. Regardless of your past with him, something had irrevocably changed and you decided to be open and jump headfirst into it. 

“I do trust you,” he answered, eyes honest. 

Your bodies sat still together, and you held each other. The muffled sounds of the people around you silenced as his shadows crawled up the both of you, shielding you from wandering eyes and prying ears. The light of his siphons lit up your faces in shades of blue, making it feel dreamlike. 

“Why did you never want me to go on missions?”

“I wanted to protect you,” he said. “When Mor brought you from Hewn City to Velaris, I was distrustful, at first, but as I got to know you and your story…I felt so protective over you. You’ve been through so much, and I vowed to keep you away from anything that could hurt you again. It was wrong; I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but I never wanted to be the one to put you in a position where you got hurt. I should’ve told you my reasoning back then, but I didn’t. You fucking despised me for doing it. I wanted to explain myself to you, but then I figured that it was for the best. I’m not a good male. I do wicked things, and my past will always haunt me. I put the people I love in danger.”

United tears glimmered in his eyes and your throat felt tight. Your brain was hazy, focused only on him and his words, and you gaped at him in shock. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined Azriel saying these things to you. Being honest and vulnerable and tender with you. But here he was, looking at you with intensely caring eyes.

“I know it’s hard to believe, considering the way I treated you. Fuck, I’m so sorry for that, (Y/N). You didn’t deserve that, and I realize that I was wrong. I wanted to keep you safe, but I ended up hurting you in the process.”

“I forgive you,” you said, and you did. He did cause you pain and confusion and anger, but you knew who he was deep down. He was the male that took care of his brothers when they got shit-faced drunk and could barely make it a few steps up the stairs. He was the male that always made sure to get the latest smutty release for Nesta on the very first day it came out. He was the male and loved playing with Nyx and took joy in all the less pleasant aspects of caring for a babe. The male so desperate to protect you that he let his insecurities cloud his judgment. You wanted to get to know that male. 

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

You had a sudden thought that Azriel probably didn’t think he deserved much of anything. It broke your heart. 

“That’s not your choice, Azriel. I choose to forgive you. And I understand now the reason behind everything. But the only way anything could ever work between us is for you to understand that I make my own decisions and I have a responsibility to this Court, as do you,” you said. 

He breathed in a deep, shaky breath and leaned his forehead against yours. “I know. I’ll be better for you, I promise.”

You breathed deeply as a stinging pain grew on your left wrist. You pulled your arm from around him and glanced down, finding a small, crawling tattoo on your skin. Glancing at Azriel, he was admiring the matching mark on his wrist. Promises among fae were serious things–you felt honored. And a bit overwhelmed. 

“That was a bit dramatic,” you teased, breaking the tension. He huffed a laugh and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, caressing kiss. 

There was a beat of silence, both of you basking in the novelty and intimacy of the moment. He brushed his nose against yours, a small smile on his lips and his awed eyes fixated on yours. 

“I can’t believe I have you like this,” he said and his hands lowered to grip your ass and push your pelvis hard against his. 

You felt heat rise on your cheeks and to the tips of your ears and you could not help the smile that grew on your lips. His eyes glanced down at your smile and he leaned forward, pressing his soft, plump lips to yours once again. He nipped your bottom lip, making you gasp, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, learning you. His scent, the feel of his hands on your bare skin, and the taste of him were consuming you–burrowing deep into your skin. Your body felt like it was on fire. 

In a moment of clarity, you broke the kiss, giggling as he tried to chase your lips with his. 

“Azriel, what does this mean?” you panted, out of breath and flustered. 

“It means that I’m crazy about you. You’re so strong and stubborn and you can be a brat sometimes, and I’m obsessed with you. I’m so fucking soft for you, baby. I want you like this, with me, always. I want to kiss you and take you on dates and anything else you’re willing to give me.” His brilliant smile lit up his face. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. 

“I want that, too,” you said, pressing your lips against his, gently pulling his lip to your mouth. Mother above, he was irresistible. You could not get enough. 

He broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down your cheek and jaw, leaving a warm tingling on your skin. Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding him tight to your body. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered against your skin but not low enough to where you couldn’t hear him. He meant for you to hear him. He kissed down your neck now, the path igniting your skin and making the blood pump through your veins like molten lava. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Maybe it was the mirthroot,” you teased. Your breathy laugh turned to a moan as he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

Amidst the clouds of lust that shrouded your thoughts, you managed to pull away from him once again and he groaned in frustration. 

“Az, we should probably leave,” you said. Before you were able to move an inch away from him, his arms tightened around you pulling you taut against him. Your bare skin was pushed against the harsh material of his leathers and you found yourself wishing to see him completely bare. 

“No,” he whined and you could not hold back the smile at the new sound. “Not yet.”

“There’s a lot of people here,” you said. Despite his shadows masking you in darkness and silence, you felt exposed, knowing that around you, there were people doing the exact same thing that you were. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, bringing his face to the crook of your neck and began pressing kisses to your shoulders, slowly moving lower on your chest. “I won’t let anyone see you. Although, you didn’t seem to have a problem with that a few minutes ago. Letting that fucker touch you…kiss you…Perhaps I should punish you.”

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes. “This is different. This isn't a one-night stand or fucking in the middle of a sex club with a random stranger. It’s with you.”

His eyes softened and he stole another kiss. “I want you right now,” he admitted. “I’ve dreamed so long for this and I’m scared that I’ll never have you like this again. If you want to leave, we can. But, I’d like to make you mine right now, if you allow it. I want everyone here to know that I’m the lucky bastard that gets to have you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise; his desperation nearly mirrored yours and you felt the familiar heat creep up your face and swirl in your core. You felt vulnerable, exposed, and yet…it was exciting. 

Your arms tightened around Azriel’s shoulder and you nodded. “Yes.”

He bent his head down and bit your nipple, eliciting a moan from deep within you and you arched your back, pushing your chest closer to him. His mouth wrapped around the tingling skin, gently licking and sucking at your breast. His hand on your back pulled your hips tighter against his, pressing your cunt against his erection and he groaned against your chest, his other hand kneading the skin of your ass. 

Your hand managed to sneak in between your bodies, reaching down and gripping his throbbing member in your hand and lining him up at your entrance. You looked deep into his eyes as you slowly slid him inside of you and sank down, taking him deep to the hilt, his tip hitting your cervix once he was fully sheathed within you. Your knees pressed tight against his sides and he groaned. He closed his eyes, head rolling back and he gasped as you clenched around him. The stretch from the mere size of him was incredible and you groaned low in your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” His voice was raspy and deep, sending a shiver up your spine. 

You began rolling your hips slowly, grinding on his thick cock, the delicious friction making you feel delirious. 

“Azriel,” you moaned as your clit rubbed perfectly against his pelvic bone. He looked at you, his hazel eyes fixed on yours and you refused to break eye contact.  His hands, calloused and scarred, ran over your soft skin—over your thighs, your back, belly, and breasts. Anywhere he could reach.

It was heavenly. It was perfect. 

You swirled your hips, a groan leaving him and you began to ride him in earnest, your pussy tightening around him and your thrusts becoming sporadic as a burning began to spread in your lower belly and thighs. 

He gripped your ass, holding you with a bruising force against him, and began thrusting up into you, the delicious roughness lighting your body on fire and burning you from the inside out. He felt like he was made for you. You wished he would remain in you forever. He moaned in your ear and set a furious speed, hitting you deep in a spot that made you see stars and you screamed in pleasure. 

“Cum right now,” he growled, kissing and biting down your neck, and your pussy squeezed around him, impossibly tight. You could feel every inch of him–the thick vein that ran on the underside of his penis, the thick head that slammed repeatedly into your cervix. 

Without warning, you reached your peak–your vision turned white, and your entire body tightened, fingernails digging deep into the skin of Azriel’s back. Your eyes shut tight and with a few more thrusts, he carried you through the most mind blowing orgasm you had ever had. You clung tight to him as he continued to thrust within you, your pussy clenching and overstimulated. 

“Azriel,” you whined in his ear, begging for a respite. 

“One more, baby,” he groaned back. His voice was tight and his eyes hard as he gazed down to where your bodies connected. You could tell he was holding himself back from letting go. “Just need one more from you.”

With no time to recover from your first orgasm, it didn’t take you too long to reach your second. The pleasure was blinding and deafening, teetering on the edge of pain but it was so good that you never wanted it to end. You could think of nothing but him in that moment, the way he gripped you, so strong and powerful beneath you, his impressive length stuffed inside of you, and the delicious friction. Your juices squirted out of you, soaking the skin between the two of you and you sobbed in utter pleasure. 

He growled loudly, and his body shook as he came inside of you. 

You both clung to each other for a few moments, chests heaving and hearts pounding in your chests. He panted softly, his head pressing against your neck. 

After catching your breath, you leaned back and stared at his perfect face. His skin was dewy, sweaty from exertion and his eyes were glazed. He smiled at you, bright and unreserved and you found yourself breathless for a moment. He had never smiled at you like that and it made your heart flutter. 

He pressed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.

“We have a lot more we need to talk about. I think it’s time to go,” he said and you nodded, laughing softly. 

“Agreed.”

His hands went to the straps hanging from your waist and moved the bodice of the dress back up to cover your chest. You lifted your hips slowly, and shuddered at the feeling of him sliding out of you. He unfurled his wings from where they had wrapped around you and you stood back, your skirts sliding down your calves and dropping to your feet. Azriel stood, towering over you, and fixed his leathers, dissipating the shadows from around you.

The sudden influx of light was jarring and you squinted. Azriel’s hand wrapped around yours and he began leading you to the exit. 

A throat cleared from behind you, and you turned to find Eris. His eyes were bloodshot red, probably from the rolled mirthroot he was smoking, and he had a lazy smirk directed at the two of you. 

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, offering you the joint. You took it from him, inhaling the pungent herbs. You held it up to Azriel, who took a drag, a glare remaining fixed on the redhead. 

“We had our fun,” you answered, letting out the smoke from your lungs and handed it back to him. 

“A shame. Perhaps next time,” he answered, becoming distracted as a fully naked, full-figured woman approached him and began running her hand on his shoulder. His attention immediately focused on her beautiful figure and Azriel took that as the chance to leave, grabbing your hand and rushing you out of the building quickly, making your way out of the mountain at record speeds. 

“There will not be a next time,” Azriel growled from beside you, eyes hardened and you giggled at his jealousy. Had he been stewing on Eris’ comments the entire time?

“So possessive already?” you teased. He glared at you, the look so reminiscent of the hard looks he had given you in the past. But now, instead of the pangs of hurt that you used to feel, you could only find peace. 

“You never know. It could be fun.”

The growl from beside you was your only warning as he swept you into his arms and into the night sky, his wings expanding majestically behind him. Your stomach dropped at the height, and you giggled in exhilaration.

“Don’t count on it. I don’t plan on sharing you with anyone anytime soon.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips and your arms tightened around his shoulders as he began his flight home.  You knew that things were not perfect, that Azriel had a lot to atone for, and tough conversations would be inevitable. You could not wait for it–for a future with him.

[dira333]

Who's gonna break my heart - Daishou Suguru x Reader

Friends to Strangers to Lovers - Title inspired by my current dopamine song "Dangerously Anxious" by MUNN

Words: over 8k so pace yourself

- 18/17

You know something’s up when Suguru enters the gym with a girl. He’s already late, but the girl’s not wearing any gym clothes. So not a new manager.

She’s one year above you and you’ve seen her around. Yamanaka Mika or something. She’s cute and bile rises up your throat at that thought. No.

“Guys,” Suguru’s grin is genuine, playful, a little proud even, “I want you to meet someone. This is Mika, my girlfriend.”

Sō immediately stands guard beside you. He’s the libero and the second-closest friend you have on this team. Well, he might get bumped up as of today. 

“Mika, this is the team.” He introduces them by name and the first-years blush under his praise. The third-years are not impressed, hitting him back with sly remarks that have Suguru blush instead.

Finally, he ends with you.

“And this is my best friend from childhood. I told you about her,” he introduces you and you have to fight everything in you not to snarl at him. Instead, you offer Mika your hand to shake, boiling inside. 

She stays around to watch. You keep your distance. 

When the first break runs around and you start handing out water bottles she slinks up beside you, asking for Suguru’s. You’re more than glad you don’t have to give it to him, couldn’t stand the risk of touching him right now. 

You manage not to talk to him about anything other than volleyball until training ends.

He leaves quickly, aiming to walk Mika home. You stay behind.

“You okay?” Sō asks quietly as you gather your things.

“Mhm,” you nod, “Just peachy. Thanks for asking.”

“I don’t like her,” he promises and you snort. “You don’t have to. If he wants to get himself a girlfriend, that has nothing to do with me. She might be nice, you know. It’s not her fault he’s the way he is.”

Sō nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He asks if you want to walk home together but you decline. The quiet will do you good.

- 5/4

“Well, you stink,” Daishou declares with an air of finality. He’s small for a five year old, you’re almost the same height.

You don’t blink. He starts to grow anxious, his legs twiddling as if he has to pee.

“Why aren’t you crying?” He asks, clearly annoyed you don’t react like anyone else he’s met before.

“I was waiting if you’d come up with something better,” you say, “But I should have known you don’t have any good ideas.”

“Hey!” He yelps, “That’s not fair! That was a good insult!”

You snort and his lip starts to quiver.

“No way,” someone whispers behind you, “Is Daishou going to cry? What a whimp.”

“I’m not a whimp!” Daishou declares, eyes already reddening. “Take that back.”

You turn your best lazy stare at the person who had muttered that insult. In less than a second he backs away. You might not be a pretty little girl like your mother wanted, but you know how to keep the boys at bay.

“Come,” you take Daishou’s hand and pull him toward the far edge of the playground, “I’m gonna teach you some cool insults.”

- 18/17

“What do you want?” You ask instead of a greeting. Suguru snorts into the phone.

“Wow, what hellhole did you crawl out today?”

“It’s called a period, thank you very much.” That’s a lie. But he doesn’t like that topic, so it’s always safe.

“Whatever,” he grunts, “I just wanted to ask what you think about Mika.”

“I’m not into her if that’s what you’re asking.”

He gasps before laughing. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“How did that even happen?” You ask, hoping against hope that he doesn’t hear the despair lacing your voice. He needs to believe you don’t care. “Did you pay her to do it?”

“Excuse me?!” Suguru’s affronted. “I don’t have to pay girls- You know I could-” He sighs before starting anew. “She asked me out. Can you believe it? I never had a cute girl like me before.”

That stings. But, you try to comfort yourself, he doesn’t know you like him. So maybe you’re still a cute girl in his head. Just not one he’s interested in.

“Miracles happen every day,” you tell him, working around the clog in your throat, “But I need to get going, okay? I still have homework to do.”

“Oh, okay, sure. I’ll see you in the morning. We can walk to school.”

“Yeah, okay.” You hope he forgets. 

He doesn’t.

.

Suguru’s always been touchy. He was the kid who sat on his mother's lap until she pushed him off and though he made you swear on your life that it didn’t happen, he used to be the one grabbing your hand on the way home from kindergarten.

And it used to be your thing. 

How he pulls on your arm when he’s excited or slings his arm around your shoulders, shaking you. How he presses his face against yours, eye against eye, to make sure you really got his joke. 

But you can’t help but feel sick now, at the thought of it. Because it doesn’t mean what you thought it meant. And he’s probably going to do it with Mika now.

“Hey,” he pulls on your backpack as a greeting, dragging ice-cold fingertips along your neck. You shiver and he shows a wicked grin. “Still cranky?” 

“Was I ever?” You snap back and he cocks his head, tongue slipping out as he musters you. It’s adorable and you hate yourself for thinking so.

“You wanna get chocolate milkshakes after school?”

“I’m fine,” you point out. “And you’re going to walk Mika home, right?”

“Are you jealous?” He asks and your heart stops for a painful moment until he laughs. “Come on, we’ve been best friends forever. I’m sure she’d like some Milkshakes too.”

And it’s like that, for days, and weeks on end.

Everything you used to do together is now something you have to share with Mika.

Until she breaks up with him.

- 9/8

“Can we play family?” You ask, a bit more confident in the coziness of your own bedroom. Your parents make more money than Suguru’s, you can tell. It’s no surprise he likes hanging out at your place more. You prefer it the other way, like the warmth of their kitchen and the noise, always someone around to talk. You like his older sister who teases him relentlessly and his mother who always calls you cute.

But you’ve got better toys so you’re hanging out at your place. And since it’s your place, you call the shots.

“Again?” He asks, but already picks up the Squishmallow you usually use as a kid. You own two and the other one’s sitting next to your bedroom door, playing dog.

“Today,” you declare your newest idea proudly, “I’m going to make a lot of money. I work in finance, like my dad.”

Suguru nods, gently nursing the Squishmallow kid in his arms. “Should I stay home with the kid then?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “You could make some dinner for when I come home. Do you want to have a Hobby, like Mom?” 

“Oh yeah,” he grins, “I’m going to be a famous volleyball player on the side. They only have to train and win games, so I have more then enough time to care for our kid and the dog. Do we have a daughter or a son?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?”

“I want a daughter,” he lifts her up, squinting as if he can see a real kid in the soft pink plush. “And she looks like you.”

- 18/17

It’s Sō who tells you. He happened to walk past them on the way to training, couldn’t help but overhear. 

“You’re such a bore, all you ever do is focus on club activities,” Sō repeats before you can stop him.

He opens his mouth to ask, but the gym doors open. Suguru looks positively mad.

“What are you doing?” He asks Sō, voice sharp. “This is supposed to be training. Start running!” He turns to you but you don’t even let him open his mouth.

“Suguru,” your voice is cold, clear and cuts through him like always. “Can I talk to you outside for a second?” 

He huffs. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll have to ask Coach to tell you to talk to me. You want that?”

“No,” he snarls, turning back to where he came from. “Hurry up, I want to train.”

“Warn the others,” you whisper in Sō’s direction and follow Suguru outside.

There’s a group of trees not far from the Gym that’s pretty much secluded. 

Suguru swings as if to punch one of the trees but you’re faster, grabbing his elbow and pulling back.

“We still need your hands,” you huff, “Keep it together.”

“I don’t want-”

“I know,” you pull him in, hug him as tight as he allows. “I know.”

You don’t know how long you’re standing like this, Suguru trembling like a leaf. He’s always been a crybaby, even if he’s a little ashamed to admit it.

“Want me to egg her house?” You ask, wishing that just once he’d hug you back. 

“No, that’s stupid.”

“I could put eggs into her shoes,” you point out. “Like I did with that girl that bullied you in Junior High.”

He snorts wetly. “That was amazing, but no, I don’t… I just wanted her to like me.” His face is pressed against your shoulder now and you can feel his mouth move against the fabric of your shirt when he talks. 

“Maybe I should quit Volleyball.”

“Because some girl told you it was boring? Suguru, you’re better than that.”

“Mika’s not just some girl.”

You swallow thickly, unable to snap back for the first time since you can remember. 

If only he’d say such things about you too.

“Well,” You manage after a while, “You’ll just have to win Nationals then. Show her what you’re made of.”

“Yeah,” he nods and pulls back, your sign to let go. “You’re right.”

He wipes his eyes and tries a shaky smile.

“Let’s beat Nekoma to a pulp.”

You roll your eyes. “You and that team. But if it makes you happy, we will.”

- 13/12

“Have you kissed somebody yet?” Suguru asks.

It’s a nice day out and you’re using your huge garden for Volleyball practice.

You don’t like playing it that much, but since Suguru doesn’t have that many male friends to play with, you don’t mind helping him out.

“No, you?”

“No.”

You wait, knowing he’ll eventually explain himself.

“Haizaki said it’s lame if you haven’t kissed anyone yet,” Suguru explains and leaps into the air to spike a ball.

You receive it, albeit a bit clumsily, and the ball tapers off into the shrubbery to your left.

“I told him that I kissed you,” he says instead of moving, and since you don’t really like Volleyball all that much you stay where you are. You have to move enough as it is already.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Suguru’s glaring at the shrubbery now. “Haizaki didn’t believe me at first. I showed him that picture from the festival last year. Now he thinks you’re too cute to be kissing me.”

You snort and drop to the floor, too lazy to keep standing. “Did you tell him how I bit your chin when you tried to put your arm around my shoulder for that picture.”

“No,” now he’s the one snorting. “But I should have.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna kiss?”

You knew that question would come. Still, you don’t really have an answer to it. 

You put your head on your knees and pear up at him, blinking through your eyelashes until he blurs into a shapeless blob.

You don’t really care about kissing. Or boys. There’s no one in your life that’s as close to you as Suguru is. You’re friendly with your classmates, but most of what they want to talk about is boring.

Maybe you don’t want to kiss. Or think about it. But Suguru wants it. So you can at least try, right? 

“Fine,” you stretch out your hands, ask him to pull you up. As soon as you’re standing you press your lips to his.

It’s awkward, and not at all nice. His mouth is slightly open, a little wet with saliva or maybe sweat and his nose bumps almost painfully into yours.

Suguru squeaks as you move away, grabbing your hands to pull you back in. This time your teeth knock against each other and it hurts even more.

“Maybe,” you say, your face pressed against his shoulder when he’s still not letting you go, “Haizaki also never kissed a girl. Maybe it’s totally overrated and disgusting but he just thought you’d believe him.”

“You think?” Suguru asks, clearly downfallen by this failure. He always just wants to be cool.

“Yeah, you just need to be really confident when you tell him that you’re not interested in that. You know? Like, tell the class that Haizaki’s so bad in school because all he thinks about are girls. If you sound like you mean it, everyone will gang up on Haizaki. I do that too and it works all the time.”

His arms, clammy with sweat, loosen their hold on you. His adams apple is bobbing up and down as he steps back.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, voice still a little unsure, “Can we… can we play some more volleyball?”

“If we must,” you groan and his smile flickers back to life, this mischievous teasing thing you’ve grown fond of. 

He pinches your side and moves toward the shrubbery.

“Fifty receives or you don’t get any ice-cream.”

“This is my house, you know!”

- 18/17

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

 Sō’s eyebrows shoot up but you remain calm.

“Of course,” you say, following Mika out of your classroom and down the hallway into an empty classroom. You think this one’s reserved for Music Club.

“I wanted to ask,” she looks nervously to the side before continuing, “if you and Suguru… Are you… dating?”

You allow Silence to settle before you answer. The question hurts you just as much as it might hurt her to ask and if you can make her suffer a little longer, you will.

“No.”

“Oh,” she looks like she expected a different answer, as if she’s not sure where to go from here.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes!” She surges forward, boxing you in. “I… I want to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For breaking up.”

“You’re talking to the wrong person then.”

She huffs, crossing her arms now. “Could you be any less helpful?”

“What do you want me to do?” You snap, losing the small of patience you had.

She slinks back, shrinking into herself. “I just… I kinda think it was a stupid decision. But I don’t know. Do you think Suguru liked me? Like, really liked me? You’re his best friend.”

“I don’t know,” you offer helpfully, “I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what really liking someone means.”

And you’re being honest this time, even if she might not believe you. You only know that Suguru doesn’t really like you like that. 

“Kaya… my friend… she said that maybe you’re into him and that’s why we broke up.”

You straighten, hands balled to fists.

“You broke up with him,” you hiss, “Don’t you dare pin this on him.”

“I know!” Mika howls, clearly exasperated now. “I know! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. That’s why I’m asking you for advice!”

You stiffen, turn toward the window. You can think better when you’re not looking at her, when you can pretend she’s not looking at you.

If someone asks you about this, if someone ever dares to question it, you will deny it with everything you’ve got, but you can’t… you just can’t-

“Just come to our next game,” you tell her, voice tired. “We’re playing against Nekoma for the Qualifiers. He hates that team. You can decide there how you want to go on.” You turn and move for the door. But something just needs to be said, even if you don’t want to speak it into existence.

“And he’s not into me. Suguru, I mean. We’re friends. I just don’t have that many and I’m not used to sharing, that’s all.”

You leave her standing there, don’t turn back to look.

Instead, you go straight to the school nurse, wait until she calls your mum to come and pick you up. 

You feel sick to your stomach and even though the Congee she cooks does little to soothe that kind of hurt, you don’t argue against it.

.

Mika doesn’t ask to speak to you again.

But she’s at your match against Nekoma, you can spot her in the crowd. When she approaches the team after your loss you’re glad that the team moves away in unison.

You don’t want to be there when it happens.

“Maybe you should date someone too,” Sō offers. He’s remarkably calm about their loss. “Kuguri and you are quite similar. You could get along.”

“What?” Kuguri turns to look at you, “I heard my name.”

“You have ears,” you praise him, “Good job.”

He scowls and turns away again. 

You close your eyes, lean your back against the wall. 

“I think I’m going to focus on school work,” you admit, “Leave the Club.”

Takachiho gasps. “Leave the Club? You?”

“What?” You scowl, “Like you care. You’re leaving this year anyway.”

“Yeah, but the Club needs you!” Seguro sidles up to you, “You’re our Manager.”

“Like you can’t fill your water bottles without me,” you snarl. 

“I bet,” Numai mutters darkly, rubbing his chin, “If you’d get your ass on it, you could turn this team around.”

“Is that a dare?” You ask, stepping up to him. “Do you really think you can dare me to do better?”

“Absolutely! I bet you could get rid of these cheap tactics and get us to Nationals without Suguru interfering.”

Hiroo snorts. “You do know, Numai, that our dear Manager is worse than our Captain when it comes to trashtalking, right?”

Your smile grows as Numai’s flickers and fades.

“But,” he starts just as someone clears his throat behind you. 

“Something going on?” Suguru asks.

Looking at him feels like a punch to the throat. You can tell that he’s happy without him having to say it. Mika’s nowhere to be seen but it still feels as if she’s wrapped around him. 

The team lunges forward.

If anyone notices that you’re not taking part in their playful attack, they don’t address it. 

You sneak away undisturbed.

.

Seguro’s named Captain a few days later. 

Mika must have talked to Suguru because he’s not dragging you with them anymore. And while you had thought that there could be nothing worse than being the third wheel on one of their dates, being forgotten is so so so much worse.

School is boring you. Training is torture. You need something to occupy your mind.

- 18/17

“All alone?” Someone settles heavily on the chair next to you.

You don’t have to look up. You’d know that honeysmoothed voice anywhere.

“Not interested, roosterhead.”

Kuroo chuckles softly. “Don’t bite, Snakelet. I just want to make some friendly conversation.”

“Sure, sure. So you’re not here to scope out the competition?” You don’t take your eyes off the game. 

Below your seats the game is reaching it’s Finale. 

“Which one do you want?” Kuroo asks, mouth so close to your ear his breathe washes over your face. You don’t flinch.

“If I had to guess you want the Captain. He’s got an amazing defense. And with your stupid First-Year you’ll need some good defense.”

“Now now, don’t insult Lev like that.” Kuroo stretches, yawns and rests his arm on your shoulder. “He’s even dumber than you make him out to be.”

You can’t help but laugh at that comment. At least he’s self-aware.

“Go on,” you nudge your elbow into his side, “Tell me who I’m picking.”

“You want both Outside Hitters. They are both tall, broad shouldered and have a lot of energy and drive, so you think that would balance out your lethargic teammates. But that’s a risky move. One of them moves like he’s chugged ten cans of Monster before the game and the other feels like this game is the beginning of his murder-spree.”

“I need someone with Stamina,” you agree, “If I can get both of them, I will. If I can get only one of them, I’ll take Mr. Murderspree.”

“Good.” Kuroo grins. “I don’t want our games to get boring.”

You roll your eyes. “They’re not our games, Roosterhead. You’re graduating.”

“Ah,” he pinches your chin. “But I’m still watching, you know. From the shadows.”

You snort. “Sure. If that gives you closure.” You get up. “You can stay here if you want, I need to get going. First one to get a student to sign on your team wins.”

“Loser pays the drinks,” he calls after you.

.

You’re not sure how it happened or when. You don’t even know what to call this. 

Suguru is your best friend, so Kuroo can’t be it. Kuroo is Suguru’s enemy and you’re pretty sure you don’t feel the same way about him, so he can’t be that either.

You’d call him an annoying cousin you’re not related to if these conversations wouldn’t sound so much like flirting nowadays. 

In some weird way you think he understands you, or at least how your brain works. He’s pointed out, often enough to remember, that you remind him of Kenma. 

And you’d argue against it, but he’s never once insulted Suguru in front of you. Talking shit about Kenma feels like disrespecting that truce. Even if you feel a lot smarter than a guy who’s cosplaying a bowl of pudding.

.

“Congratulations,” Kuroo sets your coffee down in front of you before taking a seat, “Both Outside Hitters and the Setter, I’m impressed.”

“He’s more of a glorified Pinch Server, but thank you.” You drag your spoon through the foam in your cup, destroying the artwork the barista created. You’re not in the mood for little foam hearts today. “How’s your new Captain doing?”

“Terrible, but that’s to be expected.”

“Same.” You let your eyes wander through the café only to get caught on something outside. You know that jacket, that haircut, that smi-

“Everything okay?” Kuroo peers down at you. 

“Dropped my earring,” you claim, patting the floor. Outside Suguru kisses Mika goodbye and turns with one last wave of his arm before jogging of.

You get back into your seat, ignore the amused twinkle in Kuroo’s eyes and dare to think that you’ve got out of this alive - until someone appears next to you.

“Oh, hi!” Mika blinks with a smile, “Suguru just left, what a surprise! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Likewise,” you press out. 

“Hi, I’m Kuroo,” Kuroo offers her his hand, “You’re Daishou’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” her smile brightens, “I’m sorry, I don’t know you, are you from Nohebi?”

“No,” he shakes his head, but doesn’t disclose his own school. You don’t flatter yourself with thinking it’s because of your glaring. “Just visiting a friend.”

“Oh,” Mika rests a hand on her chest, “Sorry, I didn’t know- of course, I’ll leave you to it.” She all but flutters away. You want to leave.

Kuroo, however, leans over the table, grinning like the literal Chesire Cat.

“She thinks we’re dating.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” you snarl.

“Oh?” His eyebrows lift to where you can’t see them. “Ohoh?”

“Not like that,” you groan, “Get your head out of the gutter.”

“What? I could date you,” he twirls his spoon between his fingers, “Don’t all girls want an older boyfriend?”

“I think it’s more about wanting a smarter boyfriend,” you point out, “So I doubt we’d fit that scheme.”

“You wound me,” he huffs playfully, “But if you ever want to make someone jealous you can call me up anytime.”

“Thanks, I already hate that idea.”

- 18/17

It’s a shame you cannot skip graduation. 

It’s not even your own but you know Suguru would never let you live it down. 

So you force yourself to smile in every picture, pretending you don’t see the second button of his blazer missing. 

Ever since Kindergarten he’s been one year above you. Ever since Kindergarten, you went out for ice cream afterwards, you paying for his on his graduation and him paying for yours the next year.

This year he asks if he can bring Mika along. You pay for him, he pays for her and when it’s time for you to pick your own ice cream all you want to do is go home and sleep.

But you can’t, so you pick the first flavor you see, not wanting to ruin the taste of your favorite ice cream with this awful memory.

“This is a cute spot,” Mika announces when you’ve found a spot outside under an oak tree, “We should come here for a date. What do you think?” She addresses you all of a sudden, “We could do a double date.”

Suguru chokes on his ice cream.

“Double date?” He asks. “Is there something I don’t know?”

Mika’s eyes widen. “Oh, was it a secret?”

“No,” you grind through your teeth, “It’s not a secret because I don’t have a boyfriend. Or date anyone. I just met someone I know while I was scouting new players.”

“Who?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

“He’s got dark hair,” Mika explains, “Kinda messy like Kuguri-”

“Kuroo?” Suguru bristles, eyes turning wide. “You went out with Kuroo?”

Something turns to ice inside you.

“Yes,” you say, “I went out with him. Who cares?”

“He’s-”

“The Ex-Captain of a team that didn’t win Nationals. Wow. How outstanding.”

“My arch-enemy!” Suguru thunders, “And you know that.”

“Please,” you huff, “He barely knows you exist.”

“Take that back!”

“No.” 

“I didn’t think-” Mika starts but you shut her up with a glare. 

“I don’t butt into your relationship,” you clarify, “So you don’t get to butt into mine.” 

“You’re dating-?” Suguru gasps for air, “Kuroo?”

“Does it matter? No. I was here to celebrate your graduation not to discuss my lovelife.”

“If you’re dating Kuroo we can no longer be friends,” Suguru bites out and you nod, get up and throw your ice cream in the trash.

“Fine. If that’s how you want it, I’ll accept. Goodbye.”

You march away, don’t look back. You don’t want Suguru to see that your eyes start to water as the ice inside you slowly melts.

.

You: If your house gets egged this week, Suguru thinks we’re dating.

Roosterhead: Oh? Buy me Dinner first.

You: I’m not dating you.

Roosterhead: I’m heartbroken. You good though? 

You: I will be after we demolish Nekoma.

Roosterhead: Looking forward to you trying.

- 19/18

Seguro and Yamamoto are shaking hands but all you care about are the glowing eyes of their setter who rest on you, unblinking.

You’ve lost this time, but you’re not giving up. It’s only a Training Match after all and as soon as you’ve figured out how to balance out your team, you’ll be fine.

Still, it sucks that you’ve lost to Kenma. Of all people.

“Hey,” Sō nudges you with his elbow, nodding toward the door. “We’ve got a visitor.”

He didn’t need to tell you. You spotted Suguru half an hour ago but decided to ignore him.

The last two months have been filled with somewhat strained communication, mostly held up by Mika who’s trying her best to mend a friendship you no longer believe in.

He’s chosen Mika over you. You’ll be able to live with that, someday. 

“Hey,” someone else speaks up from your other side. You turn to Kenma, who’s looking the other way.

“Yeah?”

“Kuroo mentioned something… about you…”

“So?”

He huffs. “I think I have an idea you’d be interested in.”

You’ll never admit that you only agree to buy into Bouncing Ball Corp because Suguru is watching you, but in all honesty, you’d probably agree to selling fridges in the arctic if it buys you a few more minutes away from him.

It doesn’t matter in the end. He stays until everyone else has left, hands buried in his pockets, nodding at the players that know him, rolling his eyes at those who don’t.

“What’s going on?” You ask when you’ve run out of reasons to avoid him, the gym empty besides the two of you.

“Can’t I come see my best friend?”

“I don’t know, are they in the room with us?”

He huffs. 

“I mean you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

You turn away, take a few steps just to put space where there used to be none.

Suguru calls out your name. There’s something in his voice, a softer, more vulnerable tone, that makes you turn around. His shoulders are down and he’s staring at the ground and you know, just by looking at him, that he lost. 

You don’t know if it’s a game or a thing, a person or an idea, but there’s something to it, the fact that he comes to you for comfort, that soothes some of the hurt.

“What did you do now, you fool?” You ask and maybe there’s something in your voice too, because he takes a few steps and pulls you in, rests his head against your shoulder where no one can see if he cries or not.

“Coach kicked me off the starting Line-Up,” he admits, “I’m just a pinch server.”

“So?” You ask, “You were a Pinch Server when you started at Nohebi. Those things take time.”

“Yeah,” he croaks, “But I also failed my first exam.”

“Mhm,” you hum, “Math?”

“Yeah.”

“What else?”

He huffs. “Who says-”

“What else, Suguru?”

“I can’t get a job. Like, I’ve tried but the only shops that might take me are the fast food joints around College and the hours there are terrible. And I need to train.”

You sigh. He hasn’t changed at all.

“Have you talked to Mika about it?” You ask and you know your voice sounds a little condescending right now, but he deserves it, right? 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want her to know,” he huffs, tensing as you try to push him away. “Please?”

“I’m not your manager any longer,” you point out. “You’re old enough to get yourself out of the mess you got yourself into. I’m not here to-”

“Please,” he repeats, but there’s a different tone to it now, “This is not why I came, okay? I just… you always know- Ugh, you just understand me, okay? I need to talk to someone who understands. Please?”

“Fine,” you let your bag slip from your shoulder, “You carry my bag and I’ll listen.”

And it’s a tale as old as time, you think, as you walk next to him, almost knocking your hip into his from. 

Suguru’s not stupid. He just gets too much in his head about how things should be like until he can no longer see the big picture. And as much as he enjoys dishing out, he cannot take a hit for the life of him.

“So?” You ask when you reach the cross roads that separate your houses, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I- I wanted to say… If you want to date Kuroo, that’s fine.”

You balk. “What?”

“Yeah,” he grimaces, “I mean, I don’t like him, but if you think he’s decent enough…”

“I’m not dating him.”

“Kenma then?”

“Just shut up, okay?” You snarl. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not- I don’t care- You know, let’s just say you won’t mind and forget about this, okay?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I want to talk about this. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry I neglected you. You’re doing a good job with the team, better than I did when I was Captain last year. And Mika… she’s sorry too. This is my idea, coming here and talking to you, but I know she feels bad too. She’s just… I think she got a little excited at the idea of us going on double dates. But it wasn’t right putting it out like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat, too stubborn to give in, “But I appreciate it. What are you going to do now?”

“Oh, study for math, keep looking for jobs,” he huffs, dragging his hands through his hair. 

“I meant today,” you snort and he blushes awkwardly. 

“Then say it like that, idiot. You wanna play some volleyball? I have the time.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But I could use some math practice.”

- 19/18

It’s weird, still. 

Suguru makes an effort to come over once a week. It helps that you can give him pointers in his math studies, but it’s not the way it was before.

He’s too touchy for a guy with a girlfriend. And though you’ve got your heart on a tight leash you can tell it’s much too easy to get lost in this until something reminds you of the truth.

So you do what everyone would do in your situation.

You ask Kuguri out. 

It goes about as well as one would expect. 

Sure, you could ask Kuroo. You’re pretty sure he’d do it, but you don’t want to ruin a perfectly fine friendship - if you could call it that.

Soon matches and exams turn up back to back and all you see of Suguru are the short messages he sends whenever he remembers.

He doesn’t forget your graduation, but ice cream just doesn’t taste the same way it used to.

You wish you could have stopped this ritual when it was still fun.

- 20/19

If someone would ask you for the name of your best friend, you’re no longer sure what you’d answer.

There’s Suguru, who you rarely talk to, yet know better than yourself most days.

There’s Sō, who’s taking the same Classes as you, who you’ve shared quite a few wins and failures with since attending Nohebi. 

And then there’s Kuroo, who’s an absolute pain in the ass, but at least he’s reliable.

“I want to get paid for this,” you tell him when you hand over the CD. “I spent a while analyzing all that footage.”

“Ah, you love doing it,” Kuroo teases, moving to ruffle your hair, “Besides you always bet on Bokuto. I’m just helping you get your money through that.”

“I do not,” you grind through your teeth. You hate him sometimes.

“Do to,” he jokes, turning when something catches your attention. “The Barista has the hots for you.”

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

“Absolutely.” Kuroo gestures with his hands before grinning. “See? He wants your number.”

“What?” You squeak, turning to look for yourself. The guy isn’t bad-looking at all. Maybe a bit less athletic than you’re used to. And he’s waving at you, gesturing in a way that can really only mean one thing.

“Well, I’m not giving it to him.”

“Why not?” Kuroo leans back, eyes twinkling. “Would you rather go out with me? Oh, Snakelet, I’m honored.”

“Fine,” you bite out, “I’ll get his.”

Kuroo’s still grinning when you come back, leaning over the table to look at your phone.

“Ah, so that’s his name. Now, I’m waiting. Text him.”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t believe you otherwise.”

“You’re sick in the head.”

“Mhm, you too. Now chop chop, we don’t have all day.”

If you say that your first relationship only exists because of Kuroo, you mean it.

.

Moriwaka isn’t all that bad. He might just be exactly what you need.

He studies Psychology, works part-time as a Barista, and collects Star Trek memorabilia, which means you have literally nothing in common and so much more to talk about.

And it’s nice, how he never once asks about Suguru - they’ve only met briefly - or Volleyball - he doesn’t like Sports - or your parents - he’s not into Finance.

He doesn’t push you either.

You don’t like being touched? That’s fine with him, he’s happy sidling up to you on the way to the Cinema - he bought two tickets for the newest Star Trek movie. 

All in all, it feels a little more like having a new best friend, just that Moriwaka likes to tell you how good you’re looking every single day.

- 20/19

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” you say, getting up from the Couch. 

“I’m pausing the movie,” Moriwaka announces, “This is the best part.”

You’d probably disagree with him if you cared enough, but it’s fine. Star Trek is important to him and he never once complains when you make him rewatch a Volleyball Game.

The doorbell rings just as you close the door behind you.

“That’s probably the Pizza,” he announces. You yawn.

The window doesn’t close properly but you don’t care, no one can see you pee anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Moriwaka’s voice floats up.

“I’m looking for someone.” You freeze, the voice too familiar. What’s Suguru doing here?

He says your name.

“Ah, she’s not here.” You can hear Moriwaka, your heart thumping awkwardly in your chest. Why is Suguru looking for you if he could just call you?

“No, no, I’m sure she’s here.”

“So what? She doesn’t want to see you.”

You fumble the door lock trying to get out. What’s Moriwaka doing?

It doesn’t take long to get out of the apartment and down the stairs, but it feels like half an eternity.

The door is open and you can hear Moriwaka before you can see him.

“I’ve seen your messages,” he announces, voice weirdly cold, “You only call to unload your baggage on her. You’re a pathetic, wet rag of a man.”

“And you’re any better?” Suguru snaps back, “You have no idea what’s between me and-”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Moriwaka announces just as you slide out the door behind him.

Suguru’s face turns perfectly blank at your sight, but Moriwaka isn’t lucky enough to get the hint.

“I’m not allowing you to talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision,” you tell him coolly. 

He turns, surprise evident on his face. But no guilt. 

“Listen, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

He scoffs. “What? So you’re just going to let him drag you down again? He probably just lost another game. Or his girlfriend ran off or whatever.”

Suguru flinches. The breakup happened a few months ago, but he’s always been bad at taking hits. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell Moriwaka snidely, “He’s my best friend. You don’t have any say in that.”

“You’re just in love with him,” he spits out, “Right? That’s why you’re pushing me away all the time. You don’t really want to date me, you’re just passing time with me hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and be interested in you.”

Suguru steps forward, fists balled but you’re a little faster, always more inclined to use your tongue instead of your fists.

“Go,” you tell him, your calm facade your biggest weapon, “Your movie’s waiting. I’m sure Captain Whatever has some inspirational quotes for you to flirt with next time.”

Moriwaka huffs, but he’s not dumb enough to take the bait. Or maybe he doesn’t care enough either.

“Go, be unhappy if that’s what you want.” He slams the door shut behind him.

-

The night is warm, the air around you humid and heavy.

Suguru’s looking up at a nearby street lamp, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“You were looking for me?” You ask, not ready to deal with the can of worms Moriwaka just opened.

“Yeah, I…” He clears his throat. “I got… I got a deal. For the Yotsuya Motor Spirits. I know it’s only Division 2 but they’ll let me finish College while I play.”

“Oh, Congratulations,” you step forward, not really sure what you want to do, just knowing that you want to be closer.

“Thanks,” he clears his throat again, “I was… I was talking to my parents about it and when they hung up all I could think about was that I wanted to tell you. We haven’t… we haven’t talked in a while, right?”

“Yeah.” You want to ask him who’s fault that is, but really, isn’t it your fault too? After all you were the one who fell in love in the first place.

“How’d you know I was here?” You ask when he’s fighting for words, tongue slipping out between his lips as he thinks. It’s a habit he’s had since you’ve known him and altough you’ve tried to hate it, it just endears him even more to you.

“Ah,” He drags a hand through the hair at the back of his head, “I was at your place but you weren’t there. And I figured you might be out with friends, but Sō said you’re out with your boyf- some guy but he doesn’t know where that is.”

“So?” You did not miss the way he stumbled over the term boyfriend. Your heart’s beating too fast to be healthy, but there’s a smug grin on Suguru’s face now, a look that tells you this story is going into a different direction now.

“You’ve been posting pictures of your favorite drink lately and there’s only one shop in Tokyo who makes it exactly the way you like it, so I thought I’d try over here. Remembered the dude’s name too, can you believe it?”

You laugh. He’s unbelievable, so proud of himself and his most basic deduction skills.

“You did great,” you tell him, “You wanna talk a walk? I need a bathroom and I’m not going back up there.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” he ushers you along, “There’s a 7-Eleven down the street.”

-

And it feels like yesterday, hips almost knocking into each other, walking down the street.

It feels like you’re six years old again and Suguru’s walking you home from school, his hand clutching yours because even though he’s older, he’s a bit more scared of the world.

It feels like you’re thirteen, only beginning to understand that some boys are gross and some boys are cute and why your heart flutters softly when Suguru’s tongue peaks out whenever he’s lost in thought. 

It feels like you’re seventeen, heart heavy yet ready to leap, calculating all the ways a confession could go wrong - and the one way it could go right - only to miss your chance.

“He’s right, you know,” Suguru points out in the too bright lights of the store when you come back from the bathroom. 

He’s staring at the cut up fruits in the fridge and maybe he’s thinking what to get for a late night smoothie, but maybe he’s thinking the same thing you’re thinking about.

How all 7-Eleven’s are kinda the same and if they are, is this a place out of time? A place you can stay in without getting older, without the consequence of change?

“I really am a pathetic,wet rag of a man.”

“Hmm,” you make, stepping so close to him your shoulder brushes his. If you’d be a little braver, you’d take his hand. 

If you could have a chance to get stuck in time, you’d take it if it meant being with him, hands not quite touching, bare faces reflected in the clear doors of an oversized fridge.

“I swear I’m not doing this because I’m lonely,” there’s a wetness to his voice that your ears are used to, grown fond of, even. The back of his pointer finger touches the back of your hand and his skin is warm and a shiver races down your back.

“And I should hate myself for breaking up what you had with that guy, but-”

You want to turn, look directly at him instead of his reflection in the glass, but you’re frozen in place, heart thundering so loud he must be able to hear it. 

“I’ve had a crush on you since… since way before I asked to practice kissing. You’re the coolest person I’ve ever known, and I… I’m so tired of pretending that someone else can compare. I’m sorry.” He whispers the last words, hiccups softly when your hand grabs his, squeezes as tight as you can.

You’re going to cry any second, you know, but you don’t want to, even if it’s him you’re with. 

You don’t want any tears to blurr your sight when you can look at him, see him, face flushed and eyes watery, all 179,5cm of pathetic, wet rag of a man.

“Do you want to play family?” You ask, voice a little rough, eyes a little watery too. “We can even get a dog.”

He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes.

But when he leans in and kisses you, nose softly bumping yours and chuckles ringing through the air, you have to disagree with your younger self.

Kissing isn’t overrated at all. If anything, it’s probably underrated.

- 21/20

“Oh no, we have to play against you guys?” Bokuto’s voice’s too loud to ignore even in the bustle of a packed stadion.

Suguru bristles next to you but relaxes a little when your elbow digs into his side.

“Like they’re going to give you any problems,” Kuroo’s voice is smooth and sticky, clinging to your ears like caramel to the teeth. “Right?”

“Kuroo,” Suguru drawls, “You’re here too?”

“Well of course,” his grin reminds you of the famed Chesire Cat and your arm slings around Suguru’s waist, pulling him in. 

He stumbles a bit, turning to look at you. Surprise, joy and then deep adoration wash over his face in a way you’ll never grow tired off. Suguru’s hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans and you know, would there be less people around, he’d be kissing you too.

“Aww, cute,” Kuroo sings, “You didn’t hear anything I just said.”

“Should we?” You ask, “If I want to hear an asshole talk I can just fart.”

Suguru snickers even as Bokuto howls in the background, clearly excited to have a new insult to try on someone else.

But Kuroo wouldn’t be Kuroo if you could best him with one lame insult.

“Funny,” he smiles, “You’re managing today too?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just here for Suguru.”

“And we’re going to win,” Suguru declares, “MSBY has no chance against the Yotsuya Motor Spirits.”

He says it with conviction, but you know the chances of him winning are low. MSBY have been rising to the top ever since they drafted Miya Atsumu right out of highschool. Now they’ve got Bokuto too. If they’d gotten Sakusa Kiyoomi too like they’d been planning for months, you’d bought the consolation cake already but at least he’s insistent on finishing College before he starts playing professionally. 

It doesn’t matter, though. 

You’re not with Suguru because he’s got the best chance at winning the game and he knows it. And no matter the outcome of this game, there��s already a small velvet box at home that he thinks you don’t know about.

Like he could keep any secrets from you.

- 27/26

“That’s all,” you cut off your assistant’s questioning, “Everything else has to wait until tomorrow.”

“I understand. Have a good evening.”

“You too.” You cut the call and park the car, thinking for the umpteenth time that you need to start looking into the possibility of hiring a driver. Some of these calls get too intense to be held at the wheel of a vehicle.

There’s a Volleyball on the front lawn and a chewed-up dog toy. You drag your keycard through the scanner and stifle a yawn as the door opens.

“I’m home,” you call out over the pitter-patter of feet.

There’s Princess, your husky-mix and Kuroo, the little black Frenchie that his namesake gifted you at your wedding. 

“Kitchen!” You hear a voice over the Princess howling. She’s always so excited to have you back home.

“Hey,” you can’t help smiling as you step into the kitchen, both dogs hot on your heels. Suguru’s standing at the stove, Hime tied to his front. Only a tuft of her dark hair is peaking out and you lean in to kiss him first and then the top of her head. 

“How was it?” He asks, “Tired?”

“Extremely so, but everything’s going well. Even Dad is impressed. How was your day?”

“Mh, no, you’ve got to tell first,” he insists, pulling you into his side, “Because I wanna hear your voice a bit more before I tell you about the absolutely disgusting diaper change I had to go through today.”

You laugh. “Okay, so you remember Mamushi, our Client?”

“Mamushi with the thick eyebrows or Mamushi who slurps every beverage?”

“Slurper Mamushi.”

“Okay, I’m following.”

“So, this morning I got an email from him where he claims that we’re charging him too much. He gave us two options: Reduce the cost or dismiss the contract altogether.”

“Oh, that’s spicy. What did you do?”

“Well, remember how I had to cut our lunch call short? I met up with him for coffee right after and got down to business and you won’t believe it: he settled on a different contract that actually costs him more but he’s happy with it. Apparently he doesn’t like how it’s done nowadays and the old times were far better.”

“Amazing,” Suguru drops a kiss on your temple, “I would love to see the face of this man when he realizes how stupid he is. You’re a genius.”

You giggle.

“How was your day, then? Apart from the diaper catastrophe?”

“Well, I regret to inform you that Hime already has an admirer. Koji’s head over heels for her. I had to threaten him with bodily harm to get her back.”

“Oh, is that your libero?” You think, “The one with the Iro?”

“Yep, he died it pink last week.”

“Well, pink suggests he’s sensible. If Hime likes him too-”

“Don’t say that!” Suguru’s hands come down to cover Hime’s ears, “My princess isn’t going to date anyone until she’s at least thirty.”

“Mhm,” you lift your eyebrows, “And how are you going to explain to her that we had her way before we turned thirty?”

A blush works its way up his cheeks and you lean forward to sink your teeth into the flushed skin only to press your lips onto it right after.

“Love you,” you tell him, voice a bit raspy with emotion.

Sometimes, in moments like this, you can barely believe that this is how your life played out.

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain @daisy-room @missalienqueen @marti-mp4 @itsmippe @jus-jazzy @wavesofchaos @moonlit-mizukage

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[farfromstrange]

Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other. 

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio. 

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you. 

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar. 

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned. 

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you. 

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown. 

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context. 

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again. 

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth. 

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off. 

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior. 

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him. 

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable. 

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to. 

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says. 

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more. 

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last. 

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur. 

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing. 

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore. 

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention. 

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours. 

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.” 

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile. 

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.���

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?” 

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him. 

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone. 

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high. 

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part seventeen

688 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen

Eddie wouldn’t go as far as to say that he needs the stupid notes to want to go to school.

But. 

He does kind of miss them. 

They were the highlights of those eight days before he knew where they were coming from. It gave him something to look forward to. Aside from Hellfire - which only officially meets once a week on Friday - there’s not much for him at school. 

Admittedly, Eddie has read the notes a couple of times since they’ve stopped appearing. Right now is one of those times - he needs a boost to actually make it to class instead of walking right out the front door to his van and getting out of this hellhole. 

When the notes stopped, Eddie was confused. Like, sure, he hadn’t been all that subtle in showing that he knows who H is, but it’s not like Tommy’s made it known that he knows that Eddie knows - besides not leaving notes anymore.

After lunch, he’s standing with his head practically shoved in his locker as he flips through them. As he’s carefully reading through the one he received on his birthday, it hits him. 

The ring. The fucking ring. 

It says it right there. 

if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off

How could he be so dense? Eddie rummages through the war-zone that is his locker. Honestly, it takes far longer than it should for him to emerge with the piece of jewelry. 

He isn’t sure if he wants the notes to continue. Well, he does, but he doesn’t want to lead Hagan on, no matter how much of an asshole he is. He kind of wishes he never found out about it. Curse Gareth for being considerate enough to let him know that known asshole Tommy Hagan slipped something in his locker. 

Eddie keeps the ring safely in his pocket while he’s anywhere that the boy could possibly catch sight of the thing (the halls, lunchroom, bathroom, etc.). In class, though, he can’t help but take it out. 

It really is beautiful - something he would’ve gotten for himself if saw it and had the money. 

In art, Buckley moves from the back of the room to their table. She’s partnered with Carol for the project, but the change in seating still catches Eddie as strange - they’re not even working on the portraits today, but whatever.  

Speaking of project partners, Steve’s been shifting in his heat quite a lot for the last couple of minutes. Eddie tries to ignore it, he does - God knows he’s never sitting still - but it really is hard to focus. 

Eddie turns him. “You good, man?” he whispers, not wanting to interrupt whatever the teacher is saying. Steve jumps in his seat and Eddie flinches back in surprise. “Woah, easy.” 

Steve doesn’t make eye contact, which is odd because usually he’s really…insistent on it. His gaze is instead focused somewhere on the table. “I’m- I’m okay, Munson,” he says, barely audible.

Eddie scrutinizes him a moment longer before shrugging it off. If he wants to keep it to himself then Eddie is in no position to question him. 

The last thing he ever expected - aside from receiving freaking love notes from Tommy Hagen of all people - was being (even somewhat) on friendly terms with Steve Harrington. He isn’t what Eddie had expected at all, though. 

Eddie’s always preferred him to his best friend, but that’s not really saying much. Eddie actually likes Steve. Almost too much. 

No, it’s definitely too much. 

The guy would never be as sweet to him - because that’s what he is, sweet - if he knew the thoughts running through Eddie’s whenever he is around.

Like, Eddie didn’t die or anything when Steve confiscated his pencil and gave him the holy grail but it was a near thing. 

When the bell sounds through the room, Eddie slips the ring back in his pocket and leaves.

At the end of the next period, he tries not to overthink it as he puts the ring on and keeps it there for the rest of the day.

eighteen

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[snakes-writing-corner]

Recently been obsessed with Undertale Yellow, and I am very much in love with a certain star cowboy. Long story short I need to get this idea out of my head before I forget.

Hear me out.

North Star x Bandit Reader

————————

You heard about this little town growing in popularity in the Wild East. A little place in the Dunes where monsters can get a taste of the surface, with some interesting characters to make the area more appealing.

The main attraction, of course, being “The Feisty Five” as they call themselves. Just a group of human-interested friends wanting to have a little fun, and bring hope to the other monsters trapped in this hellhole.

The Feisty Five are indeed… an interesting group. Not particularly threatening, but a good group to hang around with if you’re looking to have some fun. Most you’d have to look out for is Mooch, who ironically, has a nasty stealing habit.

Oh but what caught your eye the most? The self-proclaimed sheriff of the Wild East.

“North Star” is the name he goes by, and boy is he quite the charmer!

Initially you came by the Wild East looking for a bit of excitement. A place where you could have a bit of fun and mess with the residents before moving along to the next unfortunate destination.

Oh but this? This was a lot more fun than you ever thought it would be!

The Feisty Five despite being the “protectors” of this town were, quite frankly, terrible at the protecting part. Just a gaggle of monsters living out some sort of human-based fantasy.

Unfortunately for them, you had a streak of causing trouble wherever you went, and to this day you’d never been caught for it.

Living in the underground got… boring after a while. Everyone living in a zombie-like state of hopelessness and despair was a bit too… depressing for your taste.

Call it morally wrong, but you wanted monsters to feel, well, anything! So you resorted to becoming a… well North Star would call it a “bandit” if he knew.

During what monsters considered night-time, you’d don on your trusty cloak and mask and cause a bit of mischief. Breaking and entering, stealing, blowing things up, occasionally scaring any poor monster who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? All were fair game to you!

You weren’t a completely terrible monster however! Any damages caused would end with the owner of the property mysteriously ending up with the gold to fix it, and stolen items would always be returned by the next night. It was simply just to stir up a bit of chaos and have some fun! That and it got monsters feeling something other than hopelessness!

Which leads us to the situation at hand.

You started living in the Wild East for a little while. A few months at least, getting time to know the locals so when the chaos ensued… well you wouldn’t necessarily get blamed if the town trusted you right?

In that time you grew a bond with the Feisty Five. Honestly who wouldn’t! They all had their quirks that made them fun to be around!

Ed despite being the muscle of the group had a heart of gold, and was very fun to mess around with. You still remember his face when you snuck that little fizzy tablet into his drink, and it exploded all over his face. His reaction was priceless!

Moray was always a chill monster to be around. You enjoyed how you two seemed to be able to talk about anything, and admired their skills with a sword. Truthfully, you had a bit too much respect for them to pull a prank… yet.

Ace was a mysterious fellow, the most quiet out of the four for sure. You two never talked much, but you quite enjoyed the card game he used to offer you. Keyword on “used to”, he stopped doing that after you won one too many times. You got revenge about a month after that with an unfortunate loose floorboard in the saloon.

Mooch was a lot like you actually, mischievous and a pretty good thief at that! You quite like her and can’t wait for the day you can steal all the gold she’s taken from you back. Friendly competition and all that, but stealing it now would blow your cover so you wait. In the meantime some harmless pranks from time to time that can’t be traced back to you will do.

Oh and now for your favorite member of this rag-tag gang, the sheriff himself! North Star was definitely a fun guy to be around! Matched your dramatic flair almost too well honestly! His hero act was always one you enjoyed feeding into, especially considering what you had planned.

Oh right! That little plan of yours is exactly why you’ve stuck around the Wild East for so long!

You see, North Star wanted to play the dashing hero, but you can’t be a hero without a worthy adversary to face can you?

Sure the town had Vengeful Virgil, but honestly? He’s not a threat at all! There’s no stakes or genuine mystery with him! And quite frankly you’ve started to hate the staged performances.

No twists or turns? No drama or unplanned hang-ups? No no no! That won’t do for your new favorite group of monsters! I mean you’re hiding right under their gazes in plain sight! A well trained “bandit” who’s actually willing to cause actual chaos around here!

Which led to where you’re currently stationed. Mask and cloak obscuring your true identity within the night, you press a simple little button.

*BOOM*

You smirked from your position on top of the saloon. You see earlier you had planted some little explosives around town. Not in any spots that would hurt someone, but enough to give everyone in town a scare.

You chuckled as you heard screaming and panic envelop the town. Monsters like many times before running around terrified like mice. It was always fun to watch!

A shout rang out above the others however.

“Alright settle down everyone!”

Ah there he was… North Star.

You climbed down the roof of the saloon as you quietly hid behind it and watched.

The Feisty Four we’re running around under North Star’s orders, checking to see if any damage or harm had been done, while North Star tried to calm down the increasing crowd of monsters in a panic.

You watched a little longer.

Then North Star looked up at you.

Oh this was going to be fun.

“Stop where you are!” North Star shouted.

You smiled under the mask and made a run for it, the sheriff hot on your heels trying to get you to stop.

Oh but sheriff, the chase is half the fun no?

You continued to run, but quickly dug your heels to the ground and stopped to face your pursuer.

North Star managed to stop fairly quickly in return, and you two were suddenly at the end of a cliff in a stare down.

The sheriff lifted his gun and took aim.

You tilted your head in return, purposefully deepening your voice like you’ve done so many times before.

“Aw did the sheriff not like my welcoming gift?”

North Star glared. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you made a mistake coming into this town,”

“Bandit.” He spat with venom in his voice.

You chuckled, as you took a step closer.

“Oh but North Star,”

The sheriff’s gaze grew more sharp the more steps you took forward, you stopped mere inches away from him and the barrel of his gun.

“I don’t think I did.”

North Star fired.

No bullet came out of the barrel, a result of the tampering you did earlier to prepare for this moment.

You took the opportunity to rush forward and grab the taller monster by his bandana, and seize the wrist holding the gun in his mere moments of shock.

You stood there locked in place for a few seconds. Tilting your head to the side, you watched as the sheriff seemed to be caught between emotions of his facade and what lay underneath. After all, you can always break an actor if you try hard enough.

You chuckled and broke the silence between the two of you.

“What-” North Star started, but you cut him off.

“Tell me sheriff,” You tighten your grip on his wrist. “What do you think I want hm?”

You leaned closer towards his face.

“Money? Recognition? To simply hurt others?”

North Star stiffened.

“No.” You loosened the grip on his wrist.

“You and I both are not so different ya know?” You continued. “We’re both acting to bring some life into this hell of a place.”

You let go of him completely and take a few steps back.

“We just do it for our own personal reasons right?”

North Star glared you down.

“I’m nothing like you.” He spat.

You shrugged in response.

“Maybe not, sheriff.”

You back closer to the edge of the cliff.

“But…”

You stop right at the edge as North Star aims his gun at you yet again.

“You’ve always wanted to play hero right?” You ask.

North Star continues to glare you down. “I don’t want to hear it, bandit.”

“This is your last warning.” He whips out his lasso in his free hand. “Surrender now.”

You smirk, purposefully ignoring him.

“Well sheriff. You have your villain.”

You step off of the cliff as you see the lasso at the edge of your vision.

————————

Where?

Starlo ran over to the cliff-edge, kneeling down to look over the edge.

Where did they?

He frantically looked for the bandit, but they were gone without a trance.

Starlo huffed in annoyance, too many thoughts running through his head.

Would they actually kill someone?

Why was this monster so intent on this?

He never wanted this! This was just supposed to be for fun! He didn’t want to endanger anyone!

Starlo started internally panicking. The thought of- of this monster hurting anyone here. Would they do it? They wouldn’t right? They talked about acting so surely they wouldn’t-

The sound of paper caught his attention.

He looked down on saw a piece of paper tucked neatly into his bandana.

When did they have time to put that there?

With trembling hands he opened it.

“Howdy North Star,

Glad we finally got to meet face to face. I’ve been dying to see your reaction to when I finally make a move.

But don’t worry, I won’t hurt anyone. At least not yet.

You see I’m a bit of an actor myself, and any good actor should know you can’t have a hero without a proper villain.

So I’ll give you a warning. A heads up if you will.

I won’t hurt anyone in any truly damaging way. Unless things get boring that is, but I highly doubt that’ll happen with how entertaining you and your crew are.

I think this town needs a bit of chaos. And lucky me that you just so happened to imply you wanted a challenge when I showed up!

So tell you what. Let’s have some fun with a little game of cat and mouse. I’ll cause some trouble and you can play the charming hero as always. Besides I’m sure even you’ve grown tired of the same boring routine every day.

See if you can be the first to actually catch me sheriff. I’ll be waiting to see if you can pull it off. :)

-With hope for future fun encounters, Anarchy”

Starlo stared at the letter for much longer than he should have.

Well…

If this bandit wanted to mess around with his town?

They’ll have sure as hell a tough time doing so from now on.

[the-fluff-piece]

Catching Smoke

A long Smoker romance fanfic where he gets to be the strong, grumpy, hot marine we know and love, falling for his capable sexy secretary(you!) that keeps him functional and saves his ass about as many times as he saves yours.

It's a secret enemies to lovers slowburn longfic that I will try to update every Sunday. Comment below to be tagged with every update!

Part 1 - where you land in the marine base g-5 and meet Smoker for the first time!

The last thing you saw was a giant paw, then you flew in this strange way for three days - and things went black.

When you woke up again, you were in some kind of hospital, but all the other beds were empty. Your head was aching and spinning, but you had to get up, get back to your friends, help them against the marines. You needed to get back to sabaody.

You limbed to the only door you could see and opened it, daylight blinded your sensitive eyes and sent a bolt of pain through your head. Blinking, you tried to get some orientation - and saw marines, lots of them. They ignored you for the most part, only a few especially ragged looking specimen wandered towards you with lopsided grins.

"Sleeping beauty woke up! Hey dove, wanna have a good time with me?" A mean looking soldier said in the grimiest voice imaginable. He had long, brown hair and wore his uniform a bit more lose than the others. He would have been handsome if not for the disgusting expression on his face.

"Fuck off!" Was your only comment as you moved, painfully slowly, in the opposite direction, down a corridor. Even you could handle a few of those conscripted losers. You were half sure. Were was your weapon?

"What was that?" the soldier grunted behind you.

"Kitten has claws" commented another one.

"We will show you what it means to-" the first one added, but was cut short by a female voice.

"Ah, there you are miss! Sorry, may I pass?" A woman with a sword approached. Her black hair was cut short. She squinted and studied your face - you didn't know her. You hoped she didn't recognize you - you may not have a wanted poster, yet, but after being involved in that kind of shit show? You couldn't be sure anymore. She was holding up a stack of papers and seemed to check your face against a picture- fuck!

Panicking, you tried to make out a way to escape before she would throw you into the hellhole named imple down. Would your friends save you? Were they even alive?

"You're an applicant for the position of secretary?" She finally asked, holding up the paper so you could see the picture. It looked nothing like you.

"Uh, sure" you answered.

"Excellent! I am captain Tashigi. Please follow me!" She turned and briskly walked away.

It looked like she was your ticket out of this situation, so you trotted off behind her - shooting the asshole soldiers a deadly glare. You hoped she would lead you around the base and that her obvious bad eyesight would give you plenty of opportunities to escape.

The base was enormous. A labyrinth of hallways, doors and stairways.

Tashigi, you knew that name from your crew mates. She was always partnered with the white hunter, Smoker. Fuck. That one was mean. A logia user that was set on capturing the strawhats. You had to get away before he saw you, he was a not called a hunter for nothing. There was no chance you could escape him.

You tried to assess your position - you were in a marine base, the blind swordswoman thought you were applying for a secretary position. Who ever you would be talking to - they would get you out somehow after the interview was over. Maybe you would have to be shipped to a civilian harbour, from where you could plot your return to sabaody. Your head was killing you, but you didn't have to give them a good performance. Surely this was just with some captain or low ranking service personnel.

Tashigi stopped at a door and knocked. A deep, growling voice answered: "come in".

Tashigi opened the door and you followed - and it took all your willpower not to curse loudly.

In a chair behind a huge wooden desk sat a man with white hair and two cigars in the corner of his mouth - Smoker. His jackett was open and he didn't wear anything underneath, his hands were in dark gloves and folded on top of the desk. He looked annoyed and angry. And, in a scary kind of way, really handsome. His broad build and white hair were unusual, but interesting. Next to him, your crewmates looked like scrawny boys.

You froze and swallowed.

"Commander Smoker, this is another applicant for the position of your secretary!" she informed him, saluting.

"Ah, I thought we saw every one of them! Of course, please, sit!" His demeanor changed somewhat, he now seemed nervous. His eyes widened and he bend a bit, like he wanted to make his enormous body a bit smaller.

You sat down on a ragged chair in front of the desk. Smoker sat down opposite you and Tashigi next to you. Trapped. Fuck.

Gathering all your strenght and acting ability, you managed to plaster a broad smile onto your face and said with the softest, most professional voice you could manage "pleased to meet you, sir!"

He nodded.

"Welcome miss...?" his voice trailed off as he was shifting through the pile of papers on his desk.

"Y/n" you answered. You were now sure that he didn't know your face. It was unlikely he knew your name. He nodded again. The angry expression returned to his face, like it was the default state his face took, whenever there was no other emotion to transport.

He continued digging around the absolute chaos covering his desk, eventually giving up with a sigh.

"I don't have time to coddle you, Miss, so I'll cut to the chase. Can you help me and captain Tashigi with this" he gestured towards the mess of paper on his desk like it was an unsolvable problem, "so that we can do our jobs?"

You were so perplexed - you nodded out of habit. And fear. All your head was filled with were the stories of your crewmates parading through your head. He beat them, all.of them. He beat Luffy. He was smoke. Couldn't be touched.

"Great. You're hired. That's all." He hit the top of the desk with his hands and almost broke it in the process, ripping you out of your panicked thoughts.

"WHAT?" you screeched, shocked.

"Miss?" he seemed confused.

You coughed and tried to calm yourself, you needed to come up with something.

"Oh I am not sure. I'll think about it and call you in a week or so. When is the next ship away from here...?"

Smoker and Tashigi looked at each other.

"Next ship off this base for civilians is in three days. Please Miss..." he seemed a bit overwhelmed, going with his fingers through his white hair "just try it out, Miss. I promise this will be a great opportunity." He seemed to try hard to sound calm and nice. Tashigi added, much to Smoker's annoyance: "all the other candidates ran off. We're really desperate!"

"Tashigi shut up!" He barked at her and she froze.

"Give us three days, Miss. You won't get back sooner anyway. Let me show you around." He stood up. You were still dizzy - and hungry. Your stomach growled. His eyes wandered towards your midsection.

"I'll show you the mess hall. Lunch is on me." Smoker said and already stomped out of the room. You and Tashigi followed, half Jogging, to keep up with his long strides. You were always a little jealous that all the others had bounties and wanted posters except for you - now it came in handy. Big time.

The mess hall was huge, filled with marine soldiers gulping down typical army rations. Not very appetizing, especially after being pampered by one of the best cooks in the world, but food was food.

Every soldier who saw the three of you saluted and greeted Smoker, he seemed well respected among marines. He nodded in response. No one dared to even look at you inappropriatly.

"If you want to, we can go to the captain's mess, food is a bit better there." Smoker said, looking a little puzzled.

"No, here's fine" you answered. Best not to overplay your hand. The food line was moving remarkably quickly and when it was your turn your realized why: there was one meal handed out. Some kind of brownish stew with potatoes. Well.

Smoker, Tashigi and you sat down on a bench at the long tables, right in the middle of the soldiers, it felt quite odd not to be shot at and attacked by those uniform wearing bastards.

Smoker and Tashigi started planning the rest of their day: training, stretegic meetings. Or rather, Smoker was barking at her while she nodded and made the occasional comment.

You tried the food - fortunately, it was quite tasteless. This was no fun, but it filled your stomach. The portion was so huge, you couldn't finish it. Looking around, you started to realise what being a marine really meant - and how massive the organisation really was. All those people, supply chains, organisation. All that material.

"If you don't like the food, we can find a solution!" Smoker said as he saw you laying down your cutlery. Both Smoker and Tashigi seemed concerned.

"No, it's fine" you answered, hearing a sigh of relief from both of them. They were desperate.

"So tell me commander" you tried to sound as business as you possibly could, "you seem to have run out of options for the position, why is that?" You asked, getting interested in the inner workings of the marine.

"Well uhm...we need someone for the paperwork, but this particular base is not so popular." Smoker poked at his food with the fork. "They're good men, but they lack manners. All the office personnel capable of doing administrative jobs has quit." He scowled. "But I assure you that you are under my personal protection, and the rules for soldiers of course don't apply to you. Headquarters is willing to pay a good salary and you will not have to participate in drills or such things." He explained.

You felt a little sorry for those two, they seemed like okay people at least. And you had to get along with them for three days.

"I'll have a look" you said, earning a smile from both.

"And I won't wear a uniform!" you told them, getting a little bold.

"Of course not!" Smoker reinforced his promise not to treat you like a soldier.

The three of you returned to what was clearly Smoker's office again. There was no one to explain the system to you, not even Smoker or Tashigi. They pretty much left you to get an overview by yourself while they trained and drilled their soldiers.

You started to look through the mess of papers, forms and memos. It was quite informative. Since he was commander of the base, the paperwork on his desk included lots of classified information and an excellent insight into the organisation of the marine as a whole. There were memos about the whereabouts of high ranking officers, troop movements, supply shipments, secret news - a whol cornucopia of secrets you could use against them.

This was a gold mine of information. Information that could be useful in the future for a pirate. You sorted and stacked the papers by type and date and just a few hours later, the office looked a lot tidier. You were putting away some uninteresting files in what seemed the proper place when Smoker returned, his jacket flung over his shoulder. He was glistening with sweat and showing off his muscular chest without seeming to notice how appealing he looked. For a short moment, your face must have been a grimace of shock mixed with a sleazy smile. You jumped up, trying not to look at the hot marine soldier in front of you and pushed around some more papers while greeting him nervously "wel-welcome back commander!"

He nodded absent-mindedly and threw himself in a big comfortable leather chair in the corner of his office. He let his arms hang down the sides, sighind deeply. Like he was posing for you, presenting his broad chest with deeps breaths.

He looked around, one of his cigars almost fell out of his mouth as he probably saw the surfaces of the tables for the first time ever.

"I see you already got to work!" He nodded in admiration. "I didn't expect to see order so soon!" Relieved, he leaned back with his arms behind his head, showcasing his chest even more.

"If you continue like this, we will get along excellently. And I will finally be able to do my real job." he leaned back, relaxed and self-content.

Even though he provoked lewd thoughts about licking his torso from the gutter of your mind, it bugged you that he treated you like this thing was already settled.

"You will have to keep order as well, commander. It is your office." you sternly stated, immediately causing his brows to crease again.

"That is not how you talk to me Lad-" he berated you - or tried.

"You have responsibilities here. Act like it." you shut him up, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You knew that you had to win a few powerplays with him to get his respect - and not get trampled under his demands.

He ground his teeth, almost biting one of his cigars in half.

"I am going to let that slide - for now." he begrudgingly said.

"I have put all the communication marked with "urgent" on your desk. That is, all that are still relevant. Some are months old" you pointed to his desk.

He got up and moved to inspect your work, visibly reigning his anger in.

He sat down and started to look at the papers, angrily puffing out clouds of smoke.

"I don't need to know all that crap" he said- and froze. There was a memo about Luffy's involvement at Sabaody - it surely interested him.

It sure as hell was interesting to you. He, and the rest of the crew, were missing. You prayed that they landed on friendly islands and not marine bases. The more meat-headed of your comrades would be in real trouble, otherwise.

You watched as his face derailed into an expression of utter shock.

"STRAW HATS! DEFEATED???" he barked at the paper in his hands.

"FIREFIST ACE - CAPTURED???" He grunted as he got to the Next page.

"AND THE EXECUTION IS IN 2 DAYS?" He sunk back into his chair, exhausted by the news.

"And your attendance is required" you informed him, smugly.

He answered with a puff of smoke and a defeated grunt.

"Well, we still have enough time to get there. I'll leave tomorrow morning"

"If you don't keep order and read the news from headquarters, you'll miss such things" you rubbed his shortcoming into his face. Powerplay - won!

"Dismissed." Smokers brown eyes glared at you as he barked the order.

He knew he had lost, you were sure of it.

You trotted out with a spring in your step, getting greeted by Tashigi, that proceeded to show you to your room.

Smoker

Smoker slumped into his chair after he ordered his new secretary out. Compared to him, she was small. No doubt she had never been in a real fight. But she stood before him and didn't flinch. She had spunk. It was hard to admit it, but as he excelled as a soldier and a hunter for pirate bounties, he was lost amidst all this bureaucracy, rules and politics.

And it was time to admit that if he wanted to stay on top of things, he needed help.

He needed her, and she had shown that to him today. His hand glided nervously through his hair. For some reason, he felt giddy, nervous. Excited. Their little exchange had been something new. Tashigi rarely stood up to him, and never like that. He looked forward to what she would present him with in the future.

He needed to think about how to make her stay. It was not his forté.

-----

This one has been in my wips for a year...I planned to post it once it was finished, but I don't think this will happen anytime soon if I don't give myself a weekly deadline....

I recently saw that a smoker was cast for season 2 of life action. Smoking hot.

See you next Sunday for more smokey

[lixzey]

Letters

warnings: mentions of therapy, grief, child abuse, keeping a child in a basement, starvation and malnutrition of a child, mentions of bruises, mentions of child protective services, bullying, and hospitalization

a/n: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION ‼️‼️‼️This has very detailed scenes which may not be suitable for everyone. The last five letters will be the same, so heads up!

The Thirteenth Letter

Timothée stared out into the window, taking a deep breath as the plane soared through the clouds. He knew he had to continue reading the rest of Y/N's letters, as painful as it might be. He was terrified; there was no denying that. The mere thought of a young Y/N going through more suffering made his stomach churn, but he needed to know more. He would find her, protect her, and be there for her in any way he could. He couldn't change the past, but he could certainly make a difference in her future. He had to be there for her, to listen to her, to support her, and to show her that she wasn't alone anymore. Timothée swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure that she felt safe and loved. 

Timothée took another deep breath before opening the thirteenth letter, dated August 11, 2023.

Dear Timothée, 

Sorry, this letter took a long time to write. I got caught up in therapy. I have a new therapist; her name's Gina. 

She asked me about the letters since I had mentioned them to Julie before and they were written in my file. Gina asked me if the letters were helping me, and of course I said yes. She asked if I could show her one, and I did. She took it and ripped the letter into pieces, right in front of my eyes. I honestly didn’t know how to feel; I just stared at the pieces of paper on top of the table.

Gina said a lot of things about coming to terms with my past in a natural and slow process and that maybe these letters weren't helping as much as I thought they would. Writing to you was riling up those painful and bad memories, only making me feel worse. She also mentioned that false hope wasn’t good for me, which is bullshit because I don't really hope for anything anymore.

I know you won't reply. I know you won't even read any of my letters. Hell, I know you won’t ever receive any of the letters I wrote. I just like to pretend that you do, that's all. 

After the 'session', Gina gave me a pamphlet. It was 'How to Deal with Grief and Coming to Terms with Loss'. It was shit, really. Because one of the bullet points says to talk about your loss with another loved one. Funny, because all of my loved ones are dead. So here I am, talking to you, because you are the next best thing. 

So anyway, here's the continuation of the story of my fucking life. 

I still spent the rest of my days down in the basement—locked up alone, scared, and nearly dead. I was sickeningly thin from malnutrition and dehydration. Bruises littered my body in all shapes and sizes; I had scratches all over—out of frustration and skin irritation from allergies, since I didn't get the chance to fucking clean myself. Every day, I prayed for some kind of miracle to set me free from that living nightmare. I didn't know how much longer I could survive in that hellhole. I could hear my aunt's voice upstairs every night, laughing and carrying on as if I wasn’t three feet under her house. It made me sick to my stomach to think about how she could go about her life while I suffered down below.

It didn't get any better, until my eleventh birthday came around. Honestly, I didn't know how long I was down in the basement. I had lost track of time, but it felt like I had been down here for years. Then one day, my aunt just dragged me out of the basement and shoved me into a bedroom upstairs. It turns out a social worker was looking for me. I was eleven, and the school year had just begun, but I wasn't at the local school, so child protective services got worried. My aunt got to work fast; she made me look as if I wasn't abused—that I was a normal and happy kid living with her. She did a fucking great job, I'm not gonna lie—she covered each and every blemish on my body with foundation and concealer—fucking impressive. She bought clothes, toys, and everything a child would need just so she could avoid getting arrested for child neglect. 

When the child protective services came again, I was forced to act like everything was alright and that I was in a happy home. I desperately wanted to tell the social worker the truth. I wanted to scream so badly and just run into the social worker's arms and beg her to take me away, but I couldn't. 

My life got a little bit better after that day, though. My aunt was forced to let me stay in the room upstairs rather than the cold basement downstairs since child protective services visited me every week. It was easier for her to let me stay in the bedroom than to make me look decent every time. I was never to leave the room unless necessary, not that I wanted to leave the room with my aunt around the house. I still got the bare minimum from her—I still got her scraps of food, but it was better than nothing. 

Then middle school happened. 

At first, I was excited to make friends with kids my age; I never had any growing up since I usually stayed at home with my parents and there weren’t really any kids in the neighborhood I grew up in. So, naturally, I thought that making friends would be easy.

I was too fucking stupid to believe that it would be easy. I mean who was I kidding? Middle schoolers were fucking mean—well,  not high school mean, but you get the point. I was bullied relentlessly, and I always dreaded going to school; it was torture. The kids in my class always made fun of me, calling me names and treating me like shit. I was the freakishly thin girl who always wore baggy clothes that no one wanted to be friends with. There was this one time when this girl—her name was Claire—tripped me in the hallway, and I crashed into the janitor’s cart. Bleach and other cleaning chemicals spilled everywhere—on my skin, on my clothes, and in my hair. It burned my skin so badly that I had to be taken to the hospital to get treated properly. Until now, I still have burn scars on my arms and neck area. I had to wear long-sleeved shirts to cover up my arms, though in the long run, the burns weren’t the only reason why I covered my arms up.

I just wanted a normal fucking life, but life decided to push me into a living hell. Was that too much to fucking ask? I’m so damn tired, Tim. I don’t think I can live like this anymore. I’ve been through so much, and what’s written in this letter isn't even half of what I’ve gone through.

I think it’s about time to stop writing, don’t you think? As if you’d answer me, God, I never fucking learn.

Maybe Gina does have a point. Maybe these letters really are making everything worse.

All my love, 

Y/n.

Timothée sighed, folding the letter and tucking it back in its envelope. He wanted to let her know that he was—in fact, listening—granted that it was a year late, he was listening. The pain and suffering she went through were unimaginable, and the guilt he felt for not being there for her when she needed him most was killing him. If the letters had just arrived earlier, he would have done anything to make it all easier for her. 

“I hope you're still here, Y/n. I hope you didn't give up.”

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @imnotoverlyobsessive @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @lizzxoxo @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @danni-phant0m @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @bambikitten @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @abruuinlove @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

[annwe24]

KINDRED serie

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X READER

Part 1

Summary: The past still haunts him as a painful reminder of being played at love. Even with such opportunity, Lucifer refuses to open up his heart.

People often say death is the well-deserved eternal rest after a life of hardship. That, unfortunately, has been proven wrong. Hell is like a punch in the face for those who seek escapism in the afterlife, leaving undone business to the living. So why the Hell would sinners be able to redeem themselves in the first place? Lucifer frustratedly thinks to himself. He is totally baffled at the idea. Even, hypothetically at best, they somehow made it into heaven, would they be accepted? However, seeing how determined his daughter is, it would break his heart to not support her only grand goal in life. He hates how he cares enough to awkwardly pour tea into your teacup with a shaky pinky at the moment. Charlie has been pushing him to leave his usual working desk to spend time socializing. It's a bonding exercise, she said. Given how well-mannered you usually are, he is glad she chose you instead of the other sinners. Ah, you. Always so caring, always so polite, always so-

Your Majesty, your tea is getting cold.

Coughing loudly, he drinks all the tea in his cup at once and silently cringes at himself.

Sorry, I’ve been having too many thoughts these days. Many things, you know.

Is there any way I can help? I noticed you’ve been so paranoid lately, I’m just worried but of course! You don't have to agree to that just because I ask you but please don't feel pressured to keep everything to yourself because I know-

Hey, it's alright! I understand your sentiment.

He softly cuts you off seeing that you are getting worked up. You always have this rather odd excitement for helping people. Your kindness stands out too much compared to others, something almost too pure. A question he's been asking himself lately is how did you end up here. It has been fun contemplating the possibilities during his free time, imagining your sweet face distorts into madness. Wait, what? Sweet face?

…

The fuck is your problem? He knows good people, even a rarity, still exist in this hellhole. Not all good people end up in Heaven, something Lucifer has long accepted. The problem is your goodness is absurd. Ever since your arrival at the hotel, it is clear that you are one of the most eager helpers, going as far as taking Charlie’s exercises almost too seriously. It irritates him to no end how you are so easily exploited.

He noticed many guests at the hotel use you as an errand runner unknowingly from time to time. There is certainly no malicious intent underneath, they themselves don't even realize that. It’s just that you are too easy, too gullible. Angel Dust is one glaring example. He has been known to ask you to fetch him stuff when he is “too fragile and sore due to overwork”. In reality, he sleeps through the afternoon and just gets too lazy. Lucifer can't help but find you suspicious. Afterall, who is going to trust someone in Hell, suffers memory loss, no identity and came to this hotel saying they wanted “a second chance”. He is determined to see through your facade, peeling you out like an onion.

Ouch!

A loud yelp followed by the squeaks of a hundred rubber ducks echo though his mansion. He quickly puts down the boiling kettle and dashes to his room. Piles of rubber ducks scatter across his room with you being the center of it all, dumbfounded. Panic reaches your eyes as you stand up hastily and say small “sorry” over and over. You look like you're about to cry.

Lucifer calmly squeezes through piles of rubber duck to get to you and places an assuring hand on your shoulder:

It’s nothing I can't fix. Here!

With a snap of his finger, the ducks magically fly back into place and the room starts to look like a room fit for a king rather than a depressed single dad. Lucifer is quite pleased with your wide-eye expression. Letting out a sigh, he guides you over to the tea table where you two would spend the rest of the afternoon. This kind of “date” has been going on for a while under the encouragement of Charlie. She is ecstatic to see her father finally be able to find someone to confide in and is a sinner. Although Lucifer can hang around the hotel whenever he feels like it, he prefers somewhere more private and quiet so that no one judges him. He hates being judged. It reminds him of his time in Heaven which he absolutely wants to forget. This is where Hell steps in. The place is literally his playground, albeit a bit grotesque, but at least he is free.

…

As time flies, the little hangouts between you and him occur more often. It has reached to a point that he finds his mansion eerie without your presence. You are not a talkative person nor a charmer, but you carry yourself with such sweetness that makes him feel peaceful, a warmth he has long forgotten. He wonders if the same happens to you. Do you find yourself incomplete without meeting him at least once a day? He certainly is not a mind reader but a keen observer at the very least. You seem to light up every time you see him, always looking, listening in his direction. He is scared. What if this was all a ploy you set up to get closer to the King, to have some kind of privilege down here? You are first and foremost still a sinner. Although he believes not everyone in Hell is bad, being in Hell means breaking some morals while you were alive. He can't handle another failed relationship. Not right now, not when Lilith still lingers hauntingly in the back of his mind, not when he can break at any moment and Charlie is the only thing that keeps him going. He can't let her get hurt too. She is just as fragile as him after the divorce.

Tonight’s hangout is just the same as every other hangout: comfortable silence. You are rolling on his king-size bed while fidgeting a rubber duck he especially made for you. You have been quite comfortable in his mansion, letting yourself go as if you were at home. As for Lucifer, he is at his working desk as usual. He likes it this way. Lucifer is not a chatter at heart and you are the same. After a while, you decided to break the silence:

What are you making today? You rolled over on the bed to face him.

Oh, just rubber duck, you know.

You have so many already. Why don't you make something new every then and there?

What do you like?

Huh?

What do you like? He asked, turning back to face you.

Well, um… I like stuffed animals? I guess?

Okay, it's a deal then! He said with a toothy grin.

Y-you don't have to!

It's alright. I’m running out of ideas anyways.

Thank you!! You say as you hug the rubber duck.

What am I doing? Lucifer silently thinks to himself.

[honey-crypt]

What do you think Elliott’s family is like? What would happen if they came to the Valley?

a/n: this is such a good ask!!!

warnings: alcoholism, neglect, bad parents, mention of death

★ elliott - family woes (with a dash of elliott x reader) ★

pt. 1 - who are the cunnighams?

★ elliott’s family, the cunnighams, is what people would consider a stereotypical upper class nuclear family.

★ his father, conrad, is an investment banker (think wolf of wall street) who had very little involvement in his children’s lives, other than to reprimand them or hand them some money to get them to go away. he was the breadwinner, too focused on chasing the next investment to participate in silly things like going to elliott’s poetry nights.

★ his mother, makenna, is a socialite, too busy hosting events for the fellow ladies of the community or getting drunk off champagne to properly parent. yet, on the rare occasion when she did express love and affection towards elliott, he always felt gross after the fact because that meant she was too drunk to function.

★ elliott has an older sister, eleanor. she’s the golden child of the family, always striving to please their parents so she could get attention. ever since they were kids, eleanor threw herself into academics and extracurriculars that she believed would impress their parents, such as mock trial and key club. she, to their parents, is the successful one out of the two children; after all, she’s the one who graduated with summa cum laude, the one went to medical school and became a heart surgeon. nonetheless, eleanor loves elliott and vice versa, despite everything.

★ because of his parents being too wrapped up in “other important things” to parent, elliott and his sister were raised by a nanny, an old irish woman named siobhan. elliott considered siobhan to be his true family, as she always encouraged him to express his creativity and always made time to attend his events like poetry night. sadly, she passed away when elliott was in his late 20s, which was the catalyst to elliott leaving home to make a name for himself as a writer.

★ when elliott told his family that he was moving out to pursue his writing career, his father laughed in his face and called him a bloody idiot for thinking he could make it as a writer. his mother was too busy nursing a hangover to criticize him for his choice. however, eleanor was supportive; she embraced him and whispered in his ear to escape “this hellhole of suburbia” and that she would always support him. so elliott sold off anything of value that he didn’t need and with that money, he relocated somewhere where he could embrace his inner hemmingway, a little place called pelican town in the idyllic stardew valley

pt. 2 - the cunninghams visit stardew valley

★ elliott had been living in the valley for about two-ish years and he was on cloud 9 with the life he cultivated

★ he was happily married to (y/n), stardew valley's local farmer and the person he felt head over heels for the moment they entered his cabin with a basket of pomegranates, and his book camelia station was doing well with elliott finishing up his first ever book tour

★ life was perfect... until his family paid him a surprise visit

★ he hadn't been in contact with his father or mother since leaving but he occasionally exchanged letters with his sister, the two of them updating one another on major milestones in their lives

★ conrad and makenna were the picture of faux kindness, subtly jabbing at elliott's spouse for being so rural while praising them for building such a successful farming empire

★ elliott could feel his mother's disappointed glare when she came to the conclusion that elliott got married without informing them but he honestly didn't give a damn

★ (y/n) did their best to be cordial with elliott's parents, they knew that they were major assholes (more so his fathers) so they focused their attention on getting to know eleanor

★ since he last spoke to his sister, elliott was informed that she found out that she was pregnant a few months ago and was now sporting a prominent baby bump

★ (y/n) offered eleanor some fresh produce from the season as a gift for her baby when makenna chimed in about not needing produce from "a little farmer from bum-fuck-nowhere" when they had access to the finest produce

★ elliott... just loses it; he completely loses it and yells to his parents about how shitty they were, how they were never involved in his life or eleanor's unless they did something that bettered their public image, and that they could insult him all they wanted but they could not nor would not insult the love of his life

★ conrad and makenna expected eleanor to come to their defense but she instead sides with elliott, sharing identicial sentiments and how she regrets letting her need for their approval get in the way of having a relationship with her little brother

★ elliott then promptly kicks his parents out but lets eleanor stay, holding back tears in his eyes while he wraps his arms around his spouse

★ eleanor later apologies for bringing their parents, she wanted to visit elliott alone after hearing about his marriage and the success of camelia station but conrad and makenna intervened

★ in return, elliott apologies for not inviting her to the wedding and the two make up, much to the joy of the farmer who finally gave eleanor that basket of produce for her

bonus - the aftermath

★ after that ordeal, eleanor would later visit the valley once a month to spend time with her brother and her sibling in-law; then with her husband jackson and her baby elias when she gives birth

★ elliott may have lost his parents but he found a new family in (y/n) and his sister's little family, working hard to dismantle the standards set by their parents and becoming a doting uncle to elias

★ and soon... he became a parent of his own, promising his newborn baby that they would have a life full of love and wonder and promising to himself that he wouldn't repeat his parents' errors