#like why you letting this bitch toss your insurance around

[islanddboyy]

so the universe created a group of people with superpowers to save the universe if it ever needed saving. they were the fail safe. but then the only reason they were needed was because of all the shit reginald put them through. which was just so he could bring abigail back really. mans really said let me destroy all of reality so i can be with you again. like how insane

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶For once in his life, Eddie makes a good decision when he shows up to your motel room early. And another good decision when he mumbles something under his breath after you outsmart him at his DND club. That's my girl.✶

NSFW — fluff, flirting, sexual tension, wearing eddie's shirt and loving the scent a little too much, & oops you discover you have a praise kink, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use, canon typical violence

chapter: 6/15 [wc: 7.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 6: The First Rule of Hellfire Club

The moment Eddie’s knuckles connected with the chipped paint under the peep hole, his stomach sank, much like the weathered bronze number Nine losing its top nail and plummeting into the number Six. In his head, strands of apologies tangled into amalgamations of concern, and seeing your distressed face pleading up at him when you struggled to open the door sent them spiraling into the single emotion he could grasp: protection. The words he’d meant to say vanished from his brain in favor of fixing whatever it was causing you trouble.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, balancing the dingy yellow phone between your ear and shoulder; arms crowded with the clunky receiver itself, trying not to press any buttons as you let him inside, kicking the cords out of his way.

“Didn’t know when you were coming–” you whispered to him, then straightened your spine and changed to a forceful tone. “Yes, I’m still here. Ye– ..Yes, I told you, I’m not home right now, but I still have the–” Eddie edged into your room and tuned out the conversation. Not necessarily because it seemed private on account of the manila file you were reading from, but because his gaze landed on your open suitcase. Specifically the delicate lace set on top.

He didn’t pin you as the type to wear that sort of stuff. Tight. Partially see through. Jewel toned. Carnal in design, mouth watering in nature. Lingering on the notion of the material against your skin..

He drummed his fingers on his leg and reminded himself, and the devil on his shoulder, why he was here early.

“Wait! Don’t–Don’t you dare hang up. Hello? Hello?” You examined the phone. An arrant dial tone persisted. You put it up to your ear again. “Hello?” Pressing your lips into a thin line, the plastic creaked under your grip, seething temper boiling under your composed exterior.

You let out a calming exhale. Relaxed the tension from your shoulders.

Then you beat the phone on the bedside table three times and slammed it on the receiver with a definitive, “Bitch.”

Curiosity aroused, Eddie asked, “Everything good?”

“Stupid insurance bullshit. Been on the phone with them all day.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Still unsure of where you stood after last night, you gave a little shrug, and put away your files, volunteering nothing more. He offered, “I can make some calls for you or something. Sit on the hold lines. Whatever would make it easier for you.”

“I can handle it,” you interjected. “Should we get going?”

Walking past him to the end of the bed, you bent to grab your purse from the floor and saw what you tossed on top of the pile of laundry spilling from your suitcase after your shower this morning.

You cut a glance at Eddie the exact moment he chose to look the opposite direction, humming a tune to himself.

Using your foot, you closed the suitcase and made to step around him.

“Can we talk first? I wanted to apologize for what I said last night.”

Despite him acknowledging the tension between you, you kept your gaze on the carpet, remaining vigilant for the sake of his feelings. “You didn’t say anything last night.” You kept moving.

He asserted his arm in front of you. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, voice cutting in and out. Harsh, yet sensitive. “Don’t walk away from me.”

The cold metal chains decorating his sleeve brushed your upper chest. You considered his method for blocking you from leaving; how he leaned into it, caging you, face tipped to speak into your ear. Aggressive to those who did not know him, but you understood the charity in the curl of his fingers hesitating in the air to refrain from an accidental caress. The desperation in his chapped lips. The absolute fatigue in his attempts to dance around the awkwardness of your tumultuous relationship.

“I..” Eddie started, fluttering his eyes shut to better sift through his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said last night. I don’t hate you.” You sighed in a way that had him cringing at his actions. It was always worse when you were disappointed in him. “To be honest, seeing you again after all this time has been.. has been..”

“Bizarre?”

“Yes, bizarre,” he said emphatically, beginning to pace. “It’s brought up a lot of old feelings I never got over, and–and stuff I wanted to forget.. And stuff I didn’t want to forget, but at this point, I’m tired of the back and forth, and lashing out at you, and being a massive asshole. It didn’t feel good to say that last night, and I swear to you I didn’t mean it. I’m not mad at you for doing what you needed to for your future.” Stopping, he drove his hands through his hair and locked his fingers behind his head, monopolizing the cramped space at the end of your bed where you wrung your arm. “You’re here now, and I like being around you, and me trying to, I don’t know, is ‘punish’ the right word? Wallowing and wasting all this energy punishing you for leaving has been exhausting and I just, I–”

Unwavering eye contact. A rare occasion as of late, taken for granted long ago. You seized it, held it, and the glimmer of hope in how his face softened when he looked at you.

“I miss you,” he admitted in a gentle breath. “I miss you and I want to be friends again.”

He wasn’t so much as asking permission to pick up where you left off as he was adamant for it, and his verbiage was not lost on you.

Eddie wanted you, needed you to be his friend again.

Faithful to your detriment, willing to make sacrifices for your best friend, ever diligent and committed to someone who returned the same kindness in the same degree with the same modesty, you smiled. “We can be friends again.”

Here is where normal people would hug. Not for you two.

Eddie beamed sunlight on a cloudy day. “I was also thinking about our conversation yesterday and I wanted you to know I’m really going to try at school this year. I’m going to graduate, and who knows, maybe I’ll end up at Penn State with you, so you can have a friend there and we can.. Okay, it wasn’t that funny.”

“S-Sorry,” you hissed through the laughter, “It’s not because of you going to college, I swear; your hair is all messed up. More than usual.” He examined his appearance in the large square mirror above the chest of drawers, and instead of fixing his mane like any sane person, he headbanged a few times and decided the wildness of it was perfect. Which it was.

Eyeing the entirety of the bed in the reflection, he smirked. “Interesting place for a mirror.” He turned to you. “Do you have your character sheet and stuff?”

You held up your purse. “Yep.”

“Sweet.”

~~~

Arriving at your dreaded destination, Eddie escorted you down the halls of Hawkins High, opening doors for you with a half-bow and grand sweep of his arm. You’d only spent one year here, and that was enough to build sore memories. Passing by your dented locker someone repeatedly broke into to steal your things, the classroom where a girl stuck gum to the back of your neck, the grassy patch near the concrete steps you had been formally introduced to after a boy shoved you because he heard a rumor you had a crush on him. All acts the principal excused as, “Kids being kids.”

Problems Eddie took upon himself to fix. Sharing his locker. Coming home with a black eye beneath the one his parole-granted father gave him. Threatening anyone who looked at you twice, regardless if he was the instigator. He shielded you. Your knight in rusted tin armor.

“Didn’t realize your club was literally at school.”

“Oh yeah, it’s the easiest place for us to meet,” he said, showing you to the back entrance of the theater. “Welcome.. To Hellfire Club.” He walked backwards into the prop storage area, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were supposed to be impressed by the big empty table in the middle, or if he was joking with you. To be polite, you pointed out the club’s handmade banner on the wall.

“Cool logo.”

His grin grew wicked. “I’m so glad you like it.” Removing his backpack, he unzipped it and took out a bundle of black and white fabric. “You should know the first rule of Hellfire Club is.. You gotta wear a member shirt.”

You caught what was hurled at you and unfolded it, frowning. “You couldn’t even turn it right-side-out?” Pulling the sleeves through and shaking out the wrinkles, you saw why it was balled up, and snarked in disgust, “Did you wear this already?”

“Rules are rules, my dear,” he sang, setting up his barricade of binders where he sat on his gaudy throne like the incensing king he wished he was.

“And where do you expect me to change?”

“It’s a theater department. Go find a prop tree, or,” –He threw his thumb over his shoulder– “The Russian cathedrals behind me, or something.”

“That would be sacrilegious, Eddie.” Opting for the gathering of standee trees and bushes blocking you from both his sight and the door, you said goodbye to your Macho Man t-shirt and peeled it off, stuffing it in your purse.

You should feel humiliated, embarrassed by how your body reacted holding his worn shirt in your hands. Flushed hot from burning cheeks to curled toes. You cradled the delicate memento to your chest, collar gripped tight in your fingers, hem tickling your exposed belly, sleeves tucked in your arms. You should feel ashamed of your nipples hardening against your thin bra when you paused in the trivial space between smelling his clothing and still having alibi if he caught you.

His shadow stayed at the table, arranging his things, and you broke for your old addictions.

An itch you could scratch again, finally.

Fabric to nose, you curled your shoulders in and inhaled deep. It was him. All him. Turning you dizzy. Invading your mind fuzz. Eliciting a perverse craving, an insatiable hunger. Inciting a primal greed over your possession. You don’t know what started this habit–him giving you his clothes and you obsessing over every little detail that was Eddie Munson–but you knew it was wrong.

However, the image of his body touching what lied in your palms, creating the scent buzzing in your veins, draping yourself in the smell of his sweat knowing it belonged to him alone.. It felt so fucking right.

Getting a hold of yourself, you quickly pulled it over your head, and tucked the hem into the corduroy skirt you borrowed from one of your teammates. You’d been hidden behind the trees long enough for Eddie to ask if you required assistance, and now you had to pretend you hadn’t been a complete degenerate for a full minute straight, getting high off his scent.

“Was it necessary to make me wear your dirty laundry?” you scoffed. “And what is this stain at the bottom?”

“I think it’s from a–” He turned around to finish his statement. The dice tower in his hand tumbled to the floor.

What a fantastic thing white shirts revealed to be when under the dramatic overhead lighting of the drama department.

He swallowed. “From a pen exploding on me.” Managing the meager sentence, he commanded his gaze off your chest and met your equally stunned expression reflecting the thrill of catching him. “I designed the logo myself,” he said a bit too loudly.

“Cool.” You nodded slowly, locking in the memory of how he devoured your clothed body, how he had to blink away and adjust his stance. “Cool, and what were the other rules?”

“Other rules?”

Picking up the dice tower at your feet, you put it on the table, taking inventory of the figures and miniatures he would be using during the game. He returned to his flamboyant throne, organizing stacks of campaign plots written in his neat handwriting. “You said wearing the shirt was the first rule like there were more, so what’s the second?”

“Oh, there is no second rule.” He smiled above the binders, all cocksure and full of himself as if you hadn’t just witnessed him staring at your tits moments ago. “Except, of course,” he implored, tilting his head, “Having fun.”

Attraction be damned, you could, in fact, wring this man’s neck.

~~~

The stage lights had been dimmed. A candelabra behind the throne cast the campaign in shadows, setting the mood. Jeff was the first to open the door, and his laughter trailed off. Gareth was second, watching you and Eddie converse over the graph paper map on the table.

“That wall should go one square to the right.” He checked his notes. “Then Gareth’s figure would be one to the left.” You leaned over the plastic chairs opposite him, following his directions, replicating where they left off on their game last Friday. “And I think we’re done.”

Breaking the spell settling over his Dungeon Master’s face as he watched his assistant saunter to the right hand spot at the table where Jeff usually sat, Gareth stepped forward and announced his presence rather well, he thought. “So that’s why Eddie was talking about you at lunch.” To which Jeff added, “You should’ve seen him, he looked so cute updating us on you..” And serving the knockout punch was Lloyd, who had just come in. “Hey Eddie, Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” You tried not to do the cliche thing of shifting your eyes to Eddie, but your curiosity got the better of you. “You were talking about me?”

Jeff supplied the answer, “Oh yeah, he was bragging about you being the best gymnast on your team.” He sat across from you, ignoring the way Eddie was shaking his head at him, frantically communicating his panic through his wide-eyes screaming at him to shut up.

Gareth piped up again, “He said you ran off to Penn State.”

“And he warned us not to be weird at DND tonight, presumably he meant not being weird in front of you,” Lloyd said.

Tickled by their eagerness to divulge this information with you at their leader’s expense, you found it most interesting Eddie was speaking so highly of you when he hadn’t apologized yet, or ensured you two were on amicable ground before giving them a dissertation on your life since you left. “Is that true?” you asked Eddie, who performed his best innocent act.

“I–Well, it’s not like it sounds.”

“You see,” Jeff ribbed, “he hadn’t talked about you in years. He was just excited you were back in town, and wouldn’t let anyone else get a word in edgewise; going on, and on, and on, about how you’re some college big shot now, and just so cool.”

Eddie pointed a stern finger at him, and said through gritted teeth, “I did not say that last part.”

Luckily for the blush crawling up Eddie’s throat, the door opened again and all attention turned to the last three guests for the evening. Unfortunately for Eddie’s self-esteem, Dustin was in a chatty mood.

“Sweet, a girl’s joining us. You must be Eddie’s girlfriend he was talking about at lunch.”

“Fucking Christ,” he put his face in his hands.

You offered a faint, “I’m not his girlfriend,” and introduced yourself properly to those you hadn’t met yet, amused by Mike’s haircut resembling a certain someone’s next to you, and Lucas’ windbreaker pants, wearing them from his first basketball practice.

However, as the idle chatter waned, you gave in to the irking awareness someone was staring at you, and quirked a brow at Jeff, who was squinting at something in particular.

“Nice shirt,” he said, flicking his gaze to the ink stain.

This was going to be a long night..

Intervening, Eddie slammed his hands on the table, shaking his plethora of binders, commanding his distracted party to assimilate into their characters. “As we left off..” Slipping into his role as Dungeon Master, he sat at the edge of his plush seat, legs spread wide, gripping the ornate edges of his throne. He wove the tale in a mysterious tone, building anticipation, “Taking the quest from Hordram, the dwarven barkeep, you find yourselves lost to the labyrinth hidden deep within the Mountains of Hag Baduhr. Days are immeasurable as you succumb to sleep-deprived delirium. All you know is darkness, cold, and the stench of old gore dried to your clothes. Dank mildew stuck in your nose. The faint drips of water..” He held up his hand and curled his fingers in one at a time. “Drip. Drip. Drip. A clock with no hands, nor face. Neverending shadows playing tricks on your mind as your torch loses its flame, knocked from Sargas’ hand in the last battle.” Eddie made a show of gesturing to Lucas to indicate that was his character. “Gareth, you chose to limp deeper into the narrow passage of the maze, hissing at your wounds, clutching onto your wounded arm. A musty, warm breeze caresses your right cheek, almost undetectable. Around the corner you approach comes a soft orange glow. You hear something shifting. What do you do?”

Gareth chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered where his figure stood on the map. “Can I tell if there is another pathway nearby?”

“Roll for perception.” The dice tumbled from his palm. Eddie sucked his teeth. “No, it looks to be a dead end and your only option is the stretch of light coming from the right.”

“I tap my gauntlet on the wall twice, giving them the signal for backup.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at the rest of his little adventurers, and they agreed. You garnered they had just finished an intense fight from their descriptions of having the help carry Lloyd’s tiefling barbarian. “Now, the smell of smoke wafts to you. Soot and pine.”

“Another torch?” Jeff whispered in character.

“On three?” Gareth said to his team. They nodded, and looked to Eddie to lead them through the scenario.

“Upon the bend in the labyrinth, you peek around the corner as one, weapons at the ready. Breaths held. Peering into the depths at..” Dramatic pause. A swell of his chest as he bewitched his audience into hanging onto his every word. “You encounter not a monster, but another person, perched on a mossy slab.” With a dramatic sigh, he slouched sideways on his throne, propping his elbow on the chair’s arm and settling his cheek into his palm, tapping his forefinger on his high cheekbone. Beholding you from beneath his long lashes as he granted you the stage to introduce your character.

Unfolding the paper in your shaky hands, you didn’t know if you were supposed to roleplay yet, or read from the sheet, but with how dry your mouth became, you chose to stick with what you wrote. If you could read it, that is.

Everything swirled. Stammering, you tried, “I’m a half-elf cleric named Valendrei. Lawful good. Level 5. Uh..” How much were you supposed to share? Did it sound dumb? Was everyone expecting more? When were you supposed to enter the scene?

Eddie bumped his leg against yours, ceasing your nervous bouncing.

“Uhm, I chose the Life Domain, if that matters..” Calm. His adoring gaze. Calm. Proud of you for taking part in his hobby. Calm. “My shield lays in splinters at my feet, and my mace rests propped against the slab. I’m unarmed except for the torch I’m using to cauterize a wound on my knee.”

Lloyd reacted first. “Intense.”

“That’s metal,” Dustin said, impressed.

Earning their respect stirred a deep-seated desire etched into your very being; a want to belong. And same as always, you glimpsed at Eddie for his approval to gauge whether you were doing the right thing, but instead of being met with his mild reassurance, he looked at you in bold admiration. Stark glory, hair fanned about his face from him twisting it. Eyes nearly closed from how broad his smile was. Fingertips placed on his bottom lip, tracing it languidly as his chest jumped with a laugh.

“Should’ve known you would pick a healer,” he said to you, and sat up to address the others. “She hates it when her favorite characters die in books, so now she wants to be the one to save them.” Entranced by his mouth, you watched it form the coy remark, wholly invested in what annoying observation he would conclude next. “Although.. Lawful good? That’s a mighty claim. Need I remind you, I’ve seen your permanent record.”

“Shut up. It’s my character, she can be lawful good.”

He seemed hellbent on oversharing your previous life together. “You know that cheerleader Brittany who graduated two years ago, the one with the broken nose? Guess who did that.” Their eyes were on you. You kicked Eddie’s shoe under the table, telepathically yelling at him to cut it out. Much to your dismay, he snapped a few times, recalling something, and said, “That’s right! And there was that other time in 8th grade when you were suspended for beating up that popular girl. Man, you guys should’ve seen it. She knocked her to the ground, sat on her chest, and just fucking whaled on her.” He mimicked your punches while the guys laughed. “It was crazy. I’ve never seen so much blood. What did she say to you, anyway?”

Trailer trash. She called Eddie weird, she called him ugly, and she called him trailer trash. In a classic misunderstanding, Eddie was being his normal self around Jessie, who was from the good suburbs, and she mistook his goofy, boisterous antics as him flirting with her. And as soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to her giggling friends, and your next vivid memory was pulling your fist back, musing over how sticky blood became when it reached oxygen. “I don’t remember,” you mumbled.

“You fucking rock, dude,” someone said. You weren’t sure who.

“I mean, you see her guns, that girl stood no chance,” Eddie raved. With the candles crowned above his head like a halo, you had no choice but to bask in the radiance of his everlasting light. “Strongest person I know,” he said quietly, dragging his gaze over your broad shoulders filling out his shirt. Deliberate in his efforts to appreciate the finer details of where it hugged you.

He was so obvious. A wave of whispers ensued; gossips of yours and Eddie’s names at the intimate table where his knee touched the skin of your thigh through the rips in his jeans.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he was all business. He staked an elven figure on the map, and demanded silence and the continuation of his game. “So, you see an unassuming, unarmed half-elf before you. Do you invite her to your party?”

The clear answer was yes, and yet..

The apple of Jeff’s cheeks shined with joy under the same benevolence you shied from. “I’m not about to trust some rando in a dungeon,” he said to Eddie while picking up a dice. “I prepare my spear.”

This would be a long night, indeed.

~~~

Neverending encounters.

Dismembered goblin parts laid in heaps like bricks around your party. Their gore clung to your armor. In fantasy, your half-elf worked to bandage your teammate’s wounds; in reality, clusters of dice rolled across the table top. Bleak were the low health points. The squish of pallid flesh, the metallic taste in your mouth, the putrid reek of entrails. Eddie’s knack for descriptive storytelling would follow you to bed that night.

More dice rolls. Lucas found a treasure chest of disappointment. All those goblins for very little loot, and anticlimax in the form of him passing off his Wand of Magic Detection to you. An impractical object since the spell could not penetrate stone, and being in a labyrinth inside a mountain, it was not exactly useful, but considering you had the bag space and no shield, you accepted it.

Down, down the labyrinth you traveled. An enemy here, an ambush there. Dense packs of creatures, but low on health, meaning this was a good sign you were heading in the right direction. Gareth and Lloyd led the way with your dwindling torch, insisting those of you with darkvision determine paths. Up, up an incline, over a ravine on a tattered rope bridge. The wind became thick. The scent earthier. It seemed like you were helping them escape the maze. It seemed like you were everyone’s hero, healing their sores and sending them off to freedom. It seemed like you were the star of the night after answering a riddle far too easily for the cunning mind who created it. It seemed to be too good to be true, because it was. Especially paired with the Dungeon Master’s rolls behind his binders, running his tongue over his top lip with an excited lurch in his posture when Dustin suggested Mike’s wizard bounce a fireball down a hallway, and suddenly, fog engulfed the party.

A smirk claimed Eddie’s face as he placed an elaborate figure of a winged lion on the map. “My friends, you have alerted a manticore to your location, and he, and his prey hiding amongst the shadows, are not very happy to have you in their domain.”

~~~

You tried. Cantrips on your tongue, hands aglow with prayers. Spending actions until your spell slots were nearly exhausted. Salves, bandages, well wishes; they fell short. Your friends laid splayed on their backs, gurgling through mucky blood in their throats. Manticore spikes impaled their forearms, protruding like breached bones. Skin flayed in ribbons. All the while, the manticore stood ready to attack, its thick fur acting as armor. Another round of Death Saving Throws were completed and Eddie’s menacing leer was upon you.

“The manticore sinks into its hind legs, nails scraping the stone floor, and he leaps forward. His wings extend, catching the draft, and he lunges for you, Valendrei. Mouth open. Fangs glistening in the torchlight, dripping with blood. What do you do?”

Two second level spell slots remained. You asked Lloyd, “If I cast Healing Word, can you protect me?”

“How confident are you that I’ll heal enough to not immediately die again?”

“Not very.”

“Mm.”

Tapping your pencil on the corner of your character sheet, you ground your teeth at your options, weighing them in your head as Mike offered a cooing wisdom.

“This was a tough dungeon and the school year just started. Don’t worry about our characters dying, we can always make new ones. It’s not your fault, no healer would’ve been able to juggle a party this size.”

His well-meaning kindness got under your skin.

You weren’t a loser. You didn’t earn consolation prizes. You were a gold medalist, you could outsmart the Dungeon Master.

“Tick, tock,” your smarmy friend added from over his binders.

Reading over your abilities, your bag space, your copper–anything, your gaze zeroed in on one item.

“What does the Wand of Magic Detection look like?”

Eddie blinked. Gears turned in his head, calculating your scheme, rushing through simulations of where you were leading him, and finding no flaw–nor logic–in your question. As a severe, but not unkind Master, he consulted his books, and figured he’d be generous. Just this once. You had 4 hit points left. You weren’t coming out of this scenario alive, anyway. “What do you want it to look like?”

Flipping over your sheet, you sketched a straightforward rod with a pointed gem at the top, not unlike the ones you’d seen in the Player’s Handbook yesterday. A simple wand, but efficient. You weren’t about to take advantage of Eddie by conjuring up something ludicrous and overpowered. “Like this.” You showed him.

Suspicious, he drawled, “Sure, that works.”

“I shove it in the manticore’s mouth.”

“What?”

“You said his mouth was open, so I wedge it in there. Vertically. Preferably with the gem against the hard palate and the base against the soft floor under his tongue, but I’ll take what I can get.” You laced your fingers and appeared stoic despite his condescending taunt.

“I’m gonna need a dex check for that one, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

You disregarded the pet name, ascribing it to one of his habits. A slip of his tongue, nothing more. Besides, you had a game to play.

The table embraced your confidence. Murmurs of encouragement, exchanges of premature celebration, more than one person chanting for your victory. You picked up the die and imbued it with your collective support, and rolled.

“Nat 20!”

“Man, that’s one way to decimate a monster.”

Slowly, Eddie drew his gaze to the paper in front of him. Eyes moving back and forth over his handwriting. Losing the crease between his brows as he buckled under the weight of acceptance. “Roll for damage,” he mumbled.

You complied with an arrogant lilt, “Is 28 enough?”

The corner of Eddie’s lips jumped in a small smile aimed at his clasped hands. Gareth erupted in a rowdy cheer, recognizing the look on his face as one of content defeat, and Jeff took it upon himself to flick the manticore figure off the map. “Screw you and your grueling labyrinth.”

You were being rocked back and forth. Many hands patted your back, shook your shoulders, bumped your fist. Lauding you for your wit, and for being the one to put Eddie in his place. You were glowing under their excitement, their congratulations, their insistence on coming back to Hawkins to play with them again, and your best friend sat on his throne, chin in his hand–palm covering his mouth–smitten from the group’s acceptance of you.

“That’s my girl.”

He didn’t mean for anyone to hear it, and for the most part, everyone had sat back down, busy making their Death Saving Throws and rationing out potions, gunning for your spell slots. But you heard it.

That’s my girl.

His praise, the creaking of his chair as he leaned forward, the rustle of his papers as he poured over his notes for the next part of the story he crafted; shifting the same way he did yesterday in his van, except there was no lighter to drown out his words.

You were his girl.

Your heart raced at the implication. Turning your body heat on high, and with it, carrying his shirt’s scent to your nose again. Snapped to attention like an obedient animal and it didn’t even phase you as you did it. Frozen on the receiving end of a brutal awakening. A winner all your life, but on the caveat you could score higher, move faster, perform sharper. Words of affirmation followed by a critique. Not from Eddie, though. You were his perfect girl who did everything right.

What else could he praise you for?

A whine hitched in your throat at the visual your mind latched onto.

And he caught you in the midst of your preening for more. How you sat up straighter. Unadulterated desperation in your candid expression; a slight parting of your plump lips. Tempting his massive ego into discovering your secret. Too taken by his words to erase the evidence of your reaction.

Eddie’s pupils were black lakes absorbing every detail of your face. Mirrors reflecting intrigue. Exhilaration. A curiosity rivaled by no other.

Leaning towards you, head and voice down where the others could not eavesdrop, he asked, “You good?”

Ever the deviant, you responded with one short confirmation, loud enough for his ears only, “Yes, sir.”

He tensed. Eyes widening the exact way someone’s would when trapped in this predicament; squirming under the narrowed scope you viewed each other in after hitting that sweet spot neither of you were aware of, and having no outlet to act upon it. Afterall, you had only agreed to be friends again hours ago. There were boundaries to your relationship. Walls. Guards he resurrected around his heart.. And drool pooling against his bottom lip as he remembered you were wearing a skirt and what sort of sinful delights were trapped between your thighs.

Fervent whispers were had at the other end of the table, and after a hushed debate, Dustin spoke up, “Are you two going to keep flirting, or are you going to wrap this up so we can go home?”

Recovering first, Eddie forced a laugh and opened his arms wide. “Taken by surprise, the manticore continues its planned trajectory, biting down on the wand with its powerful jaw. The gemstone pierces the tissue at the back of his throat. Blood flows over Valendrei’s arm as she retreats from her move. He attempts another bite, lusting for her demise, but the wand lodges deeper into its flesh, crushing his windpipe. Succumbing to the pain, it stumbles backwards into a shimmering wall and disappears behind it. Shimmering, shimmering. The wall waves like heat refracting on hot ground. And then.. It dissipates. Striking bright light blinds you. Warmth gathers all of you in a hug. Scents of damp tree bark and chimney smoke welcome you. The manticore lays in an open plain of grass, gasping its last breath. Beyond him, on a hill in the far distance, is the beginnings of a village amongst the sparse woods.”

”Whiteridge!” The name of the town their original quest was for, before the unrelenting maze of the labyrinth diverted them. Next week they could return to their adventure, experience gained, and free from their Dungeon Master’s cackling.

A succinct, yet satisfying close to the evening. Pushing back from the table, you carried a conversation with the guys outside the theater while Eddie made notes for himself about the map and what miniatures he would need for the village.

Falling behind the freshman, Jeff, Gareth, and Lloyd slowed once you’d said bye to the others, passing around silent looks in lieu of spoken word. When you turned around, Jeff volunteered as the one who should confront you.

“So, about Eddie..”

“About Eddie?” you asked, feeling the elation of the evening evaporate from your mood at his serious tone.

“We feel like you should know how he reacted after you left.” Taking a deep breath, he struggled to explain. “I don’t know how much he told you, or if he told you at all; and you know I’m not really into all the stuff you guys do–drugs, or whatever–but.. I don’t know, man.. He was on some serious shit for a while after you left. No one knew what happened to you, and he just kinda.. spiraled out of control.”

Lloyd said, “My mom worked at the pharmacy back then. It was a shitload of pills.”

“I went over to get him for band practice one time and..” A wince developed on Gareth’s face as he came to terms with what he saw. “It was sad, walking in on someone crushing their day’s worth of benzos into these little meticulous lines to snort later.”

“Jesus..” You thought back to the diner and shook your head, confused. “He said it was a few days that he couldn’t remember.”

All three of them bulged their eyes at the ground. “It was definitely more than a few days.”

Gareth soothed you, “He evened out eventually, obviously. He’s been normal since then, but when you first came back, we were kinda worried he’d relapse, but, uh.. I guess things are fine now?” He ran his hand over his nape and shrugged at the others.

“Whatever you two are,” Jeff began. You didn’t bother picking at the scab of correcting him that you were only friends. “We hope you’re working things out. I know you’re in town for other reasons, but I wouldn’t hate it if you came to visit again some day. Don’t forget you left me without saying anything, too.” He drew in a long breath, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, swaying. “But if Eddie can forgive you, then you’re cool with me.”

“Yeah, you’re fun to play with,” Lloyd added. “Just saying, give it a thought if you can make the drive.”

Sensing the end of the heart-to-heart, Gareth walked in the direction of the school’s parking lot. “There'll always be a seat at the table for you.” Lloyd dipped his head in farewell and joined him.

Waiting for them to disappear amongst the cars, Jeff shifted his weight beside you, crunching grass beneath his shoes. Faced turned up at the stars, taking a moment of peace for himself. You sighed into the cricket-laden night. “Was Eddie really that bad?”

He gave you his blessing. “He’s better now, and I think that’s all he cares about, and all you should focus on. The present. See ya around, yeah?”

“See ya.” Watching him leave, you tightened your arms around yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of Eddie’s shirt as you unpacked way too much information for one day. Returning to the prop area, you shut the door softly behind you, and picked up a trash bin, cleaning up the soda cans and snacks while Eddie packed his things; stuffing papers in his binder and closing it, putting figures in a wooden box. You worked in quiet tandem. Avoiding the other, and being painfully aware of their presence all the same when the unexpected graze of fingers produced a physical yearn–a flinch–when you both reached for a notebook, and the simultaneous whispers of, “Sorry,” stained the interaction as an accident, thus no longer meaningful. “Can I ask you a question?”

Eddie hesitated. “Depends.”

“How come you were talking about me at lunch when we didn’t end yesterday on a good note? You had no idea if I still wanted to come today.”

Relieved it wasn’t about other matters, he revealed his truth. “Hope, really. I had hope. I thought if I manned up and apologized, you’d want to try being friends again, and want to play tonight.” Putting on his jacket and grabbing his bag, he continued on the way to his van, “Plus, as annoying as he is.. Jeff was right about one thing. I was excited to brag about you.”

It was times like these, when Eddie minimized his pain and downplayed his hurt, that you wondered if there were enough apologies in the world to overcome your guilt. He didn’t talk about you for years. Numbed himself for days, weeks, months, and lied to you about it.

He opened the car door for you. Because of course he did.

He kept the radio on low, in case you wanted to talk, because of course he did.

You were finally friends again, and you couldn’t look at him. He could look at you, though. Glancing every minute he drove at a reasonable speed down the dark road, gripping the steering wheel too tight. Taking a breath as if he were about to speak, and letting it go by clearing his throat when he couldn’t get the words out.

Jeff could be right about two things.

Moving on was easier. Reverting to your old dynamic, your style of banter, of laughing until your stomachs hurt; though it came with the confusing sentiment of relentless adoration, yet keeping each other at arm’s-length. You were ready to embrace it. Ready to work on forgiving yourself, if you could manage.

You wanted Eddie, needed him to be your friend again.

In the motel parking lot, he aimed for the room on the corner near the edge of the woods, with the extra window opposite the bathroom where a lamp you left on painted the green bushes lining the trees stark orange.

It was far too easy for Eddie Munson to be charming.

Standing in front of your door, caught in the headlights of his van, you both made awkward attempts at hiding your shy smiles. For a beat, your eyes met, and his toothy grin was as generous as him. This could be it, this could be goodbye. You could never see him after today and he spent his last moments with you nervously playing with his watch.

“Thanks for walking me the..” You eyed the ground. “Four feet to my door. What a gentleman.”

He swung his arms about him. “Anything to keep you safe at night.” You giggled. Waiting for either one of you to make the first move; to leave, to fuel the conversation, to say goodbye and mean it. Waiting for the sky to fall so neither of you would have to make a decision.

After another agonizing minute of sidelong looks, he brought his thumb to his mouth, and ran it over his lip. “So..” he attempted.

“So.”

Eddie dropped all pretenses and went for it.

He asked casually, “Does your fancy dorm have a communal phone, or a payphone nearby, or something like that?” Understanding immediately what he was getting at, your surprised expression did no favors in helping ease his adrenaline. His confidence wilted. He gave you an out, “If not–”

“Every room gets their own phone with an extension. I just have to share it with my roommate. It even comes with an answering machine, so if we’re not there, someone could, in theory, leave a message.”

He whistled. “Extra fancy,” he said, raising his brows. “Could, ah..” You swore you could hear his heartbeat in the shallow breaths he took. In the antsy way he punched his fist in his hand, like old times. “Could I, maybe, get your number, then? Y’know.. If you want to talk more..”

“Sure.” Calm. Full of starstruck smiles. Totally calm, you ripped open your purse and took out your character sheet, tearing a long strip from the top, and using your pencil against the door to write the obscenely long number, trying not to tremble. You handed it to him and he pocketed it without reading it. Too enamored with the positive result of throwing caution to the wind.

“Sweet. Uhm.. I’ll see you–or–call you later. Not tonight, obviously.. But soon, yeah?”

You should win a gold medal for keeping in your laughter. “Yeah. Soon.”

Not at all fumbling with your keys while unlocking your door, you closed it behind you, dropped your head back on the wood, and released your energy in a suppressed squeal.

“Holy shit!” You couldn’t wait to rub it in your roommate's face, “A boy just asked me for my number.”

~~~

Forgetting to drive away, Eddie stared at the paper in his hand, studying it and the way you wrote the numbers above your half-elf’s name. He was so pleased with himself, he could pass out from the blood rushing to his head. “Holy shit.. I fucking did it.”

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff

[pndnj]

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend. 

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41-  1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something  I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t  no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec,  get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone  I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone,  it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor,  cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up,  a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't  the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all,  I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker,  i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun,  seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some,  get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice,  i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon,  this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles  in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

[narrators-journal]

A thank you

Eyyyy, my wifi got shut off for a while, so guess who worked on a lot of writing~ I especially finished and gave this a small edit!

It was your fault the two of you were in this predicament. You had caught Akutagawa's eye a month or two ago. The two of you had met when you'd come across the goth when he was growling like a hurt dog in an alley, tending to a long gash on his side after a particularly harsh job and you'd been so helpful to him, disgustingly compassionate and patient. You'd let him stay with you, not prying or trying to get an exploration as to why he was sitting against a wall and a dumpster with a bleeding wound, and when he was healed, you just let him leave. It baffled him, and left a weird awkward feeling in his chest that he hadn't felt since he first hit puberty and a cute person had so much as looked at him, he hated it. He was in such a torturous back-and-forth now. On one hand, he didn't give a shit that you had helped him when he was hurt, it was your choice to let him stay, not his, but on the other, he was eaten alive by the urge to return to your home, but he had no reasoning for it, just , an insanely strong urge to see you again for no reason. It bothered him, infuriated him, and gnawed at him incessantly. However, for a few days, he tried to just ignore it. He had no reason to return to your home, he was a member of the mafia after all, he wasn't at all attached to a nosey, annoying, civilian who offered nothing useful to him. Sadly, that didn't quell the urge to stop by your home on his way home some nights, or get rid of the weird, intrusive soft feelings that bubbled up now and then. So, after a while longer of trying to deny himself that urge, he compromised. One evening, after Mori had released him for the day, he stopped by a shop and bought you a simple, general little thank you card. Then, he walked back to your home to meander around the street a bit, waiting until no one was around to see him before going up to your porch and slipping the card half under the welcome mat or something. After that, he swiftly left and returned to his own home for the night, feeling bit better already. Sadly, that only lasted a day or two. Then, anxiety began to set in. Why do I care? I shouldn't have even fucking bothered with the card, he told himself one night when those paranoid feelings came to the surface once more at the thought of what you might've done when you found the card while he cooked himself dinner, glaring into the pot of stewing broth and food on the stove. I don't care if she found it, or if she liked it, or if she even remembered me enough to realize why she got the stupid thing. He told himself, stirring his food now and then as he continued to repeat to himself how much he didn't care about it. However, none of his adamant thoughts and denials seemed to work. By the time he had served himself a bowl of stew and sat down to eat, he still had a voice in the back of his mind asking what if she didn't remember me though? What if she just threw the card away? and he couldn't decide what part of that hurt him more. Turns out, he liked the thought of you throwing the card away less than if you'd just forgotten about helping the wheezy, coughing goth. Why would she toss it though? What sort of bitch do you have to be to throw away a fucking thank you card from the only person you helped enough to earn one. He fumed as he ate, working himself up into an anxious rage for an hour or two until he finally decided to return to your home despite the late hour. When he got to your home, it was as dark and as still as the rest of the sleepy neighborhood around it. So, he crept up to your porch and felt a confusing mix of relief and negativity when he found his thank you card gone. After that, he moved to one of your windows that was safely away from any prying neighbors peeking out across the street and used Rashoumon to cut a small disk of glass out of the window so that he could reach in and unlock it. Once he was inside, he was swift to begin his hunt, beginning with the trash, finding no sign of his card there, then beginning to poke around the rest of the house, wanting to see if he could find it at all. He did all of this while biting back coughs or muffling them as much as humanly possible. In the end, he found the cheap card tucked safely into your bedside table. Why is it HERE of all places? Does this mean...did she get more attached to me than she let on? He mused to himself while crouching in front of the drawer, holding the flimsy card in his pale hands while his grey eyes looked up at where you laid on your bed, watching your peaceful, (s/c) face until he felt that annoying foreboding bubble in his throat for the second time since he'd entered your home. However, before he could stop himself, the coughs began to rake through his thin body, making him drop the card in a rush to slap a hand over his mouth to attempt to muffle the honking sounds of his bad lungs.          "Wh-what the fuck?!" And this is why I'm not the assassin. You were now sitting up in your bed, your (e/c) eyes  frantically fighting to adjust to the lack of light while Akutagawa did his best to bite back the last few coughs that fought to escape. Finally, your wide eyes met his cold, dark grey ones the moment they could make out his huddled sillhouette in the darkness. Instantly, the air filled with a thick tension. Then, in a flash, you threw your comforter off of you and tried to bolt, a terrified rabbit having sensed a predator in the night. However, that predator reacted just as swiftly, and before you could even launch yourself from your bed, Akutagawa had ensnared you in the tendrils of his animated coat, binding your arms to your torso and coiling a ribbon of dark, iron-scented cloth around your mouth to muffle your scream of terror. He hissed out a curse and finally stood up, half glaring at you while his eyes scanned over the bits of your figure he could see in the dim, crimson glow of his ability. You were shaking pretty hard, he could almost feel your fear through the cloth of his coat, and your eyes were wide with fight-or-flight instinct, but you were helpless against the constrictor's grip Rashoumon held you in, so he relaxed just a bit. He might be in a bad situation now, but at least you couldn't fight back. That was one less thing to worry about in his bad mood.          "Why are you such a fucking light sleeper?" he snapped, barring his teeth at you like a pissed off dog, but with the cloth over your mouth, you couldn't respond, not that he actually wanted you to. "One cough, and you're awake. What a fucking pain." He complained, wanting to say more, but through his annoyance and humiliation at being caught rooting around in a strangers home, he was reminded that it was a stranger's home. He couldn't berate you for catching him in the act here. So, he took a deep breath, holding it for a moment until he felt that tickle of a cough in his throat pass, and let it out, regaining some of his composure while running a pale hand through his dark, choppy hair. Now the air was thick, but this time with lingering aggression, anxiety, and the thrum of lethal energy Rashoumon exuded, the power's dim glow surely making the goth seem more physically intimidating than he was. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head,             "Well, I can't just leave now." he decided, a small cough escaping, but strangling any other noises of weakness, "you'd probably call the cops and create a headache for me, so...you're coming with me." Of course, you struggled at this declaration, and the goth took a sadistic pleasure in watching your face contort when his power bit into your skin in a warning. "Listen to me, and listen good," he growled after you'd momentarily resigned yourself to your fate, leaning over so you could see just how serious he was in the light of his ability, "I'm going to let you go, and we are going to walk out of here calmly and without distress. Got it? If you try to tell anyone that you are captive, or you try to run, I will kill you on. the. spot." He could see tears beginning to well up into your (e/c) eyes as he spoke in a cold, quiet voice, a drop of blood leaking from a fresh gash on your cheek onto the blade-like ribbon squeezing your jaw so tightly, and watched you nod obediently when his tone and power made it perfectly clear that you had no room for argument. So, Akutagawa unwrapped you from his power, letting you meekly step down from your bed before wrapping his coat tie around your waist, just a bit of insurance as he led you out into the quiet night. Akutagawa had no idea how a simple mission to check if you'd kept his apology card had turned into this, but now he had to adjust. He had no room for you at home, so tomorrow he'd have to find a place to keep you. Where? He had no idea. But, what he did know, was that, despite the humiliating set up, something about having you with him, walking as far from him as your razor-wire leash would allow, in the quiet, peaceful night, brought some sort of comfort or joy to him in that moment. And he didn't want to give that up after tonight.

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.3, Final)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part Three, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,647 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Warnings for this chapter: Mention of abortion! Author’s Note: As usual, this is 18+.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony was calling. He must have gone to the apartment and found you gone by now, especially since you had not been answering him via text or by phone. You sent him to voicemail letting your music start again. You had rented a car to drive away from the city.

The jewelry he had given you came in handy to get cash that you were using for gas and hopefully a down payment on an apartment somewhere. Stripping joints were abundant, and you were sure if you found a sizable city, you would find work without an issue. You were thinking about Milwaukee. It was far enough away from NYC and there was a college there too.

Your phone beeped with another voicemail from him. Signing, against your better judgment, you reached forward to press play, it coming over the car’s speakers.

He was pissed. Unsurprisingly. He had been tight on the last one he had left, wound up that you were not answering him. But this was a whole different level. He was practically shouting.

“This better be a goddamn joke, Y/N. My patience is already up with it though. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had snuck out? Where the fuck is all the jewelry? Huh? Your clothes? If I find out you left and you’re cheating on me, I’m gonna kill them.”

You did not doubt him when he said that. And he confirmed he was at the apartment if he noticed your stuff was gone.

“And were you planning on telling me about the pregnancy?” Your eyes widened and then you swore remembering you had not emptied the trash in the bathroom. “Or were you just gonna keep that to yourself? Listen very carefully to me, if you do something drastic, I’m not gonna be nice about it. Not in the fucking slightest. You best believe that and take that to heart! Don’t be fucking stupid! Call. Me. Back.”

The voicemail ended.

Yes. The pregnancy. You were already thinking about which office you could go to. You had left a note for Thor about quitting and you wondered how quickly your health insurance was going to stay in place. Before after leaving a job, it had stayed on until the end of the month, but you were unsure, and you were not about to call him and ask. An appointment at a clinic though, that was something you needed to deal with quickly. You were sure there was a facility you could find when you got yourself established.

<><><>

“You’re a psychopath,” Carol said to Tony, smirking.

She was watching him put up security cameras around Y/N’s apartment, hidden from the normal eye with his technology. And when he had taken the lock apart on her door to install tech he could control himself from his cell, she had shook her head.

“I prefer creative,” Tony responded, as he tested it out. It worked perfectly. “Little bitch isn’t going to be leaving without trying extra hard.”

<><><>

You found a hotel in Columbus. You made sure to put a chair underneath the door handle on top of using both locks. It was scary to be traveling alone. And especially when you did not know the area.

The next morning, you woke up to another voicemail from Tony. You had reached over to silence it while you were sleeping, knowing damn well who would be calling you at 2:30am.

He sounded sloshed.

“Do you remember me telling you I was never going to let you go? Cause I said it multiple times. That hasn’t changed, Y/N. It’s been almost 24 hours since you answered to me!” Slip up there with that ‘to’ added in. “It’s really fucking frustrating, and you know goddamn well I don’t like being frustrated. It’s…you’re being disrespectful!” There was a slight pause and you heard him take a drink. He let out a humorless laugh. “You won’t run away from me. I’m going to find you.”

He hung up.

Hearing how mad he was, your stomach was twisting. He was not a man that liked to be thwarted or feel like he was being disrespected. Not to mention that he was a fucking mafia member. If he got his hands back on you, he was not going to be kind. And the time he told you he would never hurt you would be tested, you worried.

Why did you let yourself get so far involved with such a dangerous, jealous man? Again?

Forcing yourself to get up from the bed, you went to take a shower to try to relax in the hot water. Afterward, you walked across the street to the coffee shop. You wanted to get on the road again to put some more distance between you and NYC and ultimately between you and him.

<><><>

You drove around the edge of UW-Milwaukee, stealing glances at the campus. A city like this with a college surely had good clientele for the clubs.

Pulling over and parking, you opened your phone beginning to search for an apartment and a job. There had to be an abundance of apartments available around the college since it was summer and a class had just graduated.

<><><>

He kept calling and kept calling. He was not going to stop. It had been two weeks. You had been trying to convince yourself to answer him and tell him to leave you alone and that it was over. You thought about changing your number and you would, but after the conversation you needed to have.

Piqued, you answered, “Tony, I’m busy—"

“Oh, you’re busy? So busy you couldn’t fucking answer me? Over the last two weeks, you’ve been ‘busy’. Too busy for me? That’s hilarious! You should have your own fucking stand up show.” His tone was dripping with condescension.

Sighing, you said, “I’m getting ready for work! This needs to be quick.”

“Work?” Tony chuckled darkly. “Now you care about work? You fucked Thor over by quitting on the spot. How were you even able to get a reference?”

“I danced. That was reference enough.”

“Of course you did. Of course you’re stripping. Where are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Tony!”

“Y/N, baby,” he started, sounding like it was taking everything in him to keep his voice even. “If you just apologize and tell me where you are or just come back, I’ll be able to let this go easier. You can come back to me, and it’ll all be okay.”

You mustered out a strong, “No! I am not going to do that.”

His leash was back off. “Why are we playing this stupid game, Y/N? I can handle you being bratty — cause I love fucking it out of you — but this is really pushing me over the edge!”

“I’m not being a brat! You were suffocating me!”

“Suffocating you? I worship you!” He was so easily able to confuse his possession with love. He continued on irritated, “I shower you with gifts! I make sure you’re well taken care of! I’ve treated you better than anyone else has! And you’re coming at me like this? What is your fucking problem, Y/N? What? Is being on the phone instead of in person giving you some fake confidence? Don’t think I’m not keeping track of this ungrateful bullshit just because you’re not standing in front of me!”

He was quickly losing his temper. You had never made him this mad, had never pushed back.

You were shaking as you tried to stand up for yourself, “I’m not the one with a problem! I didn’t force you to move anywhere or—"

Tony interrupted you furiously. “Do you understand how much that apartment cost? How much that car cost? You barely drove it!”

Frustrated he was steam rolling you as usual. you said fighting to keep tears back, “Sell it then!”

“If that was supposed to be a joke, it was an awful one. This shit isn’t fucking funny, Y/N! When I find out where you are, I’m gonna drag you back by your goddamn hair!”

“Good luck!” you spat, it slipping out before you really thought about it. Your eyes widened at what you had just done, and you quickly hung up as he started to snarl something back.

He was immediately calling you back and you sent him to voicemail again.

<><><>

Tony let out an aggravated shout, throwing his phone down on the desk when she did not answer him back.

Good luck was right.

She had stayed on the line long enough to give him time to trace her down to the general area. Milwaukee. Near the university. He would find her, and he was gonna find her quick with getting eyes on the ground to spot her leaving her place wherever that was in the area. And she was not going to like it when he came knocking to collect her.

<><><>

The bag from the closest grocery store was heavy with groceries for the week. You had returned the rental car when you signed your lease, able to use the bus system until you bought your own car.

You noticed there was a man watching you across the street and you slowed in your pace, narrowing your eyes. He did not look away and you swallowed sharply before resuming your pace. You felt like you could still feel his eyes on the back of your head. You had felt like there had been eyes on you earlier this morning too. A foreboding feeling was creeping; you wanted to get inside and quick.

Entering your apartment, you kicked the door closed and struggled to lock it immediately. The bag crunched as you walked over to the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

You put the few groceries away and walked around the counter, tearing your shirt off and tossing it on the back of one of your chairs. It was hot since you were on the third floor and you had not been able to buy an air conditioner yet.

“This place is a shithole.”

You screamed, startled at the voice, whipping around, your eyes searching wildly.

Tony was sitting in the end of your bed in your room.

He had surprisingly not called you for the last few days, not after the conversation the two of you had. Not hearing from him had set you on edge just as much as him calling you did. You knew he was not going to give up easily and the silence was a trap if you fell into it thinking that it was done.

Your eyes flicked to the door, and he chastised you in low, dangerous tones, “Y/N, you’re already in enough trouble. Don’t make this worse for yourself. Carols outside. So is Rhodey. And a handful of other people I brought along in case you were gonna cause more trouble.”

The man outside. So, you had been being watched.

Tony stood up from the bed and came out of the bedroom, and up to you. You took a few steps back and he tsked you. You stopped immediately, knowing what he wanted. He closed the rest of the space and raked his eyes up and down you.

“Why did you have to go and cause trouble in the first place? You think I was suffocating you? That’ll seem like a cakewalk compared to when you come back with me. See, we’ve lost trust. I can’t have you running around when you know as much as you do. And you running off looks like you were going to squeal.” You opened your mouth to protest but he rose his voice, shutting you up. “And I can’t have that. Not when I have other people to answer to on the team. I will not be the weak link in the chain, which means you are not going to be running off in the middle of the night. Even if it’s not what you planned to do, it looks bad.”

His hands came to rest on your biceps, squeezing in tight, causing you to flinch slightly. His eyes were hard. “You could have had the world and you threw it away.” His thumbs caressed, his tongue slipping between his lips. “But I can be a forgiving man if you make me believe that you’re sorry. Just do that for me, beg for forgiveness, and I’ll take care of you and that baby.”

You gulped at the mention of the baby, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed. He leaned in, searching your face and you looked away, but he forced you to look back at him, his hand holding your jaw tight.

“Y/N, baby… you got something to tell me?”

You were silent, your heart starting to hammer.

“Y/N, you know I don’t like repeating myself.”

His grip tightened and you felt tears pricking, apprehensive of how he was going to react.

Your voice warbled, “I…I had an abortion.”

Tony was frozen, his eyes wide and incendiary. His grip on your jaw loosened and you took a step back away from him. His jaw clicked, eyes not leaving you. You saw he was going to explode.

Raising your hand shakily, as if that was going to hold him off, you started, “Now, Tony—"

His backhand sent you stumbling. He caught you before you could do it yourself and slammed you up against the wall.

“You’re lucky I didn’t cold clock you!” He snarled, his fingers digging in painfully to your arms.

“Tony, don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Be fucking furious that I told you not to do anything drastic and then you went and did just that? Without even consulting me? I have a goddamn right to be furious! How fucking dare you!”

You were sniffling now, terrified.

He gave you a rough shake before demanding, “What’s the lease on this place?” You took too long to answer. “Answer me!”

“Month to month,” you whimpered.

“Smart. Makes this easier.” His nose was practically brushing yours. “Look, you’re gonna be good and listen to me about exactly what is going to happen—"

“You can’t—"

“Did I tell you that you could talk? No! I told you you were going to listen. Keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tony lashed out. You closed your mouth, your lip warbling. “You’re coming with me. And I haven’t decided yet if I want them all to listen to you beg for forgiveness on the plane or if I’m waiting until we are alone. Not doing it here. Don’t wanna alarm your neighbors and have to injure any of them if they try to interfere. I don’t want, nor need that type of mess.”

He shoved you as he let you go, and you wiped at your eyes.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Can’t even follow simple goddamn directions. What are you? A child?” he snorted angrily. He snapped his fingers at you and pointed at your room. “Get your shit. We are leaving and going home. The jets at the airport.”

<><><>

He had not punished you on the plane. You instead had sat, curled in as tightly as you could to yourself in the chair across from him under a blanket, looking out the window as much as possible. You felt him watching you intensely the whole two hours. You could only imagine the deranged ideas going through his head about what he was going to do to you when he got you alone.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, he ordered you, “Get yourself done up. I want you to look nice for me. I’ll be out here watching the game.”

His goons brought in your suitcases and put them next to the kitchen table before leaving at his order. Tony grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He saw you were still standing there, and he glared.

“Y/N…” he said dangerously. “I don’t see you moving.”

You grabbed your suitcase with your clothes and trudged down the hall, feeling his hard stare at your back until you disappeared into the bedroom. You had left a lot of your clothes here but there was a dress you had brought with you, one that he liked specifically. Which shocked you a little bit because it was loose and free; still short though.

Taking the time to shower, blow dry, do your makeup, and dress, you felt the anxiety rising about what he was going to do. You thought the extra time would calm you down, but it was doing the opposite because it was giving you more time to think.

When you walked back down the hall, your black wedges announcing your arrival, Tony looked over the back of the couch. You saw the bottle on the coffee table. He had been drinking, not a surprise. He gestured you over and you walked around the couch, coming over to him. He ran his eyes up and down you, taking you in.

“Well, don’t you look just perfect?” he asked, an edge underlying his tone.

He stood up from the couch and you stayed still. He pulled his phone out and took a picture of you without giving you time to prepare. He turned his phone around and you looked dumbstruck in the photo.

But he complimented, “Look at that. Pristine. That’s what good girls look like.” A cruel smile flashed across his features, and he tossed his phone down on the couch. “But you’re not a good girl are you, baby?”

You only had a moment to react before he was forcing you down to your knees. You hissed in pain as your knees slammed against the hardwood.

“You brought this on yourself. You think I like punishing you?” Tony asked, working on his belt with one hand as the other held you by the back of the neck. Your hands came up to grip his thighs, pressing back against the hold he had on your neck. “Ah ah, stay where you are.” He stroked himself with purpose, his hand moving at a steady pace. “Look at you. A pretty little slut that needs to be taught a lesson.”

He was hard now, the head of his cock pressing against your lips.

“Open your damn mouth!” You clenched your teeth, knowing he was gonna be rough and not wanting to choke. He let go of you to slap your cheek and sneered, “Don’t make me ask you again!”

You opened your mouth reluctantly, and he grabbed you by the back of your neck again and shoved his dick in all the way, your nose brushing his pubes. You gagged before he pulled back out, running his head around your lips. He groaned at the sight, slipping back in and using your mouth.

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love you!” you got out around his width.

“Look at me!” You forced your gaze up to meet his and he thrusted faster, hitting the back of your throat. Your hands gripped tight onto his thighs, eyes begging for him to slow down. But he was not relenting, and your throat was aching. Another groan left his lips as he demanded, “Tell me you love me, you little bitch.”

It was hard to say it, you choking now, tears stinging your eyes. “I love you!”

He pulled away roughly, his hand wrapped around your hair tightly, keeping you in place. Your saliva was stringing messily between him and your lips. Your chin as well as his pubes were glistening with your drool. You gasped for air, thankful for the reprieve from your jaw aching from being open so wide.

The reprieve was short lived though and you cried out in pain as he began walking, dragging you by your hair.

“Forgive me that I don’t quite believe you. But I’m gonna make sure I do believe you. I’m gonna get a genuine one out of you before I’m through.”

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and held you tight. “Give me a show. Take that dress off and let me see you. Let me see what I’m going to take.”

Shakily, you stood up as his grip laxed and he was watching you like a hawk. You wiped at your lips, knowing there was little to do about your eye makeup since he had made tears come with how hard he had been choking you. You started to sway your hips, trying to find a rhythm amongst the excitement. You turned away from him so he could not see your face as you struggled to calm down enough to dance.

It was sloppy, unconfident. But that did not seem to bother him. He pulled you into his lip and his hands slipped up your dress and into your underwear.

“Don’t get to tell me now that I can’t touch,” he husked against your cheek, his fingers slipping into your pussy. “All mine.”

He was stroking you, getting you worked up, making you lose focus on grinding. You bit your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping.

Tony chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. “I know you like that. Gonna get you good and wet for me, sweetheart. Spread your legs further.”

You were falling so easily into his touch, your core wanting more. You were getting wound up and he was loving it. He worked quicker, his breath heavy as he felt how aroused you were, wetting his fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl. Look how well you are behaving for me. Is this you apologizing?” He pulled away just to lay a hard smack on your cunt. You bucked, crying out and he did it again. You whimpered as his fingers entered again, focusing on your bud. “You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded and he sucked at your neck. “You’re repenting so well… but you’ve got a long way to fucking go.”

You were so close, but he suddenly shoved you away roughly, causing you to stumble in your heels.

“Strip.”

You did as he asked, pulling the dress up and tossing it behind you, leaving you in just your underwear. He rose his brows expectantly and you turned around, bending over slowly. You pulled your underwear down, feeling how wet they were at the crotch. You heard him hum at the sight of them and your glistening pussy. They fell to your ankles, and you turned around, kicking them off.

Tony stood up and pointed at the bed. “On your stomach.” You did as he asked and heard him getting undressed. You peeked over your shoulder at him undoing his tie as he walked towards your closet. He emerged again with a scarf, his eyes fixated on you. “Did I tell you you could look at me?” You turned back around quickly, butterflies swarming.

He grabbed one of your ankles and yanked you down the bed. You felt his tie around your ankle, and you tensed as he tied you to the bed frame. He was at your opposite ankle and tied your other leg with your scarf tightly.

“Tony…” you said hoarsely.

He did not answer you and you laid there, spread wide. The bed creaked with his weight and his thick thighs straddled you, holding you even tighter in place. You felt him pressing in and your fingers dug into your quilt. Each inch filled you up more and he exhaled as he reached his base.

“That’s the gentlest thrust you’re going to get, sweetheart. Enjoy it.”

Tony was not lying; he was pounding you into the mattress and you were not being quiet about the intrusion. You were already so wet, and he was adding to the sensation the way he was working you.

“You’re gonna remember who you loves you the most,” he groaned. The bed was shaking with how hard he was driving into you. “You’re gonna remember to behave!”

Pulling out of you, he smacked you hard against your ass. “Get up on your knees. Now!”

You obeyed, maneuvering with the restraints and his fingers replaced his dick, rubbing your clit. You keened, your back arching at the intense contact. You were ashamed that as usual you fell to the arousal, letting him take you over completely even when he was being as mean as he was.

“Fuck, you little whore. Look at you. So needy for cock. Why did you leave me in the first place? You were never going to find anyone that would love you like I do. You hurt my feelings, baby. And I don’t like having my feelings hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped without any prompting.

Tony’s fingers fell from your sex, and he was up, holding you by the throat. His breath was hot on your ear. “I might just leave you here on the bed right now. Tie those delicate wrists up too. Keep you on display for me. I’ll just walk by and see you stuck here, just dependent on me to come back to release you.”

You shook your head, begging pathetically, “No, p-please.”

“You want me to finish?”

“Yes!”

“Do you deserve it? Cause I don’t think you fucking do.”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t. But, please!” He brushed your pussy lightly with his fingers, teasing and you broke down even further. “I love you! I love you! Please!”

“You’re not gonna leave me again.” It was a statement, not a question.

You shook your head furiously again, gasping, “No! No, I won’t leave you!”

He yanked you up painfully by your hair again and new tears stung your eyes.

“I’m gonna make fucking sure of it. You’re gonna be on house arrest until I see fit to let you out! Face down,” Tony snarled, pushing you roughly down by the shoulders. He was behind you again. “You’re gonna be full of my seed when I’m done.”

Your chest hit the bed as the room filled with skin slapping skin loudly as he ravaged you. It did not take long for your body to tense up and a shriek left you as your pussy clenched around him. Tony’s breath was erratic as his pace lost control, his fingers digging into your hips. Broken husks were falling from his mouth, you could not make it out over the buzz in your ears. You felt the warmth though when he filled you up, his cock buried deep. He was making sure it was up against your cervix. His groan was long and loud, his hands squeezing your ass tight.

When he pulled away, you laid out flat, feeling worn. You heard him leave the room, the hardwood in the hall creaking with his footfalls. Your body was covered in sweat, heavy pants leaving your lips. For a moment, you forgot you were tied and tried to adjust and let out a sigh of disappointment when you felt the tug of the restraint on your ankle.

Tony was back with his phone. He cooed, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so tired. Look up at me.” You lifted your head and saw him snap a picture of you. His lips curled into a smirk at the photo, and he turned it around to show you. Your makeup was ruined, tear trails on your cheeks, mascara and eyeliner smudged. You looked like a mess.

“Look at this lovely sight,” he purred. He flipped to the last photo of you looking made up and then back again. “Look how dirty you got pleasing me compared to before. I’m going to keep these.” A malicious glint flashed in his eyes, and he said, “I’ll give you a few to recover. But baby, there’s gonna be round two and no, I’m not going to let you clean up. Let’s see how much dirtier I can get you.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @buttercandy16

[corruptedcaps]

Test Drive

It had been a few month since Morgan’s evil step mom Cassandra had been in car accident that had taken her life but she was still reluctant to even touch the repaired car let alone take it for a drive.

She wasn’t worried about its stability, in fact the insurance company made sure it was even better than new. No she just knew how much Cassandra loved the luxury car and how she would berate poor Morgan if she so much as looked at it. Even now in death she feared her step mother’s retaliation.

However every day as she trudged to grab the bus she would think more an more about taking the car. It was almost as if there was an unseen force compelling her to take it. It all became unbearable until one day she had to take it for a test drive.

She slipped into the leather seat smoothly and started the engine. The soft purr of the vehicle made her anxiety fade away and suddenly feel at ease with her choice to take the car. It also helped that when she revved the engine the car vibrated to the point of making her pussy wet. It made her feel weirdly powerful.

Tapping the accelerator some more she moaned as her body tingled all over. This time however she felt her breasts heave outward just ever so slightly. They had definitely grown.

“Rev it some more, you know you want to. Rev it and you can test drive more than my car.” Said the familiar bitchy voice of Cassandra suddenly in her mind. Morgan should of questioned why she heard her deceased step mother in her head or even why her boobs had grown but instead she felt compelled to follow Cassandra’s instructions instead and pushed down on the accelerator.

Her tits began to grow the more she pushed down causing the zip on her sweater to drop lower and lower exposing more and more cleavage. She smirked at her new assets.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to have my slutty big tits? Keep going and I’ll give you more of me to test.” Cassandra said and Morgan complied. Her thoughts were changing from her focus on studies to materialism instead. She stroked the steering wheel lovingly coveting it.

“Yessss mommy make me like you, Give me more of your bitchy power! I want to be just like you!” Morgan moaned now putting her foot flat on the accelerator. The changes increased rapidly with her hair growing long in length and thick in volume. She ran her now manicured nails through her mane and tossed it back into a professional style with ease.

“You’re almost ready to take my place, you know what I want to hear.” Cassandra purred in the ether around Morgan who was close to orgasming harder than she had in all her life.

“Make me you! Make me Cassandra! Make me an evil spoilt bitch!” She yelled out as the wheels of her parked tires spun up clouds of smoke until she released her foot.

Morgan and Cassandra’s mind slammed together and merged into one depraved soul. Morgan’s youth and intelligence joined and unholy union with her step mother’s beauty and evil.

Opening the glovebox the new Cassandra took out her designer pair of sunglasses and put them on.

“Mmmm I’m back an even better than new, just like my beautiful car. Time to go buy a brand new wardrobe for my young and sexy new body.” She said laughing to herself as she finally took the car out of park and drove away from Morgan’s old life.

[madlori]

Coming soon: “Strike Anywhere”

Sooooo like a month ago I had a fun lil plot bunny and banged out a short Schitt’s Creek fic called “Burn Out the Night.” In it, Patrick is a firefighter and David is a city engineer and they do Not Get Along, in fact they are infamous for their fights at calls. Except this night, a warehouse fire goes badly, and in the course of the situation Patrick is injured, at which point it’s revealed that these two bitter enemies are in fact married. Everyone is SHOOK. SEEKRIT HUSBANDS. It’s also super fun to have both these guys really lean in to their latent troll tendencies.

People were into this concept, and I jibed so much with the premise that I launched into a prequel story about how these two met and came to be seekrit husbands. I expect to finish it in the next few days and start posting soon (one chapter per day). So I thought I’d post a lil trailer!

Title: Strike Anywhere Fandom: Schitt’s Creek Rating: E Length: 65K Tags: David Rose/Patrick Brewer, Firefighter AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Secret Relationship, First Responders, Hurt/Comfort, Patrick Brewer/OMC, Patrick Brewer Is Gay (and has been out for awhile), these are just temporary tags the real ones will be on the actual story with content warnings (none of the Big Four)

------

Patrick Brewer would always remember the first words ever spoken to him by the man who he would eventually marry, because they were “What the fuck are you doing? Are you an idiot?”

He straightened up, blinking dust and grime out of his eyes, a futile attempt given that he was standing in the middle of a destroyed store with a car through the front of it, holding a pneumatic cutter. The man who’d just called him an idiot was lurking on the sidewalk, peering in through the jagged hole in the storefront, dressed in expensive-looking shoes and massive white-framed sunglasses, his impressive eyebrows halfway to his hairline. “I’m baking a cake,” Patrick said, dryly, and went back to what he was doing.

-----

Once the woman in the car had been extracted and whisked off to the hospital, Patrick left the scene to the police, the tow trucks and the insurance adjusters and toted his equipment back out to the fire truck parked outside. He stowed the pneumatic cutters, spotting David Rose standing with Ronnie by her truck. Pique rising in his chest, he stalked over to them. “Okay, somebody wanna explain to me who this guy is and why he gets to barge into my rescue?”

Rose turned to face him, tipping his sunglasses up on top of his head. “Who are you, sturdy wee man? An intern, or something? Does the fire service have interns?”

“I’m Captain Brewer of the 315,” Patrick said, flatly. “I’m in charge here.”

----

Patrick went back to his truck, tossing his helmet into the back with more force than was probably recommended by its manufacturer. Shit, he thought. This is going to suck, a lot. Having someone hovering over everything he did, second-guessing every decision he made, would be bad enough. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that he’d be suffering the unwanted interference of possibly the hottest guy he’d ever seen, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to make that not true.

----

“Ugh, I had the worst day. I spent three hours driving around with that snotty Captain from the 315.”

“You mean Brewer? The one you won’t shut up about?”

“Complaining about! Bitching about!”

“Sure.”

“He’s a self-righteous prick and I deserve some kind of peace prize for not flinging myself across the car and throttling him to death with my bare hands.”

“I’m sure that keeping yourself from, uh, flinging was a real struggle.” Stevie picked up David’s tablet and started Googling something. “You know when you told me about this horrible Captain Brewer, your arch-nemesis, I pictured some grizzled, crotchety old guy. You neglected to mention...this,” she said, brandishing the tablet with a flourish.

On the screen was an article from the paper with the headline “Toronto Fire Services Promotes Youngest Captain in its History,” above a very nice photo of Patrick in uniform, arms crossed, smiling and looking like a recruitment poster.

“What, exactly, did I neglect to mention? Young guys can be grizzled and crotchety.”

“You neglected to mention that Captain Brewer is a snack.”

“If he is, he’s one of those tasteless low-carb sugar-free snacks full of xylitol that’ll give you explosive diarrhea and make you wish you’d never been born.”

-----

“Why’d you do it, anyway?” David suddenly exclaimed, coming off the wall to stand right in Patrick’s face.

“Do what?”

“Save my life, you fuckhead!”

“That’s my job! What was I going to do, just stand there and let the truck fall on you?”

“Great! Except now I have to, like, be nice to you.”

“I am begging you not to be nice to me, I might drop dead of a heart attack from the shock!”

David’s lip curled in a sneer. “I don’t know what kind of carnage I committed in a past life to deserve this. Look at you with your fireman outfit and your respectably-gay undercut and you probably have a modest tattoo somewhere under there and I could axe-murder you, I really could, you just had to be the big damn hero, throwing me to the ground like some damsel in distress, and that isn’t even the worst part!”

“What’s the worst part?”

“That a guy I can’t stand saved my pointless life and it was so goddamn hot that I might have to jump off a cliff!”

------

...coming soon!

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[spareseratoninplz]

More Than Pain Bakugo x Y/N reader insert Ch. 2

“Miss…? Excuse me, miss…?” I was gently shaken awake by a hand, and when I woke up a friendly looking gentleman was smiling down at me.

“You’re miss (L/N), right?” He asked, and I nodded.

“Yes… how is my mother?” I asked, my brow immediately furrowing. He placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me from getting up, and took a seat across from me after pulling up a chair to sit on.

“Your mother is in stable condition… her case however… well, it’s uncertain.” He said, and my heart dropped.

“Case…? Uncertain…?” I echoed, and he cleared his throat.

“Your mother had a very serious seizure. Her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long, and this has caused her to slip into a coma. As I said, she’s in stable condition, but if she’s going to have any sort of chance of recovery, we’ll need to perform surgery…” He said the last few words very carefully, and I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“H-How much…?” I asked, and he hesitated before sighing deeply.

“54,200,000 ¥…*” The doctor spoke, and I felt my mouth go dry.

“Your mother’s insurance will pay for her accommodations here at the hospital until the money for surgery can be raised… with any luck, then surgery won’t be necessary. And she’ll simply wake up. Still, there’s the topic of muscle atrophy, and getting her the physical and psychological therapy to recuperate afterwards…” His voice faded out as my brain grew numb with the same question. How in the world am I supposed to raise that much money? As a middle school student I’m not allowed to have any sort of part time job. Not only that, but how was I supposed to pay for rent, power, water, and food when I had absolutely no income whatsoever?

“Miss (L/N)?” The doctor called out my name, and I snapped out of my stupor.

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked, and after a moment of hesitation, he realized I hadn’t.

“There is a program- a temporary service if you will- one that will place you in the care of a foster home… at least for the time being.” I nodded quietly, not really knowing what else to say.

“Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the program’s coordinator.” He ushered me along, and I followed blindly, my eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

*One day later*

“Here we are! Oh, you are absolutely going to love this couple!” The coordinator opened the door for me to step out with nothing but my backpack on.

“Oh dear… are you certain that’s all you wanted to bring?” She asked.

“I don’t plan on being here for very long.” I said, walking passed her towards the front door. She followed me quickly, and rang the doorbell as I examined the outside structure of the house. It was rounded at the top with a subtle but elegant grey stone layout. The windows were large and somewhat tinted to reflect the incoming sunlight, and I couldn't help but think how clever that was of the designer to come up with. My attention was grabbed when the front door slowly opened to reveal a tall, muscular  man with spiky brown hair, glasses, and the slightest hint of  a mustache.

“Oh? Hey, you must be (F/N)! Mitsuki, she’s here!” He called behind him, and I could hear the sound of fast footsteps as she made her way to the front door, and nearly knocked the man over in the process.

“Who is it Masaru? Did you say (F/N)?” She asked. She poked her head out, and my eyes immediately focused on two distinctive features, her eyes and hair.

“(F/N)! It’s so good to meet you!” She exclaimed. Before I knew what was happening, she’d already pulled me inside.

“Katsuki! Come meet our guest!” She called out, and the moment she shouted that name, my blood ran cold.

“GO TO HELL!!!” He shouted back in response. Mitsuki only smiled at me briefly as the tension settled in the air. After a moment she turned to me with the same smile on her face.

“Wait right here dear, I’ll  be right back.” She spoke softly and gracefully ascended the stairs to what I could only assume was Katsuki’s room. There were a few light knocks on the door before it sounded like the ceiling was falling in.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT!” She screamed. She then proceeded to drag Bakugou down the stairs by his ear, much to his protest, and tossed him onto the floor in front of us. My eyes locked onto a coat rack in the corner near the door, and I didn’t dare tear my eyes away for a moment. He stood to his feet and swung around as though he were going to strike his own mother, but instead she smacked the back of his head, and he fell to his knees right in front of me. I jumped back, and accidentally met his eyes. If looks could kill, I’d already be dead.

“(F/N) Is going to be staying here for a little while, and I want you to be the one to show her to her room.” Mitsuki ordered, and Katsuki simply glared at me before sliding his hands into his pockets and walking back towards the stairs.

“You comin’ or not?!” He demanded, looking at me sideways as though I were supposed to read his mind. I glared back, unimpressed before following behind him up the stairs.

We took an immediate right, and he placed his foot against a door before roughly kicking it open and stepping inside. I followed him in, and took a look around. Everything was so neat, tidy, and fresh smelling. They had even changed the bed linens and had a fluffy black bathrobe neatly folded on the bed along with a set of clothes. What was this place? A hotel? “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demanded, and I glanced at him over my shoulder.

“Your parents didn’t tell you what’s going on?” I asked, and he scoffed.

“All they said was we’d have a guest for a couple months. They never said anything about it being some dumb bitch.” He said, expecting to get a rise out of me, but I remained quiet.

“I’ll stay out of your way.” I said, giving him a cold look that he seemed taken aback by.

“The hell’s your problem?” He asked, and I exhaled slowly through my nose before neatly placing my backpack on the back of a nearby chair.

“Why? So you can degrade me on that too?” I asked, my tone just as cold as my icy glare. For once he had nothing to say as he stood there with the same angry look on his face.

“I get that you don’t like me, and I’ll stay out of your way while I’m here, so, just go do… whatever.” I said, my tone bland as I turned to  start unpacking things from my bag. After a moment of silence I assumed he had just left, so when I heard the shuffling of feet, and suddenly found myself pinned up against the desk as his hands gripped the edges at my hips, trapping me in place. His body and face were both very close to mine, and radiating heat that I didn’t know could be generated from a human body.

“Listen here you, don’t come into my fucking house thinking you’re better than me just because you have some stupid-ass quirk, you got it?” He hissed, and my brow furrowed.

“What did I say to insinuate that I think I’m better than you?” I asked, pressing my hand against his chest to move him away, but he quickly caught my hand and gripped it tightly, maybe even painfully if pain was something I could feel.

“What was that shit you pulled the other day in the hallway, huh?” He asked.

“Let go of me.” I hissed, and he smirked in an almost challenging way.

“Make me.” He growled. I felt something swelling up within me. This anger that I wasn’t at all familiar with coupled with something else. I felt my body begin to shake, and I forcibly grabbed his wrist with the hand that he was holding me, and his eyes widened for a split moment before I flipped him onto his back. He grunted as I stood up and moved away from him, looking down at my own two hands as though they weren’t mine.

“Shit…” Bakugou cursed under his breath before sitting up, and rubbing at the back of his head. He shot me a bewildered look before standing straight up and marching over to me. He looked me over expectantly before clicking his tongue, and heading for the door. He froze just before walking through, and glanced back at me over his shoulder.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the left… dinner’s at 5:30… and don’t touch any of my shit!” He spat before shutting the door behind him roughly. I sighed before shaking my head, and pulling my laptop from my bag. I settled in on the bed, and began surfing the web in hopes of winding down, and ignoring what had just happened with my quirk. I had never been able to use it that way before… then again, no one has ever made me feel so frustrated before either.

“Hm?” I hummed in thought as my eyes caught a glimpse of a flashy headliner. I clicked on the link as the webpage opened completely.

“UA RECOMMENDATION EXAM REPORTED TO BE REWARDING HIGHEST RANKING ENTRANT 55,300,000!”

All I could do was stare at the screen with my mouth hanging open, unable to think or speak. 

It seemed all too easy, enter the exam, pass with the highest score, and win the money that I would need to get mom the surgery she needed… an additional  1,152,320¥ never hurts either… I quickly began looking up anything and everything that I could about this exam, and found out quite a bit about it relatively quickly.

“Let’s see… consists of a written exam, practical exam, and an… interview…? Alright, no problem, but… what would I do about references? That would be the main thing I need, right?” I mumbled to myself and groaned before flopping backwards onto the bed.

I can’t believe I’m even playing with thoughts like these. To think I’d even stand a chance against anyone who’s recommended to UA? It may seem like easy money, but now that I think about it, there’s no way it would be that easy. There was suddenly a gentle knock at the door, and I quickly stood from the bed to answer it.

“Mrs. Bakugou, I’m sorry was I being too loud?” I asked, and she chuckled before waving me off, and shooting me a smile.

“Not at all dear! I just came up to check and see how you were getting settled.’ She said, and I nodded before giving her a thankful smile.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. You have a beautiful home.” I said, and she smiled even brighter.

“Aren’t you the sweetest, thank you!” She giggled before banging her fist once against the door directly behind her before shouting.

“YOU HEAR THAT, KID?! WHY CAN’T YOU BE SWEET LIKE HER?!” Mrs. Bakugou shouted.

“WOULD YOU SHUT IT, YOU OLD HAG?! I’M TRYIN’ TO STUDY!” Bakugou shouted back. So, his room was directly across from mine…? Good to know. I thought sarcastically.

“WHY YOU-” I cut her off before she had a chance to shout again. She looked as though she were about to break down his door.

“Bakugou is actually a pretty nice guy at school!” I blurted out before I could think. She froze, and turned to me with a skeptical look.

“That’s not what I’ve heard…” She said, her brow furrowing.

“What? No, really. He helped me to find my locker and the cafeteria on my first day of school, and he’s always willing to help out when I need a partner during study period.” I said. It wasn’t a complete lie. He had helped me find my locker and the cafeteria on the first day… he just wasn’t super polite about it. As for the study partner thing, really we had just been paired up together by the teacher, and did our own work silently.

“He may seem a little harsh at first, but Bakugou is someone who is really very dedicated to his goal of becoming a pro hero. I admire him for not being afraid to speak his mind about things… it’s a quality I wish I had.” I admitted, and I suddenly found myself wondering why I was suddenly singing Bakugou’s praises when I didn’t really know two things about the guy.

“You’re too sweet, (F/N)... by the way, you’re welcome to call me Mitsuki.” She offered, and I nodded politely. She turned towards Bakugou’s door again, and lifted her hand ready to bang on it once more, but after a moment her body seemed to relax as though she had second thoughts, and she lightly knocked instead.

“Supper will be ready in about an hour, hon.” She said gently. After a moment of silence, Bakugou responded. “Whatever…” His voice sounded tired almost, but it held no anger. Mitsuki smiled gently before giving me a small nod, and heading downstairs. Somehow I felt good about what I did, and turned to return to my room, only to be met by the sound of Bakugou’s door creaking open.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” He asked. I looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and a bored expression on his face. I shrugged before resting my elbow against the doorframe, and pushing my hair back out of my eyes.

“I don’t know… I guess maybe you just don’t hear it as much as you should.” I said. His eyes lowered to the floor as though he were considering something.

“Hear what?” He asked. I swallowed hard, knowing what it was I was wanting to say, but I wasn’t sure how he would react.

“You’re a good guy, Bakugou… and I know you’ve built this reputation as the school’s hot head or whatever, but… I can tell by how hard you work that you truly do want to be a hero… and I don’t think you’d want to be a hero if you didn’t like people.” I said, and he remained silent, now resting his head against the door frame, and looking off down the hall.

“You’re so full of shit.” He spat, somewhat taking me by surprise, but I didn’t let it show.

“The other day, you were telling me to ‘grow up’... saying shit like ‘you’re not very heroic’- such bullshit.” He hissed, and for some reason an unfamiliar sensation hit me directly in the center of my chest before spreading to the rest of my body.

‘Is this… pain…?’ I thought to myself. Without realizing, my hand had come up and grabbed my shirt directly over my chest. My breathing began to increase, and my skin began to feel warm and flush.

“What is it? Just now realizing I’ve called you out on your bullshit?” He asked, crossing his arms again and smirking in an unnerving way.

“What? No, that’s not-” My breathing only increased, but it felt like all the air in my lungs had left me. I felt my eyes begin to burn as tears began to slide down my cheeks uncontrollably.

“Wh- hey. What’s wrong with you?” He asked, and I felt my body begin to shake as sobs began to rack my body.

“Shit, hey-” He kneeled beside me, and I hid my face from him. I’d never felt this way before in my life. As though someone had lit a fire at the center of my chest, but the rest of my body remained cold as Ice. How is it even possible to be freezing, and yet sweat at the same time?

“Calm your breathing and relax.” He said, his voice lower, and I felt him rest his hand on my back awkwardly, not knowingly exactly where to put it. After a moment I seemed to calm down, but I was still in shock at what had just happened.

“Wh-what… what was that…?” I mumbled to myself.

“You just had a fucking panic attack.” Bakugou said, now sitting on the floor next to me, and resting his head back against the wall. I could feel him watching me carefully, and after a moment he sighed.

“Look I… I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t think sayin’ that would… cause a panic attack alright? I always thought you didn’t have emotions.” He said.

“I… I usually don’t feel anything. Pain, anger, fear, sadness… I can absorb it back into my body, channel it and use the energy to heal myself or others…” I said, and suddenly realized I hadn’t ever really explained how my quirk worked before.

“So that’s what happened the other day? You didn’t block my attack, you absorbed it?” He asked, and I nodded.

“And that’s how you healed yourself?” He asked, and again I nodded.

“Yes… the stronger the quirk, the faster I heal.” I said, and he just stared ahead at the wall.

“Well… it’s not the shittiest quirk I’ve ever heard of.” He said, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. We sat in silence for a bit longer before I spoke again.

“I need to get into UA on recommendation.” I said, and his entire body stiffened.

“WH- THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!” He demanded, and I sighed.

“It’s not what you think okay, so don’t blow a fuse.” I said. I passed him my phone with the headline on it, and his eyes quickly skimmed over it.

“Yeah, I heard about that… so then what’s the deal? I thought you weren’t tryin’ to be a hero.” He said, and I ignored the fact that he knew that about me, and took my phone back from him.

“I… I just need the money, alright?” I admitted. I pulled my knees to my chest before resting my arms on top, and then my chin.

“What do you need with a shit-ton of cash like that?” He asked, and I laughed humorlessly. He didn’t respond after a moment of silence, so I sighed, and felt my brow furrow.

“Katsuki, (F/N) dinner’s ready!” Mitsuki called.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES WE’RE COMIN’!” Bakugou shouted back, but I was already standing.

“We should go eat. School in the morning.” I said, and he looked up at me with a stoic expression before standing himself and walking towards the stairs. I walked past him at the top of the stairs, and he grabbed my arm to stop me before I could continue.

“We’re not done yet.” He said, holding my gaze for several moments before turning away, and descending the stairs. I lightly brushed my fingers across my arm where he’d grabbed me, and felt an odd tingling sensation where his hand had been.

“I’m losing my mind…” I mumbled to myself before descending the stairs, and stepping into the dining room.

“Here you go (F/N) I’ve saved you a spot right next to Katsuki.” Mr. Bakugou said whilst drying his hands on a kitchen towel as Mrs. Bakugou finished placing the final plate of food on the table. I nodded silently before taking the seat I had been offered.

“The coordinator gave us a list with some of your favorites, so I made you some kakitama jiru!*” She exclaimed, very pleased with herself.

“It looks great, thank you Mrs. Bakugou.” I said, smiling kindly as I spooned it into a bowl along with some crispy noodles and a spoonful of green onions on top. The aroma was intoxicating, and I felt myself relax somewhat at the familiar smell.

“Would you like some Beef?” Mr. Bakugou offered, holding the plate out to me. I nodded before plucking a few pieces out, and placing them neatly on my plate before adding some steamed veggies and rice. Everything looked and smelled amazing. I couldn’t recall eating in the last few days, so this was more than welcomed.

“Have you had any news on your mother?” Mrs. Bakugou asked, and I felt the color immediately drain from my face. Any appetite I previously had was gone now. I lowered my chopsticks from my mouth before I could take a bite of food, and felt my hand shake slightly.

“Oh… uh… no ma’am. Nothing yet.” I said plainly, hoping she would just drop it.

“Oh… well, I’m very sorry to hear about what happened. We really hope she gets out of the hospital soon.” She said, and I felt my eyes drop to the table, suddenly intently focused on the pattern of the tablecloth, and nothing else. I wanted everything to fade away, and be silent. I wanted to be by myself where no one could see me like this because it was all new to me as well.

“Um… th-thanks…” I silently cursed myself for stuttering. They probably couldn’t tell I was uncomfortable since my body language wasn’t showing it. Would it be disrespectful to tell them that I was uncomfortable?

“Hey, we’re gonna eat upstairs.” Katsuki spoke up suddenly, his voice breaking through the haze of my hectic thought process.

“Huh? But you’ve already sat down.” Mrs. Bakugo said, dejected.

“I’ve been havin’ some trouble with English lately… she said she’d tutor me, so…” He lied, but I kept my mouth shut. Mrs. Bakugou looked utterly dumbfounded, but quickly smiled.

“Oh, of course!” She said gleefully. Katsuki grabbed his bowl, and I grabbed mine. I said my goodbyes as we ascended the stairs once more, and he all but forced me into my room. I placed the bowl down, and took a few deep breaths.

“Shit…” I mumbled to myself once my breath had come back.

“What’s going on with you? Why do you keep freaking out?” Bakugou scoffed, and I swallowed hard.

“Look, I’m not used to feeling emotions like this, okay?” I said, a bit more anger behind my tone than I had probably intended.

“Turn your shitty quirk back on then…” He said, as though it were the easiest thing.

“I… I can’t… I don’t know why but for some reason, I can’t.” I said, and he lifted an eyebrow.

“What you said before… when you said I’m ‘full of shit’... I don’t know how, or why, but for some reason or other, it caused my quirk to dissipate. That’s why I freaked out.” I said.

“So… you turn off your quirk, and you have a panic attack, or what the hell?” He asked, and I shook my head.

“No, no… look, I’ve had my emotions shut off since I was a child… sometimes they slip out, but I’ve always been able to keep them under control until a little while ago. At that time, I dunno…” I trailed off, taking a few breaths before continuing.

“I guess all the emotions that I’ve been holding back hit me at once.” I concluded, and Bakugou continued to sit there in silence.

“Why turn them off?” He asked, and the question caught me off guard.

“What?” I asked.

“Your emotions. Why turn them off?” He asked again, slightly annoyed this time at having to repeat himself.

“Oh… I dunno. It just seemed easier I guess.” I answered honestly. After a moment Katsuki stood with his bowl in hand, and headed for the door.

“Whatever… I’m goin’ back to my room.” He said, and something made me ask. “Bakugou…?” I called out, and he stopped to turn and look back at me.

“How did you know I was having a panic attack… I mean- how did you know how to handle it?” I asked, and his eyes widened momentarily before his brow creased in its usual pissed off manner.

“What the hell kinda question is that, dumbass!” He huffed before throwing the door open and storming out before shutting it behind him. I blinked a few times before sighing and shaking my head. I’ll never understand how this guy’s brain works… but maybe that’s for the best. I sat at the desk with the bowl of soup in front of me, and sighed as I picked at it with my chopsticks. The noodles were mush at this point, and the broth was surely cold. I pushed the bowl away, and stepped towards the bed. After moving my laptop and the clothes aside, I curled myself up on the comforter with my head resting against the plush pillow, and felt my eyelids growing heavier by the second. After a few deep breaths, I felt my body relax into the mattress, and sleep finally found me.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

How about some cook Cavendish satisfying Drax with pleanty of food. digging Drax' ass out of a dumpster and showing him what actual food is, giving him pleanty to feat on~

-cursed

This sounds tender as SHIT. Let's fucking go.

Cavendish pulled the top off the pot, taking an inhale. Soup smelled good, it should be ready soon. He added more salt, before putting the top back on. It was late at night, and everyone else was asleep, but Cavendish couldn't sleep. He knew he needed it though, so he decided a nice, hot meal would soothe him. Usually Otto cooked, but he was happy to make something of his own. A nice stew, coupled with some fresh bread (that he didn't at all steal from Brownlee's food stash), he made more than enough food.

"The hell?"

He was about to heat up the bread, when he heard a commotion outside. Something was out there, digging into the box of scraps just outside.

"Fuckin' told that damn cabin boy to dump the scraps."

He grabbed a kitchen knife, and went outside. Probably some rat. Had they not been disease ridden, biting bastards, he would've ignored it. He walked slowly, knife raised, when the damn thing turned around. It wasn't a rat, it was worse. Henry Drax. He was digging into the FUCKING trash, like an animal. Cavendish sighed, as a means of both disgust, and relief. At least Drax wasn't a biter. Usually.

"Fucking hell Drax-the hell you doing out here?"

"Hungry. But I can't go back into the damn kitchen."

"You kept eatin' shit, didn't you?"

"Otto maybe a godly man, but he's a stingy fuckin' bastard."

Drax was an absolute scavenger. He'd always hang around a kitchen, stealing little bits of food, even when Otto was just trying to cook. Cavendish had seen it first hand, and until he was booted from the kitchen, it was pretty damn funny.

"Are you actually eating from there?"

"Aye. Wasteful man. Still meat on these bones, and these tomatoes are still good."

Cavendish watched as Drax dug his foul teeth into a juicy, spoiled tomato, letting the juices run down his ever messy beard. Cavendish didn't love this man in the slightest, but he'd be heartless not to feed a man digging out of old scraps.

"You're a fuckin' mutt- come on."

He smacked the tomato out of his hand, and put his hand behind his back, ushering him back into the kitchen. Drax was clearly upset about the lack of his snack, but he didn’t get a chance to bitch as he sat him down at the table. Drax looked like he wanted to get up, even, but Cavendish knew just what would make him stay. He pulled his flask from his coat pocket, placing it on the table. Drax chuckled, getting comfy in his seat.

“Know how to get me to stay, Micheal.”

He only called him that in private. When not a soul walked in between them. Cavendish waved his hand at him dismissively, He added oil to the bread, and stuffed it into the tiny oven. As glorious as the Volunteer was, Cavendish could make a complaint in regards to the kitchen’s size. He felt cramped in here, not just amongst the damn clutter in here, but with Drax just sitting there, nursing the rest of the flask (greedy bastard, thing was full when he got it to him). It was a bit much, but in a way, it was comforting. Just a slow, brief break from the bullshit at sea. No Sumner, no Brownlee, no insurance tricks, no whaling. Just the smell of a fresh pot of soup, and herbed bread. He turned off when he smelled the bread, just how his mother always did.

“You better stay here, Henry. Too much food here for my lonesome, and if Otto found out I cooked, he’d never let me back out into the ice.”

“He likes someone to talk to. As if Sumner wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it’s redheads.”

They both chuckled. They knew Otto. the caring, protective type that favored the more feminine, soft men. Men who could pass off for the usual whore. Cavendish finished cutting the bread, adding it to the plates, and alongside the bowls of soup, brought it over to the table. Drax had that hungry look in his eyes, and it was one of the few times where it didn’t unsettle him. Drax, as usual, didn’t savor his food the way any person would. He ate the way a hungry animal would, slurping loudly, teeth tugging at the meat and lips slurping the bones clean. He went in with the spoon when he had to, but when he needed meat, he tucked in like a brute.

“Ya mam never taught you how to eat, did she?”

“Hungry. I ain’t eatin’ with royalty, afterall.”

“As if you’d change for royalty.”

Drax grinned, beads of beef broth dripping from his teeth and into his beard. He rubbed at the mess in his beard, wiping it on his coat, then continuing to feast. Cavendish was no man of status either, but he at least knew how to cherish a meal. The salt in the soup, the sweetness of the carrots, the starchiness of the potatoes, the gaminess of the meat- all which sat moist in the salty broth, seasoned by the bones. And the bread. Crunchy, yet still somewhat soft on the inside. Better than any hardtack they were given. 

“Good soup, Micheal.”

He watched as Drax’s lips curled around the soup, noisy as he drank. He’d give the man one thing; he wasn’t fussy. He picked the bones clean, even stripping it off his cartilage, and even licking the crumbs from the bread off the plate. Man was starving. He groaned to himself upon finishing. He wasn’t sated, but he was a little more tame than before. Cavendish wasn’t even done with his soup by the time Drax sat there, licking the residue off of the rim of his bowl. His tongue was greedy, appreciative of every single drop. Cavendish sighed, getting up, and offering his hand to Drax.

“Quit lickin’ the damn thing, I’ll give ya more.”

“I don’t like wastin’ any of it. You don’t know when it'll be the next time you'll eat.”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. Knowing Drax, he’d live. Man would kill and eat an animal raw, with his own teeth if he had to. He went back into the kitchen, filling up the bowl, and giving the man the last piece of the bread. He gave it back to him, and watched as Drax finally ate like a person. Well, closer to a person anyway. He didn’t dig into it like a hungry wolf, but rather, he savored it, as though it was the least meal he’d ever eat. Cavendish nodded, tucking into his bread after having it soak up some of the soup.

“Finally slowing down, though I’d watch you choke.”

“Aye, I do the choking ‘round here, lest you forget, Micheal.”

Henry shot him a wink, just as he was tearing the strips of flesh from the bone. You could always tell when Henry was eating. He slurped, he moaned, he groaned, his teeth ground against bone. It was an experience for Henry. Didn’t matter what it was. Just that there was enough for him. Henry would still enjoy himself, as if a proper whore was blowing him during his meal. It was annoying as hell to most, but not to Cavendish. All he heard was a hungry, eager man.

“Surprised you don’t eat the damn bone, Henry.”

“Don’t throw ‘em out, I’ll suck on them like hard candies.”

Probably why he hadn’t tossed them to the floor, but rather, kept them on his plate, as if he wasn’t done with it just yet. Cavendish had finished his meal quite some time ago, but he had no issues sitting there, watching and listening to Drax’s animilatistic sounds. By the time he finished, he sat back, licking his fingers over and over again. He finally looked sated, relaxed. Cavendish stood up, taking his bowl, and bringing him another. Drax looked hesitant, even as he sat there, suckling on bits of bones, but Cavendish knew Drax could never turn down a meal. He accepted it, helping himself to more of the soup. Cavendish sat down again, watching Drax gorge himself further.

“Never know when you might eat again, eh Henry?”

“Free food is free food, I’d sooner perish than waste a morsel. Especially knowing you made it for me. Almost sweet of ya.”

“Suck my prick, Henry, I just don’t want to smell trash in your breath, next we meet. You already smell like cheap booze and smoke.”

“You like that smell, they all do.”

He smirked. He didn’t notice the broth run down his arm at first, and had to take a second to run his greasy, greedy tongue up his arm. Cavendish swore he saw the dirt and grime graze off his tongue, and he was surprised that even HE didn’t flinch at the taste of himself. He finished the new bowl of soup, far less quickly than the rest of them. He did finish however, leaning back in his chair. He looked exhausted, and the sigh that escaped his mouth let Cavendish know he was about to pop. Drax reached for his belt, and unbuckled himself, letting himself free of his cloth confines. Cavendish watched as he rubbed at his hairy, plump stomach, slowly. As if he was taunting him. The damn thing was nudging the table in its size, and Cavendish swore he never saw the man so docile. So vulnerable and content with himself. Cavendish got up again, and poured the rest of the broth into the bowl. Just enough for one more. Just a little something extra to push him.

“Alright, you can finish the pot, since ya hungrier and uglier than any pest I’ve ever seen.”

Drax burped into his hand, lightly shaking his head in protest. Drax ate enough to feed a number of men, the fact that he didn’t cough it all back up was a surprise to anyone who didn’t know him. He put his hand on his belly, giving it a nice pat. Soft, hairy, and hot from the oh so big meal he just finished eating. Drax sighed, but pushed himself through it, bringing the broth to his mouth, and greedily slurping at the remains. Cavendish had to hold onto the bowl for him, nursing him like a wee babe, and oh so carefully massaging his big, bulging stomach. Drax gasped as he finished, as if he had just put his head underwater.

“Alright, I’m done now, Micheal.”

“Should be, you finished the pot.”

Cavendish took the plates and put them away (leaving it for someone else to clean, obviously), only to come back with something in his hands. Drax looked damn near dazed, before he looked at the wrapping in his hands, suspicious, as if it were a damn weapon.

“Hell is that?”

“Dessert.”

Granted, they were old, but desserts were desserts. He held onto Drax’s chin, forcing his mouth open and pushing the treat past his lips. They were simple ginger cookies he picked up before they left for shore, but they were still fairly tasty. Not that Drax noticed. His poor body ached and his stomach grumbled, begging for him to stop. Drax the vision of gluttony, greed, and lust. He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and upon Drax FINALLY swallowing, Cavendish pressed his lips against his, slowly gracing his tongue with his own. The taste of beef, booze, and sugar, was exactly what Cavendish craved. He looked into his dazed eyes, lightly patting his cheek.

“Better not catch you digging through the trash next time, Drax. You want yourself stuffed, you come to me. Get it?”

“...Aye.”

He patted his stomach once more. He was a filthy, greasy, fat, barbaric man.

Was it any wonder he had to dive in for seconds?

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

Man After Midnight

Y/N is out for the night on a quest to find someone to sleep with and forget about the next day. The last thing she expects is to run into someone and find herself feeling like she's known them forever. 4k words of fluff, partying, drinking, and cursing (will most likely end up being a series). Enjoy!

Y/n was always up to go out.

It was fun, to get drunk, to party with her friends. It was fun to go to bars all dressed up, flirt with guys that she had absolutely no intentions of committing to. She supposed that was the case for most people her age; making decisions based on the theory that they were invincible. That there was no way they could get hurt when there was nothing and no one they were responsible for.

Tonight was no different than any other. San Francisco was bustling with its usual nightlife, twenty-something year olds stumbling into the entrance of the next bar they were going into. Y/n and her friends had just left one of their favorite places, beginning to head to the next destination for the night.

“Can you believe that guy?” Lydia, one of her friends, frustratedly wipes at her jacket with an old receipt from her purse. “Clumsily grinding on someone and then spilling your drink all over them is not a one way ticket inside their pants.”

“God, it was like watching a train wreck!” Her other friend Veronica skips around them holding a flask. “So bad you want to look away and yet you can’t help but watch.”

Y/n laughs, plucking the flask from her hand. “I kind of feel bad for the guy. He clearly had no clue what he was doing.” She takes a swig, coughing and handing it off to Penelope.

“Fuck that. He was definitely just drunk, not inexperienced.” Penelope says, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck him and fuck these hills. A bitch wants to be able to wear heels out without breaking an ankle.” Lydia groans.

“Cheers to that.” Y/n takes another sip and the girls pass it around, laughing.

Y/n never really got time with her girl friends like this. She was currently working at a coffee shop part time while she got her degree in digital marketing, which meant that between studying and work, she had no time to herself.

“You know, I think this is the one.” Y/n says at a pause in the conversation.

“The one?” Veronica laughs, narrowly avoiding a very drunk couple sloppily making out against a storefront. “You said the last one was ‘the one’.”

“I feel it this time.” Y/n turns to walk backwards to face her friends, entering the bar. “Mama is gonna get her p- Oh!” She falls against someone, laughing.”Fuck, I’m sorry, I should have-”

“Not been walking backwards?” The person interrupts her with a thick British accent, laughing heartily. She turns around, biting her lip when she sees the victim of her drunkenness.

“Well shit, of all the people to fall into...” Lydia says under her breath. Penelope elbows her in the side to shut her up.

Lydia was right. He was hot. Tattoos were littered around his tan arms, the sleeves of his white button up pushed past his elbows. A handful of the top buttons were undone, tattoos of sparrows just below his collar bones peeking out from underneath the fabric. Beautiful pale green eyes looked at her through long, thick eyelashes. His hair was a curly mop on top of his head, slick with sweat from dancing. The worst of it all was his smile. Blindingly white, crooked, dimples. That smile could make an honest woman out of her and she wouldn't mind one bit.

“Fuck- I mean, I’m sorry. You’re right, I probably shouldn’t be walking backwards, let alone walking backwards while drunk.” She laughs, holding out her hand. “No harm no foul?”

“None at all.” He shakes it firmly, his skin rough and calloused. Musician hands. She could feel them on the pads of his fingers.

“Well, we’ll be on our way then.” She says, nodding toward the inside of the club.

“Good luck to you, don’t back into anyone else.” He flashes his crooked grin at her again before his blonde-haired friend slaps him on the back and leads him out.

“What the fuck, y/n!” Lydia says, smacking her friend’s shoulder with her clutch. “He was the one! That was fate!”

“There's no way I’m going to talk it up with a guy that I quite literally ran into.” Y/n leads the group to the bar, ordering herself a drink.

“The sex gods not only sent you a bedtime buddy, they sent you one of their fucking own. Did you even see that man? Are you blind? Does your insurance cover eye care?”

“Forget about it.” She laughs. “They're probably long gone by now anyways.”

“I think Lydia is right. Anyone after looking at him is going to be mediocre at best.” Penelope says, sitting on the stool beside her.

“Whatever, I’ll find someone else.” Y/n says, trying to play it off. Maybe she had been to quick to brush him off. Usually she was the type to be forward and flirtatious, not the type to be nervous. “So, shots?”

As usual, their lucky bar had been a total success. Lydia had already left with a tall guy that said he was an engineer. (“Smart guys have the best dick, trust me.” She had said before she left. “They bottle up all that sexuality in high school and then release the beast when they go out into the real world.”) Veronica had met a guy and was currently pulling him off the dance floor to y/n and Penelope at the bar.

“Derek here says that there's this great spot just a block over with a bar downstairs and a DJ on the roof. Wanna go?”

“Sure.” Y/n shrugs. “Penny?”

“I think I’m going to head back home. I’ve got work in the morning. Should I wait up for you guys?”

“No, don’t worry about it, get some rest.” Y/n kisses her on the cheek, squeezing her arm. “Text me when you get there, alright?”

“Yeah, no problem. Be safe.”

“Always.” Veronica says, grabbing y/n’s arm. She barely has time to slap down money for the tab before she's pulled back out onto the street.

Veronica spends the walk clinging to Derek, leaving y/n to her thoughts. Maybe she was stupid for not talking to that guy more. He was really good-looking, and nice enough to not yell at her for tumbling into him. Not to mention that smile. God, she had never thought about a smile so goddamn much. She shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts. He was long gone anyways, and if she wanted to get any tonight, this was the last stop.

Derek was right, this place was very cool. The bar was dimly lit and clearly busy, people ordering drinks and laughing with their friends. Even from down here she could hear the vibrations of the bass coming from the rooftop.

“Wanna dance?” Veronica yells over the noise.

“Sure! Drinks?”

“I’ve got them. You guys head upstairs.” Derek says, waving them off. Veronica shrugs with a laugh and grabs y/n’s hand to pull her upstairs.

If y/n was impressed by the bar portion, she was blown away by the rooftop. Tables were spread around the edge of a large dance floor brimming with bodies, lights strung up back and forth overhead of them. The DJ had his own light set up as well, colorful lasers darting back and forth to the beat of the music. The sky was clear above them to top it all off, no token San Francisco haze to block their view of the stars. Y/n was suddenly grateful for the rain she had complained about in the morning.

“Fuck, this song is my shit!” Veronica exclaims as ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’ by ABBA comes on.

“Ronnie it's our girl group song!” She laughs, grabbing her friends hands.

“Hell yeah it is.” She takes two shots from the mini-bar adjacent to the dance floor, handing one to y/n and holding her own up. “To getting a man after midnight.”

“To getting a man after midnight.” Y/n grins, tapping their glasses together and downing the amber liquid. She coughs slightly before setting the glass back down and making her way to the dance floor.

Song after song plays, y/n somehow making her way to the center of the crowd of people. It was too tight for anyone to really dance, so she was just jumping around laughing and having fun. This was what it was about. What all the stress and hard work came back to. This. Letting go, having fun, dancing next to strangers who were equally as drunk and stressed and tired. A mass of twenty-somethings tossing away every bad part of their life. Y/n closes her eyes to soak it all in, tipping her head towards the sky.

“Fancy seeing you here. Run into anyone else yet?” A British accent yells over the music next to her. She opens her eyes.

“Not way.” She laughs, pushing her hair out of her face. “Hey!”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He grins, looking up at the DJ when the song changes.

“Not so far. The night is still young, though.”

“Right, of course. Silly me to think one would only step on a single person in a night.”

“I didn’t step on you!”

He looks down at his shoes, which were scuffed up at the point.

“Shit, my bad. I’ll pay for a shining?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pay me back with a drink?”

Y/n smiles. “I’d love to.”

The man takes her hand and weaves through the crowd of people back down to the bar. By now most of the crowd had either left or were upstairs, leaving the bar quiet besides a handful of people and the muffled noises from upstairs.

“What do you drink?” She asks, sitting on a stool.

“I’ll have a scotch, please.” He says, sitting beside her.

“A martini for me, and a scotch for...”

“Harry.” He finishes. “Thanks.” He says to the bartender.

“Y/n.” She says to him. “Nice to officially introduce myself in a way other than fucking up your shoe.”

“Indeed.” He laughs. “Well, y/n, where are you from?”

“Really? We’re starting with that question?”

“Is that a bad question to start with?” The corner of his mouth turns up, amused.

“A terrible one. People always ask that when they’re trying to get to know you, but I’ve found that where someone is from is the least telling information there is.”

“And why is that.” He grabs his scotch when it's set in front of him, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks.

“Well, there's a reason people left wherever they’re from. A reason why they wanted to get out of that place as soon as they could. So, therefore, they are likely the opposite of wherever they’re from and that information is irrelevant.”

“Thats contradictory. If they’re the opposite of wherever they’re from, doesn’t that tell you what they’re like anyways? Perhaps not so plainly, but it still does all the same.”

Y/n pauses and then laughs. “You got me there.”

“So then, where are you from?” He tries again.

“A small town outside of Chicago.”

“Aha. A midwesterner.”

“See, these are the exact kind of assumptions I wanted to avoid.” She takes a sip of her martini.

“You don’t want people to assume you’re nice?”

“I don’t want people to assume I’m a pushover.” She corrects.

“Darling, I have no assumptions whatsoever.” He turns in his seat to face her. “I’m from Cheshire, England. A little place called Holmes Chapel.”

“Little place? You’re from a small town?”

“Population 5,000.” He shrugs.

“I just assume every English person I meet is from London.”

“That's very American of you.” He laughs. “But I suppose I can’t judge you for that, I assume everyone is from LA or New York.”

“Is there anything about me that screams LA?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. As soon as your large midwesterner feet landed on my posh English shoes I knew exactly the type you were.”

“Did not!” She smacks his shoulder jokingly.

“’Did not’ indeed. That would have been cool, though.”

Y/n laughs, finishing her drink. Usually by this time she would have been in between the sheets with this stranger, and definitely wouldn’t know where he was from (or maybe even his name). Something was different about Harry. Maybe it was his teasing, or maybe she just wasn’t drunk enough. Or maybe it was because she felt like she had already known him for forever, which seemed crazy even to her.

“Hey.” Harry clears his throat, setting his empty glass down. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“And go where?” She bites her lower lip, running a hand through her hair. Maybe she had spoken too soon and this was just foreplay after all.

“It's a really clear night for San Francisco, right? My friend told me about this place where you can see the Golden and the entire bay. We could pick up a drink on the way, if you’re interested.”

“I am interested. Let me just let my friend know I’m leaving and we’ll meet back on the street?”

“Absolutely.” He grins lopsidedly, standing up and then helping her out of her chair.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” She sets down money for the tab and then walks back up the stairs, finding Veronica.

“You found who?” She yells over the music, grinning. “No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way.” Y/n grins. “So I’m leaving with him right now, if you’re good with Derek.”

“Absolutely I am. Go get that dick, baby!” She says, high-fiving her. “I guess you were right about that bar being ‘the one’, huh?”

Y/n rolls her eyes, squeezing her friend’s arm before making her way back down to the street. Harry is standing just outside of a taxi, leaning against it. He immediately smiles when he sees her, standing up and opening the door. “Ready?”

“To leave with a man I violently assaulted and just met? I guess.” She jokes, sliding into the car. He slides in next to her, leaning towards the driver, saying something she couldn’t hear.

“Alright, what other get to know you question can I bore you with?” He asks, sitting back.

“What brings you here?”

“What brings you here?” He repeats, looking at her.

“No, I’m asking you.” Y/n laughs, crossing her legs. “No offense, but your accent puts you heavily out of place.”

“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” He twists a ring around his middle finger. “I’m here on business. I work for a record label seeking new talent.”

“I would expect you to be a musician.”

“Now who’s assuming?” He teases, running his tongue along his lower lip. “I mean, I am one. A musician, I mean. I write stuff for people sometimes, and just for myself, but I prefer being on the sidelines for the time being.” He shrugs.

“So you sing?”

“I do.”

“That's cool. I wish I had a talent like that.”

“Tell me what you’re good at then.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of humility?”

“A bit, but you don’t strike me as someone shy.” He glances out the window when they stop at a 7/11, smiling. “Press pause on that, looks like we’re stopped at the epitome of class winery. Thanks for the ride, mate.” He hands the driver some cash, opening the door and helping y/n out.

“7/11? Really?” She laughs.

“Can you think of anywhere else open at nearly three in the morning that sells wine?”

“So we’re drinking wine? That’s very classy of you.”

“I’m trying to impress you, what can I say?” He shrugs. The door chimes when he opens it for her, following behind her and waving to the bored clerk. She walks to the wine section, Harry standing behind her with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “This isn’t your first midnight 7/11 wine run, I’m assuming.”

“What makes you say that?” She bites her lower lip, looking back at him.

He looks at her mouth and then back up at her eyes. “No reason. You just went straight for the wine section without so much as a glance at any of the directory signs.”

“So what if I have?” She turns back to the shelf, surveying the selection. “Are you a white or red wine type of guy?”

“I feel like that's a trick question, seeing as how you’re obviously an expert on 7/11 wine.” He grins when she looks back at him, glaring. “Are you going to judge me?”

“Would I ever?”

He snorts. “White. Chardonnay especially.”

“I would never have pegged you for a white wine bitch.”

“Hey! What happened to no judgement?”

“That was before you revealed you were a basic white wine bitch.” She grabs a bottle, pressing it to his chest. She can feel the warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt to the back of her hand, and it gives her the chills. “It’s okay. Chardonnay is one of my favorites too.”

“Is it?” He pulls his lower lip into his mouth, suppressing a smile at her touch. He wraps his hand around the neck of the bottle, covering hers. “Guess we’ll have to settle on that then, shall we?”

“We shall.” She lets go of the bottle, casually walking to the aisle full of snacks and grabbing a bag of Doritos.

“Wine and Doritos?” Harry quirked up an eyebrow.

“Wine and cheese is considered fancy and socially appropriate. Why not wine and… nacho cheese?”

“Right, of course,” He laughs, reaching over her to grab oreos. His arm was positioned beside her head like a boy leaning against his girlfriends locker in every high school rom com, and she wasn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks was from the alcohol or from his proximity.  “And we can’t forget the chocolate.”

“It would be an absolute crime to consume wine without chocolate.” She laughs.

“Precisely.” He takes the bag or Doritos from her hand, walking to the clerk and paying for their haul.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Y/n says, following him out the door. “Pay for everything. I could have pitched in.”

“Don’t worry yourself with it. I’m the one that asked you out, remember?”

“Asked me out? Is this a date?”

He shrugs, smiling slyly. “It’s whatever you want it to be. Come on, the spot is a short walk from here.”

Y/n looks down at her heels with a small sigh before wrinkling her nose and shrugging. “Are you going to be thoroughly disgusted if I take off my shoes?” She asks.

Harry snorts. “I wouldn’t want to wear them. Go ahead.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder to stabilize herself, stepping out of her heels. Harry bites his lip at the contact, placing his hand in between her shoulder blades to assist. “Better?”

“Much.”

He shakes his head with a slight laugh before continuing on again. He leads her up the street and then turns down an alleyway, checking behind him every once in awhile to see if she was keeping up. Y/n trudges behind him with her heels and Doritos in hand, glaring at him when he looks back at her for the fifth or sixth time. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping up.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities.” He falls into step beside her, taking the Doritos. She doesn’t say anything, but smiles to herself. Harry grins wider when they get to a steep hill, blocking their view of what's ahead.

“Are you serious? A hill?” She groans, watching him bound up easily with his long male legs.

“Because a hill is the worst thing you’ve encountered in your life?” He calls behind him. She raises her middle finger in the air. He laughs.

She stomps up the hill, mumbling to herself about being a sucker for tattoos and dimples.

“For fucks sake, y/n. You’re almost there. I promise it's worth it.”

“You don’t live here, of course you think it's-” She cuts herself off, looking out over the view. The Golden Gate bridge was as twinkling in the night, lit up from end to end just to the right of them. Sometimes you couldn't see the other end of it, but tonight you could see the whole city, lit up and peaceful as sleep fell over it. She could taste the salt in the air here, feel the slight humidity on her skin. She could feel the grass between her toes too, this hidden little hill having not been trampled by the feet of locals and tourists alike. He was right. “...worth it.”

“Right?” Harry grins, placing his hands on his hips pridefully. “Not bad for a non-local.”

“Not bad at all.” She approaches him finally, biting her lower lip. “So…”

“So…” He smiles lopsidedly, holding up the wine in one hand and their snacks in the other.

“So.” She grins, taking the wine from his hands and screwing the cap off. Classic, convenient cheap wine. No cork to get in the way. She raises it up in the air, smiling to herself. “To getting a man after midnight.” She says before taking a swig.

Harry snorts, taking the bottle from her and tipping it in her direction. “To getting a man after midnight.” Y/n giggles when he sputters slightly after taking a sip. “Oh. This is cheap cheap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took us to 7/11.”

“Sure, blame the foreigner.” He grins, sitting on the top of a lone picnic table, his feet on the bench. Y/n drunkenly hoists herself up to sit beside him, their sides pressed together as they pass the bottle back and forth.

“You know, I’ve never done this.” Y/n says, looking out at the water.

“Never done what?” Harry asks, looking at her profile.

“Hung out with a guy after meeting him at a bar. Or even wanting to hang out with a guy after meeting him at a bar.” She shakes her head with a laugh. “I was kicking myself for not talking to you, and then there you were showing me your shoes. I am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be.” He smiles, putting his hand over hers when she starts to pass him the bottle so that they’re both holding it when he leans in. She meets his eyes, biting her lower lip. “I like them better scuffed up. It reminds me of you.”

She had never had a kiss like this one.

One like the movies, the kind where you move slowly and bump noses before you kiss. The kind where your teeth knock together because you’re both smiling, where the kiss turns for a serious note when he holds your face in his hands and kisses you so hard it makes you breathless. He was kissing her like that now, setting the bottle to the side before immediately pulling her closer. There was no hand traveling up her thigh, no nudging her hands to certain places. He was completely invested in her, not her body.

She moves her hand to his forearm, pulling herself closer to him until she's on her knees on the table. Her hand slides up his arm and to his neck, tipping his jaw to fit his mouth to hers like two pieces to a puzzle. He takes this as a que to pull her into his lap, resting a hand on her hip and another in her hair. “Harry…” She breathes.

He pulls away slightly, biting his lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. His hand moves from her hair down to her hip. “We kind of forgot about the snacks.” He says quietly.

Y/n laughs, rubbing her thumbs along his jaw and putting her forehead on his chest to catch her breath. He rubs her back, resting his chin on top of her head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that was not a hook-up type of kiss.”

“That was not a hook-up type of kiss.” Y/n confirms, sitting back onto his thighs. “Whatsoever.”

“Well, in that case, what are you doing tomorrow?”

[why-do-i-like-you-ya-dumb-bean]

Prompt time!!!

Here is a Rejanis prompt that my friend @elphabuddy sent me! I loved writing it. Hopefully it’s turned out well! 

Regina does something that strains her back and turns into an absolute bitch because she’s too proud to admit that she’s in agony (or that her back even gives her issues anymore). Janis connects the dots and takes care of her.

From upstairs Janis heard a loud thud from the George’s basement and then a tone of voice she hadn’t heard in over two years but had been hearing since she had gotten to Regina’s. This though was the harshest it had gotten.

“Jesus fucking christ Gretchen can’t you do anything right?!” Regina yelled.

By the time she made it downstairs, everyone had frozen and there was ear crushing silence. Janis being on the stairs was able to take in the whole sense. The gang had been rearranging Regina’s basement since getting back from their first year at college. All of them surprisingly had chosen to work at the same local grocery store. They figured once they finished post secondary things that they might drift apart and wanted to have this time before full adulthood would likely pull them apart.

“Regina I-I’m sorry I really thought I had a grip on it.” Gretchen frightfully stammered out. 

“Don’t say sorry to me! Say sorry to Janis! It was her TV that you dropped!” Regina said, throwing an arm towards the punk. Janis watched with slight surprise as a twinge of pain crossed the blonde face. Well that’s interesting. Janis thought. 

“Hey guys why don’t you all head home for the day? Regina and I can take over. We’ve pretty much reached my stage of the design anyway.” Janis said casually. There was a moment of pause before five bodies started moving. Gretchen, still looking frightened, tried to stammer out an apology. Janis wrapped her in a bear hug and whispered in the brunette’s ear. “I know that wasn’t your fault. If you could before you go, find her rice heating pad and put it in the microwave for two minutes that would be awesome. Then just toss it down the stairs. No reason to come back into fire before I calm her down. Okay?” Janis waited to feel Gretchen nod before releasing her to go upstairs.

As soon as the basement door shut she turned her attention to Hurricane Regina. “I’m fucking fine thank you very much. Everyone’s just been showing their ineptitude today and it’s pissing me off!” Regina bitched.

“Oh of course.” Janis said finally walking over to Regina, her arm crossed tightly. “It wouldn’t have anything to with the fact that you’re in pain right? That hasn’t turned you into a raging bitch before.”

“I’m fin-” Regina tried to say. But when she swung her up to point in Janis’s face she gasped in pain.

Janis rolled her eyes and stepped into Regina’s space. The punk had noticed during their senior year that Regina couldn’t really handle Janis in her space. It made her all flustered and would cause her to just start rambling. It confused the hell out of her for a bit, but while on their first college winter break Janis’s suspicions were confirmed when the blonde came out as pansexual. From there Janis tested the boundaries to see if it was just girls in general or just her that could cause nervous Regina. Through some “research” she found it was really just her and the slightly emo drive thru girl at Taco Bell that got the blonde all riled up.

“What did you do to your back?” Janis asked pointedly, putting her hands on her hips giving the blonde a once over.

“I didn’t do anything. I-I’m fine.” Regina huffed. That ever familiar pink tone was on her cheeks. 

Janis smirked. “Oh cool then let’s try and lift the TV and take it upstairs since it’s probably broken. We can put it back in my truck.” Regina’s eyes trailed to Janis’s and glared. “What’s wrong? If Gretchen was really the one that caused it to fall, then with me helping you it should be fine.” Janis watched the fire fade from Regina’s eyes and saw a glass come over them.

“Jan… I’m sorry.” Regina said with a hitch in her voice. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I-I-I…” 

Before Regina could flounder more Janis wrapped the girl in her arms. “It’s okay you stubborn idiot.” 

“But it’s broken. It was expensive.” Regina mumbled into Janis’s shoulder.

“I won it at a school raffle. We can paint the wall white and all pitch in to get a projecter for like a hundred bucks. It’s gonna be fine Reggie.” Janis said softly while rubbing her friend’s back. “Now will you please tell me what’s wrong with your back. Remember I’m going to school to be a physical therapist now.”

“I still can’t believe you’re giving up art.”

“I’m not?” Janis said, pulling away from Regina a bit but still keeping a hand on her shoulder. There was a silence. “Did I not tell you my plan?”

“No? Did you tell everyone else?” Regina asked, looking hurt.

“I thought I told you at Hecki- Oh shit you were sick that day. Reggie I’m going to school to be a PT and will be incorporating art into it. There’s been a surge in the desire to incorporate art into PT because it can really motivate people that are struggling. I can have my cake and eat too, don’t worry.”

“Jan that’s so cool I’m so proud of you.” Regina said, seemingly in aw. Janis watched Regina carefully. The blonde’s bottom lip was being captured by her teeth and was definitely giving her a very slow once over. “Can you really help me?” Her tone was quiet but somehow dangerous. 

It made heat flow through Janis. “I can try. This past semester was all about muscles.”

“Well that’s good because I fucked up some muscle in my upper back this morning trying to move the couch by myself.” Regina said rubbing the back of her neck while wincing.

Janis gaped. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m a strong independent woman who wants to impress girls by saying I move huge objects by myself.” The former queen bee said, quirking an eyebrow at Janis.

Before Janis could answer the basement door opened and down flew the heating pad. “Oh goody.” Janis said excitedly. She grabbed and brought it over to a shocked looking Regina. “You hate asking for help but if it’s offered you typically say yes… especially if I offer it. So I had Gretchen find this.” 

Regina rolled her eyes but there was a very present blush on her cheeks. “You lowkey know me the best so whatever. Why that?”

“Lay face down and just relax.” Janis commanded pointing to the couch. There was a pause and a defiant look in Regina’s eyes. “Now.” Janis said, cocking an eyebrow and tilting her head. Janis watched in satisfaction as Regina huffed but heeded Janis’s words and laid down, her face turned out to the punk. “Now where does it hurt princess?” 

“The upper right kind of by my shoulder blade and close to my spine.” Regina whined. 

Janis poked around the area until Regina took in a sharp breath. The punk felt around a bit more and realized there was a huge knot. “Jesus. Did you really just do this today or have you been doing dumb shit for the last week?” Janis asked peering down at Regina who had a guilty look on her face.

“I may have taken a few extra shifts at Barts. And those shifts might have involved stocking.” Regina mumbled. Janis placed the heating pad on Regina’s shoulder and the blonde let out a satisfied groan.

“Regina Blaire.” Janis said, shaking her head. “You need to be more careful. I don’t want to be getting phone consultations when we’re older because you decided to be reckless.” Janis flopped onto the ground facing Regina. 

“Who said I’d be calling you for help?” The blonde sassed.

“Well you called me this past semester for your boyfriend’s knee so I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting more calls.” Janis said, the slightest bite in her phrasing of ‘boyfriend.’ She looked away from Regina. She hated that she felt a little jealous of that boy. It fell silent for several minutes.

“Henry isn’t my boyfriend you idiot.” Regina smirked, breaking the silence.

“Oh sorry fuckbuddy.” Janis said, rolling her eyes.

“Ugh grow up Jan. He’s not that either, he gay dumbass.” Regina laughed.

“He’s- oh… well that’s cool information.”

“You really thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Well yeah you were calling each other babe so I just figured…”

“Well you figured wrong. And even if he was straight he’s not my type. I’m more into brooding artsy idiots who think they know everything.” Regina said cockily, giving Janis an obvious once over. 

Janis let out a nervous laugh and stood up. “Okay I think that’s enough heat for now. Let’s see if things have loosened up.” Janis pressed around the area and things had gotten less tense, but it wasn’t necessarily going to be fun for Regina. “This isn’t going to be like a spa. You’re going to be in some pain while I release the muscle.”

“Honestly you could saw off my arm and I’d be fine with it so long as the pain will go away. I haven’t been able to sleep for a couple of days.” Regina said bluntly.

“Why haven’t you gone to the chiro yet? They’d be able to fix this in like one section.” Janis asked.

“Well as you know my dad is trash and left us and mom doesn’t get her insurance until two months into working for some dumb reason. We still have two weeks to go.” Regina said casually.

“Oh right.” Janis said pushing into the knot. Regina let out a hiss quickly followed by a groan. “Too much?” Janis asked nervously. She knew what she was doing but still this was Regina. She didn’t want to cause more harm.

“N-no it’s fine. Do whatever you need to do. If it gets too bad I’ll tap out.” Regina said, hissing out the last bit of the sentence as Janis pressed in a little harder than the last time.

“Okay. Well I’m going to warm up the whole area a little bit before I really dig into the knot. So just breathe evenly and relax.” The artist said gently.

“I thought this wasn’t like a spa.” Regina teased.

“Yeah well I changed my mind. Plus my professors would kill me if I just tried to yeet this knot out of you without a little bit of a warm up.” Janis laughed as she ran a hand up to the back of Regina’s neck and slowly kneaded the muscles while resting the other hand on her lower back and pushed ever so slightly to stretch. The other areas were nearly as tense as the blonde’s shoulder blades. She applied more pressure to Regina’s neck and circled the tense muscles until they relaxed. Regina let out a gentle hum and Janis smiled. The punk moved both hands to either shoulder and began loosening the muscles there as well. Everything was so tense. “Jesus Reggie you need to get a professional massage. You’re as stiff as a board.”

“Why waste my money when I have you?” Regina said in a dreamy tone.

Janis felt blush creep into her face. Before she could stop her brain she spoke. “Who said this was free?” She managed in a smooth tone while pulling a soft sigh from the blonde.

“How much should I venmo you Jan?” Regina asked sarcastically.

Janis let out another nervous laugh. Jesus christ what was wrong with her? “A dollar is fine. It’s a flash sale today.” She said far less smoothly. She looked down at Regina and caught a smirk on her lips. 

“That’s reasonable.“ She sighed.

Janis rolled her eyes at herself. Smooth, very smooth Sarkisian. She let out a huff and tried to center herself. She spent a few more minutes loosening the muscles around the knot until she felt confident that it would detangle with the least amount of pain possible.

“Okay Reggie the not fun part is about to begin.” Janis started circling the knot gently. “You ready?” Janis looked down and caught Regina nodding her head. “Okay to start I’m going to hold my thumb in the center of the knot and push for a bit and all I need you to do is take deep breaths for me.”

“Okay.” Regina hissed out as Janis’s thumb began to sink further into the stubborn muscle. 

“Reggie, take five deep breaths for me.” Janis said. She watched the blonde back’s heave and hitch with each breath as she applied slightly more pressure with each hissing exhale. On the fifth breath Janis added her other thumb and slightly jostled them. She felt the muscle starting to release and pressed down harder knowing it needed just a little bit more. Regina let out a pained whine and whimper. “I’m almost done Reggie I promise. Just take as big a breath as you can and exhale slowly. I’ve got you.”

Regina whined again but complied. As the breath came up Janis pressed down harder than ever. Her heart skipped a bit hearing Regina’s muffled cry as she exhaled. Halfway through Janis felt the stubborn knot release and heard some strangled satisfied noise come from the blonde who had buried her face in the cushion. Janis very slowly started to circle out and away from the where the knot and been and gave Regina’s back a once over to make sure nothing else was messed up. A non-muffled sigh caught Janis’s ear and she looked down to see a blissed out Regina.

“Wow that was amazing. Thank you Jan.” Regina sighed while sitting up on the couch.

“It’s no problem I got some practice this past semester.” Janis said plopping down next to the blonde.

“Ohhh those girls must have been lucky.” Regina said with a smirk, turning so she was facing Janis better.

“What-oh geez-no no that’s not-it was for the muscle class. People paid like ten bucks to come be live practice dummies.” Janis said frantically. 

“Speaking of money…” Regina said while taking her phone out of her pocket. “I need to send you that dollar.” The blonde giggled.

Janis immediately tried to grab the phone. The blonde moved her arm away. “Regina Blaire you’re not sending me money.”

“But you provided a service. I need to repay you somehow.” Regina said with a pout, still holding the phone out of reach and placing a hand on Janis’s sternum trying to keep her just far enough away.

“No you don’t. Put the phone away!” Janis demanded, still reaching. But she stopped when she felt a grip on her shirt. She looked down and found Regina’s hand. When she looked at Regina there was a very mischievous look in her eyes. Janis was trying to speak but Regina was leaning very close to her and her brain and mouth had decided to take a vacation. 

The blonde was only a few inches away from her and still had a grip on her shirt when she spoke in a warm low tone. “Really? There’s nothing I could do to say thank you?”

Janis couldn’t believe what was happening. Where’d useless pansexual Regina go? Janis was supposed to be the slick one. She had a whole plan! The punk’s brain wasn’t firing so the plastic spoke again. “I have an idea that I think you’d like but it does also benefit me so I don’t know…” Regina pulled her bottom lip between her teeth ever so slightly, leaning even closer. “What do you say Jan? Will you accept my form of payment?” 

Janis was starting to wonder if maybe she tripped down the stairs. But against her doubts she just nodded her head. Regina giggled excitedly and pulled Janis into a kiss. The punk immediately melted and placed a hand on the blonde’s hip. It wasn’t too long before Regina pulled back. The pair locked eyes and Janis couldn’t help but pull the blonde back to her for just a second longer. 

“Am I going to have to fix your back every time I want one of those?” Janis asked dopily, finally able to find words.

Regina giggled and rubbed her chin thinking. “Hm I think if you say yes to a date tomorrow night at Ula’s, all requests for kisses can be free of charge.”

“I think that’s a pretty good deal.” Janis snickered before pulling Regina in for another kiss. She knew changing majors had been a good idea.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Before he cheats - L. Hemmings

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Oddly enough, despite the intentions swirling round in he head as she drove to the house, Y/N was calm. Unnaturally calm, if you ask her.

She had a smile on her face as she sung along to the Carrie Underwood song blaring through the speakers of her beat up jeep. The lyrics were far too relevant to her current situation, and while she knew she should be upset, angry even, she couldn't bring herself to lower her mood as she prepared for the fun she was about to have.

Payback is a bitch, and her name is Y/N. Jake was about to find that out.

Right now, he's probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp and she's probably getting frisky.

She let herself wonder what Jake is currently doing as she pulled up to the house that looked far too good to house somebody like him. All lights were off, signalling that she wasn't home. Perfect timing.

Right now, she could imagine he was going about the same routine he followed closely.

Take his latest conquest to a bar only he likes, pull his girl into a dance (most likely a handsy slow dance), buy a drink for her, then wait til shes drunk enough to let him take her home and flop around on top of her for a measly two minutes while she lays there buzzed and unsatisfied.

Y/N couldn't figure out what it was she found so appealing about the sleazy man. After all, her mama always told her a man whose name starts with "J" would try to ruin her life. Well, she wouldn't let the man get close to that. Even now, as he believed he had her wrapped round his pinkie while he schmoozed another girl and forgot what monogamy was.

Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey.

His large range rover was in perfect view, sitting pretty in his garage that he always left open. He didn't even have insurance, nor did he bother locking the car he adored up while he wasn't home.

He was too narcissistic to think anybody would ever do something wrong to him.

She was about to prove him wrong.

She stepped out of her car, heading to the back to grab a bag she packed specifically for her late night mission.

What she didn't expect was to meet the gaze of a set of piercing blue eyes that watched her curiously from his front porch.

Luke Hemmings. He was in her sociological studies class at University. They hadn't spoken much, but he was Jake's neighbour.

"Hey, Y/N," Luke said curiously. "Jake's not home."

"I know," she stated. "I, uh, have something I need to do while he's gone."

He eyed the large bag, and his mouth worked before his brain could stop it, "Oh, you come to get your stuff from his house?"

She quirked a brow at this, tilting her head as the nigh breeze blew through her hair, whipping it around.

Luke had to fight the redness rising to his cheeks at the sight of the woman. He had the biggest crush on her, and he was going to ask her for coffee until he saw her with his neighbor.

The same neighbor who stumbled out of his house loudly a few hours before with a bleach blonde under his arm.

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo.

"Why would you think I'm coming to get my stuff?" She laughed with little humor. She was curious to hear what the man had to say.

His face dropped at her question. Did she not know? He thought.

"Oh, um," he shifted awkwardly. His initial thought was that they had broken up and Jake had simply moved on quickly, but it is more plausible that he is cheating on Y/N. "I thought you two had broken up-"

She laughed again, one filled with empathetic humor as she waved her hand at Luke.

"You thought we broke up?" Luke nodded slowly, his long curls bouncing with the motion. Y/N shook her head, dropping the bag down onto the driveway. "No, he didn't have the morality to do that. Instead he's out with some other woman."

There was a small smile on her face. She was calm, but anybody with half a brain could see the pain in her eyes. The betrayal forcing tears to prick the border of her eyelids.

Luke felt his blood boil. He had always disliked Jake. The while neighbourhood did. He was a truly horrible neighbour, anybody could vouch for that.

But Y/N was kind and respectful. She baked cookies for Jake's neighbors for the holidays, and she was always there to help out the older residents that lived directly across from Jake.

She was at his house more than her own so she took it upon herself to get to know the neighbors and help out where she could.

Y/N took Luke's silence as a signal that the conversation had ended, so she crouched down to grab the bag, barely noticing as the man crouched beside her.

"Mind me asking what's in the bag?" He smirked, watching as she fumbled with the zipper.

His hands moved hers aside, unzipping the large bag with ease and his eyes widened when Y/N procured a large baseball bat from the black canvas.

She had a grin on her face. One of pure excitement that was framed by the light pink lipstick she had on.

Luke took a moment to observe the determination in her eyes, and before he could further question her, she stood to her feet and walked closer to the Range Rover.

"Can I trust you?" She winked at him, knowing he was the closest neighbour that was at home to witness her plan.

The elderly couple across the way were at their granddaughters wedding for the weekend, and all of the other neighbors had a decent 20-25 feet between the edges of their property and the edge of Jake's.

It was a nice area for building, with Luke's house, Jake's house and the elderly couples being the only ones within decent range of one another.

"I think so?" It came out more as a question than a statement as she fished the keys for the vehicle out of the 'hidden' spot they owned in the garage.

"I planned this perfectly, Lucas," she fixed him with a serious glare, resting the bat on her shoulder and tossing the keys to him after she disarmed the alarm. "Nobody is around, and I'm going to dump the asshole tomorrow. You're the only outlier, so the only option left is to recruit you. Come on, you wanna get back at Jake don't you?"

"First," he raised a long finger, "my name isn't Lucas. Second, yeah but this is illegal."

She walked closer to him, resting a hand on his chest with a sly grin, "Oh, Lucas, Jakey boy is in so much debt that this ugly ass car is in my name. Not much anybody can do if I destroy my own property."

He gulped at the feeling of her small hand on his chest, and the sight of her staring up at him with doe eyes.

"So, you in?" He thought for a second, only to nod slowly, watching the grin on her face spread. "Batter up!"

She stepped away, swinging her right arm and connecting the bat with the front headlight of the car.

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats.

She took out the headlights with such ferocity that Luke couldn't draw his eyes away.

Even destroying a vehicle in such an animal way, he thought her to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Uh, what else have you got in this bag?" He tried to force his attention away from the woman, knowing he had no right to think in such a way when she was literally about to get out of a relationship.

"I have like, 24 bottles of beer in there if you want one," she smiled sweetly, taking a swing at the windshield. "Figured I might get thirsty, and what better combination that revenge and alcohol?"

He shrugged at her, chuckling softly as he passed a bottle to her and opened his.

I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights. I slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The alcohol in their veins allowed Y/N to convince Luke to get in on the destructive action.

So far in that they sat in the back seat for almost an hour playing naughts and crosses in the leather seats with Y/N's pocket knife.

Luke won. Every time.

They painted numbers on the tires and played Darts. Luke huffing as Y/N beat him on every wheel.

More beers down and they were using the keys to the truck to carve pictures into the pristine blue paint job.

Safe to say, there were a few penis images included from Y/N.

The last thing either of them remember, they were down to four beers left each and Luke had managed to take the spark plugs out of the engine while Y/N left Jake a little message on the steering wheel.

She had a pre-written note, as she knew her drunken mind wouldn't be able to handle literature at the late hour.

"Lucas!" She slurred, "Come listen to this and tell me if it sounds okay!"

He trotted over to her quickly, handing her the spark plugs with a proud grin on his face.

"Dear Jake, I hope you enjoyed the two minutes of passion that you give to blondie. She's too pretty for you anyways, give her my number. I hope you like what I did with MY car." Her words were blending together as she sipped her beer some more. "At least this saves trouble for the next girl you cheat on. I'll be back to collect my car tomorrow. Not a single bit of love, Y/N."

"That sounds like it could be a song. Or some angry slam poetry. You should write music for my band!" Luke's intoxicated mind went wild with ideas, all amounting to time he could spend with Y/N.

"Shush," she pressed a hand to his mouth, cringing when he licked it, but not removing it. "How can I stick this to the wheel?"

Luke pokes his tongue out, letting the strawberry chewing gum show on his tongue.

"Genius!" She exclaimed, peeling the small pink bundle off of his tongue and sticking it to the steering wheel before she delicately folded the paper and smacked it onto the warm gum. "That's gross but I love it! I need to wash my hands."

"Hey! You just put your hand on my tongue and you don't hear me complaining."

"Your tongue is gross! My hand isn't, Lucas!"

"My tongue is perfect!"

"Prove it," she smirked, watching as his eyes darkened slightly.

Whether it was the rush of confidence from the alcohol, or the sheer powers of persuasion she had over him, Luke managed to step forward and connect his lips with Y/N's.

The next morning they both woke with a satisfied feeling in their chests, as their naked bodies rested together on Luke's king size bed.

The sound of a very loud, and very high pitched shriek forced both of them into consciousness, and Y/N sat up to look out Luke's bedroom window.

She had the perfect view of Jake on his knees in his driveway, staring with an open mouth at his prized care that is in metaphorical tatters.

An arm wrapped round her bare waist, pulling her back down to the bed and closer to the body laying next to her.

"Laugh at him later, cuddle for now," Luke grumbled into her neck and Y/N giggled at him.

[imagining-supernatural]

The First Conversation

Part 14 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: Jasmin saw the interview with Sebastian and has some things to say

Word Count: 1,198

“Sebastian Stan?!?” Jasmin’s voice yelled over the phone as soon as you said hello.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, amused. Seb looked up from where he was eating breakfast next to you and grinned. Even if your volume hadn’t been up high on your phone, he still would have been able to hear her exclamation. Hell, everyone from Salt Lake to New York probably heard her.

“You’re married to Sebastian Stan.”

“I’m guessing you saw his interview last night.”

“I almost called you at one o’ clock this morning when I saw it online. But then I remembered that you’re not supposed to fly commercial and you would have definitely flown over here to beat the shit out of me for waking you up so early but BABE! You’re married to Sebastian Stan.”

“Yeah. I think we’ve established that.”

Seb motioned from himself to your phone, raising an eyebrow. With a soft chuckle you put your phone down and turned on speakerphone.

“Mornin’ Jasmin,” he greeted.

There was silence for a second before she mumbled a soft holy fuck. “G-good morning Sebastian!”

“It’s nice to finally talk to you,” he said, smiling. “Thanks for your advice on how to deal with bitchy Y/N.”

“You’re fucking welcome. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“You’re fucking welcome,” he repeated her words back at her, tossing you a wink. “She’s not so bad to be around. Makes it easy.”

Another round of silence fell and you could tell she was freaking out over talking to one of her favorite celebrities. So, you changed the subject. “Hey Jaz, I was actually going to call you yesterday, but it got a little crazy.”

“Oh yeah! You had your scans, right?” Her voice seemed normal, at least. But, knowing her, she was still freaking out. Maybe bouncing up and down on her bed. Dancing around. Who knows?

“Yeah. The tumor shrunk a bit.”

“Finally! So it’s working, right? That’s good news?”

“Yeah, it is. Uh, the doctors gave us two options on how to proceed.” You ignored her little squeak when you said the word us. “Since it’s still slower progress than they hoped, we can either get more aggressive or keep going with the current route. Jason and I—sorry, Seb and I” you ignored how she softly repeated Seb like she still couldn’t believe it and Seb’s questioning look at your slip, “—decided to keep going how it is. It’ll be slower progress, but if it’s working, why risk a change?”

“And,” he added, giving you a look that begged an explanation for your Jason comment. Mentally, you added explain why you referred to him as Jason Momoa when talking to Jasmin to your to-do list. “If it stops working, we can always change to the more aggressive option.”

“But it’s gonna work,” she said resolutely. Even in her shock at your husband’s identity, you could still count on Jasmin to be your number one cheerleader.

“Yeah,” you agreed, sharing a smile with Seb. “Yeah, it is.”

He leaned over and kissed your head before standing. “I’m going to go finish getting ready. Sean should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

His hand was on your shoulder as he leaned closer to you and your phone. “Nice talking to you, Jaz. Take care.”

“You too! Take care of our girl… Seb.” You had to bite your lip to stop the giggle at her hesitance using his nickname, and a glance at Seb mirrored your face.

“Always. Fifteen minutes, Y/N.”

“I got it,” you said, pretending to be annoyed as you took your phone off speaker. “Now leave me to my girl talk.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Holy fuck.”

“Deep breaths, Jaz.”

“I just talked to Sebastian Stan.”

“He’s not that great,” you said. “I mean, he hates Weird Al so…”

“But he’s taking care of you! Everything he’s done for you! Babe, how are you not freaking out?”

Oh, you were. But for different reasons. Mainly the starting to have more than just friendly feelings kind of reasons. “Okay, fine. He is pretty awesome. More than pretty awesome, actually. But you really need to get over your star-struck-ed-ness. He’s just a guy. Does what any other guy would do. I mean, staying married to a complete stranger so she can use your insurance and stay in your home while she becomes a bitch through her cancer treatments and yells at you for caring and still sticking around. Definitely something anyone would do,” you said facetiously.

“Oh yeah,” she responded in kind. “Sure. Definitely a normal human reaction. Have you kissed him yet? I mean, I guess you kissed him in Vegas, right? Had to have consummated your marriage and all that. But you said you don’t really remember that night so it doesn’t really count and—”

“Jaz! Drop it. It’s not like that.”

“Make it like that.”

“Not right now. I can’t.”

“So you do like him like that.”

“I—I don’t know.” You were carefully choosing your words, knowing that Seb might be able to overhear anything you said and you weren’t in the frame of mind to complicate things. Not when you still weren’t sure why he’d insisted on you sleeping in his bed with him last night. “It’s… I just don’t know, Jaz.”

“Which, in Y/N language, means that you looove him. You want to kiiiiss him. You want to have his baaabies. You want—”

“Whoa! Slow your roll. Let’s not misquote shows, okay? That’s treason.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you are.” Was that a lie? You had no idea. “I gotta brush my teeth before I leave for the hospital. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Mm-hmm,” she intoned knowingly. “Sure. It’s not like you’re trying to get out of this conversation, or anything.”

“You’re gonna keep this to yourself as long as you can, right?”

You could practically see her nodding. “Yeah. And I’ll let you know if anyone comes sniffing. But Y/N. Remember the great philosopher George R. R. Martin once said, ‘Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.’”

“No, fuck George R. R. Martin. Unless you get me a real, live, fire breathing dragon, you don’t get to quote his books at me.”

“Then who can I quote at you?”

You considered for a moment, flipping through your mental notebook of quotes until you landed on one. “How about Lev Grossman?”

“Nooo,” she groaned. “Those books are so depressing. Whatever quote you’re about to pull out of your ass is—”

“’If there’s a single lesson that life teaches us,’” you interrupted her, “’It’s that wishing doesn’t make it so.’ So, babe, wish all you want. Won’t make it that hard truth you’re lookin’ for.”

“Go brush your fucking teeth,” she said in the tone of voice that had you imagining an eye roll on her part. “And think about your life choices.”

“I will. And Jaz?”

“What?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too. Even if you are so deep in denial that you might never make it out of Egypt.”

A long groan escaped your through. “That was such a bad joke.”

Fangirl #1 Jasmin is On Board!! lol. But we get a peek into the backstory on the next part.... what do you think is in the reader’s past??

CHAPTER 15: The Backstory

[just-random-obsessions]

Funny Moments In Thor The Dark World

Find Thor 1 here

Find Avengers 1 here

This is the second part of me watching all three thor movies and the avengers movie and comparing the humor pre-ragnarok to the humor in the 3rd Thor movie. And, as before, I’m writing this on my computer where the I and U keys don’t work so sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Tag List: @nikkoliferous @fyrecrafted @lokijiro @miskiett @darthxerik @icyxmischief @iamanartichoke @juliabohemian @official-and-unstable-satan @melodylnoelle @just-another-human-2019 @fandomsfanfiction @mentallydatingahotcelebrity @cateyes315 @burningarbiterheart @imnotacreepijustlikeyou @usedtobegoodfriend96 @alexakeyloveloki

Official-and-unstable-satan and fandomsfanfiction weren’t tagged sry

Anyone who wants to be added/removed to the tag list please let me know! and if I missed someone please also let me know. Sorry this post is so long

~ “Hello Mother. Have I made you proud?”

~ “Please don’t make things worse” “Define worse”

~ “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about”

~ “Just like you”

~ *That smile!!!!*

~ “I’ve got this completely under control!” “Is that why everything’s on fire?”

~ *About the Scary MonsterTM: “All yours”

~ *Thor says hi to the Big Scary MonsterTM*

~ “I accept your surrender”

~ “Anyone else?” *All the people simultaneously: NOPE*

~ “Perhaps next time we should START with the big one”

~ *Odin obviously shipping Thor and Jane* (idk I got a kick out of this)

~ *Jane awkwardly avoiding her date*

~ *Date: hi*

~ *Him awkwardly talking about his ex*

~ “And the fact that she kept sleeping with other men” “NO!”

~ *Darcy being mistaken for a waitress*

~ *Darcy mouthing “Cute” to Jane about Richard*

~ *Darcy embarrassing Jane by talking about Thor*

~ “Is there a point to all of this cause there REALLY needs to be a point to all of this”

~ “That’s what I said!”

~ “That’s what I did!”

~ “He’s not interested” “I’m interested” (Am I the only one who feels like his awkwardness was actually kinda cute?)

~ “He’s my intern.” “You have an intern?”

~ *Intern is fucking adorable like Richard*

~ “I have totally mastered driving in London!” *Has not mastered it at all*

~ *Selvig running around Stonehenge naked*

~ *Darcy keeps calling Ian ‘Intern’*

~ *Darcy calls Jane cause she didn’t wanna shout*

~ God I fucking love Darcy she’s so criminally underrated

~ “I am not getting stabbed in the name of science”

~ “It’s okay, we’re Americans!” “Is that supposed to make them like us?”

~ “We’re scientists-well I am” “Thanks”

~ “That doesn’t seem right”

~ “I wanna throw something! Jane give me your shoe!”

~ *Jane ignores Darcy*

~ “Give me your shoe”

~ “Were those the car keys?”

~ *Ian’s face when he realizes he threw the car keys to another planet*

~ *If you have to bury so many people then you’re doing something wrong you hot dumb fuck* (I mean that’s basically what Heimdall said right?)

~ “Typical” *after being left behind while Jane goes to talk to her boyfriend*

~ *Jane! Love of my life and most talented and beautiful person in the world oh how I love yo-SLAP*

~ “As excuses go, its not terrible”

~ “I know” “You do?” “Do what?”

~ *Darcy interrupts the KissTM*

~ “Um I’m pretty sure we are getting arrested”

~ “How’s space?” “Space is fine”

~ “He’s my intern… My intern’s intern”

~ “Holy shit!” (after Jane went up in the Bifrost)

~ *Heimdall calmly dodges the car*

~ “We have to do that again”

~ “Hello”

~ “What’s that?”

~ “It’s a soul forge” *No I’m pretty sure that’s a quantum field generator*

~ *Jane being ready to fight Odin for comparing her to a goat*

~ “You told your dad about me?”

~ “It must be so inconvenient, them asking about me day and night”

~ “Please meet my mother” *Jane shies away from Thor*

~ Loki casually tossing the thingamajig in the air like the cute little shit he is

~ Lord, he’s so damn pretty

~ *Kurse being like: Lol I ain’t touchin’ that boy with a ten foot pole*

~ “It’s as if they resent being in prison”

~ “There’s no pleasing some creatures”

~ *Loki calmly reading a book while all Hel breaks loose*

~ “You have my word that no harm will come to yo-” nvm bitch die

~ *THAT look between Sif and Jane*

~ *Frigga immediately seeing through Odin’s bs lies*

~ *Heimdall: I have defeated the big space ship!! The bigger one behind him: Bitch you thought*

~ “WITCH!!!!” *Now I know who Loki gets his amazing aforementioned smile from*

~ *Selvig using shoes to explain complicated science*

~ *Selvig then using pencils*

~ “Any questions?” “Yeah, can I have my shoe back?”

~ “What’s SHIELD?” “It’s a secret”

~ *Darcy’s cute af face when she sees that Selvig is in the mental hospital*

~ “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather punch your way out?”

~ *Loki shapeshifting into the guard*

~ “Mmm Brother, you look ravishing”

~ “Costumes a bit much”

~ “So tight!”

~ “I can FEEL the righteousness surging!!”

~ “HEY wanna have a rousing discussion about truth?”

~ “Honor?”

~ “Patriotism?”

~ “GOD BLESS AMERICA!”

~ “At last. A little common sens-”Bitch are you really fucking kidding me? (What do you mean that’s not what he said?)

~ “I thought you liked tricks”

~ “I’m Loki, you may have heard of-” SLAP

~ “That was for New York”

~ “I like her”

~ *Loki gazing lovingly at Jane in the background*

~ “Betray him, and I’ll kill you.” “It’s good to see you too Sif”

~ “If you even think about betraying him-” “You’ll kill me? Evidently there will be a line”

~ “I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing.” “I said how hard can it be?”

~ “Whatever your doing brother I suggest you do it faster.” “Shut up Loki

~ “You must’ve missed something.” “I didn’t, I’m pressing every button on this thing”

~ “Well don’t hit it. Just press it, gently.” “I aM pReSsInG iT gEnTlY AND ITS NOT WORKING!!!”

~ *Thor starts slamming buttons and it starts working*

~ *Volstagg: Oh fighting is much fun- OH SHIT IM FALLING!! HELP!!!*

~ “I think you missed a column.” “Shut up”

~ “Why don’t you let me take over? I’m clearly the best pilot”

~ *Bitch I’m the one who can actually fly*

~ “Oh dear. Is she dead?”

~ *Thor knocks over a column* “Not a word”

~ “Now they’re following us”

~ “Now they’re firing at us”

~ “Yes thank you for the commentary Loki, it’s not at all distracting”

~ “Well done, you just decapitated your grandfather”

~ *Seriously, whoever wrote the escape scene is a genius!!!*

~ *Loki yelling at Thor about how thIs was a bad idea you dumb fuck- wait wtf are you doing AAAAHHHHH!!!!1*

~ “You lied to me. I’m impressed”

~ *That smile again snfnejaihfeqrqrsbdsalxdjewonjfeq*

~ “For Asgard!” YEET

~ “Nothing personal boys!”

~ “If it were easy, everyone would do it”

~ “Are you mad?” “Possibly”

~ “TADAAA”

~ “Oh yeah, my father. Eric Selvig”

~ “And these” “yeah… those”

~ “How did you find me?” “You were naked on television”

~ “I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid at all”

~ “What’s happening? Birds? Birds are happening?”

~ “All right are you ready?” “I am”

~ *phone rings* “It’s not me”

~ “Why are there so many shoes in here?”

~ “I’ll just text her”

~ “So who’s Richard?”

~ *Thor hanging his hammer on a coat hanger*

~ “Where are your pants?” “Oh he says it helps him think”

~ “Loki is dead” “Oh thank God!”

~ “Better get my pants”

~ “Do you even know what these things do?” “No” “…Neither do I”

~ “Ooh get the guy with the sword!”

~ “Oops”

~ *Ian’s high-pitched scream*

~ *Does car insurance cover My Car Was Sucked Into Another Planet Due To A Cosmic Event That Only Occurs Once Every 5000 Years or no?*

~ *Thor and Malekith fighting between worlds and poor little Mjolnir trying to keep up*

~ *The two of them against windows*

~ *AAAHHH*

~ *Awww! Look at the cute little Jotunheim monster! He’s so adorable I wanna pet him so much!’

~ *Darcy and Ian kissing after he saved her life*

~ “Darcy?” “Jane!” “Ian?” “Selvig.”

~ “Myuh Myuh!!”

~ *Thor ends up on the subway*

~ *The girl taking 50 photos*

~ *Thor and the woman colliding into eachother*

~ “I’ve come to accept your surrender”

~ *Malekith gets crushed by his own ship. Now that’s some lovely karma right there*

~ *Darcy and Ian go back to kissing*

~ “He kinda committed treason on our way out” oops

~ Jotunheim Puppy chasing birds

Wow I’m so sorry this was so long. But guess what? It’s gonna get even longer. Sorry, again.

So one of the differences between the first and second Thor movies is that Thor 2 has humor in the climax whereas Thor 1 doesn’t. This is because of the differences with who is the villain. In Thor 1, Thor is having to fight his brother. To quote Avengers, they “played together and fought together” for several millennia. Of course there’s not going to be any humor in it cause there shouldn’t be. The climax at the end of the movie isn’t supposed to be some epic battle between the forces of Good TM and Bad TM. It’s supposed to be tragic that he’s having to fight his own brother because Loki lost his mind due to so many factors. The last joke in the film is “You’re an amazon liar brother, always have been” “It’s good to have you back”. There’s nothing else till the end credit scene. That’s because Kenneth Branagh knew that this was supposed to be viewed at as being sad a hopeless, not some awesome upbeat battle.

Thor 2 on the other hand, is exactly that. Thor has known Malekith for.. what? 2 days? Maybe 3? His relationship and dynamic with Malekith is different than with his brother. To Thor, this is just another enemy attacking Asgard. And I’m not sure whether this was intentional or not (because I remember reading somewhere how Allen Taylor had a bitch of a time in the editing process so I think the movie came out different than he intended) but the lack of any personal relationship will Malekith means the film can make really funny jokes and still have it fit with the film. If anything, I might even argue that the humor helped the film to maintain a very nice positive vibe. Idk I can���t think of the right words to explain it but the jokes actually fit the film very well.

However, then we move on to Ragnarok. With Ragnarok, Thor is fighting his sister. While (just like Malekith) he has only known her for two days, that still doesn’t take away the fact that he is having to fight his sibling. And I’m not a film director but if I had the option of approaching this situation and taking it the Thor 1 route or the the Thor 2 route, I’d go with Thor 1. Because it’s actually incredibly tragic that Hela has been driven to insanity like Loki (though ok a different level) due to Odin’s shitty parenting. She is the horrible way she is because Odin made her that way. And that could’ve been an AMAZINGLY complex story with the audience feeling so much sympathy for Hela like we did with Loki in Thor 1, but the narrative just falls flat for two reasons. 1) Taika admitted he didn’t want the film to be emotionally complex so 2) The humor in the climax completely detracts from the seriousness of the situation.

Also, some side notes: Yes, this is edited from the original. I accidentally deleted everything and then had to go back and add everything back in. So I also had to re-tag people too. And I also added a bit more explanation at the end. I meant to do so when I originally posted but it never got done till now. Sry. Also sry that it’s so long