#THEY LET ME STREAK THE PISS PLATES GUYS!!!!!!

[tiktaaliker]

do you have any idea how hard it is to not talk to everyone about how fucking excited i am to work in the lab. but nooooo apparently people dont want to hear about my awesome day where i learned to set up urine cultures and saw a granular cast in a microscopy.

i get so caught up in the lab euphoria that i forget that most people do not want to hear about the piss and blood and shit and other bodily fluids i am now handling on a daily basis

#howling #THEY LET ME STREAK THE PISS PLATES GUYS!!!!!! #also we had a post vas specimen come thru that was 6 FUCKING MLs THE OTHER DAY???? #being excited about all this is so so so hard because most people think its gross and thats it :c #like it IS gross i get it but STILL. ITS FUCKING COOL

[musclesaber]

Spice Up Your Life Chapter 3: Lunch Time

[Story Gallery] [First Part] [Previous Part]

Today is the day of the barbecue. Finally after months of quarantine, Collin and Sam are seeing their friends. All is going well until a problem occurs just when Sam finishes preparing all of the food.

Sam was the first one up at dawn. He started boiling the noodles for the mac n cheese and went out to their backyard to fire up the grill for the burgers and poppers. He got out the pudding, giving it a quick taste test before setting it out for everyone to enjoy. Lastly, he set out the chips and dip along with the cooler with all the drinks inside.

Collin was slowly but surely rolling out of bed. Sending his streaks and looking at everyone’s endeavors last night. He scrolled aimlessly until he saw one of his friend’s stories. He clicked it and she was out at a bar. Collin sat up from his bed. He searched for his other friends’ stories only to find that all of them were out at the bars together last night. Collin was fuming from this realization. He quickly went to their group chat and started typing.

 “Since you think the bars are so fun, you can stay home from the barbecue. Hope the drinks were worth it.” Collin sent out the text and stormed out of his room.

 “Great. You’re finally awake,” Sam greeted him for the morning. “Could you stir the noodles and cheese together for me? I have to go take the burgers and poppers off the grill.” Sam quickly rushed outside after he poured the noodles into his cheese concoction.

 “Sam, we need to- “

 “Stir the pot Collin,” said Sam as he dashed outside. Collin let out a sigh of annoyance and did what he was told. After adequately stirring, he followed his roommate outside.

 “Sam have you checked your phone this morning?”

 “No. I got up, put on my outfit and started cooking. I’m pretty sure it’s still in my room.” And just like that Sam was back inside getting plates ready.

 “Sam, stop what you’re doing and read this.”

 “Collin, I don’t have time. They’re gonna be here in thirty minutes.”

 “Sam!” Collin grabbed his jittery roommate. “Calm down. You’re going full Monica on me. Breathe.” Collin let go of him and lifted up his phone. “Look at this.” Sam took the phone from his roommate and started reading. His eyes widened as he read.

 “No no no no no. I’m gonna kill them. They promised me that they would keep their distance.” Sam threw the paper plates down to the floor in a huff.  He went to sit down at the table. “What are we gonna do? Everything’s already cooked.” Collin walked over and sat down next to him.

 “I’m sorry bud. I knew how much you wanted this to happen.” Collin rubbed Sam’s shoulder. “And hey, you said it earlier. We can have leftovers for the next week or two.” Sam looked over at his roommate and put his hand over Collin’s.

 “Thanks big guy. I’m just so pissed off at them. How could they do that? They only had to last one more day.” Sam laid his head down on the table. Collin patted his back with comfort.

 “I know, but we’ll just wait on seeing them until we know it’s safe.” Collin got up from his seat and headed into the kitchen. He started fixing up one plate full of burgers and another full of mac n cheese. Coming back to the table and setting the food down in front of him. “Sam, eat. You’ve been cooking for what feels like days. Don’t let it go to waste. I even got mac n cheese. I know it’s your favorite.”

 “I’m not hungry right now. Too sad to eat.” Sam grabbed his fork and started playing with his mac n cheese. “But don’t let me stop you. Dig in. Might as well have someone enjoy my cooking.” Collin looked down at his full plate. He picked up his burger and took a bite. The flavor hit him instantly.

 “Mmm. Sam, I know you are pissed right now, but damn you can cook.” Collin went in for another bite of the burger. In mere seconds it had vanished into the big jock’s stomach.

 “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Sam left the table and went to his room to grab his phone. He got it and was hit with a barrage of messages from his friends ranging from apologies to excuses. He texted back.

 “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just reschedule for a different time when all this blows over.” He went back out to the kitchen to see Collin feasting on his lunch. Sam gave a half smile as he saw his friend enjoying his food. Then he noticed something. His shirt looked tighter. Everywhere. Like someone had just put a tire jack on him and pushed a bit of air in him. His biceps looked like they were fighting for space in his sleeves and seemed to be getting bigger. His pecs looked to be growing as well as his width. He had always had a nice pec shelf that Sam could see in tight shirts, but this was on a whole new level. They were stretching his shirt higher and higher on his torso, exposing his belly.

 “Hey Collin, did you get a quick pump earlier?”

 “No. Not at all. Why do you ask?”

 “Oh no reason. You just look a bit bigger today.”

 “Thanks man. Guess I haven’t lost all my muscles from before quarantine.” Proving his point by holding up one of his biceps and flexing it. Sam was pretty sure he could hear the sound of seams ripping as it blossomed even bigger. Collin finished off the last burger on his plate and sat back with a satisfying belch. “Ah. That was so good. Thanks for cooking Sam.” Sam sat back down at the table and started eating off his plate.

 “No problem big guy. Thanks for not being a total asshole like the rest of our friends,” said Sam taking a bite of the mac n cheese.

 “Oh, you know I’m not like that. I could never be that kind of a jerk to you. You’re one of my best friends and I care about you. I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings that way.” Sam looked up at his beefy roommate and smiled.

 “Thanks Collin. That means a lot. And for what it’s worth. I care about you too.” He put his hand on Collin’s. They sat there for a little while until Sam broke the silence.

 “What’ll it be next? We’ve got plenty of options for you.” Sam began walking to the kitchen to grab more food for his roommate.

 “Hmm, I think I’ll take some chips and dip. My enjoyment last night was cut short by you and I’d like to try it again.” Collins' eyes lingered on Sam’s ass as it swayed into the kitchen. It looked fuller than before. Sam had always had an ass on him, but there was something about it today. It was different. He shook off the thought quickly when Sam returned with the chips and dip. Collin grabbed a chip and dunked it in the dip and the chip then disappeared into his mouth.

 “Mmm. Just as good as it was last night. My compliments to the chef” Collin kept shoveling away at the giant bowl of dip while Sam still kept picking at his mac n cheese. Sam had been typing on his phone, replying to his friends, and suddenly looked over at his roommate. He was huge. There was no doubt in his mind now. He was getting bigger.

 “Collin. Stand up for me real quick.” Sam stood up and Collin stood up next to him and rose up and up. Last night Sam was about eye level with a little below Collin’s collar bone, but today he was looking directly into his nipples, but that didn’t last long as the body elongated upwards even more. Sam looked up to meet Collin’s eyes. “Uh, Collin? You feeling okay?”

 “Yeah. Never better. Why?”

 “You don’t see anything wrong here?”

 “No. Why should I?” Sam looked perplexed by his roommate’s comments. ‘How could he not realize he’s like a foot taller than usual?’

 “Uh nothing. Just go back to your eating. I gotta go check on something.” Collin sat back down in his chair and Sam walked into the kitchen and pulled out the spices he had just bought. He started reading the fine print on them.

 “Warning: Users may find that they have an allergic reaction to the spices. There may be swelling, rashes, coughing, possible closing of the airway that can lead to death.” That was no real help, so he looked up the spices online to find their website. When he opened it, there were dozens of well built, tall, hung men on the home screen. ‘Is this a food distribution site or gay porn site?’ thought Sam to himself.

 “Hey Sam. Think you could bring me some of those jalapeño poppers?”

 “Huh? Oh yeah. I’ll be right in” Sam closed his phone and made a plate of jalapeño poppers for Collin. When he turned around, he was shocked by what he saw. Collin had gotten big. Really big. As Sam walked closer to the table, he realized he could look his roommate in the eyes while he was sitting down. He could see little tears forming in his shirt from the strain of his big body.

 “I feel like a ravenous beast. I can’t stop eating. I didn’t think I could even be this hungry after a few burgers and the chips and dip.” Sam went to set the poppers in front of Collin. Before he even made contact with the table, Collin had immediately started shooting them into his mouth. Sam didn’t know what to think. His already hot roommate was getting hotter.

 “Collin maybe after these you take a little break from eating to help me clean a bit.”

 “Fine, but after that, it’s back to your cooking. Man, I’m starving,” he said in between bites of the poppers. Sam polished off his first plate of mac n cheese. He took his and Collin’s empty plates to the kitchen. This was first time that Collin broke from his indulgence. He looked on in awe as Sam walked away. His ass was ginormous. It looked like he had shoved two basketballs down his shorts. And it was slowly getting bigger. His tight shorts were beginning to look painted on. And the way it jiggled when he walked was getting Collin hot below the belt. He felt his dick throbbing in his basketball shorts. It was on fire, he had never been this turned on in his life.

 He finished off the last of the poppers and got up to put his dishes away. But when he sat up, his head hit the ceiling fan in their dining room. “Ouch. The fuck?” Bringing him back to reality, he began to take note of everything around him. It all looked like it had shrunk down. “Sam. Why is everything so small?”

 Sam turned to face his roommate and was shocked by what he saw. Collin had to be over 7 feet tall with muscles that rivaled the Hulk’s. His biceps had to be the size of cannonballs and his pecs like two dictionaries in his shirt. He looked wider than most door frames. Sam’s eyes moved down. He could see Collin’s cock stretching the confines of his shorts. It was slowly pulsing bigger and bigger. Each time Sam saw it grow bigger, he thought it was rock solid, but it just kept growing. “Collin, big guy, I don’t think everything got smaller. I think you just got bigger.”

 “What?” Collin looked down at himself and realized his vision was blocked by his pecs. He lifted his hands up and saw that everything on him had grown bigger. “How is this possible?”

 “I think there is something wrong with some of the spices I used. I don’t know exactly what, but I’m pretty sure they’re somehow connected.” Sam walked over to his towering roommate. Taking in all of his body.

 “That would explain why your ass looks huge.” Collin was connecting the dots in his head. Sam was now alert of how tight his shorts felt. He looked over his shoulder and saw his ass had put on 10 pounds. Which on his 5’6 body was a substantial amount. Each cheek looked bigger than a bowling ball. Then it hit Sam.

 “You were checking out my ass?” he said with a smirk. Collins' face reddened.

 “Um no. Well yes, but uh…that’s just because it looked obscenely bigger. I was just making sure that you were okay.”

 “Uh huh and how do you explain this?” Sam said as he reached out and gripped his roommates colossal dick. Unable to close his hand around the monster.

 Collin let out a low moan as Sam made contact with his cock. “Alright. Yes, I was staring at your ass. But it’s just so big and I can’t help but stare at your ass. It’s so cute on your little body.” Collin froze after the words left his mouth. Shocked by the confession he just made. Sam’s eyes lit up.

 “I make this fat ass even better?” Sam said reaching up and grabbing Collin’s shoulder to bring him down to eye level.

 “Well yeah. If I’m being honest. Your cute face and that ass makes you pretty cute. Not to mention you’re smart, funny, caring, and no one can carry games like you can.” Sam started to turn as red as a tomato from his words. Collin would make the flirtatious comment every once in a while. Just to be polite after a bad day to make Sam feel better, but nothing like this. He was putting in a little more effort today to boost him back up.

 “Thanks Collin. You’ve been a great friend and roommate to me. And you’re still that cute boy next door jock I met freshman year. I’m just glad I got to know you more. After you left that night of the party, I expected to never hear from you again, but you proved me wrong. I got to know you as this sweet, caring, and gentle guy. Even though now you could crush me like a toothpick.” They both shared a small laugh. “But I’m proud to call you my best friend.”

 The two gazed into each other’s eyes and it was at that point, Collin leaned in and kissed him. Sam melted into Collin’s lips and wrapped his arms around the hulking man’s body. It was like electricity had been shot through their whole systems. The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity before it ended and the two broke from each other.

 “Well if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you hit your head too hard when you stood up.” Sam said jokingly. Collin let out a little chuckle at Sam’s comment.

 “No Sam. I like you. I really do. This all me baby.” Sam looked at his roommate. Collin flashed his show stopping smile to him. That made Sam fall head over heels for him, but he knew better than to do that.

 “Are you sure? The last time we did this, I ended up blue balled in bed with a heavy heart.”

 “Sam,” Collin stood up and lifted his tiny roommate up to his face, “I wanna be with you.” And with that, Collin brought Sam to his face and the two shared in another magical kiss. If Collin hadn’t been holding him, Sam definitely would’ve gone weak in the knees from this one.

 When the two broke away, Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Collin, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” Sam hugged his massive roommate the best he could.

 “I think I know the feeling. I love you Sam.” Sam’s eyes shot open in shock.

 “Woah there big guy.” Sam released his hug from Collin. “Let’s take it easy. I know we are opening up with our feelings for each other right now, but let’s pump the brakes just a little bit.” Collins' eyes faded from glee to sorrow. He had just confessed one of his biggest secrets to his crush and got rejected. His heart just went on an emotional roller coaster ride of it being at the top of the peak and then shooting straight down.

 “Oh yeah. Of course.” He set Sam back down on the ground. “I was being dramatic. Sorry.” He turned and started walking towards his room.

 “Collin, wait!” Sam shouted out. But it was too late. Collin had shut his door and thrown himself onto his bed. He was about ready to cry after hearing Sam say that. Sam rushed over to his door and tried to open it, but it was locked.

 “Collin let me in! Please!” He started banging on the door. “We have to talk about this!”

 “What’s there to talk about? You don’t want me, and you don’t love me. That’s all I need to know!” Collin yelled out then buried his head in his pillows.

 “But I do love you! You know that! Would you please just open the door so we can talk?” Sam sat at the door for a minute. Thinking that he’d have to get a new roommate now, but to his astonishment, he heard an unlocking noise being heard on the other side of the door followed by heavy footsteps going back to Collin’s bed.

 Sam opened the door and saw Collin sprawled out on the whole bed faced down in his pillow. His full-sized bed not doing well to accommodate his bigger body. His feet were now hanging off the edge by a decent amount. “Hey big guy. I’m sorry for what I said. Can you flip over so that we can talk?” Collin didn’t move a muscle. Sam sat down on his bed next to him. “Okay, then I’ll talk and I hope that you listen to me.”

 “Collin, I do love you. Being friends with you for the past three years has been incredible. I have come to know you as a person and a friend. I love you like you’re my best friend.”

 Collin suddenly rolled over and shouted, “What so you’re putting me in the friend zone now?!?” Anger and pain coming out in his voice.

 “No. Not at all. I’m just saying that I need time to learn to love you in a romantic way. I know that you’re a great guy. I know that you are a stud. I know that I care a lot about you. I just want to know how well we can do romantically. God this sounded a lot less dickish in my head.”

 “Really? Cause I’d say you’ve been a huge ass today in more ways than one.” Collin turned back over in a huff.

 “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I want to be with you, and I want to love you. I have been planning out what our lives would be like in my head ever since we met. What it would be like kissing you. What it would be like being held by you. What it would be like dancing with you. What it would be like going to bed with you.” Collin looked up.

 “You’re really gonna think about sex right now?”

 “I mean yeah, but that’s not what I meant.” Collin rolled his eyes and slammed his head back into the pillow. “I mean playing Overwatch together all night in bed and kissing each other when we win. Cuddling with each other before we doze off to sleep. Waking up next to you and seeing that goofy smile of yours in the morning to start off my day right.” Collin rolled over to fully face Sam. There was a long pause before either of them spoke again.

 “You really think about all that stuff?” he said with a timid voice.

 “Yes. I dream about it all the time. But I want to know that it can really happen. I need to know if this is just infatuation or if it’s the real deal.”

 “I guess I can see your point there.” Collin sat up in bed. Feeling better after what Sam had just confessed to him.

 “Hey.” Sam went in for a quick kiss on Collin. “We’ll get there big guy. Let’s just start with going on a date first.” Collin smiled a little bit at the thought of taking Sam out on a date. “Of course with a global pandemic, I don’t know how well you’d do at a restaurant.” Now Collin was full on smiling.

 “We’ll make it work. I believe in us.” Collin leaned in and pecked Sam on the forehead then grabbed him and pulled him into a big bear hug. “There is just one thing I’d like cleared up.”

 “Of course. Anything babe.”

 “Are you really thinking about sex right now?”

 “Oh my god.” Sam sat up in annoyance with Collin’s question. “Yes Collin I am thinking about sex. I’m a guy who hasn’t had sex since December. I’m always thinking about sex.” Sam said in a flat tone.

 “We’ve only been in quarantine since March.”

 “Yeah. What’s your point?” Collin smiled at his lover’s comment. “And with that fuck pole you’ve got growing there, how could I not. You literally became more of a walking wet dream than you were before.” It was Collin’s turn to blush. Feeling his dick start to stir after hearing Sam talk about how big he is. “Looks like someone’s thinking about sex too.” Sam nodded to the growing bulge fighting for space in Collin’s shorts.

 “Hey, you started talking about it and woke him up.” Sam chuckled at the cheeky comment.

 “Well if you’d like me to,” Sam reached across the bed to Collin’s thigh, “I can take care of it.” Collin got a rush when Sam touched his cock.

 “I thought you said we should go on a date first?”

 “Oh Collin. You have a lot to learn about gays. Anal is first base.”

 “Shut up you horny bastard.”

 “It’s true. First anal, second talking about our childhood trauma, third meeting the family, and then we say I love you.”

 “Whatever, come here and give me some sugar.” Collin said in a mobster accent. Sam leaned forward and kissed Collin. This time, it was more aggressive. Passionate. They slowly but surely started to full on making out. Sam started to pull up Collin’s t-shirt while Collin was unbuttoning Sam’s shorts. Shucking off every ounce of clothing they had until they were both naked on top of each other. Sam broke away from Collin’s lips to look down at his lover’s gargantuan body.

 “Wow. Just wow.” Sam explored Collin for the first time. Everything was just so big. He started rubbing and licking Collin’s bicep.

 “You like?” Collin said seductively. Flexing his bicep and making it expand bigger before Sam’s very eyes

 “Baby, you know I do.” Sam moved on to the expanse he called a chest. Sam took to massaging each pec. Collin bounced them back and forth as Sam kneaded them. This made Sam stare in amazement. Ogling each twitch from the huge muscles. He proceeded to suckle his giant nipples. Sending Collin into a moaning frenzy.

 “Sam, I don’t remember a whole lot about what led up to us making out in your dorm freshmen year, but I do remember that you know how to work a nipple.” Collin continued to moan and groan as Sam switched over to the other side. Sam felt his lover’s cock land on his back between his legs. Nestled in his ass cheeks like a hotdog in a bun. Sam began to arch his back, bringing his ass up into the air with Collins cock in between the cheeks.

 Collin saw his roommate’s actions and leaned forward to grab a handful of his ass. “Damn Sammy. You’ve really gotten huge back there. I mean I knew you had some cake before, but damn. Now each cheek looks bigger than your head.” Collin began massaging Sam’s fat ass. Giving it the occasional smack and watching shockwaves vibrate over each massive globe. He then moved to fingering Sam to start warming him up for one of the biggest cocks in the world. Normally, Sam would be worried about taking so much dick at one time, but with his newly enhanced ass, he was ready for it.

 “Collin, you think you’re ready for it?” Sam got up from sucking his nipples.

 “Am I ready? You’re about to take a cock that puts porn stars to shame. Are you ready?”

 “Of course I’m ready. I’ve been ready for three years.”

 “Then get that fat ass of pumping.” Sam did not need to be told twice. He got up from his perch on Collin’s chest and crawled back to his cock. It was now rock hard and pointing straight up in all its glory. It looked to be over 12 inches and thicker than a soda can bottle.

 Sam positioned his asshole with Collin’s head and started to slowly lower himself down. Swallowing up the python. The head went in his ass and Sam felt a rush of pain at first. He let out a tiny whimper as the mushroom disappeared into his ass. Collin only moaned in pleasure then looked up to realize Sam was struggling.

 “Sam, are you okay?” Collin said with concern. Sam nodded to give his roommate reassurance.

 “You’re just fucking massive. That’s all.” Sam started to slowly slide down Collin’s shaft. Collin could only throw his head back with euphoria as his dick was squeezed tightly into Sam’s ass. After Sam had gotten down most of the shaft, Collin’s dick hit the prostate and Sam’s sense were overloaded with pleasure. He quickly engulfed the rest of Collin’s mighty cock into his ass until he hit the base. Sam looked up to see Collin in pure ecstasy. His enhanced cock was now sitting in his crush’s huge ass. He was in heaven.

 “Sam, buddy, this is perfect.”

 “I know a way to make it even better.” Sam slowly started rising off of Collins’s base until gliding himself back down. He repeated this action slowly but began picking up speed and force. Each time hearing Collin moan louder. Collin began bucking his hips into Sam. Forcing himself deeper and deeper into Sam’s guts. Sam himself was hard as a rock. His average 5 inches was ready to fire its load with all of the stimulus his prostate was getting.

 “I think I’m gonna cum soon babe.” Collin shouted in between moans. His breath shortened as he was preparing for the orgasm of his life.

 “Me too baby. Just keep pumping.” Collin did as he was told and in a matter of seconds, he let out the lowest moan Sam had ever heard. He felt his insides being filled with cum. The sensation was too much for Sam and his dam broke as well. Shooting all over Collin’s bulky belly and chest. After Sam had finished cumming, he lifted his body into the air and off of Collin’s dick with a satisfying “POP”. Collin kept shooting cum into the air until the last bit was forced from his balls. They both laid on the bed, side by side, panting from exhaustion.

 “That was incredible,” said Collin in between breaths.

 “I’ll say. That was hands down the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

 “Agreed.” Collin rolled on his side and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “So now can I say I love you?”

 Sam smiled and rolled his eyes at the big lug. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

 “Nope.”

 “Ugh. You’re so difficult.” Sam rolled to his side to meet Collin and gave him a kiss. “We’ll go on a date and then we’ll see.”

 “Whatever you say babe.” Collin wrapped his arms around his little lover. “Can I be honest with you real quick?”

 “Always bud. What’s up?

 “I’m surprised you were able to take all of my dick. That thing is huge, and you took it like a champ.”

 “I wouldn’t say that, but this new ass makes it a hell of a lot easier. We should get you one just like it.”

 “Yeah and we should get you a dick just like this.”

 “I mean, there is a platter of food out in the kitchen that’s geared to growing us. We could always make things a bit bigger. I have always thought that bigger is better.”

 “Babe if we’re making our bodies bigger, there’s no “a bit bigger” there’s just bigger, bigger, and more bigger.”

 “I like the way you think, but for now I’m tired. Let’s take a nap and figure all of this out when we wake up, ok?”

 “Yeah, you’re right. I am pretty tired. Doubling my weight and adding a foot in height is kinda exhausting. Come ‘ere little guy.” Collin pulled Sam’s body into his and wrapped both of his arms around him. “Sleep tight Sammy.”

 “You too big guy.” And with that the two dozed off with each other in their arms.

#gay #straight2gay #growth #hyper #musclegrowth #getting taller #romance

[tooearlyforthis]

Partners in Crime | part one

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Synopsis: (5.5k wc) With Y/n’s love letters anonymously sent out, she struggles to deal with the fallout and the boys who got them.

Warnings: language, fluff, heavily inspired by To All the Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Han.

masterlist || series masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Ahh part one is out y'all! I'm so excited for you guys to read this. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for this series!

This was not happening. Why did this have to happen? She had such a good streak; no accidents since the fender bender of ‘84. But of course, some idiot in a ford capri came out of nowhere, slamming into the side of her car. 

At least time this wasn’t her fault. That asshole was blasting music and didn’t care to see where he turned. He didn’t even stay around for the aftermath, driving off before she could get a good look at the license plate. The nearest gas station was over two miles away, but with no car phone, it was her only option. 

Pushing her car as much as she could to the side of the road and out of traffic, Y/n Hopper began her trek.

Robin Buckley, her long time friend, was waiting for her at Starcourt Mall. They were going to get food, talk; a normal afternoon of laughs and shopping. But now, it would have to wait. 

She could imagine how pissed off her father would be. After years of begging him for a car, she finally got one. Granted, it was a run down piece of shit - but it was her piece of shit and she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Finally making it to the end of the block, she felt a light shinning from behind. It casted her in a silhouette on the pavement below. Blocking the glare with her arm, she turned around to see a bmw pull up next to her. 

Leaning his arm out the window, Steve Harrington stared down at her. He had this look on his face - somewhere between the line of laughing and pity.

“Is that car back there yours?” He asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. 

Already annoyed, she asked, “What’s it to you?” 

Despite fighting monsters together for the past few years, they were not friends. At least, they weren’t friends now. Back in middle school, she would have even called him her closest friend. But then douche bags came a long and pulled not him, but their entire friend group apart.

“Do you need a ride? I can call a tow truck,” he asked, bringing her back to reality.

The last thing she wanted to do right now was spend her afternoon with Steve Harrington. But then again, it was better than walking. 

“Fine,” she said, walking over to his passenger side door. 

Pulling on the already unlocked handle, she climbed inside. Sitting crossed armed, she watched as he called the tow truck with his luxury car phone. Of course he had a phone in his car - she forgot how rich his family actually was. 

He looked different from the last time she saw him. His eyes were sunken, a bad posture and too many cuts on his hand for a normal teen. Putting the phone down, he directed his attention back to her. Y/n quickly subverted his gaze, forgetting how awkward things had become between them.

Sure, they could talk when the occasional monster came to town, or when they were will mutual friends. But it was hard to bond with a person when death was looming over their shoulders. Plus, he started dating Nancy Wheeler - another ex-friend from the same group in middle school. 

It felt weird to be around the couple, especially since Steve and Y/n had shared a first kiss. She never forgot that embarrassing game of spin the bottle years before. 

She had such a crush on his after that, going as far to even right him a letter. God, the letters, how could she forget?

“Where were you heading?” he asked, pulling into her neighborhood. 

Startled by the question after so much silence, she stuttered. “U-uh, Starcourt. I was meeting Robin.”

“Oh, I could have dropped you off there.”

“No it’s fine,” she protested. “She’s probably gone anyways and I trust her driving less than mine.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah that’s smart.” Robin was the only thing besides the kids that still tied her to the Harrington boy. They worked together and even became kind of friends but Y/n tried her best to avoid him. “Though I do have to say you’re car looked pretty bad back there. What did you do, flip it on its head?”

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad! No, some guy came out of nowhere and ran the stop sign.”

“Dang.”

“Yeah…” she replied, letting the car fall quiet as they pulled up to her house. Before getting out, she turned back to him one last time. “Well, thanks I guess.”

“Anytime, Hopper,” he replied with a smirk.

Before she knew it, he was driving off down the road and their yearly encounter had came and went. Now she had to deal with the with the wrath that was her father Jim Hopper. 

He took it better than she thought. No yelling, no stern talks, only concern that she was safe. 

“I’ll get your car tomorrow from Frank and we’ll take it down to the shop,” he said, placing the last plate on the kitchen table.

Y/n asked, “You sure you’re not mad?”

“No, honey. I mean, that guy came out of nowhere right?” She nodded. “Then there was nothing you could have done. Go get El, dinners almost ready.”

Nodding, she walked down the hall knocking on her sister’s door. It opened on its own to reveal Eleven sitting on her bed reading a comic Max Mayfield had given her. She smiled when she saw her sister in the doorway.

“Dinner’s ready, come on,” Y/n said, making El immediately stand up. Tonight was breakfast for dinner which meant only one thing - waffles. “I’ll meet you there let me go take my shoes off.”

Watching as her sister ran off to help get glasses for the table, she went to her own room. She kicked off her shoes toward the closet, deciding to hang up her jacket as well. As she prepared herself for dinner, Y/n let her mind wander back to the encounter with Steve. More specifically, the letter she wrote him.

She never sent any of her letters, but found that putting all her emotions onto one page helped her deal with it. 

When she was little, Y/n watched her mother and father argue to no end. Well, there was an ending - divorce. She saw what it did to them, bringing out the worst in each other. So when the day came when she finally had a crush on a boy, she decided to write him a love letter. 

Love letters were the cheesiest thing she could have chosen but it got the job done. It let her pour her heart out without consequences - no rejecetion, no dissapointment. Thinking back to those letters, she reached under her bed. There she grabbed an old shoe box she store them. 

There were five letters - five people that at one point in her life had her heart and they didn’t even know it.

“Y/n ,” El said, peeking her head into the room. “Dinner is getting cold.”

Y/n whipped her head out fast, shoving the box under her bed. “Right, yeah." She stood up quickly. “I’m coming.”

No one knew about the letters, not even Robin. And she intended for it to stay that way. 

To say the week had gone bad was an understatement. A not so great essay and a shitty chemistry lab led to Y/n getting to school early with Robin. 

The school was always so quiet in the mornings. It was the most peaceful it could get before sweaty, hormonal teenagers filled the hall. Plus, her car was still in the shop which meant she had to catch an early ride with her dad anyways. 

“I bet it wasn’t that bad,” Robin said as they pushed open the doors to the school.

“Oh it was, trust me,” she replied. “Thanks for meeting again to go the library I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it. I need to work on math homework anyways.”

They thought the hall was empty, but turning the corner proved they were so very wrong. The clicking of boots echoed as Y/n made eye contact with the one person she tried desperately to avoid. 

Billy Hargrove, in all his mullet glory, sauntered down the hall toward them. When he saw Y/n , a smirk formed on his face, finishing with a wink. Y/n froze in the hall, grabbing on to Robin's arm to stop her as well.

“What are you-“ Robin tried to ask but Y/n interrupted her.

“Let’s go the long way,” she said, dragon her friend to continue straight instead of passing her former hookup.

If you told Y/n at the start of school that she had hooked up with Billy Hargrove, she would have laughed in your face. But, if you told her that after the fact, she caught feelings for him - she would have said the apocalypse was more likely.

When Billy had first moved into town, he was all anyone could talk about. Y/n had ran into in at her arcade job where he was dropping off his little sister. And well, you say that she left work early that day. 

But of course, being the hopeless romantic she was, she developed a crush on Billy Hargrove. She didn’t know why. The way he walked, the way he could hold command of a room... All she knew was he wasn’t a girlfriend type of guy and she needed to get rid of her feeling fast.  

In the bottom of that shoe box under her bed another love letter sat addressed to him.

“Y/n did you hear anything I said?” Robin asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“No, sorry could you repeat?”

Rolling her eyes as they entered the library, she fell into a whisper. “I heard that Steve and Nancy broke up.”

Y/n 's head whipped to face her. “Really?”

“Yeah. She dumped him for Jonathan Byers.”

She withheld a gasp. Jonathan was another friend from the ex group in middle school. She never wold have imagined Nancy to go after him. “Damn, I didn’t expect that.”

“Right! Like, I don’t know Jonathan that well but I mean, come on! Steve has changed his douche bag ways, I can see it at work.”

Y/n nodded along as she took out her notebook, getting lost in her head once more. The day began to blend together. One minute she was studying with Robin in the library, the next, running side by side in gym class.

Running was not her first choice when it came to sports. She was fast and could make the track team if she tried. But Y/n never felt very athletically inclined.  She was happy, however, that she got to share the class with her friend. 

Robin was going on about something her crush said earlier that week but Y/n couldn’t bring her attention to it. Instead, focused on a voice calling her name from behind.

Stopping, she pulled Robin off the track in an attempt to not get trampled by other students. They watched as Steve Harrington ran up to them.

“There you are Hopper,” he said, finally catching up. He took a moment to catch his breath. “Can we talk for a second?”

Why would Steve Harrington want to talk to her? 

“Uh sure?” she said.

He glanced over at Robin who stared at him with crossed arms. “Alone?”

Y/n looked over at her friend, who stood with crossed arms. “Wow,” Robin said, dripping with sarcasm. “Okay, Harrington.”

“I’ll meet you afterward?” Y/n asked.

“No, I get it. I’m being replaced.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t get annoyed with me dingus! Stack the tapes at work correctly and maybe you have a say in this.”

Robin took off again down the track as another wave of students passed them. Y/n turned her attention back to the boy in front of her, shifting her weight back and forth. 

“What do you want, Steve?” she asked, confused at what he had to say to her. 

“Listen, I just-“ he paused, trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t like you like that.”

She scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, Nance and I just broke up and I’m not looking to get into anything serious. And for your information, I do not always take the last slice of pizza. But, you wouldn’t know that cause we haven’t hung out since middle school. Unless you count fighting inter-dimensional monsters.”

“No, I mean why are you telling me this-“ She froze mid-sentence, looking down at his hand. He was gripping a letter - her letter, the one she wrote to him so many years ago when her crush got too overwhelming. “Where -where did you get that?”

He looked down at the letter. “It came in the mail yesterday… also, I didn’t mean to steal your first kiss. I mean, it was mine too and I thought it was like okay since it was a game-“

“Don’t worry about it-“ She didn’t let him finish snatching the letter from his hand. He looked up at her shocked. “It’s all in the past.”

He tried to call out to her as she ran past him, making a b-line to the girls locker room. It wasn’t until she was sat inside that she gave herself a moment to take it all in. Steve had her note, her note. Why did he have it? Who sent it out because it certainly wasn’t her. And steal her first kiss? She couldn’t even remember what she wrote. 

Taking the letter out, she began to read:

Steve Harrington,

I refuse to call you just "Harrington" because it sounds cooler and you know it. There is something so smug about you that it makes everyone fall in love with you, even me. 

Did you know that after you kissed me I had a crush on you? You’re tall now, taller than everyone but even back then when you were short, people didn’t care. That was - still is the effect you have on people and it worked on me. 

But you probably knew that right? Because everyone is in love with Steve Harrington. Well, I’m not - or at least I’m not anymore. 

So here are some of your worst qualities, ones I used to convince myself you were merely a passing thought:

You snore. How do I know that? One time I slept at your house after Jonathan Byers' birthday party. I stayed up all night because of how loud you were and I never forgot that. 

You always take the last slice of pizza. Never asking if anyone else wants it, just taking. And I think that’s rude. 

It’s like how you took my first kiss. I wanted it to be with someone special, someone that bore their heart to me and I the same. But instead, you came along with that stupid bottle and that stupid game. You stole the one thing I was looking forward to most about growing up - Love. 

You had my love for a while, most of seventh and eight grade. But then Tommy and Carol came along, you became a douche bag, and our friend group split up - all because of you.

You were the glue that held together our group did you know that? You’re charm, your presence… After you left, none of us hung out again but no one cared. Because you’re Steve Harrington and no one can stay mad at Steve Harrington. No one can resist falling in love with Steve Harrington. 

Well I can. I can happily say I am immune to you Steve. For the first time in my life I can say that your Harrington charm will never work on me again. 

Y/n Hopper 

Did she really write all that? It sounds like she’s obsessed with him - but then again she remembered how intense that crush was. For weeks she couldn’t even bare to look at him…

Wait.

If Steve got a letter did that mean that the others were out too? School couldn't wait, she needed to get home now. With a totaled car and a dad that was still working, Y/n opted to run home. She ran and ran until she could see her street. She ran until she was inside crouching under bed for her shoe box - the shoe box that was now gone. 

Standing up, she went ballistic. She teared at every corner, every inch of her room in search for that box but it was no where to be found. Sighing, she sat on her floor in defeat. She pulled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, wishing that it was a nightmare. That all those letters weren’t sent out. But as her eyes fluttered back open, she was still on her floor; letters delivered to all the boys she loved before. 

Y/n's new plan was to avoid Billy Hargrove. It seemed easy enough at first, until she got out of her dad car and he was standing in front of the school. Wishing her dad at good day at work, she rushed to the side entrance of the school. It wasn't until Robin spotted her that she looked up.

“Woah, Y/n,” Robin called out. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she replied plainly. “Not feeling to great uh, I have to get some stuff from my locker I’ll see you in class!”

She walked away without waiting for a response finally sighing as her locker door opened. She stuck her face inside as she took a deep breath. She didn’t have any classes with him so she should be okay until lunch. Just get to lunch and everything would be okay. 

Feeling well enough to head to class, she shut her locker door. Standing behind it was Billy Hargrove. She yelped in surprise, almost dropping a textbook. Looked like there was no avoiding him now.

He was leaning against the lockers, playing the her letter in his hands. Smirking, he looked up at her. 

“You love me, Hopper?” he asked in a playful tone. Even though it was upbeat she could sense the condensing tone beneath it. 

“Billy-“

He interrupted her. “I mean, we hookup once and I get a love letter? It’s pathetic. I mean, sweet but, still pathetic.”

“I wrote that a while ago you were never meant to see it.” She reached out to grab the letter but he pulled back to quickly.

“Woah, there sweetheart. I think I'll hold on to this. This is something the people need to see!"

Y/n felt her heart drop in her chest. He was going to release the letter? Letter everyone know that she once loved him? It was bad enough Billy saw the love letter she wrote but the entire school? It was too embarrassing. 

“I-I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Y/n said, forcing herself to hold her head high. Was confidence was the way to shut him down?

Billy met her gaze, straightening up to meet her an inch from her own face. “And why would that be?”

“Because…” She had to think of something anything to get him off her back. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that so much,” she blurted out.

Billy’s gaze faltered as he took a step back. “You’re boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I mean, wouldn’t want to get beat up over an old letter right?” she said, crossing her arms. She tried hiding the cracks in her voice, keeps a calm composure and begging he bought it - it looked like he kind of did.

“And who is this mystery boyfriend I should be so afraid of?"

Y/n didn’t know what to do. She frantically looked around the halls for someone. Anyone she could pull aside to get Billy off her back. There was one person, no, she couldn’t. But then again it might have been her only choice.

Without thinking it through anymore, Y/n grabbed hold of Steve Harrington's shirt. She yanked him to her and planted a kiss on his lips. The force of her pull made them stumble back into her locker.  He put his hands on either side to break his fall, leaning into the kiss more. 

Slowly, she pulled away. Opening her eyes, she hoped that his would remain close but they weren’t. They were staring down at her wide-eyed, wondering why in the world this was happening. 

Y/n looked over to see Billy scoffing. He turned, stomping down the hall away from them, the grip on her letter a little tighter than before. She felt a small wave of relief wash over her, until she remembered who she dragged into this mess. 

Steve was still in shock as Y/n pushed him back, wiping her lips and avoiding his gaze. He went to open his mouth but she beat him to it. 

“Thanks!” she exclaimed before walking off, giving him no further explanation. 

Well, that was one way to get Billy Hargrove off your back. 

It wasn’t until lunch rolled around that Y/n's heart finally returned to a steady pace. Holy shit, she kissed Steve Harrington. 

It wasn’t the first time of course, but now both of them had some experienced. Was it bad that she kind of liked it? No, she shouldn’t think about that, but, it didn’t hurt to go find him. After all, she did jump him in the hall. 

Both of them had gym next but Y/n found herself unable to focus on whatever sport they were playing this week. Making up and excuse of "menstrual problems," she headed for the girls locker room. 

It was going to be empty and she need time to think. What do you say to your former friend after sending a love letter and kissing them?

Hey, sorry you’re a douche bag but a bigger douche bag is gonna expose me in front of the school.

No, that was right. She had to think of something quick as the door opened, girls walking back in to change into normal clothes. 

She opted to wait for him outside the boys locker room and lucky for her, he was the last one to come out. Better last than first - she did not want to have this conversation with people around. As the hall emptied and Steve emerged, she was quick to catch his gaze. 

“Oh no,” he started, deciding to take on a playful tone. “Should I cover my mouth?”

Rolling her eyes, she lightly hit his arm. “Oh my god- I’m sorry about that.”

“Does you kissing me have anything to do with the letter? Cause I already told you I'm not into you that way. Nance and I just broke up-“

“No,” she interrupted him. “I mean, it does have to do with the letters but- just- I don’t like you like that either.”

“Wait letters? Plural?”

Y/n hid her face in her hands, trying to think of the best way to explain her situation. “I use to write letters to get my feelings out okay? I had no intention of every sending that to you.”

He nodded, taking in what she said. “So who were the other letters to?”

“What?”

“Well you obviously kissed me to get away from one of them. So, who was it?” Y/n felt herself stumbling over her words. She didn’t owe him anymore than an apology. “Hopper?”

“If I tell you will you get off my back?”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk, leaning against a locker. 

“Fine, Billy Hargrove.”

Steve stood back up straight as the name left her mouth. “Hargrove? Really?”

“We hooked up a while ago and-“

“You hooked up with the guy?!”

“It wasn’t my proudest moment!” she protested, feeling the urge to defend herself. “I wrote him a letter and he threatened to show the entire school so I told him I had a boyfriend that wouldn’t like that. You happened to be walking down the hall and I knew he wouldn’t mess with you after what happened at the Byer’s with Max…” 

She could see a ping of jealousy when she mention Jonathan’s last name. Maybe he wasn’t too fond over Nancy’s new boyfriend - despite all of them being friends at one point. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

“No, it’s okay. I get it, Hargrove’s a prick.”

“Yeah…” Silence took over the conversation and Y/n didn’t want anything else to do with him. 

“What are you gonna tell him now?”

Y/n looked up at him confused. What else could she tell Billy but he wasn’t her boyfriend?  It seemed like a stupid question. 

“I don’t know, I’ll make something up…”

She waved one last goodbye to Steve before taking off, wanting to be done with the conversation.

Y/n had almost gone the rest of the day without thinking of Steve Harrington. That was, until her best friend reminded her of what had happened. 

She picked up the phone with a simple, “Hello?”

“Did you really kiss Steve Harrington?” Robin asked on the other side of the line, not bothering for formalities. 

Y/n looked back at Eleven and Mike Wheeler who were sitting watching a movie on the couch. She hoped they couldn’t hear her friend through the phone. 

“Yeah, I did,” she responded simply.

“Oh my god why?”

Robin didn’t know about the letters, nor did Y/n want her to. “It was a heat of the moment thing,” she replied, opting not to confess the real reason. Thankfully, the door sounded before her friend could reply. “I gotta go Mrs. Wheeler is here to pick up Mike.”

“Wait but-“

“I’ll see you at school!”

She hung up the phone, fixing her hair for a moment before answering the door. It always took a long time for Mike to actually leave their house but she was thankful that he was out quick this time. 

Falling back on her bed, she heard a subtle knock against her open door. She looked up, using her arms as support from behind her.

“What’s up El?” she asked her sister hovering in the doorway.

El shook her head. “Nothing.”

She sat up fully now, wondering what was wrong with her sister. “Well, it can’t be nothing. C’mon, what’s wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong. I just…. I’ve been thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been thinking…about what?”

El paused her a moment, looking down at the floor as she tried to find the right words. “I have Mike,” she began. “And I love him. I love spending time with him, watching movies…why don’t you have someone?”

“Where’s this coming from?” Y/n asked confused. Since when did her sister care about her love life?

Eleven walked into her room, taking a seat next to her on the bed. “You’re always at home. Babysitting.”

“I hang out with Robin.”

“That’s one person. You need someone. Someone like Mike to make you happy.”

“A boyfriend?” El nodded. “I don’t need a boyfriend hun, I’m perfectly happy here with you…go get ready for bed, dad will be home soon.”

El gave a weak nod before going off to do her night routine. Sighing, Y/n let herself fall back on her bed once more. Maybe El was right. Maybe she did need someone in her life that wasn’t family or a best friend. Maybe if she had a boyfriend, she wouldn’t have kissed Steve, and Billy wouldn’t be a pain in her ass…

Y/n was thankful she checked the mail before leaving. Two of the letters that got out were sitting on the counter - a "return to sender" label stamped over them. A tiny weight felt like it was taken off her chest. 

There were three now. Three people received letters and that seemed more manageable than five.

With her sprit up a little more than yesterday, she was quickly reminded of the situation she was in. She cursed herself for not seeing Billy Hargrove as he strutted up to her in the library. She jumped back in surprise when he approached her. 

“Hey sweet cheeks,” he smirked, leaning against the shelf she was looking at.

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Just wondering how things were going with Harrington.”

Shit. He was testing her, calling her on her bullshit. She couldn’t say they were still together and it felt like she had no other option than to tell the truth. 

“Not to good,” she admitted. “We broke up, he’s still in love with Nancy Wheeler.”

“Really? Cause I saw Harrington earlier at basketball and he said he really liked you. Blushed even.”

That caught her off guard. “What?”

“Who knew you would have the former King of Hawkins High drooling over you. I gotta admit Hopper, I was shocked - didn’t know you were his type.”

Why would he say that? What game was he playing?

“I gotta go I actually planned to meet him before first period,” she mumbled out, walking away from him.

She didn’t have plans of course, but as the first bell rang, she knew that she would have to face him. Steve sat a few rows over from her in Chemistry so passing a note to him felt like the best approach. 

Why did you tell Billy we were dating? She wrote on a ripped off piece of paper, sliding it over to him.

She watched as he furrowed his brows. It was clear his mind was racing but she couldn’t quite get a read on him. After a few moments, he scribbled something and tossed the paper back.

Stay behind after class. 

Looking up at him, she caught his eyes for only a moment before turning back to the board. Y/n couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of class, trying to sneak glances over at him. 

What was he thinking? What plan was he concocting in his head? She raced over to him as the bell rang, students filing out of the classroom for lunch. 

“So?” she asked, not wanting to wait any longer. 

Steve looked around the room as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Nodding, she followed him. They trekked out to the field that laid between the running track and the school. She figured they were taking the long way to get to the parking lot. 

“Are we gonna talk about it now or continue to walk in silence?” she asked. 

“Let me- just give me a minute,” he replied, staring down at the grass beneath them. It only took a moment more before he continued. “You don’t deserve Billy’s wrath for a few old letters you wrote.”

“I already told him we broke up though, that you’re still in love with Nancy.”

He whipped his head toward her. “What? I’m not still in love with Nance.” She raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Our breakup was mutual.” 

“Sure,” she said sarcastically. “Everyone knows that you’ll be back together in no time. Especially because you were her first time.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ex friends talk, especially when you call them assholes.”

“Shit,” he cursed to himself. “Tommy and Carol?”

Y/n nodded. “They blabbed to the whole school the weekend after you ditched them."

Finally reaching the parking lot, Y/n could see Steve’s car a few feet away. Where was this conversation going to go?

“What if we let people, Billy and Nance included, think we’re dating?” he asked, reaching to unlock the door to his car.

Y/n stopped behind him confused. “What? Why would we do that?”

“Cause Billy’s made it clear he’ll go photo copy that letter and spread it around the minute he knows I won’t kick his ass.”

“Okay… but what’s in it for you? You wouldn’t be doing this out of the kindness of your heart would you?”

She asked the question, knowing the answer already. Steve Harrington was never the type to do something without it benefiting him. 

He rolled his eyes and answered, “Okay so maybe the breakup wasn’t mutual.” He looked up from the car, meeting her gaze. “If she thinks we’re together it will send a message to Nancy that I’ve moved on.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “I don’t like you like that, Steve.”

“That’s the point. We don’t actually have to date, just make people think we are.”

“I don’t know…” she said hesitantly. She didn’t want to be his real or fake girlfriend - it all seemed just a little too weird.

“I mean,” he started, leaning against the open car door. “Billy definitely thought we were together at basketball this morning. I could see his stupid face getting red.”

Y/n gritted her teeth. He was right, why did he have to be right? She had less than a year left at Hawkins High, why have Billy make it miserable?

Reaching out her hand, she said, “Alright, Steve. You’ve got yourself a deal."

part two || part three || part four

Want to be added to the series taglist? Comment down below!

Series Taglist: @sigh-mon-says @johnricharddeacy @totally-bogus-timelady @in-this-minute @steveharringtonisfit @dukesmebby @pricelessemotion

#steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrinton #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #steve harrington x you #joe keery #djo #hopper!reader #jim hopper #eleven hopper #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #mike wheeler #fluff #fake boyfriend #to all the boys series

[sleepy-belphie]

I have a request if you’re up for it. An MC who just arrived in the Devildom who’s lover just dumped them the day prior. The bros know MC isn’t emotionally or romantically available at the time but the bros still fall in love regardless. How will the bros handle the situation? Thank you! 🙏💗

Hi! I sort of took this idea and ran with it and wrote basically a headcanon short story for each bro lmao. Sorry I got a bit carried away but I hope you like this and it satisfies you! :) 

Also thank you so much @midnight-dome for the help with Asmo, you’re a lifesaver

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

The success of the program depends on your wellbeing

So he checks in on you every other day like clockwork 

“Is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable?”

You always say no

At first, he’s glad you’re staying in 

Because it means less trouble for him

But when you skip all of your classes one day, he comes to your room ready to give you a firm reminder of your tasks here

He’s about to knock when he hears you sob 

Now, Lucifer has heard a lot of crying in his life

But he’s never heard someone sound so completely broken

He shocks himself when he turns on his heels and walks away

He shocks himself even more when he texts the group chat and demands everyone leaves you alone for the day

That evening he comes into your room with a small plate of food

By then you were are least on top of your sheets

You knew he was gonna ask the same question as always

But this time, his words were different

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help?” 

He simply nods

And though he didn’t outright say what he meant by help, you knew

“I...don’t know?”

“Hm, okay. I’m going to listen to some music in my study. The door will be unlocked should you wish to join me.”

Then he’s gone

The few precious moments Lucifer isn’t working, he prefers to not be disturbed

So why on earth did he invite you to join him in his study?

He doesn’t have time to ponder it because the door opens and you come in with a blanket wrapped around you

The first night you both listen in comfortable silence

A few nights in, you start asking Lucifer about the records he puts on and he has no qualms educating you on it

On night 10 you tell him about the breakup

Once you’re done he, again, asks the same question

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

‘You’ve done more than enough to help me Lucifer, thank you.”

He finds himself blushing from the sincerity in your eyes and the warmth in your smile

That night you fall asleep before the record finishes

Surely you’d wake up aching if he left you in a chair

So he picks you up, carries you to your room, and tucks you into bed carefully

He tells himself he’s doing it for Diavolo

It’s for the program, this is his job

He’s gonna need time to accept his own feelings before he can tell you anything

For now, he’ll keep doing his “job” and spending evenings with you

Mammon:

He didn’t want to be your babysitter

He was a busy guy! He had stuff to do, money to make, things to steal

Some days he gets Beelzebub to keep an eye on you so he can do what he wants

One night in particular he heads to your room to make sure you won’t interfere with his plans

“Yo! The Great Mammon has things to do so don’t-”

He pauses when he sees you sitting on your bed with your headphones plugged into your laptop

He would have assumed you were just watching a sad movie by the tears streaks on your face

But the pain in your eyes…

He’s seen that look before

His brothers held that same look the day they fell from Heaven and lost Lilith

Mammon sits on the bed and you jump, finally noticing him

You expected him to make fun of you but instead, he grabs the tissue box on your bedside table and hands it to you

He glances at your laptop to see what you were watching and sees a paused video of you and someone else

You tell him about the breakup and Mammon listens closely

“What a jerk! Ya deserve better than that! I’d teach ‘em a lesson if they ever showed their face around here!”

You smile for the first time since he came in the room and he feels like he’s done something right

“How about we get some late-night food? I know a 24-hour restaurant with the best baked newt ever. Your treat.”

He’s shocked when you agree

He makes a point to hang out with you more often

He can’t recall exactly when you went from “a human” to “his human” 

Maybe it was when you held his hand while you erased all your photos and videos of your ex from your computer

Or when you texted him at 3am because you couldn’t sleep and before he could even think about it he was up and on his way to your room

Or when he spotted you in one of his jackets while walking home from RAD

But his greed was kicking in and he wanted you to be his and only his

However, much like he puts himself first, he knows you need to do the same

So though his nature and mind wants to kiss you silly and have you for himself

Part of him knows he’ll ruin things if he lets his greed take over

So he’ll fight his nature and try his best to be patient

Leviathan:

He had been playing one of his games online

He’s on a big winning streak and feeling a bit cocky

He sees he’s been matched with someone else so he gets into gamer mode 

Then he loses the first round

He’s a bit shocked and pissed that his streak was now broken but he has to prove his superiority to whoever this opponent was

So he rematches them

And loses again

And again

He loses 7 rounds in a row

By this point he is fuming

So like any salty gamer he sends a very lengthy, angry message to their inbox

Accusing them of using cheats and hacks because there was no way anyone was more skilled than him at this game

He gets a reply a few minutes later

“Um.....is this Leviathan? Avatar of Envy? It’s MC…”

You knew it was Levi because his username is the same across all his social media platforms

Cue Levi barreling into your room a minute later

“How are you so good!? You’re cheating, aren’t you!? You cheater!’

You weren’t cheating, you just had been playing games day in and day out to distract yourself so you got really good at it

Levi all but demands you to come to his room and show him what you know

You were already playing all night anyway so why not play with someone? 

Initially, Levi would have you come over just to show him your tactics 

(Also to get some team wins on his stats because he never has anyone to play with)

But you were actually pretty chill for a normie

Maybe if he exposed you to his otaku ways you would take to them and he wouldn’t be the only one in the house anymore!

You don’t become an otaku but you do get invested in almost every anime he shows you

He starts inviting you over for midnight premieres of new episodes

He starts buying extra merch because what if you wanted one?

He was used to disproving looks from his brothers when he mass buys stuff from Akuzon

But you only smile and listen when he tells you about his new special edition item

You never once judged him and his unconventional ways

This epiphany makes him extra nervous for your weekly hangouts

It was only a matter of time before you came across a break up in an anime

When the episode ended you told him about your break up and how the protagonist reminded you of yourself because they also were taking a break from love

Levi has seen this anime before actually

He remembers how the protagonist reacted to a side character confessing to them and it went bad

So while he knows he likes you, he holds off on saying anything because the last thing he wants is to be a bad story arc in your life

Lucky for him he’s always a flustered blushing mess so you shouldn’t suspect a thing

Satan:

He is the Avatar of Wrath so whenever there is rage, he is aware

He feels anger radiating through the house one day and thinks his brothers are just fighting again

Imagine his surprise when he realizes the source of the anger is coming from your room

He walks in and sees you throwing things around and screaming, your room was destroyed

He sees you’re about to step on some glass and instantly swoops in and picks you up so you don’t hurt yourself

But then you curl up against him and burst into tears

He stands there, not quite sure what to do 

He ends up sitting on the bed and letting you cry for a while

You word vomit about your break up and he listens carefully and notes the anger welling up inside you as you speak

He knows all too well what anger can do to someone and a fragile human shouldn’t have to go through that

“Would you like some tea?”

He can spare 30 minutes for some small talk with the human if it meant that you wouldn’t be left in your thoughts

You look at him like he has three heads but agree because your room is a mess and you don’t wanna deal with it right now

Tea time becomes a daily occurrence and soon enough it escalates to full-on hangouts

Going to the bookstore, going to cat cafes, going wherever you wanted to really

One time you both took a day trip to the human world

Lucifer wasn’t happy to find out his brother and you were gone for an entire day but he lets it go when he sees that you’re smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks

What Satan didn’t expect was how these outings made him feel

He finds himself distracted from his books because he can’t stop thinking about how cute you looked holding that black cat at the cafe

Or how happy you looked when you took him to that ice cream shop in your hometown that you really love

He wakes up and you’re the first thing to pop into his mind

He’s not dumb, he knows he’s fallen in love

But he also knows this isn’t the right time, you aren’t ready

So he’ll keep being there for you as a friend

And if you ever want him to be there as something more, he’ll happily oblige

Asmodeus:

There was a movie night at the House of Lamentation

Today’s movie was an action movie, courtesy of Mammon

Amidst all the face punching and explosions, there was a budding romance between the main characters

After the third obnoxious makeout scene, you leave the room claiming you need to go to the restroom

But you leave just a *little* too fast and Asmo can feel something is up

And he thrives on gossip so he intends to find out what is it

He leaves the room a few minutes later and catches you in the hallway, determined to get you to spill the tea

You tell him about the breakup

He wasn’t prepared for the tea to be so bitter

“Oh. Well, you know what’s good for that? Face masks!” 

He had to save face somehow and beauty was his default

He’s a bit shocked when you agree but you both ditch movie night to do face masks and talk a bit

He decides to share a couple of bad date experiences he’s had to make you feel better

“Trust me, you haven’t felt embarrassment until you have someone vomit Enfield brains on your new pants and shoes while at one of the hottest clubs in the Devildom.”

You spent the entire night giggling and listening to his stories

Devildom products are surprisingly effective on your skin so you keep asking Asmo to show you new products

Plus his company is nice

Self-care days become a common occurrence

Then those self-care days become self-care sleepovers

He starts intentionally waiting to try anything new because he wants you to be there when he does

He buys more of those scented candles you told him smelled nice

A few weeks later you’re having a self-care sleepover again and you have this really cute focused look on your face while painting your nails

He knows he likes you, but this was different than his usual attraction

He didn’t want to fuck you

Well he did but not just fuck you

He wouldn’t mind if there was something more

But you routinely ended your self-care nights by yelling ‘Fuck love!’ at the top of your lungs and laughing

So he knows now isn’t the time and he’s actually okay with that

You were a sight to behold regardless of his relationship status with you

But he hopes you’ll indulge in him one day

Beelzebub:

Mammon keeps pushing his human watching duties on Beel

But he doesn’t really care because he’s being paid in cheesecake

After his third day of keeping an eye on you, he notices you aren’t eating much

Being the Avatar of Gluttony, this is basically a crime

He starts bringing extra snacks with him when he hangs out with you

“I think the chocolate flavor is better than the vanilla. What do you think?”

He actually doesn’t have a preference 

He just wants to know which snacks you like more so he can bring more of them

He makes a game out of it so you don’t think about how much you’re eating

“It motivates me to work out longer when I get a snack, could you help me?”

You sit on his back and after every pushup, you both eat a bit of whatever snack he has

He keeps going until he thinks you’ve eaten a decent amount

Or you say you’re getting full

Belphie notices that Beel is refilling his snack stash more often but he doesn’t say anything

Beel feels an immense sense of accomplishment when you finish your plate at dinner a few days later

Soon after you tell him about the breakup

“It hit me hard but you made it easier to cope, Beel. These hangouts are the highlight of my day so thank you.”

There’s a certain pang Beel gets in his stomach when he’s really hungry

Somehow your words made that pang happen in his chest

But this didn’t hurt him, quite the opposite actually

He felt good, he felt happy

It was strange for his stomach to be the quiet one while his heart went wild

But this wasn’t a change he minded too much

He wasn’t sure what to make of it but he knows he wants to figure it out with you

And he’ll take his time doing so because he liked how things were now

Belphegor:

He’s intrigued by you after the first week of your stay

He’s never seen a human who slept as much as he did

Frankly, he was impressed

Until Lucifer informed everyone about your recent breakup and made it clear to not upset you

That’s when Belphie realized these were not the leisurely naps he takes, but depression naps

One day he sees you sleeping in the living room and you looked so distressed

Sleeping was meant to be a peaceful state but you looked so unhappy

So he wakes you up

“You’re in my sleeping spot.”

You weren’t in his sleeping spot.

“Oh sorry, I’ll move-”

“You’re already here. We can both fit.” 

Before you can protest he’s all comfy next to you and falling back asleep

Having another person next to you was kind of comforting so you let it go and go back to sleep

What you didn’t know was Belphie could partially influence your dreams

He can make them more pleasant but he can’t control what you dream about

He knows it works when he wakes up and you have a relaxed expression on your sleeping face

You wake up soon after looking confused

“Good dream?”

“I think? I had a dream I rode a unicorn to the moon then carved my initials into it?”

Napping together in the living room becomes a routine

And every time you woke up you told him about the dream you had with a small smile

A few weeks later he notices he no longer has to influence your dreams for them to be good

So he leaves you be and instead curls up in the attic for his afternoon nap

He wakes up a bit when he feels someone lay down next to him

It’s probably Beel

“Why didn’t you tell me you moved napping spots?”

His eyes open and he looks over to see you pouting at him

“I just sorta ended up here.”

“Well, I can’t nap without my cuddle buddy now can I?”

You’re teasing him and he should be annoyed

But he’s blushing

He spoons you to hide that fact, resting his forehead on your shoulder

But while your dreams were getting better, it didn’t mean you were ready to move on

So he just enjoys his intimate cuddling sessions with you and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he really likes how your body fits against his

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #annazonabeth

[princessphilly]

Word count: 5627

Tag list:  @ohpuckyeah, @joelsfarabee, @besthockeyfics. @dreamer1430 @Defiant-Mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @texanstarslove @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do​ @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol​

CW: angst, meeting the family, references to the n-word, people sucking

I decided to go ahead and finish it when I got a sudden burst of creativity when I came home.

*

Nina snuggled in bed, a happy little sigh leaving her lips. Sidney looked at her, a fond smile on his face. It had been a month since they were back together and life was almost perfect. Well, they were 6-3-2, 14 points earned which was okay but not where Sidney wanted the team to be. It was still early in the season, it was mid-November so there was plenty of time to right the ship. He and the boys would fix it. Sidney sighed before attempting to try to go back to sleep. However, he heard the sound of a door opening and he sat up, pushing the covers down inadvertently. 

Sidney racked his brain. It was Sunday, Marta, his housekeeper’s day off. Mario or Nathalie would have called before coming over. He had no idea who the hell it could be. “Fuck,” Sidney breathed. There were only two people who would do a surprise visit and one of them was a week earlier for the Moms trip. 

Lightly brushing his fingers over Nina’s side, Sidney urged, “Pretty girl, wake up.”

It was roughly 8am so it wasn’t hard to get Nina, an early riser by nature to wake up. “Urgh, mawning,” Nina mumbled as she cracked open her eyes. Sidney looked anxious and agitated which made Nina focus. 

Sidney opened his mouth, then closed it. If he was right, he was fucked and his pretty girl was probably going to run away screaming. He finally said, “Um, someone just opened the door and there are exactly five people other than me who have a key. There are two who’d do a surprise visit.”

Looking down, Nina was thankful that she had on one of Sidney’s shirts and shorts while sleeping. “Well, fuck, at least I’m not naked,” she said pointedly. Sidney had the grace to blush as Nina continued, “If it’s what you think it is, you need to get that under control,” pointing at his rather obvious morning wood. Sidney pulled the covers back over himself and Nina

Then a voice called out, “Morming, Sid!”

Sidney sighed in relief. It was Taylor, not his mom. Nina noticed it and arched an eyebrow. “Eh, it’s my sister, pretty girl.”

“Shit,” Nina fretted. This was going to be awkward, she didn’t even know if she wanted to meet his family but now, she was going to,have to. At least it was a sister.

The door creaked open and a blonde-haired head peeked in. “Boo,” Taylor said. Then her eyes perked when she saw who Sidney was with. 

Nina groaned. Her hair was in a scarf, it was obvious she slept over and fuck, fuck, fuck. A devious smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Nice to see that you finally let a girlfriend sleep in your room, Sidney.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” Sidney yelled as his little sister giggled before closing the door.

Nina facepalmed. “That was fun. Fun fun fun.”

Rolling onto her front, Nina mumbled, “I’m not ready to meet your family.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Sidney reasoned. 

“That was because Yanni was part of your Lil Penguins program. That was work related for you, doesn’t count.”

Trailing his fingers down Nina’s back, Sidney replied, “True but, it still counts. What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m going to be in Philly for a wedding.”

Nina turned onto her left side, facing Sidney. Sidney sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She slipped off the bed, pulling the scarf off her braids, letting them fall down her back. Rummaging through her clothes on the floor, Nina pulled out her bra. Pulling her shirt off, she put it on to the sound of Sidney’s groans. Nina rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck having to meet your sister because she decided to give you a surprise visit. I’m not meeting her without wearing a bra.”

“But you look so amazing without one,” Sidney replied. 

 Nina shook her head before leaving his bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, Nina literally bumped into Taylor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped. 

“I’m okay,” Taylor reassured Nina, taking the moment to check out this girl that Sidney was now seeing. She wasn’t exactly what Taylor was expecting but one thing that Taylor liked about Nina was that she had kind eyes. Taylor had heard about her over the years, especially that Nina had kept rejecting Sidney. Her brother rarely heard the word no so that made Nina intriguing to her. 

Taylor offered, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

Opening the fridge, Taylor took out the ingredients to make omelets. Nina sat at the island, a pensive look on her face. “You know, I totally didn’t expect to meet you this way. This is awkward as fuck.”

“Eh, don’t feel bad, I should have given Sid a heads up,” Taylor replied. “Plus, I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Oh really?”

Taylor laughed as she cracked eggs. “Sidney couldn’t shut up about you. First it was he met this nice girl at work. Then, it was that you kept telling him no and he was confused. Later, he was beating himself up because he managed to fuck up before he could even ask you out. I really enjoyed that, I liked that you kept not only telling him no but when he pissed you off, you didn’t forgive him right away. I love my brother but his ego needs to get cut down sometimes.”

“True, he has a huge ego. He needs to take himself less seriously,” Nina concurred. “But it’s probably impossible to get him to do that.”

Taylor shrugged, pursing her lips. “At least he means well,” Nina added. 

Nodding, Taylor replied, “He does mean well, most of the time.”

“Already ganging up on me?”

They both laughed as Sidney entered the kitchen. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

“I went on a camping trip and I decided to be nosy and visit my big brother before heading home,” Taylor chirped. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“Hahaha. Should’ve called,” Sidney grumbled. 

Taylor quipped, “Oh, did I ruin your morning sex plans? I’m so sorry.”

Nina snorted as she laughed. Sidney gave her hurt eyes and Nina blew him a kiss. 

��Don’t worry Sid, I’m not staying long. Just enough to rest and then get back on the road,” Taylor said. 

“You drove,” Nina asked. Sidney was now standing right behind her and she could feel his hands massaging her shoulders. 

Taylor nodded as she flipped the first omelet. “You’re not what I expected, Nina. You’re way too pretty for a hockey player like my brother.”

Sidney wanted to kill his little sister as she continued to chirp him. Well, not only chirp him but ruin his planned lazy morning sex. But as he watched his sister and Nina interact playfully, Sidney could admit there was a slight good point. Taylor and Nina were hitting it off and Sidney knew that Nina would meet his family soon. This was a good sign. 

**

However, after practice four days later, Sidney was wishing his sister had never stopped by. Nina had been incredibly busy all week and Sidney knew he wouldn’t see her until next week due to her trip out of town. He was feeling extra irritable and hearing his name over the tv didn’t help. 

“So, two weeks ago, Sidney Crosby admitted that he was having relationship issues that were affecting him on the ice.”

Tanger went to change the channel on the tv in the lounge, muttering, “Fucking ESPN.”

“Shh, keep it on,” Sidney urged, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see what kind of bullshit ESPN was saying now.

A couple of the guys stopped to check out the TV. Kevin Neghandi laughed as he responded, “Yeah, he admitted that after breaking a slump. Ever since, he’s been on a 2 point-per-game streak. But this really isn’t about him.”

“Huh,” said Geno, scratching his head.

Buccigross continued, “There was a picture of Crosby and his girlfriend posted on the internet, a nice picture. Someone posted it and made a derogatory statement about his girlfriend, Nina Jackson. This player is a player for Clemson.”

Neghandi laughed again. “Ms. Jackson has a younger brother named Jason Jackson. He was also the number 20 prospect, number 1, 5 star tight end. He also now plays for UNC.”

Sidney chuckled as he realized exactly where this was going. The guy on the tv continued, “Clemson and UNC had the rare Thursday night game last night. #1 Clemson went to the Tar Heels, ranked #22 and got spanked, 56-30. Jason Jackson had 10 catches, 200 yards receiving, and 3 TDs. His response in the postgame.”

The tv showed a clip of Jason talking to the media. A reporter asked, “What inspired you to have such a big game tonight.”

“Lowell decided he needed to talk about my sister on the gram so I had to put him in his place,” Jason drawled.

Sidney’s phone buzzed and it was a message from Nina. my brother is so dramatic 🙄

Nice to know he’ll always have your back, Sidney sent Nina. 

**

Nina smiled happily as she looked at the Thai food on plate. She was so hungry and excited to see Jamila face to face in person for lunch. Her friend looked more vibrant than usual, as life was treating her good. They made small talk until Jamila said, “I heard something about you, that you aren’t single for the first time in forever.”

“Oh really?”

Jamila looked at her best friend. “You’re dating Mayo boy.”

“What?!?” Perplexed, Nina stared at Jamila while Jamila rolled her eyes. 

“Sidney Crosby is like Mayo. Super white. Damn, my dating habits really did rub off on you. Welcome to being a basic bitch like me.”

It was Nina’s turn to roll her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jamila Brown.”

“I was an actress, I’m supposed to be dramatic. Tell Mayo boy if he ever breaks your heart, I’ll kill and cremate whatever’s left of him after your father and brother are finished with him.”

“Are you really gonna nickname him that?”

Jamila smirked at Nina and Nina sighed. Shrugging elegantly, Jamila replied, “I’m a part of Philly sports Twitter. I got lots of other names I could call him.

“Be a bigger bitch, Mila.”

“He gets a better nickname when he lets you fully run his pockets. And don’t give me that look, don’t be afraid of being called a gold digger. They are probably calling you worse names. Make Mayo boy run that card up when he takes you on baecation. Once that happens, I’ll upgrade his nickname.”

Nina sighed as she looked at the menu. Jamila reached out and put her hand out, covering Nina’s menu. “You know I’m just playing, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, let’s talk about Toyin’s wedding instead,” Nina murmured. 

It was Jamila’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t be taking out my bad mood on you. I hate men.”

“Not forgiven yet,” Nina snarked. 

Jamila looked pensive as she said, “I like this guy but I don’t want to admit I like him. He’s like too perfect, too nice, well not that nice. He actually gives a fuck.”

“Let me guess, you’re scared and about to do something super stupid,” Nina dryly replied.

Jamila gave Nina a shocked look before she slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to,” she pouted. 

Nina reasoned, “Then don’t. Just ride it out for once.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jamila replied. 

Nina shrugged as her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sid, well really just a picture of him sweaty post-practice. Nina left him on read, she would get him back later for that. “Stop being stupid, and stop self-sabotaging.”

Jamila rolled her eyes as she ate her food. After swallowing, she arched an eyebrow. “Mayo boy sent you a message?”

“Yeah, but I’m focusing on you. I’ll see him next week… and his parents.”

“This is going fast,” Jamila commented. 

Nina bit her lip before saying, “I guess he had to wait eighty-four years, I mean five years, so he’s going to take advantage while they are in town.”

“Interesting.”

Nina pointed out, “At least I’m giving my relationships a chance, unlike you.”

“Fuck you.” 

Jamila gave Nina an exaggerated nasty look as Nina quipped, “I’m strictly dickly, bitch.”

The conversation switched to safer topics. However, throughout the wedding weekend, Nina had the thought in the back of her mind that maybe things were going a bit too fast. 

**

“Well, Taylor says she likes her. I checked out her instagram account and she doesn’t even mention you. Lots of nice vacation pictures though.”

Sidney looked at his mom from across the table. Trina had a pensive look on her face. Troy raised his eyebrows before leaning back in his chair. 

Sidney reasoned, “I want you two to meet her. Give her a chance. Nina is amazing, I’m lucky that she even likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you, you’re Sidney Crosby,” Trina scoffed. 

Sidney shrugged. “Nina’s a PhD student and everything. It hasn’t been easy for her either.”

“Interesting,” Trina said. 

Nina herself was feeling extra nervous. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet Sidney’s parents, especially after having to turn in a huge paper and part of her thesis to her advisor. But, as she shook her head and smoothed down her shirt, they were in town and she was going to try to make her best impression.

Midway through dinner, Nina began to wish she was somewhere else on this Friday night. While Troy, Sidney’s dad, seemed nice, it felt like Trina was judging every single thing she did. Every reply Trina made to Nina’s questions was in a dry voice, as if it was boring her. Nina felt a bit discouraged. Sidney obviously loved his parents but it felt like his mother didn’t like her. 

On the other hand, Trina felt like Nina was looking down on them. It seemed like she was mentioning her PhD program, her thesis, like she was too smart for them and her boy. Trina sipped her water as there was a pause. She didn’t know about this girl but at least, every time she looked at Sidney, Trina could see the stars and hearts in her eyes.

Nina looked at Sidney, her palms sweating. She didn’t know what to say as she looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone. Sidney, himself, didn’t really notice anything as he answered his father’s questions about the beginning of the season. Then Troy turned to Nina. 

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re with Sidney,” Troy casually asked.

Nina replied, “I have about two more years left before I finish earning my PhD. I plan to continue to work and I may teach a class or two.”

“You still plan to work,” Trina asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. I love what I do and I’m not wasting my degrees.”

“Why do you want to work?”

Nina could tell that Trina intended that question to be light but Nina could still feel the claws. She was tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit and ready to curse her out. But Nina couldn’t so she measured her words carefully. “I did four years of undergrad, three years of school for my doctors in physical therapy, and I will do four more years for my doctorate. Why would I stop working after earning my degrees?”

Trina paused; she had expected some trite, suck-up answer. But it seemed like Nina was serious. “I would think that if you were with my son, you’d rather not work.”

“I’m not built to be a housewife.” Nina laughed. “I love what I do and if I’m expected to stop for Sidney, then maybe I need to reevaluate some things.”

Trina felt like she lost control of this conversation. All she wanted was to see what kind of user her boy’s dream girl was. Now, she had the feeling that her son was going to get dumped and it was going to be her fault.

Sidney laughed. “I don’t expect you to be a housewife. You would be so bored if you were.”

Nina flashed Sidney a quick grin before adding, “Nathalie has let me know the responsibilities though. I’ve done lots of volunteer and charity work over the years so that isn’t new at all. I’m excited about the toy drive, I remember when my parents just got out of the army and cash was tight. I got my favorite doll as a kid from a toy drive.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said. Maybe this Nina girl wasn’t completely stuck up, she thought as the night continued. After a couple of hours, Nina said her goodbyes. It was getting late and she was spending the morning taking her little sister to volleyball practice. After she left, Trina let out a sigh as Sidney turned to her.

“You have to lay off on Nina, Mom.”

Trina turned to look at her son. Sidney was giving her his most serious look and she sighed. 

“I like her but I don’t know if she’s the one for you, Sid. It seems like she’s one step from leaving you,” Trina said. “I don’t see her sticking with you if things go bad.”

“Just because she plans to work?” 

Sidney gave his mother an assessing look. He knew she meant well but this wasn’t for her to decide. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Fine, I like that she has her own life. She’s not obsessed with you and she plans to be her own person,” Trina conceded. “But she’s different.”

He knew this was going to be hard, asking his mom to back off but Sidney knew he had to do it. Nina hadn’t said anything last night but Sidney could sense that she was tired of how his mother was acting. Sidney also knew that if Nina decided to cut ties, it would be completely over. Sidney started, “Compared to Nina, I’m a dumb hockey player. But what I have with her, I’ve never found with anyone else. If you have a problem with that, that’s you. But be civil to Nina.”

“Really, Sidney Patrick Crosby,” Trina said, incredulous. But the look on her son’s face was something she had never seen before. Even though she didn’t believe her son would really pick any woman over her, a voice at the back of her mind told her that if Sidney ever did, this would be the woman he’d pick over her.

**

It was Saturday night and Nina pasted another smile on her face. If Trina got snide again, Nina didn’t know if she could be nice about it. But at least they were in public. As they sat down for dinner, a couple of guys came up. Sidney and his family had perfect PR smiles but the guys stopped in front of Nina.

“Hey, aren’t you Jason Jackson’s sister?”

Nina grinned. “Yes.”

“Why did he have to have such a great game against Pitt today? He killed them,” one of the guys said.

Nina shrugged. “Pitt should play better defense.”

After the guys left, Troy asked, “your brother plays college football?”

“Yup. He was the top prospect in Pennsylvania last season. Games on tv and everything.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sidney murmured.

Nina giggled as she replied, “All you do is eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”

Sidney blushed as everyone laughed at that statement. However, through the night, more people came by the table to give Nina props for her brother’s monster game than to try to get a glimpse of Sidney. Jason had 184 yards receiving and 2 TDs for UNC today and there was already buzz about Jason being on the fast track to the NFL. During a lull, Trina stated, “You must get asked about your brother a lot.”

“I’m used to it. Once ESPN comes to your brother’s games when he was a sophomore in high school, you have to get used to it,” Nina said with a shrug. “I’m old enough that it really doesn’t bother me.”

“How does your brother deal with it,” Sidney asked, curious as he remembered some of his early experiences with fame. 

Nina replied, “College football is a different beast than the pros. So, he’s on scholarship and his days are pretty much regimented with meetings, practice, classes, more meetings, video study. I ran track when I was in undergrad so my experience was slightly similar. Main difference is that Jase gets paid for his likeness in video games now and a percentage of any jersey sales with his name and number.”

“You ran track,” Troy asked. Unlike his wife, he felt a bit more open towards Nina. It was obvious that she didn’t need Sidney for anything and Troy could see that his son was able to relax in a way with Nina that he hadn’t been able to relax with a woman before. 

“I had a partial scholarship. I ran the 4x100 relay and the 100 meters. I didn’t have the athletic ability to race for a living but I did decent,” Nina stated, feeling a bit shy. It had been a long time since she even talked about her track career. “I was state champ my senior year and my team won silver at the Penn Relays my sophomore and junior years of college. Now, I just run to stay in shape.”

“Wow,” Sidney said, impressed. “Sounds like you loved it though.”

Nina flashed Sidney a grin. “I did, I love running. What most people forget is that you can’t just run for health, you have to run and do strength training and yoga or Pilates.” 

“Have you been to any of your brother’s games,” Troy asked. “Seems like they are doing well.”

Nina replied, “We went to the season opener. I will never go to North Carolina in August ever again if I can help it. I’m going to their game next weekend at Virginia Tech. We’ll probably go to the bowl game since my little sister will be off school that week.”

“Seems like you stay busy,” Trina mused. 

Nina couldn’t help a little glare as she managed to say without malice, “I plan my calendar in advance.”

Trina said, “That sounds good. You have a life outside of everything.”

“And I will continue to have a life outside of everything,” Nina said with a syrup-sweet smile.

**

Nina quietly washed her hands, glancing up to the mirror. Trina was looking down on her hands as she washed hers. Tentatively, Nina asked, “Are you having a good time on this trip?”

“I enjoyed the Moms’ trip,” Trina replied. 

Nina looked down at her hands as she dried them. This was so awkward and she wanted to cry. 

“Sidney Crosby is here, and so are his parents,” somebody exclaimed just outside the ladies bathroom. Trina and Nina both shared a look until another person said, “And his n-word girlfriend is here with them too.”

Nina opened her mouth but Trina put up a finger. The second person continued, “His mom doesn't look too happy with that black girl. Maybe you could get a chance, finally.”

The door opener and the two women came in, laughing. The laughter stopped when those women saw Nina and Trina. 

“You don’t have to worry about getting a chance with my son because there’s no way I’d let him be with someone like you when he’s with a lady like Nina,” Trina stated. 

The two women shared a look but Trina stared them down until they left. Nina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “No wonder my son is always saying that it hasn’t been easy for you,” Trina offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get kicked out.”

Nina sniffled as she said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard it in person. It’s usually nasty messages online. I really, really hate it. But I guess I’m going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.”

Impulsively, Trina reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand. “From the way that my son looks at you, nasty women like those will just have to be angry forever.”

Nina giggled as they shared a look. It felt like there was a truce and she was going to take it. After Trina talked to the manager and got those women booted, Nina definitely felt like there was definitely a truce.

**

“Don’t take anything seriously. If they don’t like you, they’ll say absolutely nothing to you. If they make jokes, they like you.”

Two weeks after meeting Sid’s family, it was his turn to meet Nina’s family. The team was home for American Thanksgiving and they didn’t have a game until Friday evening this year. So Sidney was going with Nina to meet her extended family. He was feeling extra nervous and desperate to make a good impression. 

Sidney grimaced as Nina giggled. “Plus, it’s Aryanna’s birthday so they won’t be too mean. I think.”

“Anything else I need to worry about,” Sidney asked. 

Nina reached out over the console and touched Sidney’s hand. “Relax, it’s not a game. You can’t lose.”

“But, I want them-”

Cutting Sidney off, Nina said, “I know, you want them to like you. So be the dork that you are instead of faking like you aren’t a dork.”

Sidney felt a bit insulted but Nina gave him a dazzling smile. “I like it when you’re being dorky, anyway.”

**

Sidney tried hard to follow Nina’s advice. There were so many people that he couldn’t keep them all straight so he focused on making sure he remembered the names of the older people in Nina’s family. There was Mawmaw, the family matriarch, Tracey and Vernon, Nina’s parents, Aunt Tasha who baked the sweet potato pie that he was having his third slice of, Aunt Dee, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bashir. All of the cousins kinda blurred together but Sidney figured he’d learn their names quickly. 

Overall, he felt like everything was going well. Sidney answered everyone’s questions and he guessed his answers were good since one of Nina’s older cousins told him his new nickname was White Boy. Nina had snickered while some of the younger ones giggled. Right now, Sidney was talking to Aunt Tasha. “What would it take to get you to bake me a pie of my own,” Sidney asked. 

Tasha laughed while Tracey smirked. Tracey interjected, “Oh no, Tasha gonna be bragging about this forever. ‘Guess who came to Thanksgiving and loved my sweet potato pie? Sidney Crosby loved my sweet potato pie.’ She will never shut up!”

“Don’t be mad that you can’t bake a pie as good as me, Tracey,” Tasha chided, laughing. “Nina makes a better pie than both of us but that girl don’t wanna cook.”

Tracey smirked when she saw the look on Sidney’s face. “Oh no, Tash, now this boy gonna be begging my daughter to make him a pie.”

Everyone laughed as Nina was in a different room. Mawmaw chided, “I’m happy that one of my family don’t got to be in the kitchen like that. I wish I could’ve been the same at her age.”

Sidney decided to scroll his phone as the older women began to argue. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“White boy, you wanna play spades?”

Sidney looked at this cousin of Nina. He was sitting at a table with Vernon, one of her aunts, and another cousin. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. 

The cousin got a devious grin on his face. “It’s easy, you should play for Shantara, she can’t play for shit.”

Sidney’s competitive instinct told him it was a bad idea. And from the way Vernon was eyeing him, Sidney knew he was right for shaking his head. “Nope. I’ll learn by watching.”

“Nina’s white boy smart,” Aunt Tasha hollered. “You play spades and renege, boy, someone about to go for those knees.”

“Stop torturing, Sid, Deonte,” Nina scolded as she sat in Sidney’s lap. “At least wait til the second visit before hazing him over spades.”

“I like this boy, Nini. Keep him, he’s betta than that last boy you brought here, bless his heart. Didn’t know how to talk to people,” Mawmaw advised. 

Nina wanted to die as the rest of her family snickered. Holidays: the time of the year where your greatest fuckups get rehashed for shits and giggles. 

Nafis snorted. “What’s his name... it wasn’t that Ron boy, was it? Naw, it was James’s old friend, Jordan. We all knew he wasn’t shit, I mean, nothing, when he made Tommy mad.”

Nina winced as remembered that. Tommy was one of the sweetest guys and hard to rile up, but anyone who could make cousin Tommy mad was a douchebag. 

“Her pets like him. Tess curls in his lap and Steely lets him pet him,” Vernon said. 

Everyone stared at Sidney, eyes wide. Stuttering, Aunt Tasha said, “T-t-that cat and d-dog hate every damn body other than Nini and her family. I be damned.”

Mawmaw laughed.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. But at a quiet moment, Vernon pulled Sidney from the group to a quiet spot in the yard. It was late November in Western Pennsylvania so no one else was there. 

Vernon Jackson had seen more of his fair share of crap in his life. Growing up in Ward 8 of D.C., Vernon had dodged dealers, hustlers, stick-up kids, etc. to survive. His grades weren’t great so Vernon went into the army to ensure that he escaped. Through being deployed in the Gulf War then to Mogadishu, Vernon had done his best to make sure that all his children had more than he did growing up. 

Now, his sweettart, his eldest, his sweet girl, Nina was grown. She had done more than he and Tracey combined. But looking at the man he was sure his daughter was in love with, Vernon began to wonder if he made a mistake. 

Oh, it was obvious that Sidney Crosby was in love with his daughter. But the feelings of love could fade and given his history, Vernon couldn’t trust that Crosby would do the right thing. 

So as a loving father, Vernon pulled Sidney to the side. “I just wanted to ask you something important before I give my blessing to this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sidney responded. 

“You know your children will be considered Black?”

Vernon watched Sidney’s face after asking that question. Lust and infatuation was nice but this was his little girl. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hurt because she fell for someone not just clueless but maliciously clueless about race. 

Sidney quietly replied, “I know. People will see them as Black and will think the worst of them first.”

Not bad, Vernon thought. He expected a colorblind response.

Then he heard Nina call out, “Dad? Sid? We are about to cut the cake!”

Vernon and Sid both grimaced but for different reasons. Vernon because he couldn’t really have cake because of his diabetes, Sid because cake wasn’t on his meal plan. Vernon told Sidney, “before you start making plans for rings, you need to start thinking about how you are going to start speaking up about race. Think about that.”

**

Sidney kept Vernon’s words in his mind through the week. Trina had told him what happened in the bathroom that night but Nina told him that his mom had handled it for her. But as he waited for Nina to open her door, Sidney couldn’t help but think what he could do to avoid situations like that from happening for Nina. But words failed as Nina opened the door and gave him a shy smile. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Sidney drawled as he walked in, closing the door. He hung up his coat on her coat rack before sitting on Nina’s couch.

“I missed you daddy”

“Missed you, pretty girl. Did you have fun?”

Nina straddled Sid’s thigh and replied, “it was a good time even though UNC lost. The VT campus is beautiful. How was the road trip?”

Sid laughed as Nina played with his hair. “It went well but Geno got hurt. He’ll be out for two weeks.”

“That sucks.”

Sidney hummed his assent as he wrapped an arm around Nina’s waist. He missed his pretty girl and it seemed like she missed him too. They sat there together for several quiet moments before Nina whispered, “I really missed you, daddy. It’s been too long.”

Sidney gave Nina a slow smile as she began to grind on his thigh. He felt the same way as he kissed Nina, soft and slow. Then as they broke apart, the sensual haze on Nina’s face turned into horror.  “God damn it,” she muttered. 

Sidney frantically asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just felt my period show up, three days early,” Nina said, rubbing her temples. Her period was cock-blocking her after a couple weeks of no dick and she wanted to die. “I just felt cramps and as much as I’d like to slide to my knees and suck you off, it won’t happen tonight.”

Nina groaned as she closed her eyes, head down. Sidney just started to laugh. 

“Cmon, pretty girl. Let’s just watch movies tonight.”

“Movies sound good,” Nina replied, “I just refuse to watch Friends, ever.”

Sidney giggle-honked as Nina moved from straddling his thigh to curling into his lap. 

#sidney crosby #Sidney Crosby imagine #sidney crosby imagines #sidney crosby fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl fics #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fiction #hockey fics #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #penguins fic #penguins imagine #penguins imagines #all bets are off #sidney crosby fanfiction #hockey fanficiton

[1kook]

commercial break ; ONE

a netflix & chill drabble  this follows directly after disney+ and bust !

summary; Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same. warnings; none unless u count yn bullying him as one miscellaneous; yn is regina george thats it word count; 1.3k

notes; u guys may be like “u feed us so well!” wrong i obsessively post bc I'm never satisfied with my work, like in d&b i really disliked the lack of resolution so here i am writing one the day after god bless lmk what u think xxxx

Because Jungkook is Jungkook and cannot go three minutes without profusely professing his feelings to you, the apology gets old real quick.

“I’m sorry, y’know,” he says in the middle of dinner, idly picking at his plate. It’s Chinese tonight, sprawled across the kitchen counter that overlooks your living room. The Bee Movie is playing on TV, a movie you hadn’t seen in years yet still managed to put a smile on your face. But you know what wasn’t putting a smile on your face? Jungkook ruining this movie experience with his fourth apology of the night.

You nod through a mouthful of rice, eyes zeroed in on the screen. “Uh huh,” you hum, foot idly bumping against the leg of your chair every few seconds. “That’s great, honey.”

He sighs. “I’m being serious,” he stresses. “I think, maybe you should like…” a long pause you use to shovel more food into your mouth while the bees on screen go to human court. It was a wild ride. Were they on crack when they pitched this idea? You would have been. “Punch me in the face or something,” he offers after a moment.

You quirk a brow in his direction, finally abandoning the film on screen in favor of turning to face him. “You want me to use you as a punching bag to help you get over your hurt feelings that you developed from being an asshole to me.” Jungkook nods. You shrug. “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he says, face paling as you roll your shoulder around. “You’re gonna hit me? Like for real?” You raise your brows, as if that’s obviously what you’re going to do.

“Well, you asked for it,” you respond, giving your wrist one final flick before rearing it back. His eyes flutter shut tightly, pouty lips pursed together in a thin line. Your fist comes barreling, ripping through the air in an insane, Fortune 500-like speed, and then—

“No,” Jungkook groans, touching the spot where you lightly flicked his forehead. His bangs saved him from most of the impact, but even without it, it was barely more than a teasing poke of your finger against his skin. “You need to like, beat me up.”

You snort, turning your attention back to the screen. “You know, you’re beginning to sound a lot like me these days, Jungkookie,” you point out, fork scraping across the plate. Jungkook sighs, dropping his head onto the countertop in defeat. “Very childish.”

He lightly bangs his head across the faux marble, a strained whimper filling the air and ruining The Bee Movie. “Which is why you need to hit me or something, I don’t know. Make me pay for how horrible I was to you the other day.”

“I’m not gonna hit you,” you say, “because that would mean the next time you get mad at me, you’d hit me.”

“I would never!” he exclaims, eyes wide and round. Gone was the perfectly put together Jungkook, in was this sloppy mess of emotions. “Besides,” he says softly, cheeks a warm rosy color as he goes back to picking at his food, “you’d never wrong me like I did you.”

You hum, toying with the fork in your mouth. “Really,” you murmur, dropping the fork back on the table. You place your chin in your palm, lazily watching the movie now that you’ve missed a pivotal scene because Jungkook wanted you to beat him up. “I used your toothbrush the other day,” you mention.

Silence.

“You what?” he squawks indignantly. You glance at him from your peripherals. There’s an obvious expression of disgust on his features, eyes flickering from side to side as he digests this information. “Babe—that’s, that’s actually really…” He can’t even finish his sentence, mouth opening and closing as he finally seems to process the fact your mouth germs were on his beloved toothbrush.

“Yup,” you add. “Hope you don’t mind,” you babble on, “well, I mean, you really shouldn’t.” You glance at him, the mean streak in you crooning loudly in your ear the more and more uncomfortable he grows. “Considering you’re always spitting in my mouth.”

As wild as you and Jungkook liked to get in bed, what happened in bed mostly stayed in bed. It sounds gross to say it aloud, but he really has just been casually spitting in your mouth for the past few months. He was a dirty boy, and that fact makes him squirm.

“No, that’s different,” he frowns, obviously distraught by the valid point you bring to the table. “My toothbrush is my toothbrush.”

“I know,” you agree, nudging his foot teasingly. “Should I tell you about all the other mean stuff I do to your things that I never say sorry for?” He turns those frantic eyes on you.

“You’re lying,” he says, though there’s a question embedded within. You tilt your head to the side, as if to say, am I?.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you jump into a full novel recapture of every mean thing you’ve done and why. “And one time I was so pissed off that you finished my strawberry shampoo that I went to your house and drained the water from that stupid cactus’s pot. You know, the one Namjoon gave you?” Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes. “Why do you think it died so fast? I killed it.”

Before he can reprimand you for purposefully orchestrating the murder of his favorite senpai’s potted cactus, you’re intercepting him with yet another tale. “And another time, I was so sick of you polishing your awards all day that I went in and sprinkled a layer of adhesive pixie dust on them from the craft store, and I know it still bothers you to this day.”

“Jeez,” he sighs after a good ten parables. “It sounds like I piss you off a lot more than I think I do.”

You pat his shoulder gently, scraping the remnants of his meal into the trash can. “Yeah, but the difference is,” you say, finding your place beside him again. You don’t climb into your chair, just hover beside him until he’s begrudgingly wrapping his arms around your waist. There’s a cute pout on him, face squished against your boobs. “I routinely let out all my raging hatred against you instead of bottling it up.”

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly. “I guess so.”

Before you can let him off believing this much is fine, you intervene once more. “And also I never purposefully pick out everything you’re insecure about.”

“I didn’t know,” he cries, all traces of that suave gentlemen you love so much gone. But it’s okay, because in his place was this vulnerable puppy looking at you with the eyes of every rescue pop in those dramatic commercials on tv. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.

“Well, now you do,” you reprimand, giving his nose a playful pinch that almost makes him sneeze. “And I think it’s only fair I get a turn.”

He pushes away from his hiding spot in your boobs with a frown. “So you won’t physically attack me, but you will verbally attack me.”

“Yes,” you respond without missing a beat. “Because you’re easy to bully and it’s probably because of the fact you didn’t have many friends in high school, which essentially made you the class loner, thus an easy target. Explains why Namjoon had to set you up on a date with someone as amazing and outgoing as me, otherwise you would have died forever alone because of your inability to talk to women and the fact you have an awfully picky personality that can be overwhelming at times. So thank me once in a while, yeah?” you smile.

Jungkook blinks. “I think I might cry,” he admits.

You cup his cheeks in your hands, puckering his lips obnoxiously for you to smooch. “Baby, you’re dating a retired Regina George. Y’gotta tighten up a bit,” you tease, relish in the tiny smile he tries to hide after your kisses.

“So is this going to be like a thing now?” he asks as you tug him over to the couch, where The Bee Movie is still playing loud and clear. He plops down and you follow, snuggling into his side. “Because I don’t think I can ever do that again. Hurting your feelings hurts my feelings.”

You snort, taking in his smell and his warmth beside you. Jungkook sinks into the cushions, pulling you close into his chest until the soft beats of his heart echo in your ears. “No— unless you want it to be?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #this is mostly just a very needed resolution for me lol #mine

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 2 (r.l.)

chapter two: repression

series masterlist

previous chapter

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: y/n pursues her relationship with mason and sees the repercussions on remus. and herself. 

warnings: swearing, kissing, alcohol 

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: new chapter! the next chapter is shorter so i’ll have it up sometime this week. 

“Stop,” Y/N drawled, but she made no effort to move the arms that were holding her in place. “I should probably say hello to my friends.” As Y/N used her fingers to comb through Mason’s blond locks, she couldn’t help the content smile that fought its way onto her face. 

“Probably - but I think I’ll miss you too much,” Mason mumbled against her lips. Y/N knew if she let him kiss her she would never get the chance to even glance at her friends. There was just something about Mason that drew her towards him. It was like whenever Mason Tomlinson was in question, Y/N was physically being pushed towards him and she would find herself doing things she’d never expected. It was a wonder to her how she fell for him as quickly as she had. 

There was no doubt that Mason Tomlinson was handsome and extremely charismatic, yet Y/N would have never guessed that she would feel as strongly as she did for him after only two weeks. She always considered herself to be a practical person, but when Mason looked at her with his big green eyes, she lost any pragmaticism. And Mason knew how to take advantage of that. 

“Mmm, Mase. You know I’ll stay if you ask me to,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and they twitched slightly beneath hers. 

“I’m asking, love,” Groaning, Y/N placed her head against Mason’s chest before pushing herself away from his grasp. She looked through the doors to the Great Hall and could see all of the strangers she was so shamelessly flirting with her boyfriend in front of. 

“Nope,” She said, giving him a pointed look. “I am going to sit with my house today. You’ll just have to miss me.” 

“Will you miss me?” She would. That was the strange thing about her recent affair. It was like when she wasn’t with Mason she was floating purposelessly. It was as though she was a kite and he was the piece of string that was keeping her from floating out into space. Her independent streak was something Y/N had always valued, but since meeting Mason it was like she never wanted to be away from him. 

“You know I will,” An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she noted the jovial expression on Mason’s face. Why couldn’t she stay away from him? 

After departing from Mason, Y/N took the familiar path to the Gryffindor table. As she noticed three familiar boys, she smiled to herself. Suddenly, she was half walking and half skipping towards her best friends. When she reached she threw her arms around Peter from behind and squealed. 

Hi, boys,” she giggled, not noticing the dry expressions on their faces. “Did you miss me?” She took a seat next to Peter and surveyed their faces carefully. Who pissed in their pumpkin juice?

“Tomlinson busy today, Y/N?” Sirius accused. 

“No? I just wanted to sit here today. Are you guys mad?”

“Yes,” James shrugged. “You haven’t spoken to us in two weeks, because of your new friend.” Oh. Y/N had been so consumed in Mason she didn’t realize she was neglecting her closest friends. 

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I guess I didn’t realize I was doing that,” She offered, her hand reaching out to hold James’ hand from across the table. Upon feeling his hand squeeze hers, she let out a relieved breath. 

“We’ll forgive you on one condition, Y/N” Sirius mused, the shadow of his mischievous smirk evident. Y/N quirked her eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “You have to tell us everything.”

Y/N began to gush endlessly about her boyfriend and was so enthralled in the topic that she hadn’t noticed a fourth figure appear in the seat beside James. As Y/N finished explaining how Mason had asked her out after a few days of sharing a class, she looked up only to have the air knocked out of her lungs. 

“Remus,” His name had left her mouth just like it had a million times before, but now it was leaving a bitter taste behind. He nodded his head towards her before starting to fill his plate with some toast and meat. While watching him Y/N barely caught the rest of the boys telling Remus that they needed to finish morning detention and they’d see him in class. 

The last time Y/N and Remus had spoken was a few weeks prior when she had sent him an owl over summer vacation. She felt another odd ache in her stomach, but it sharply contrasted the feeling she had with Mason. This was different. It was like when she was with Mason she couldn’t help but want to be near him, but with Remus, she wanted to want him close. But that couldn’t be possible. She liked Mason immensely so why was she still experiencing residual feelings for Remus? 

Y/N couldn’t help but analyze every detail of the boy in front of her. He had cut his hair slightly shorter (which he did at the start of every school year) and it had become a slightly lighter shade of brown, likely due to the summer sun. She also winced as she looked at the new scar that trailed from the back of his hand and disappeared under his robes. 

“Rough full moon?” Remus looked up at Y/N, started for a couple of seconds, and returned his gaze to his food. Y/N looked around the Great Hall awkwardly before starting again. “How have you been, Rem? Been a few weeks since we last talked.”

Y/N was met with a deafening silence and a shrug from Remus, but she noticed that he had taken the luxury of rolling his eyes, as well. 

“Right, well… oh I’m not sure if you know, but I’ve got a boyfriend now,” Remus snapped his head up, an indecipherable look on his face. “Would you like to meet him?”  Remus looked away, but when he looked back at her, Y/N wished she hadn’t ever said anything. He looked furious.  

“No, not really,” Remus finally said, before getting up from his seat and storming off. 

Y/N watched him as he walked away and felt her head begin to spin. It would be idiotic for her to act like she didn’t know why Remus was so angry, but she never wanted to confront those feelings. She was terrified for the moment that someone would ask her what happened between her and Remus. Because the truth was she had no idea. What she and Remus had was real, she knew that. But ever since she met Mason it was like something had shifted. Suddenly the only thing on her mind was Mason, Mason, Mason. Seeing Remus had awakened something in her she hadn’t felt in weeks and she hated it. So she was going to do the only thing that made sense. She was going to repress her unwanted feelings so far down, she’d forget they existed. 

—

These days the word Quidditch could seldom be spoken at Hogwarts without someone associating it with the Potter name. That was for two very competitive and very proud reasons: James and Y/N Potter. The Potters had an aptitude for the game and everyone at their school knew it. 

Y/N and James often argued over which Potter was the most valuable asset on the team. “If it wasn’t for me being a seeker, the game would go on for ages. I literally win us the games,” James would argue to which Y/N would say, “You must be joking, James. If it wasn’t for me constantly throwing bloody bludgers at the opposing team’s seeker, you’d never catch that snitch.” 

But regardless, Quidditch was the thing that connected the cousins most. Growing up, Quidditch was all the pair knew and for Y/N it had become an escape. There was something about being so high in the air as the wind blew harshly against her skin that made her feel free. Maybe it was the fact that not many people could reach her when she was flying through the sky or maybe it was simply the thrill of the game. 

“Ready, Potter?” Marlene yelled as Y/N adjusted her helmet. “What about you, other Potter?” The two cousins grinned as they approached each other. 

“On the count of three,” James began. “1, 2 —” Before he finished his countdown the two Potter kids each raised their right hands and clasped them together. Laughing maniacally they thrust themselves into their pregame ritual (which was a very poorly executed handshake-dance combo), effectively filling the locker room with loud laughter.

“We are now, Mar.”

With that, the team began their walk to the Quidditch pitch. Y/N bounced on her feet as they approached the crowded arena, a habit she had when she got excited. It was the first game of the year and against Slytherin no less. She knew that if they won this game the party was going to be absolutely insane, which was, of course, all a Gryffindor could ask for. 

The game had gotten intense as soon as Madam Hooch had blown her whistle. The Slytherin Beaters were giving Y/N a run for her money, but luckily the Gryffindors had been able to hold their own. Regulus Black, who was the Slytherin seeker, was taunting James playfully as they each kept an eye out for the snitch. Y/N was close enough to James to see how his attention began to shift from Regulus’ face to beside his head and then back. He had seen the snitch. And it was right next to Regulus. 

Y/N could easily distract Regulus, who was too caught up in teasing his brother’s mate to properly prepare himself against a hit from her Bludger. She also knew that if James tried to grab the snitch, Regulus would have it in his hands in a second. The younger Black brother was known for his quick reflexes after all. The decision was easy.  

Making one lap around the pitch to gain momentum, she shot her Bludger right at Regulus who with a horrified look ducked the ball. At that moment James leaped forward on his broom and grabbed the snitch. The stadium erupted in cheers so loud not a single Slytherin’s disappointment could be heard.

“And the Potter’s have done it again! They really are a dream team.” With a triumphant smile, Y/N made her way down and was quickly thrown into a circle of people where she found James right in the center. 

“Nice one, cuz,” James winked, happily relishing in all the attention he was receiving. 

“Yeah, mate. You too,” Y/N followed James out of the crowd of excited Gryffindors but they were looking for two completely different people. Y/N watched James look around for either Sirius or Lily (she didn’t know who he’d look for first these days) and she found herself looking for one boy in particular. Mason. 

Instead of the image of a blond boy dressed in a repulsive blue (Mason had refused to wear the Gryffindor colors), she found herself staring at a taller boy who was donning her favorite colors. Remus had not only worn a scarlet cable knit sweater (which it was way too warm for) and yellow-gold scarf, but he was wearing a beanie that was meant to give the appearance of a lion’s mane He had also used muggle paint on his face. His left cheek had a red number seven and the right revealed a very badly drawn snitch. He looked utterly stupid. But the worst part of it all was he was dressed almost exactly as he had at the last Quidditch game of the previous year. 

In the past two years that Y/N had played Quidditch on the Gryffindor team, this game had definitely been her best. The Gryffindors had just secured the Quidditch cup, which Y/N thought was the best way to end her fifth year. Y/N’s performance in the last game of the year just made it that much sweeter. 

“I reckon you played alright, Potter,” Remus smirked. He had been right in front of her as soon as her feet had touched the grass beneath her. Waiting for her. Like he had at every one of her games. 

“You know I did a lot better than alright, Lupin,” She shoved his chest, but before she could move her hand he had flattened her palm against his chest. 

“Yeah, you did,”  She was only distracted from his intense gaze when she heard Sirius let out a wolf whistle at the sight. Remus let go of her hand, blushing slightly as he glared at Sirius. 

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N scolded. She nodded her head to the right, indicating for Remus to follow her. After walking a little while longer, they had found themselves walking on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Remus had grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand as soon as they were out of everyone’s sight. She glanced over at him deciding that he had dressed warm enough for the cold that was invading the new spring season. She stared a little longer to get a better look at his painted face and eclectic accessory. She wanted to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as she took a better look at his cheek. 

There on his right cheek was a big number five. Her Quidditch number. 

“You look utterly stupid,” Y/N insulted him, though she had intended to say something else that had been on her mind. She and Remus had reached a weird sort of limbo. They had gone from just being a part of the same friend group to being each other’s best friends in their fourth year and now they were here. In their fifth year, Y/N and Remus had spent the majority of it flirting and being affectionate with one another. However, they were still technically not a couple. They had spent so long being each other’s friends that it was second nature to make jabs at one another in good spirit. Y/N liked it that way. She liked the healthy balance of romance and humor they shared. Only at this moment, she wished she had told him how happy he made her. But Remus, like he always did, understood. 

“Wanted you to know that I’m your biggest fan,” Remus stopped walking and softly pulled Y/N closer, positioning them to be face to face. 

“Are you? My biggest fan, I mean?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper despite no one being near.  

“Without a doubt,” Remus said fervently, his voice just as low as hers. “I know your parents might disagree, but no one’s as big a fan of yours as I am. I promise you that.” Remus brought one of his hands up to her cheek and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Lowering himself slightly he placed a kiss on her cheek before hovering over her lips. Y/N’s heart was beating harshly against her ribcage and she felt like her feet were lifting off the ground. Remus had a way of doing that to her. Whenever he was this close to her, she felt like she was back on her broom floating inches above the ground. He had a way of giving her that freeing sensation even when she was trapped under his lustful gaze. Moving forward just a little more, Remus teasingly grazed his lips against hers. 

“Remus,” she whined, earning an innocent hum from him. “Just fucking kiss me.” And boy did he kiss her. No matter how many times she had felt his lips against hers, it never failed to amaze her how much better each kiss got. He kissed her slowly, probably to continue to tease her, but she found herself enjoying it more than he could’ve intended. His lips were soft, contrasting hers which were chapped from the wind but she didn’t care. The taste of mint and chocolate was intoxicating and she was losing herself in his touch. She hardly noticed when he pushed her against a tree, kissing her harder than before. Remus pulled back slightly only to dive right back to kissing her. After doing that a couple more times, he hesitantly kissed down her neck. No, please don’t stop, Y/N thought. 

With one last kiss on her neck, Remus mumbled against her skin, “We should probably get back.” Remus had one hand on her waist and the other pressed against the tree behind her, keeping her in her spot. 

“Don’t wanna,” She pouted and she felt Remus groan against her neck. “I wanna stay with you.”  Sighing, Remus pulled back and placed his hands on her cheeks. He used his fingers to warm up the apples of her cheek which were bright red from possibly more than just the stubborn cold air. 

“And I want to stay here with you, but you promised Lily that you would help her with some work before the party tonight,” Y/N laughed because that response was so Remus. Making sure that she kept her word and did what she had to. Taking care of her in an unconventional way. She gave him another peck and just looked at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just something really special. You make me feel elated, you know that, Remus Lupin?” Remus beamed at her and kissed her again. Just hard enough to express his bliss, but not get them stuck in the forest for another fifteen minutes. 

“I think that’s why we were put in each other’s paths,” Remus’ words caused Y/N to draw her eyebrows together in confusion. “I mean, call it fate, destiny, or just insignificant chance, but I think we were meant to know each other. Just for that. To elate each other. Don’t you think, Y/N?” 

“Y/N?” Y/N was drawn out of her trance and when she blinked Remus wasn’t in front of her anymore. Instead, she was staring at green eyes and a blue sweater. 

“Hm?”

“I said don’t you think?” Mason said, only now realizing Y/N had been completely lost in thought. “Here, you must be tired. Have some of my juice.” Finally blinking out of her daze, Y/N properly took in the boy in front of her. 

“Babe! I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there,” She immediately jumped up to kiss him and with each second she felt any thoughts of Remus disappear. Besides, they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Repress. Repress. Repress. 

“I noticed,” Mason attempted to sound lighthearted, but there was an edge to his voice. “Uh, any way you wanna do something before the party tonight?” She nodded her head and let herself be dragged away from the bustling crowd around her. But not before she realized she could feel a smoldering gaze directed towards her. 

—

A crowded common room, the smell of firewhiskey, and deafening music was without a doubt Y/N’s second favorite feeling after flying. If there was a party at Hogwarts you could bet you’d find Y/N carelessly dancing or making a spectacle of herself for others’ entertainment. And the person right next to her? Always Sirius Black. 

There was no reason tonight’s party was any different. Sirius was downing Firewhiskey straight from the bottle with one hand and spinning Y/N in circles with his other. The music in the back was pulsing through their veins just as much as the alcohol was and they were horridly singing the lyrics of the song in the background. 

“Potter.”

“Black.”

“Don’t let that Ravenclaw make you into a drag.”

“Never,” she whispered her face inches apart from his. 

“All I need to hear.”

The two probably would’ve kept dancing if Mason hadn’t wrapped an arm around Y/N and pulled her away from Sirius. The alcohol mixed with the sheer excitement she had seeing Mason in front of her, compelled her to grab a hold of his collar and kiss him as hard as she could. Lost in his touch, she ignored Sirus’ drunken “gross” and continued to sloppily make out with him. Eventually, they had reached the corner of the common room and unabashedly deepened their kiss. 

The most surprising part? Y/N was doing the most kissing. She was leaving purple bruises along his neck and biting his ear. She was running her hands up his arms and pulling at the collar of his shirt. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how she was doing this in a room full of people. All she knew was something about this boy was so spellbinding and she needed to feel him against her. But she was halted from fulfilling her needs by someone pulling her off Mason. 

Her eyes met Remus’ bloodshot ones, which she assumed were caused by the empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his grasp. Pushing him off her, she stepped back a bit trying to gather her thoughts.

“Remus, what-” She was cut off by Remus' discordant voice.

“No - no. I -” He hiccuped, pointing an accusing finger to Y/N. “You… you suck.”

“Remus, you’re drunk-” she started again, but to her dismay, she was cut off again. 

“NO. I - no, you’re going to listen. You said - you said you, in your last letter, you know what you said. So if it was true how could you be w-with him,” Remus growled as his eyes trained on Mason’s slowly reddening face. “How can you act like we never happened?” 

Y/N flicked her eyes towards Mason and gulped as she noticed how angry he looked. She had never really talked to Mason about her past with Remus because he had never asked, but judging by the look on his face he didn’t want the conversation to be prompted by Remus insulting him. Luckily, Y/N was saved by James.

“Remus, c’mon. Now isn’t the time,” He mumbled. He held a sympathetic look in his eyes as he looked at Y/N, but she had a feeling the sympathy in his voice wasn’t for her. 

“No, Prongs. She needs t - to tell me,” In his frenzied state, Remus had tucked his head into the bespectacled boy's neck.  

“Okay, mate, but not right now.” Y/N watched as James led a babbling Remus up to his dorm, her heart clenching. She had done this to him. She had betrayed him, his trust, his heart.  She betrayed him and when he asked her why she couldn’t even tell him. She wouldn’t be able to tell him or herself, because she truly didn’t know why. 

taglist: @chococerealmilk​ @rare-breed-of-human​ @rexorangecouny​ @messagesinthesky​ @theawkwardone-isme​ @kitkatkl​ @faceache111​ @peasantview @missmulti​ @666cookies​  @thetiredslytherin @wonderful-writer​ 

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x potter!reader #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin series #marauderse series #marauders era

[rosyrosethings]

Harry's assistant goes on a date.

Masterlist. For more stories of Ceo Harry and assistant

”Y/n where are you going?” harry asked as she walked past his office. It was noon and y/n hair was all done up into braids with a two-piece outfit that was pastel blue her favorite color. Harry knew she was trying to look good for someone. His thought started to pile in. Is she going on date? but she told him she loved him but she was drunk and she forgot the next morning. Since she forgot he didn’t want to make things awkward.

”on a park date.” she said digging in her purse looking for her lip gloss. She replied as she continued to walk past his office. Harry got out of his desk chair to follow her.

“A date?” He questioned. She stopped in the bathroom mirror and applied her thick clear lipgloss. He stood in the door of the bathroom watching through the bathroom mirror.

“Yes.” She answered quickly.

“With?” She sighed. He’s not giving up she thought.

“Chris.” She mumbled avoiding all eye contact with him.

“Chris? The ass who cheated on you?” He said with a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes, he just wants to talk.” She said, turning around to face him in the doorway.

”He wants you back and you know it.” He said crossing his arms. She shrugged her shoulders.

“So what if he wants me back?”

“He cheated on you! Are you not seeing the problem?”

“Look Harry, no one ever said I was considering getting back with him. I just said I'm going on a lunch date with him to catch up.” He sighed as she stepped past him. He followed her down the stairs as she was walking towards the door.

“Okay.. how long will you be gone? I was planning on making dinner for us tonight. If that’s okay.” He felt like he was losing her. But then she turned around and sent him a heartwarming smile.

“I won’t miss it for the world. I’d be back right in time for dinner okay?” She said.

“Okay.”

//

Y/n was enjoying catching up with Chris. He was an asshole sometimes but she and Chris were childhood best friends. She did sorta miss his company.

“So you and that Harry guy. Not a thing yet?” he asked, she rolled her eyes.

”No. Mr. Styles isn’t into me like that.” She said looking down at her fingernails in her lap.

“But you want it to be something?” he said lifting one brow at her. Giving her a very questionable look. She sighed

“Is it that obvious?” She said with a pitiful look in her eyes.

“I mean he’s all you talk about. You should see your face when you talk about him.” He said sending her a half-smile. “I kinda think he has a thing for you also.” She gave him a questionable look.

“Why do you think that?”

“Remember I went with you to that office party. The guy was sending me daggers the whole time and then he let you stay with him.”

”He was sending you daggers because he could see the fuck boy in you that I couldn’t see at the time and he invited me to live with him because I’m a great assistant and my boyfriend took all my money he felt bad for me.” She said looking directly at him with a slight glare.

“Yea and about that. I’m sorry. I was a horrible boyfriend to you in the last few months.” He said with a sigh.

“It’s fine, It honestly feels good to be with someone other than Harry who knows me. I did l miss your company.” He smiled. He has missed her so much. He wants her back but he knows he doesn’t stand a chance with Harry in the picture.

//

“Harry I’m back!” She said as she closed the front door of the house. She could smell the aroma of fresh-cut vegetables.

“In here.” He yelled from the kitchen. She went into the kitchen. She walked into the kitchen with a smile that was quickly washed away by the site of Bridget setting the dinner table.

“Mr. Styles I didn’t know Bridget was joining us for dinner. You guys are back together?” She said looking at Harry who was on the stove.

“Well, she came back in town a day early and came over we made up.” He said, not looking at y/n. He was pissed that she went on a date with that asshole. The more he thought about it. The angrier he became. He took her money and cheated what more could she possibly want from him?

“Yea I’m sorry If I’m intruding I just missed him so much. And I won’t be spending the night tonight. I have a lot of things to do tomorrow ” She said wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist.

“No, it’s fine. It’s your boyfriend. I'm the one intruding but I’m too hungry to leave so I’m gonna stay.” She said as she sat down at the table. Shortly all the plates were made and everyone was sitting and eating.

“How was your lunch with Chris?” Harry asked breaking the silence. He wants to know everything that asshole said to her. He knows Chris wants her back. She's just to have to see it.

”Ohh pretty nice actually. We just caught up.”Y/n responded.

”whos Chris?” bridges asked cutting her streak.

”He is her ex.” Harry mumbled.

”Ooooo so it was a date?” Bridget asked getting excited. Thinking maybe if Y/n gets a boyfriend she would back off of Harry and move out.

”ha! A date with a guy who cheated on her and took all of her money.” Harry said, Bridget choked on her food in shock.

“Mr. Styles why would you say that?” She said

“Because it’s the truth. He just wants you back and you’re falling into his trap.” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Yes.” He mumbled.

“Harry!” Bridget yelled.

“It’s fine. I think he’s stupid too.” Y/n said while eating her steak. Bridget just sat there dumbfounded as the two argued like children. They sat their in silence. For a while.

“Okay!! I’ve had enough. I’m going home.” Bridget said getting up and kissing Harry’s cheek.

“I’d walk you out.” Harry said Ashe bent down to kiss his cheek. He stood up to follow her out giving her one more kiss.

“Apologize.” She said as she walked out. Y/n stood up getting the extra plates. To the sink and scraping all of the scraps-in the trash.

“Why are you so mad about me seeing Chris?” She said

“Because he wants you back and you’re basically falling for it.”

“Harrry i don’t understand why does it matter to you? So what if me and Chris get back together?” She said putting the plates down to look at him as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island. He didn’t reply they both just stared at each other. He didn’t want to say he was jealous of Chris. He didn’t want to lose her. He walked over to her.

He grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Y/n was in shock. She didn’t know what to do. He was kissing her. Mr. Styles was kissing her and she wasn’t doing a damn thing. She quickly realized what was going on and kissed back. Their lips wanting to do that since day one. He pushed her back against the fridge. Kissing her more as his hands traveled up and down her waist. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Harry continue to kiss y/n.

“Mr. Styles.. you should get the door.” She mumbled against his lips. He groaned going to answer the door. Seeing the one and only Bridget.

“Bridget..”

“Harry I’m sorry, I forgot my purse.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #fine line

[mintjamsblog]

I'm obsessed with Mistakes, and now with the idea that Tommy will visit Alfie's dungeon roleplaying as a client. I absolutely need a fic about that incredibly hot situation right away, because I can't get it off my mind. (Your writing is amazing, thank you so much.)

Okay, I've had enough of today, so here you go. Set a couple of years in the future. Have some escapist, procrastinating, smut. Because I love the idea that right now, Tommy and Alfie are living their best life in their castle in Ireland.

Tommy is the manager (of course) but every now and then Alfie likes to remind him that he's not always in charge. And this week Tommy's been particularly grumpy and foul tempered. Deep down  he's trying to get a rise out of Alfie, smart-talk him into a sharp spanking or a rough fuck. But Alfie seems determined not to play ball.

Instead he makes Tommy wait tables in the restaurant. "I know you think it's beneath you, darling, but Luan's off tonight and we're short-staffed and it'll teach you some humility. Tommy agrees. Reluctantly.  Determines to be as  grim faced and petulant as he can be, serving with just about enough manners to keep up appearances but not enough that Alfie'll make the mistake of asking him to do this again.

Only Alfie's clearly watching. Tommy knows this for a fact because every time he does something wrong — answers a diner's question too curtly or removes the wrong cutlery — Alfie hauls him into the walk-in freezer for a short, sharp reminder of who's in charge.

"It's my fucking hotel. I'm in charge," Tommy says.

"Not in the restaurant, Sweetie. Restaurant's my domain, innit? So bend over, there's a good boy, you got Table 6's order wrong."

By the time they're half way through service Tommy's arse is bright red and the titillation of the initial pain is tipping over into something darker. It's hard to keep the noises down when Alfie delivers a particularly vicious flurry of swats and asks him why the fuck he started playing with fire if he didn't want to get burned. He's shoved roughly out of the cold-room before he's had a chance to catch his breath.

The guy at Table 9 is watching him too closely, there's a smile hidden behind his lips as he places his order. Maybe because Tommy stumbled out of the kitchen, or his eyes look a little glazed, whatever weakness he's inadvertently shown, this bloke seems determined to exploit.

"Is he working you too hard?" the guy asks when Tommy returns to his table. "You look a little flustered."

Rude bastard, Tommy thinks. Who does he think he is? Although he has to admit he's good-looking. In that public-school boy kind of way.

"Here's your soup," Tommy snaps.

The guy looks down at it and back up at Tommy and leans back in his chair. "This is wrong," he says bluntly.

"Wrong how?" Tommy asks. It's not wrong, he's bloody sure of it. 

"I ordered the tart," the customer says.

"There isn't a tart on the—" Alfie cuts him short, appearing out of nowhere with a hand on Tommy's shoulder. 

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he says, in a tone more gracious than Tommy's ever heard from Alfie's lips before, "We'll get that changed right away for you. Won't we, Tommy?"

Tommy's eyes dart between them, but Alfie growls, "Tommy," so darkly that he decides to let it drop, follows Alfie back to the kitchen.

He gets another six in the freezer. Alfie's brought his loop with him — a doubled length of flex that's perfect for delivering a frightful sting with barely any noise. No one can hear the thwip of it beyond the clanging and clattering in the kitchen (although if Tommy doesn't bite his tongue, they'll hear the sounds he makes).

This continues throughout the evening. Alfie's liberal with his punishments and Tommy's bratty in return, desperate for service to be over. If he keeps up just the right amount of insolence he should get the end he wants to the evening: Alfie pinning him down and fucking him. Hard. Not letting him escape.

Luckily, it's a Tuesday night so the restaurant is relatively empty. There's only one couple left, as well as the prick from Table 9. He seems to have noticed something's up, which is hardly surprising given Tommy's arse is fucking agony now, and he's tired, and livid with Alfie, and increasingly unsure whether his little plan's going to work.

Alfie seems genuinely pissed with him, and Table 9 is doing his utmost to get on Tommy's nerves.  He's criticised everything Tommy's done, tutted when plates were cleared too loudly, sent back the perfectly drinkable wine, even fabricated a hair in his chocolate mousse. (Well, maybe not fabricated, Tommy may have put it there deliberately). 

He smiles sarcastically as he hands the guy his espresso. Fucking public school wanker. 

"You know that's very off-putting. The way you're sniffing," he says in reply.

Tommy feels his face flash hot; his nose is running slightly, but Alfie thrust him out so fast after using the loop again that he didn't even get a chance to wipe his face on his sleeve. He does it now, feeling ridiculous, like an errant schoolboy.

"It's a shame you can't control your temper," the smarmy fuck goes on. "It was otherwise a very nice meal."

Tommy clenches his jaw so hard his teeth creak. He can’t actually insult a customer. Alfie'll kill him; he's worked too hard at building a reputation for this restaurant. 

"I'm a food critic, you know," he adds, fiddling with his napkin.

 Tommy's face drains of heat so fast he feels a little he's back in the cold-room, cheek pressed against frozen cardboard as Alfie flays his arse. Fuck. He's chosen the wrong night to be a brat.

"I'd like to speak to the chef," the man says.

Tommy clears his throat but doesn't move. He needs some sort of plan, which normally he could come up with, but not tonight it seems. He can feel his trousers rubbing the welts. Feel panic filling his chest, he's suddenly so fucking tired he could just lay down on this floor.  How is he going to tell Alfie?

"It's a shame, because the food was really very good. Excellent, in fact. Your chef is a talented man."

Oh fuck. Tommy digs his nails in his palms and feels the back of his eyes sting. 

It's the service that I found wanting."

"My apologies," Tommy grits out.

"I'd like to speak to him please. Your chef."

Tommy feels glued to the spot.

"Go and fetch him then," the guy says, with a condescending wave of his hand. Tommy hates him. Fucking hates him. Tommy fucking hates himself.

The last diners have left when Tommy returns with Alfie. Table 9 is still sipping his tiny coffee. He proceeds to lambast Alfie about the crude and surly service, listing every pout Tommy threw his way and every clumsy movement. He doesn't hold back, is mean and condescending and secretly, Tommy is waiting for Alfie to come to his defense, tell this prick to lay off, that's enough.  But he doesn't.

"It's a shame, it really is," Table 9 says. "I was hoping to help you along with a glowing review. Support a growing business, you know."

And that's when Alfie glares at Tommy in a way that sends shivers down his spine. Not the good kind, either, the kind that make him feel two inches tall. Alfie turns to the customer in that syrupy voice from earlier. "My most sincere apologies, sir. You have to forgive my new waiter, he's not yet fully trained. Has a lot to learn, it seems."

"Hmmm," the diner says thoughtfully, staring at his plate. "Well, I might be able to see my way to overlooking this. Provided he's appropriately dealt with."

Alfie folds his arms across his chest and widens his feet. "Appropriately dealt with?" he repeats.

"Yes. Schooled in his indiscretions and made to show some genuine contrition."

"Contrition?" Alfie repeats, raising one eyebrow at Tommy.

"I've said I'm fucking sorry," Tommy starts but then the penny drops. Finally. He's been such a fucking fool.

"Room 109. Five minutes," Table 9 says. "Let's see how sorry he can be."

Tommy's about to open his mouth to protest, but Alfie's already grabbed him by the ear and is walking him towards the staircase. His stomach plummets, his hands sweat, but there's a corresponding surge of adrenaline, a collision of desire and fear that makes his heart hammer in his chest.

"If you know what's good for you darling," Alfie whispers, "you'll do as you're fucking well told".

And Tommy does. For the next two hours, whilst the customer — James, but you can call me Sir — watches. Contrition isn't all Tommy feels as Alfie leads him to a spanking bench positioned at the end of James' bed. "You'll note it's a proper one darling," Alfie coos, "padded for your knees. Although it's your poor arse I'd be more worried about."

James makes a sympathetic clucking noise and leans down to stroke Tommy's hair.  Alfie straps Tommy's knees in place. And his ankles ... wrists ... waist. And even as Tommy fights him, snarls curses and spits at the floor, he knows he's not going to safe word out (what he's less sure of is why, why he's going to let that fucker watch Alfie go to town on his welted arse). Self-righteous, posh bloody streak of piss with his smarmy eyes and condescending lips and … fuck … they're soft those lips... brushing his own. Tommy gasps. James noses at his face, strokes fingers through his hair, eyes twinkling with a mixture of sympathy and delight as Alfie lays into Tommy with his hand. Then his belt. Then a slipper.

"You never told me he was so pretty," James says, kissing Tommy's forehead. Tommy screws his eyes shut. He hates this.

"To be fair, I absolutely did," Alfie says, taking Tommy by surprise with a bite to his thigh. 

"Well. I didn't believe you," James says. 

"S'your problem, mate."

"Bet he looks even prettier when he's crying," James says with a smile. "Bet you look fucking beautiful, Tommy, letting everything spill out."

Tommy jerks against the restraints, furious and mortified and ... turned on.

"Can I make him cry, just a little?" James asks. He's clearly talking to Alfie, but he's fondling Tommy's ear, tracing the shell with his fingertips. His hands are large but soft. And gentle.

Alfie laughs. "You can fucking try, mate," and wallops Tommy again.

"I  think he's beginning to see the error of his ways, aren't you, Tommy?" James says. "Perhaps I could overlook the fact he served the wrong starter."

Tommy glares at James, no idea why he's even bothering to argue, when it's all a fucking charade, an excuse for Alfie to humiliate him. "I didn't serve the wrong—"

The word disappears in a shriek, Alfie's brought back that damned fucking loop.

"Maybe," Alfie agrees, but he doesn't relent. He whips Tommy till he's gasping, till he can feel his cheeks tight with swelling. 

Then he drops it and starts to stroke Tommy's back, just as James keeps stroking his hair. And kissing his face. And then kissing his lips. His tongue. And then Alfie's tongue is lapping his hole and everything is too hot and too much and hurts and doesn't and the voices are saying he's beautiful, he's done so well, and he can't breathe … the air's going in but not out and everything feels wet and James is smiling at him and smiling at Alfie and saying, "see? I told you he could." 

And Tommy lets himself be stroked. Kissed. Carried onto the bed. And he lets the tears be wiped away and he says, "I'm sorry, sir." And he is. So fucking sorry. And it feels good.

#asks #anon #tommy x alfie #my fic #mistakes au

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

=

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

=

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down. 

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

=

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

=

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

=

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there. 

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

=

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!” 

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching. 

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

=

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?” 

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

=

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?” 

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

=

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day. 

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?” 

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

=

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

=

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here. 

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

=

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

#danny phantom #static shock #my writing #deadfic

[astaroth1357]

Catharsis (A Satan x GN MC Fanfic)

As it would turn out, moving is hell, and tensions are high in my house for the moment... I can't work up enough of a playful mood to look at my other WIPs right now, so here's another episode of "I'm Moody and Need to Work Through Some Stuff... w/ Jazzy." Funny enough, I wrote this while listening to Kartharsis (yes with a K) by TK from Ling tosite sigure (yes the Unravel guy).

Warning: Angst, Verbal Abuse

Catharsis: the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions

Satan could never claim to have the healthiest anger management strategies… To some extent, it's not exactly his fault. He's a being born from rage itself and for most of his life, it's tinted his every thought… Even after cooling down some, his temper remained exceedingly short. And worst of all, his wrath could burn looong… If given a chance, he could stay mad for days unless given some kind of release…

His brothers usually knew to steer clear if getting Satan that pissed. The only surefire way they had of calming him down was to let him destroy something and that wasn't doing all that great for the House's walls… But brothers do what brothers do. There will probably always be a day where they're bickering or fighting with each other… which means that Satan could never be off the hook entirely...

The person who actually got his nerves this time was Belphie. The co-members of the Formerly Anti-Lucifer League don't butt heads very often, but it's bound to happen occasionally… Particularly when Lucifer was concerned. Belphie had promised to get Satan a book he needed for a curse the two of them had been scheming for months. It was supposed to be so intricate and difficult to undo that it'd have the eldest struggling for weeks… Unfortunately, Belphegor had decided to sleep in on the day he was supposed to bring it... This made Satan miss a crucial time window to put the finishing touch on their curse. They'd have to wait another century for the planets to align again…

To say that Satan was irritated would only be the start… truthfully, he was furious. Days of effort and planning went to waste because his lazy brother couldn't be bothered to get out of bed! Perhaps even more unfortunate, though, was that Belphie wasn't one to take someone else's anger lying down… He may be lazy, but he had wit far beyond his rank and venom to match it in equal measure... All fights between these two were like verbal pit matches, a vicious dance of jabs and insults until one of them finally throws a punch or someone else steps in to break it up... 

Today's unlucky contestant was Beel, who hollered at them loud enough to shake the walls... Satan knew that Belphie was more than happy to leave the situation as it was… The lazy bastard could always hide in the attic and sleep away his problems… but it wasn't that easy for Satan. His anger doesn't just "go away" like everyone else’s... Sure, he may appear to simmer down.. but it lingers. It festers. And he hates it…

He hates being mad… There's nothing pleasant about anger. Breaking people under your feet in righteous fury? Well, there's some fun in that. But just being angry with nothing to do about it...? Whoever asks for that…?

Which is why he was trying to indulge a suggestion the MC gave him some time back to take his mind off it… Stress cleaning. Apparently, it wasn't unheard of for humans to use cleaning to vent emotional frustration through physical activity... The concept didn't sound unreasonable to him at the time. So when he passed by the kitchen and saw the dishes from Beel's last meal stacked up high, he decided to roll up his sleeves and give it a try.

… He should have known that a little bit of cleaning wouldn't have been enough for him, though. With each dish that he scrubbed clean, his sponge's pressure against the porcelain increased ever so slightly… Building and building until he was very nearly cracking the plates beneath his fingers… 

No… the rage wasn't leaving him. He kept replaying the fight again and again in his mind… always producing new comebacks to words that were never said and spiraling farther down into his own resentment… Hadn't the human said this would work? Why wasn't it helping…?? If anything, he just felt more worked up than before! Why was he listening to them anyway? What would they know about helping him, Wrath made flash, control his anger?? What kind of idiot was he for even considering-!

"Satan…? Are you okay…?" The tentative, yet familiar, sound of said human's voice called to him from the kitchen entrance. He didn't bother turning back to face them and just kept his eyes trained on the filth in front of him...

"No." There wasn't any point in lying, was there? They could see him practically slamming the plates down on the drying rack by this point…

"Ah…" He heard them shift their weight as an awkward beat passed. They no doubt knew it wasn't a good idea to approach Satan when he was angry… but that meddlesome streak of theirs must have been begging for them to intervene in some way. Typical human… sticking their nose in places it didn't belong…

"Well… Beel told me about what happened… You and Belphegor, right…?" He heard their footsteps finally enter the room and stop somewhere close to the kitchen island. Trying to keep some space between him and them, perhaps? Oddly reasonable coming from such a reckless creature… But it didn't stop his shoulders from tensing up at the meer sound of Belphie's name.

"Don't bring him up." His words snapped out like the crack of a whip, menacing and sharp. Though he couldn't see them, he was sure the MC flinched, and he felt a perverse sort of satisfaction in that thought… There was a pause before the MC continued, clearly considering their next words carefully...

"Satan… I just wanted to tell you that it's my fault Belphie slept in… I kept him up last night, and you know how he gets when he can't sleep." Their words were slow and careful like they were trying not to startle a wild animal. He still didn't turn back as he waited for them to continue.

"... Okay. I just thought I'd let you know, I guess… It wasn't really his fault…" There it was. His simmering temper had been wanting, no begging, for him to find something, anything, to let it go on... And this was just what he had been looking for… an opening.

"Oh. So you're taking his side then?" Pausing, he stopped abusing the glass in his hand and let an eerie calm build from his lack of motion... He knew just what he needed to do to scare them. He's done it to other people hundreds of times...

"W-what? No-I never said that…!" It didn't matter that they were right. He wasn't in the mood to be reasonable right now.

"You may as well have. You're already down here coming to his defense, aren't you? Did he put you up to it? Holding that precious 'cuddle time' you two like so much hostage, I bet..." He threw them a sidelong glare from over his shoulder and felt yet another wave of satisfaction from seeing their confused face. It was like he just swept a rug out from under them, and they were failing to catch their balance.

"That's not what I…!" They stopped themselves mid-sentence as it seemed to dawn on them just what they had gotten themselves into… Satan wasn't looking for a reasonable conversation right now. He was looking for a punching bag... But they weren't looking to be one.

"You know what… No. I don't appreciate your tone." He could see their eyes narrow as they found their resolve once more, stronger this time. He hissed softly at the loss of his easy mark...

"What does it matter? You're the one who started this in the first place. You just said as much a bit ago. Don't you know to leave me alone when I'm pissed off anyway, or are you really just this stupid?" That one must have hurt because he saw them flinch this time…

"I'm only here because I knew you were upset-"

He cut them off sharply. "And you didn't think I needed the space?" Again, they flinched at the growing volume of his voice, but they didn't appear to back down either. They only responded in a tone much softer than his own, patient but strained from invisible wounds...

"It passed my mind… But I just wanted to help…"

Help? Oh… Right. He must have forgotten who he was speaking to… Help was all the MC ever did. Even when they had no idea how or when their ideas were so crazy, they'd put Mammon to shame… He always knew they meant well… Did his anger really just blind him to why he was even washing dishes in the first place…?

The two stared at each other for a few moments while Satan battled over what to say next... Their earnest answer had re-awoken a bit of sense in him, yet he could tell his temper still wasn't satisfied… An overwhelming part of him, one he loathed to acknowledge, was calling for more vitriol… It just wanted to fight and be petty for satisfaction's sake… to have an enemy to stomp over, no matter who it was…

But just looking into the MC's eyes was keeping those hateful words down his throat… He could see that they were hurt and worse, he was well aware that he caused it… Sure, he may not have raised his fist, but he had still done plenty of damage with his voice alone… They didn't deserve his rage, and even now, he hated to have released it on them in the first place…

His internal struggle must have reached a peak without his knowledge because he hadn't noticed his grip was tightening around the glass in his hand. At least, not until it suddenly shattered all over him. The MC jumped back with a yelp at the unexpected explosion, and even he shouted a swear or two as he felt the shards lodge into his palm.

"Shit!" It didn't take a doctor to know that having glass embedded in your skin isn't ideal, and he could claim to at least have a little first aid know-how. As he used that knowledge to inspect his hand, he almost completely forgot that the MC was in the room until they made a noise.

"Um… Satan?" They were hesitant to speak, which he didn't blame them for. He did have a habit of breaking things for intimation value, but he guessed that they noticed he was as shocked as they were for once. "Need this?" In their hands was the first aid box the family kept in the kitchen. Though it was really only intended to bandage up the occasional knifed finger... it would do for the moment.

"Yes, that would help… thank you…" Though his appreciation was genuine, his words were stilted and hollow… He couldn't even meet their eyes considering how this whole exchange started… He felt terrible before, but now it was more than enough to finally overpower the wrath within him… He hates knowing when he's been a total asshole too…

He gestured the MC to put the box on the counter then began treating his wounds. They helped him as he worked nimbly, but he could feel an awkward tension between them… Not undue, but still uncomfortable. He knew he had to remedy it quickly...

"MC… I'm sorry… That was wrong of me…" They glanced away from his hand for only a moment before responding with a strained smile.

"It's alright…"

"No. It wasn't…" He paused only to grunt as he removed the largest glass shard from his palm. "...I was looking to let off some steam and targeted you unfairly… I didn't mean what I said; I was only searching for a reason to be mad… None of this was your fault… I hope you can forgive me…"

The MC shook their head as they searched the box for bandages. "No, I have some fault here too… I really should've given you space to cool off before talking to you… I just saw that you were doing the dishes and thought you were simmered down already…" He stopped what he was doing a moment and glanced back at the sink's drying rack, now half full of still soapy and partially cracked dishes.

"... Well, I don't know how vigorously you wash those, but I don't think I'm ever going to find that to be a relaxing activity." Their soft chuckle relieved a bit of the weight in the air, much to his solace.

"Fair enough… Though I'm not sure what I was thinking telling you to try cleaning in the first place. I should have just asked you to break every vacuum in the House instead." They both snickered over the image of him ripping the handles off of their hoovers by accident, and, slowly, Satan could finally feel the anger in his chest fading away... Of course, it'd be the MC to do it… It always was. Why hadn't he found them to start with…?

"And just so you know, I'm not taking sides with Belphie or anything. I'm sure he turned off his alarm or something." He snorted slightly as he finished the bandaging. Were they really still on that?

"I know, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter what side you're on to me anyway." He took his newly bandaged hand back just in time to see their puzzled expression.

"What? Why not…?" He chuckled some as he let his undamaged hand come to rest on top of their head, stroking back any bangs in an affectionate pet of sorts. He then caught the back of their head to tilt it up towards his, meeting their wide eyes with a devilish grin.

"Because you'll always be mine, kitten…"

#this story will live and die on how well i can write apologies #no pressure #i hope i didn't make satan an asshole #obey me #Obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me fanfic #shall-we-date-obey-me

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Three (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, FIGHTING, MENTION OF MURDER, GUN USE.

wc; 10k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“There are two things that you will learn today.” It turns out that Laurel can be loud when she wants to be. Her voice projects across the room with little to no effort, “The first is how to shoot a gun.” she presses one into your palm and keeps walking, “The second is how to win a fight.”

The gun isn’t as heavy as it looks. You turn it over in your hand, thumb running over the sleek metal. When you look up, you can see that Finnick is mesmerised by it. You can’t decide whether or not that’s a good thing. At least neither of you are afraid of it, but you don’t think that you should be idolizing it. Then again, you probably shouldn’t underestimate it, either.

You suppose that you and Finnick will fit in just fine here. As long as Finnick doesn’t get too caught up in his dream, and you don’t keep overthinking it. It’s just a gun. 

“Initiation is divided into three stages! Like Caspian told you last night, we will measure and rank you depending on your performance in each stage. The stages are not all weighed equally in determining your final rank. So, it is possible to be at the bottom and wind up at the top. Don’t be fooled, it will not be an easy task to do.

“In Dauntless, we believe that preparation eliminates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear. So, each stage of initiation will prepare you in a different way. Your first stage will be physical, your next will be emotional, and the third and final stage, will be mental.” Laurel stops pacing for a moment, turning to look at you all.

Finnick leans over, “How far do you think you can push your streak?”

“Hitting the target dead-on first try is like expecting a cold gust of wind in hell when it’s summer.”

Finnick snorts.

“I’ll show you how it’s done. And then you will practice until lunch.” Laurel says, turning toward the side of the room with the targets. They’re just squares of plywood with red circles on it. She spreads her legs slightly, holds up the gun away from her face, concentrates, and doesn’t hesitate when she fires. She gets the middle of the circle in the blink of an eye.

If she could do this, you wonder if everyone else inside of the faction can, too. This initiation process has been around for years. It just evolves the more that time goes on because of technology. So, every adult that you have come across so far, should technically know how to shoot. You don’t know whether to be afraid or not.

Finnick rubs his ear with an open palm after the sound of Laurel’s gun. It’s loud, you can feel it in your chest. You’re sure that it’ll only get worse, now that you’re all left to give it a try by yourselves.

“Do you think that you’ll be able to hit the bullseye?” you ask, barely glancing at Finnick.

You copy the way that Laurel had stood. You spread your legs apart a little, hold the gun away from your face, and point it straight at the target. As far as you can see, it should be lined up perfectly. But that’s not taking everything into consideration. You’ve never fired a gun before, and you’ve never seen it happen until now, when Laurel had used hers.

This is new to you. The chances of you actually being able to do this is one in a thousand. Unless you’re some sort of prodigy, which you highly doubt. Just because you’ve qualified for three factions, doesn’t mean you need to go inflating your own ego. You’re just the same as everyone here. Maybe a little better, personality-wise.

“You go first.” Finnick says, catching the attention of Thyme. She lowers her gun to watch too.

“Why me?” you whine, closing one eye to see if you can line it up better. No matter what happens, this is going to miss. It’s just a matter of whether or not you come close.

It’s worth a try.

You breathe in your nose a little when you pull the trigger, already flinching even before the recoil hits. The bang is loud enough to pop your ears, you end up with a wince on your face, arms sore. When you look back at the wood, you expect to see the bullet far away from the middle. In fact, maybe somewhere not near the target at all.

But the hole is on the second red circle, to the right.

A shot of energy goes through you, making you bounce on your toes excitedly.

“At this rate, you’re not going to have anything to worry about.” Finnick says, “I might have to keep my eye on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, “Let’s see you give it a go.”

He gives you a boyish smile, Thyme backs off slightly. Finnick seems to have the form down, he holds the gun up and away from his face. The smile eventually fades from his face as he begins to focus. By the time he pulls the trigger, he’s gritting his teeth.

You try not to flinch this time. When you look at his aim, it’s better than yours. More than halfway to the circle that surrounds the center. You light up, elbowing him with a smile, “Hey! You’re better than me.”

It goes on like this for the rest of the morning. Round after round, you shoot bullet after bullet. All of them slowly inch towards the middle, but it takes a lot longer than you’d expect it to. By Finnick’s second round, he hit the middle three times in a row before finally falling off the streak.

You relax for a moment, rolling your shoulders. You know how you stood the first time you did it, and you think back to how Laurel had stood. She was relaxed, right at home. She can afford to be, though. She’s done this for years, she was taught how to shoot guns a while ago. You’re just learning.

You need to take it slower. 

You roll your wrists next, letting them ache when you get to a certain point. Finnick fires again, hitting the board. Two inches off the middle. Thyme fires and she’s still on the outer circle. Finnick fires again, he hits the middle. This will be you. You crack your neck.

“Okay.” you breathe, holding the gun up again. You spread your legs, relax your shoulders, and bend your arms a little. You place your finger over the trigger, and take in a small breath.

When you pull, the bullet hits the right side of the circle.

You adjust to fit what you need. Just a couple of centimeters to the left, you pull the trigger again. It’s too far over, you shift one more time. This is it, the last bullet before you have to call it a day today. You don’t know if you’ll ever get a second chance at this.

You pull the trigger hard, prepared for the recoil. 

The bullet sits directly in the middle.

A breath of relief leaves you. You’re not a total failure after all.

Laurel makes you all stand in a line, handing over your guns while she counts them. There must have been times in the past where initiates tried to hoard guns, you can’t see why she’d need to do it otherwise. When the number comes out to eight, you’re allowed to head over to the dining hall.

Finnick is giddy, of course, that he’s caught on to shooting so well. You decide that you’d much rather listen than actively participate in the conversation. You think that it would be easier to swallow if it weren’t for the fact that Thyme is literally asking him for advice, as if he has any to give. It was his first time shooting, does she think you guys do these types of things for fun?

Gun use in Abnegation is frowned upon. Not only is it a weapon, which resorts to violence. It’s also used as self defense, therefore it’s self-indulgent. If Reed could see you now, he’d be all sorts of pissed. He’d say something along the lines of, “Mom and dad raised you better than this.”

If they were still here, you’re sure that would have been a good enough excuse to stay in Abnegation. You think that Mox wouldn’t have left either. But it’s hard to stick to a place with so much negative energy. The more the years come on, the more Reed seems to sink into this hole of hatred. 

The dining hall is less crowded this afternoon, it’s easy pickings for where you want to sit. You pick the middle of a table, and then stare at the food that’s offered for you, debating whether or not you’re hungry. Finnick sits beside you, and seems to do the exact same thing.

“I was kidding yesterday.” he mutters, you think he’s referring to the chicken comment.

“This is all your fault.” you say, giving him a smile.

You grab a small portion of food at a table, not wanting to overdo it. Finnick does the same, and you’re glad to finally see that the gun conversation has ceased. He turns toward you to talk, leaving Thyme out to a certain extent. You can’t say that you feel bad for her. She’s been talking to him all morning, it’s only right that it’s your turn.

“What do you think’s next?” he asks, eating a forkful of carrots.

“Well, Laurel did say that we’d be learning how to win a fight.” you push the food around on your plate. None of it looks appetizing anymore, “I don’t think you really need to learn that, do you?”

In Abnegation, you never watched Finnick lose a fight. This boy has got more power than any of the Erudite and Dauntless kids that he fought. Sometimes, all it took was one punch and the other teenager would go down like a sack of flour. It’s pretty impressive when you’re not the one fighting him. You can’t imagine what it’s like being on the other end, though.

“Probably not, but it never hurts to learn it properly.” Finnick smiles, “And it’ll give you a chance to perfect your form.”

You give him a look. It was one time.

Last night, Caspian wasn’t kidding about where you’d be staying. However, he could’ve at least gave you a little more information about what it would be like so that you didn’t have to figure it out for yourself. He said that there’s ten beds inside of the room, which is correct, but technically they’re bunk beds.

Also, there’s absolutely no privacy anywhere. Not in the main room, where all the beds sit just mere feet from each other. And not in the bathroom, there’s absolutely no stalls. But don’t worry, there’s mirrors in there!

None of this would bother you, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re all sleeping in the same room together. Finnick chose the bottom bunk, you went ahead and picked the top. To his direct right is Thyme, who’s also sleeping on the bottom. And everyone else is scattered in their own corners, too.

Oh, which reminds you, you’ve finally got names to put to every face. The Erudite girl that died yesterday, her name is Elodia. She was apparently best friends with the other Erudite girl, Trink. The two Candor initiates that Trink has been inseparable from is Eytelle, the girl, and Allio, the boy. As for the other two Candor initiates, there’s Ossie, another girl, and Amos, another boy. So, there’s three boys and five girls. 

Anyway, since you’re all staying in the same room, you were able to hear the exact moment when Thyme bursted out crying. And that’s not the part that really gets to you. You can kinda sympathize with them for being upset over the fact that they might have chosen the worst faction to go for, even if their aptitude test thought that they’d be prepared for it.

No, the part you hated the most last night was the fact that the crying went on for over ten minutes. And right when Thyme had begun to settle down, getting quieter, someone else started crying. It wasn’t Finnick, but you have a feeling it was one of the other girls. Maybe Trink, because she lost her friend. Or possibly Ossie, because she doesn’t exactly look the type to be in Dauntless in the first place.

Then again, all of them can be full of surprises, you don’t know. What you do know, is that if it happens again tonight, you might just smother everyone with a pillow and decide to be the sole surviving transfer initiate from your Choosing Ceremony. It’ll eliminate the worry of not being able to pass the stages, and you’ll actually get a good night of sleep.

You might spare Finnick.

When Laurel decides that you’re all done eating, she brings you to a new room. This one is large, with a wooden floor that’s cracked and has a large white circle painted in the middle. On the far left wall is a chalkboard, with all of your names written in alphabetical order. From top to bottom, it goes: Allio, yourself, Eytelle, Trink, Amos, Elodia, Finnick and then Thyme. 

On another side of the room hangs black punching bags. Laurel has you line up behind them, she takes her time going to the middle so you all can see her, “Like I said this morning, you’ll be learning how to fight. The reason for this is to prepare you to act; to get you used to responding to threats and challenges. Which are instincts you’ll need, if you intend to live in Dauntless.

“We will go over techniques today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other.” The talking between initiates stops, taking in what she said. All you can think about is every time you watched Finnick give a Dauntless teenager a black eye. You wonder how many of them chose to stay in Dauntless, “I’m glad I finally got your attention. If I were you, I’d pay attention today. Those of you who aren’t quick learners will wish you were. Like this morning, I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you’ll practice until six.”

Every punch she shows you, has a name. She’ll demonstrate it in the air first, and then she’ll punch a bag. Following are kicks, which she seems to have more power for. Every time she lands a hit on the punching bag, it’ll spin and rock, you think you can even see dust streaming down from the ceiling.

When it’s your turn to give it a try, you keep it in rotation. You’ll go through all the punches first, and then the kicks. You start over a couple of times, wanting to get your form and position down first. It’ll be the most important part of tomorrow. There’s eight of you, no one will be excluded from the fighting. And if you’re unsure of where you told your hands or where to place your feet, you’re going to be screwed.

The hitting gets harder once you think you can afford to try new combinations. A kick with a punch, maybe the other way around if it feels too uncomfortable. The longer you have at the punching bag, the more you realize just how fun it is. At first, it was unnatural, you’ve only thrown a couple of punches before. But now it seems like second-nature. 

“Very good, (Y/n).” Laurel says, passing behind you, “Lower your fists from your face a little, and it’ll be perfect.”

You follow what she says. She’s right, this was the only thing that you were missing. When you throw punches from now on, it’s much easier. By the time six rolls around, your skin is sore and you can’t help but to rub your shins. They’re definitely going to be bruised somewhat. At least it’s not impossible to deal with.

“Laurel says we can go anywhere.” Finnick says, bumping his arm into yours on purpose, “Anywhere.”

“Is it possible to eat dinner first?” you ask, massaging your hands, “You can drag me around after that.”

“Hungry?”

“Mostly hoping that dinner is better than what they served us for lunch.” you give him a smile.

He grins back.

Dinner is much better. Soup, beef, carrots, potatoes, onions. You take your time eating, watching as Finnick has serving after serving. He’s lucky that there’s no limit as to how much you can eat. But he should probably show some more self-restraint, considering whatever he wants to do after this, might cause him to get sick. You eat two bowls before you call it good, while Finnick is just finishing up his seventh.

“Full yet?” you muse.

“I was mostly trying to figure out what I want to do.” Finnick sets his bowl on top of yours, collecting your spoon so that it can sit with his, “And I figured it out.”

“What is it?” Thyme asks, she’s leaning in slightly on the other side of the table.

There’s a mischievous grin that crosses over his face, “Piercings.”

“Oh,” Thyme falls back.

You snort, sliding out of the table, “What’re you going to get pierced?”

“My nose, probably.” Finnick joins you, “And then we can all go shopping.”

This morning, Laurel had provided everyone with clothing. Mostly practical stuff, like jeans, shirts, underwear, jackets, shoes, whatever. It’s all in black, naturally. But the only fitting clothing on you right now is the underwear. As for the shirts, jeans and shoes, they’re a bit bigger than you’d like them to be. It could also be another reason why it’s throwing off your groove.

Of course, this isn’t just a you problem, it’s an everyone problem. Finnick is wearing a shirt that’s a little too tight-fitting than he likes. If he pulls on the fabric, it snaps right back into place. Thyme’s jeans needed a shoelace to keep them up high enough. As for all the other initiates, they ended up in their own problems. You think that Eytelle, the tall Candor girl, is wearing clown shoes.

“Sure.” you agree.

The three of you leave the dining hall to go out to the Pit, which is currently crammed with, what looks like, the entire Dauntless population. You let Finnick lead the way up the narrow paths, and straight to a tattoo-piercing parlor. Every month, Dauntless gives everyone a certain amount of points they can use a month that works like cash.

Finnick talks to a guy at the counter with multiple piercings in his ears, and ones that make his earlobe stretch out far enough that you can see through the earring. Finnick points out a spot on his nose, the guy will say something back, until they seem to come to an agreement. Finnick turns to look at you and Thyme.

“Coming in?” he wiggles his eyebrows, “I know Thyme won’t get a tattoo or piercing, but what about you?” 

You give him a face, “I’ll think about it next time.”

“Chicken.” Finnick sings, backing into the parlor.

You purse your lips, watching as his face slowly gets more smug, “Fine, give me one good reason.”

“Because you still walk and talk like a Stiff.” Finnick says.

His eyebrows are raised, he knows that he’s won it. Stiff is a term, normally derogatory, used towards Abnegation faction members because of how stuck-up you are--or, were. There’s a lot of restrictions in Abnegation. Piercings, tattoos and brightly colored hair is self-indulgent. Talking loudly, laughing, or even playing games is distracting. Hell, even relationships are frowned upon, not supposed to be public because they’re nuisances. 

Finnick is wrong on some parts. You don’t talk like you’re in Abnegation, otherwise your voice would be hushed whispers and you wouldn’t laugh like the rest of these people. You didn’t complain about the guns, or defending yourself. You didn’t cry last night because you were afraid. You even pushed through things that you’re normally afraid of to fit right in.

The other parts are much more difficult. You think of yourself as a chameleon. Before all of this, before you had switched factions, you also seemed to fit in just fine as an Abnegation member. You said so yourself. But now you’re in Dauntless, you’re fitting in too. You wonder what it would have been like in Erudite, how easy it would have been for you to blend in there too.

The obvious reason for this is the Divergence.

And Laurel told you not to stand out. It’s dangerous. You don’t want to know what she meant by that exactly. All you have to do now, is make sure that it doesn’t happen again. You’ll have to do better at making yourself hidden.

You give Finnick a smile, heading towards the parlor.

“Hey--wait!” Thyme grabs your arm, stopping you from going, “I thought me and you could go shopping while we wait for him.”

“You know you can get your ears pierced, right?” you ask her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her with you, “One baby step at a time.”

Inside of the parlor, you’re matched with a different guy. You settle on a nose stud, thanks to his suggestion. You’re mostly worried about what might happen to it starting tomorrow. With a ring, like Finnick’s getting, there’s more of a chance of it getting ripped out. The stud will still sparkle in light, and it won’t be as irritating. Thyme goes ahead and gets both of her ears pierced on the lobe.

Walking out, Finnick’s nose is still bleeding. Thyme looks happy with her silver flowers, and you resist the urge to itch the new wound on your face. Thyme brings you and Finnick to a store that she’d been eyeing for a while. Honestly, you can’t tell the difference between any of it. One black clothing store to another. It’s all just as bland as the grey Abnegation clothing.

You find high-waisted skinny jeans, throwing them over your arm. You pick out a shirt that looks like it’s your size, and disappear into a changing room to make sure it fits. All clothing back home is baggy, in Dauntless it’s supposed to stick to your skin. Before, size didn’t matter when it came to clothes, only that it didn’t get in the way of your volunteer work. 

Surprisingly, you picked out the right size the first time around. The jeans feel comfy on your hips, the sleeves of the shirt are fairly loose and don’t cut off circulation in your arms. You pay for it with your points, and then go right back to hunting for tennis shoes. 

Finnick finds his clothes soon after, joining you on a bench while you go through shoe boxes. Thyme goes in and out of the dressing room, not being able to find a pair of jeans that fit. It’s comical, watching her pace the aisles. Eventually she gives up and has to ask for help. 

You stand from the bench, kicking the shoes around, bending and walking in them. They fit well, and there’s space at the top so that your toes aren’t crammed. You pay for the shoes too, Finnick buys everything that he’s wearing. The two of you dump your clothes in separate black bags, you suggested wearing them to bed so that you won’t have to genuinely live in these clothes.

As soon as Thyme is done, the three of you head back to the room.

“Who do you think we’ll be paired up with tomorrow?” Thyme asks, looking over to you two.

Finnick shrugs, and then gives you a glance.

“I have no clue, don’t look at me like that.”

“Except you’re really good at taking guesses.” Finnick says, “So guess.”

He’s wrong, you think. You’re not good at guessing, you’re good at narrowing down the possibilities and choosing the ones that seem most likely. And you keep doing it until you’re down to one solution. Which is definitely not an Abnegation response to problems, it’s an Erudite one. Finnick has unintentionally picked up on it.

You give out a sigh anyway, “Well, I think Laurel likes us enough, so she’ll start off easy and try to match us with people that are like us.” you look at him, “Good enough?”

“Good enough.” Finnick smiles.

--

When you got up this morning, the first order of business that Laurel had you doing was practicing shooting guns again. For several hours straight, you got to watch Finnick get better and better at hitting the middle. At first, you weren’t entirely bothered, but the irritation started to fester when Thyme kept praising him. You were too happy for it to be over, even after your aim improved considerably.

Now, you all stand together inside of the punching bag room from yesterday.Laurel stands in front of the chalkboard, smoothly writing on it. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of the chalk hitting the board as she writes your names down next to each other. She wasn’t lying when she said that the real initiation would start today.

Last night you said Laurel might like you enough to pair you with someone that would be easy to beat. You’re not as confident anymore. Caspian stands off to the side of the room, watching Laurel. You might have been happy to see a familiar face in Dauntless two days ago, but you haven’t forgotten the things that Caspian said to you when you were a kid. It’s impossible to, all he did was add to your growing hatred.

As far as you can tell at the moment, Caspian is almost the same guy he was before he switched to Dauntless. Before, he was mean, thought he was funny, and convinced himself that he was the shit. He has his moments where he can genuinely be likeable, but it’s always some sort of honeymoon faze. He can ruin it as fast as you can snap your fingers. And he’s good at hiding that mean side of his personality, but it can show out in little bits and pieces. Like sunshine peeking through clouds.

“Lucky for all of you, no one has to sit out.” Laurel says, she’s finishing up.

Finnick spins the nose ring with his thumb, you shove your hands into your pockets to keep from digging your nails into your palm, Thyme rocks back and forth on her feet.

“Which means hardly any days off.” Laurel places the chalk onto the metal stand, and then moves out of the way.

You suck in air through your teeth, eyes going over the list. It’s short, only four rows.

Allio and Ossie.

Thyme and Amos.

Eytelle and Finnick.

You and Trink.

“Oh great, you’re paired with an asshole.” Finnick says, referencing the nickname you two gave Erudite’s on the train here, yesterday. “You’ll get to kick her ass before I do.”

Caspian definitely organized this, Laurel might have had some say in it. You can see the strategy here. Allio and Ossie are similar in height, but different in personality, weight and muscle. Thyme and Amos are both pretty short and scrawny, Eytelle is taller than Finnick, but they’re the only ones close in height. The only reason why you think you’re paired with Trink is because of height.

You look at Caspian, he’s already staring at you. His face is straight for a moment, before his lip twitches into a smirk.

No, you change your mind. Height was a coincidence with her. There’s more behind this, more secretive, and you think it has layers. The first is obvious, this is a gift from Caspian. You told him about his family back home, offering up the information without a single question or prompt from him. You even made it sound like they were part of your family.

The second layer is more subtle. Caspian might not have been great with Abnegation ideals, much like Finnick, but you all have a soft spot for the place you called home for years. Caspian doesn’t like that Erudite is talking shit about Abnegation, but he can’t say anything about it. There’s no question that you don’t like what’s happening either. And since he can’t punch the smug Erudite look off of Trink’s face, you have to. 

More or less, you’ll get to defend Abnegation’s honor by kicking Trink’s ass. 

This time, Caspian’s wrath isn’t being focused on you. Trink isn’t even going to know what hit her. Well, she will. You’ll be the one hitting her.

You look over at Trink, not being able to hide the smile on your face, “At least you get to pick on someone your own size. Enjoy the challenge while you can.”

Finnick lets out a laugh.

Ossie and Allio meet each other in the center of the white circle. They raise their fists up, and shuffle in a circle like you were taught to. When Allio realizes that Ossie isn’t going to make the first move, he jerks forward to punch her. It was a ruse, Ossie moves out of the way and slams her elbow into the back of his neck.

Okay, maybe Ossie isn’t as weak as you thought she would be. You, Finnick and Thyme watch the way she moves, how easy she’s able to dodge his attacks. Allio is clumsy on his feet, Ossie can dance circles around him, and she practically does, with how quick she moves. However, the moment that Allio gets one good hit on her, she’s down.

She lays on her back, hand spread over her cheek as she grimaces. Her face is turning red, you can’t imagine the tooth pain she’s having at the moment. You all look at Laurel and Caspian to see that they’re unmoving from the board.

“Shouldn’t they call it?” Finnick leans over, whispering.

You tilt your head, “I think we just unlocked a new rule.”

You’re right, Caspian shifts on his feet and lets out an annoyed sigh through his nose, “The fight isn’t over until one of you can’t move!”

“Or you can give up and suffer the consequences.” Judging by the tone of Laurel’s voice, it isn’t much of an option.

This is worse than it was before. You thought that enough punches to Trink’s face would knock her down, and the fight would be over. But if you’re going to be beating each other to near death…

Allio turns back on Ossie, a smile growing on his face. She sees his expression and gets to her feet. Her face is already swelling, you can imagine that there’s going to be a pretty bad bruise on her face tomorrow. She raises her fists again, and goes right back to what she was doing before. Except, she’s clearly trying to piss Allio off. She’ll look like she’s going all in, and then she'll pull back in time for Allio to make a fool of himself.

Her antics get her in trouble, though, because all it takes is one bad move, and Allio grabs a hold of her throat, stopping her in her tracks. She grabs his wrist with one hand, raising her foot to kick him in the stomach with the other. Allio barely flinches, lifts her, and then slams her into the wood ground.

A crack fills the air.

Allio’s heavy breathing is the only thing that you can hear. 

When Ossie doesn’t immediately get up, or even turn over, Laurel starts forward. Caspian’s arms are crossed, he watches as she kneels next to Ossie. Her fingers barely touch the floor, and she’s immediately recoiling. Laurel stares down at her hand, and you can see in the light, that it’s shiny.

“He cracked her head open.” you say.

Laurel seems to come to that conclusion too, because she wraps her arm around Ossie’s back, and then under her legs. Laurel rocks back and forth, raising from her shins, to her knees, to her feet. Caspian gives one nod to Laurel before she walks out. Then, she turns towards the chalkboard.

He circles Allio’s name in white.

“Thyme and Amos!” Caspian shouts.

“What about the blood?” Amos asks, moving forward. Thyme is still stuck to the other side of Finnick.

Caspian makes a sound, and it isn’t one of discontent. More that he’s realizing that the blood will end up being a problem. So, he pulls the towel off of the chalkboard stand, and throws it at Amos. Amos barely catches it, stares down at the black towel, and then drops it on the pool of blood. It isn’t much, Ossie had only been laying there for a few seconds. When he’s sure that it’s dried up enough, Amos kicks the towel across the room to get it out of the way.

“I can’t do this.” Thyme says, her voice is quiet.

“You have to.” Finnick gives her a push, “The two of you are practically the same, just use what you learned yesterday.”

It’s easy for Finnick to say that, he’s excited to get put up against Eytelle. You can tell by the way he shifts on his feet, plus the smile hasn’t left his face since he learned that he’d be going up against her. Finnick loves a challenge.

Thyme hangs her head slightly, but joins Amos in the circle. For a moment, they stare at each other, unsure if either of them want to commit to this. Then, Thyme raises her fists, tilts her head, and starts shuffling. Amos follows her, slowly drawing closer.

You bite the nail on your thumb, “So what’s your strategy going to be?”

“Probably going to knock her out as fast as possible. I think it’ll land me directly on top.” Finnick gives you a grin.

“We’re still aiming for a streak?” 

“I think we blew it during the gun training.” Finnick laughs, you join in.

Thyme jerks forward, bringing her leg up to slam into Amos’ side. 

“What’s your strategy?” 

You tilt your head, “Probably going to draw it out as long as possible. It’s my only chance to kick the shit out of an Erudite so I figure that I’ll make the most out of it.”

“I’m sure Caspian and Laurel will be thrilled.”

Amos reaches to grab Thyme’s hair, but she slams her fist straight into his nose. He stumbles back, hands flying to contain the blood that’s beginning to gush out. Amos’ eyes widen, landing on Thyme. She raises her fists, you can see the ghost of a smile..

After this, he continuously backs away from Thyme. She doesn’t look like she’s bothered by this, she just keeps getting closer. And the moment he’s within arms reach, is the moment he messed up. She jumps at him, grabbing his shirt, which hangs off his body loosely. You bet that he didn’t bother to go out and get a new shirt or clothes last night. Hopefully this will teach him a lesson. That he’s easily grabbable when the clothes don’t fit.

She yanks Amos forward, spins him around and sweeps a foot out from beneath him. Amos hits the ground almost as hard as Ossie did, but he’s still conscious. Thyme raises her foot, kicking Amos in the ribs. He groans, one arm flying to protect the spot, while the other goes to catch her new kick. 

She changes her mind last second, dropping to her knees and raising her fist so quickly that it’s a blur. Amos raises his arms to protect his face, so she settles for a dead-on hit to his chest. You let out a groan, feeling the ache in your own chest. Amos wheezes, Thyme punches him in the face. Over and over.

The sounds coming from Amos are less than pleasant.

“That’s going to be you.” Finnick says.

“Yeah?” you ask, but don’t say anything else. 

You don’t even want to know if he means that you’re going to be Thyme, or if you’re going to be Amos. Although, you’re not really sure that it matters. Either you’ll lose yourself to the fight, or you’re going to get the shit kicked out of you.

Thyme falls back on her heels, rubbing her bloody knuckles. She lifts the end of her shirt, all eyes fall on Caspian to see what he has to say. He stares at Amos for a little, Thyme pushes herself to her feet.

“Get him out of the ring.” Caspian finally says, circling Thyme’s name.

Allio and Thyme work together, getting Amos upright. He doesn’t stay on his feet for long, as soon as he’s out of the circle, he’s sitting on the floor. He’s sniffing, which might be from him crying, or it might be him trying to get his nose to stop bleeding. You’re not sure if it really matters which one it is.

“Eytelle and Finnick.” Caspian motions.

There’s no blood to clean up this time. You give Finnick a firm pat on the back, “Kick some ass.”

Thyme stands next to you, her fingers massaging the skin over her knuckles. If she thinks it hurts now, it’s only going to feel worse tomorrow. Not to mention, if you’re going to be doing this multiple times for evaluation, all of your knuckles are going to be split and sore. You can’t imagine the amount of injuries you’ll experience during initiation

You’re going for none, but it’s not all that realistic.

Finnick cracks his knuckles, the smile on his face disappears, “You know, I’ve never fought a Candor before. They always whine like bitches.” he raises his fists, “So tell me, are you going to cry?”

Eytelle isn’t amused, she raises her fists, “I’m taller than you.”

“You think height matters?” Finnick’s face darkens, “It’s a matter of experience.”

And he has too much for a former Abnegation member.

Finnick bounces on his toes, watching the way Eytelle moves. She’s clearly eager, moving forward. But the moment he goes to match her, she seems to back down. She’s wary. You guess that she’s taking Finnick’s word for it all, which isn’t a bad idea. You think that you’d rather take the word of the other person just to be safe. Then again, it could make you be overly cautious in the end.

There’s only so much dancing that Finnick can take. He stops letting Eytelle take the initiative and starts moving at her like a shark. Because of the smooth way he moves, you can’t tell what he’s going to do next. He could punch her, or kick her, or jump at her. He doesn’t twitch. This is the side of Finnick that you’re always so amazed at.

All of his moves are calculated. He’ll move right, and appear on the left. He slams his fist into the shoulder she favors more. She winces, rolling the shoulder to get feeling back in it. When she holds up her hands, it’s awkward now. Finnick strikes again, this time going for her upper arm, which falls completely limp.

It’ll be hard to punch him if she can’t feel the arm at all.

Eytelle goes to punch with her left hand anyway. Finnick catches her wrist, twisting her arm at a painful angle. Finnick pulls her closer, and slams his fist right across her jaw. Her head jerks backward, a gurgle sound leaving her throat. Finnick does it again, much harder this time. It’s enough to make her knees buckle.

He lets go of her, letting her hit the floor. Eytelle doesn’t move.

Finnick wipes his hands off on his jeans, and then fixes his hair. You’d say that this fight lasted less than five minutes. Faster than Ossie and Allio, and faster than Thyme and Amos. When it’s your turn, you’re going to make sure it’s painful. 

Caspian goes ahead and circles Finnick’s name.

A couple of seconds later, Eytelle groans, which means that no one will have to drag her out of the ring, but Allio and Trink go to help her anyway. Eytelle vaguely complains about being dizzy, so she sits on the floor too, hand placed over her jaw. 

The door on the far side of the room opens to reveal Laurel. She comes in without Ossie, so you figure that she’s either with some sort of doctor. Normally, hospitals are far away, but it’s Dauntless. They have to have someone closeby, especially with the cave that they live in.

She stands in her spot by the chalkboard.

“(Y/n) and Trink.”

Finnick grabs your arm, turning you away from the circle to speak, “You probably remember, but keep an eye on the way she moves. She’s also Erudite, so she’s got a hundred strategies or whatever.”

He straightens up, “Alright, good luck, wreak havoc.”

You snort. On the way to the circle, you crack everything that you can think of. Fingers, neck, knuckles. You stretch your muscles next, shoulders, wrist, knees and ankles. You’ve only fought someone else once. Once.

“Scared?” Trink asks, she lets a lock of her blonde hair fall black into place.

You bend your knees back and forth, raising your fists, “Don’t need to be. I know a couple of things myself.”

You give her a smirk.

Trink raises her fists, “You’re bluffing.”

“We’ll see.”

In Abnegation, Finnick was always the one to get physical with people he didn’t like at the school. Most of the time, he wouldn’t immediately turn to fighting. But if the situation kept getting worse, and the person didn’t notice all the warning signs that were coming from him, he’d resort to it easily. Corner them in the hallway, and tell them that if they want to run their mouth, then they can reap what they sow. People were always stupid enough to see what he meant.

You said that the rules of fighting were simple, and the first one was to always make sure that there were no witnesses. Except, Finnick would always bring you. You would be his alibi if he needed it, and the excuse would automatically be a factionless man needing help, that’s why you were late getting home. You only used the excuse once.

So, you’ll have to say that you’ve seen Finnick fight many times. You’ve watched the way he throws punches, the way he holds himself with confidence. How he’ll never give away his moves before he does them. It’s like they’re all thought out beforehand. He doesn’t want to drag a fight on, there’s only so much time the excuse can cover. In watching him, you’ve learned a lot.

Eventually, an opportunity of your own sprouted, and it happened right after your father died, which was only a couple of months after your mother had passed. Mox had just switched to Amity, so that was buzzing around. And an Erudite girl caught whiff of the problems that were being kicked up in your house. You don’t know how she found out any of it, but whoever told her was a fucking asshole.

The girl started with talking shit about Abnegation, about how the faction raised your brother to be weak, and that’s why he couldn’t say. You weren’t bothered by this, you had already grown used to not speaking about Mox. You wouldn’t break your streak just because some girl thought it would be fun to start talking shit. Even Finnick didn’t think that it was worth worrying over. The two of you thought she would stop.

But then her focus shifted to your father. 

In Abnegation, you are supposed to serve the people around you. In the eyes of the faction, your father died a death that was noble. It was not through war, but in a moment of kindness, of a helping hand. Your father had stopped to help one of the factionless, and in turn, they killed him. 

They never found the killer.

The Erudite girl was right in thinking that it would get a quick reaction out of you, because it did. Finnick was the one who told the girl where to meet you. All you did was go out there and wait, with Finnick leaned up against some tree in the shade.

Before she arrived, you had no intention of actually fighting her. You were going to tell her to knock it the fuck off before she did something she would regret. Then she showed up with this smug ass look on her face, and all reason washed away from your  body at once. 

Unlike Finnick, you only needed to fight once. 

You left the girl bloody and swollen, laying in the middle of the grass, barely able to keep her eyes open. For a moment, you stood over her body, staring down at her, wondering if anything really needed to be said. But your actions spoke for themself, that she had picked a fight she couldn’t win. You left her there, walked home with Finnick, and the next day at school, you didn’t see her. 

In all honesty, you never had trouble with anyone after that, either.

There’s a big difference between now and then, though. Then, you were pissed and you had a great reason to be. Now, you’re fighting just because someone is telling you. 

No, you have a good reason now, too. You don’t want to be factionless. Trink is one of the many obstacles standing in your way to becoming a member of Dauntless. You think that’s a good enough reason.

You bounce from side to side, feeling the burn in your calves. Finnick said that Trink would have a thousand strategies thought up because she’s Erudite. But you’re part Erudite too, you could have qualified if you wanted to. So, in order to win this, you need to think like she does, even more so than usual.

You told her you know a few things yourself, she’s going to assume that you learned from Finnick, or the two of you often work together when it comes to fights. Which is wrong. Finnick likes his fights to be clean cuts, the faster he knocks out his opponent, the faster he can do something else. It’s also a display of dominance, one hit and his victim falls. The person is never stupid enough to come back twice. 

Finnick let Eytelle start the fight. So, you will be the one to start this.

You move forward, letting the smile go. You need to focus.

Trink shuffles, her left hand is raised higher than the right. She’s left handed, which means you shouldn’t focus on her right. It also looks like she was suffering the same problem that you were before Laurel corrected you. Her hands are too high. 

You keep moving closer, trying to keep your eyes on her face as much as you can. All you have to do is throw a punch at her left hand. It’ll smack her in the face, and then you can really get the show started.

Trink’s right leg twitches.

You jump back in time for it to barely miss you. Change of plans. You grab a hold of her leg, push it up, and swing down low enough to catch her other foot. She loses her balance, hands slapping onto the wood. She doesn’t say down long enough for you to kick her, right back onto her feet.

Her hands are back into place.

You launch at her, punching her hands. Her head knocks back briefly, you squeeze your fists tighter. She goes to retaliate, you block, and then swing your fist straight into her jaw. You’ve got to go harder than this. This isn’t bringing her down. She stumbles back, hands already going back to where they were before.

Trink moves quickly, you’re not able to catch her hands in time. One second, she’s slow, the next there’s an explosion across your nose. Pain prickles across your entire face, making your face feel like it’s a hundred degrees. And then there’s a gushing feeling.

You want to call a time-out as you back up, fingers finding your nose. You plead that it’s not broken, because you won’t be able to handle a crooked nose. It’ll throw you off beat. You’re lucky, because you find that it’s tender, your piercing is still in-tact, and the liquid rushing from your nose is obviously blood. It’s not enough to make you worry, only slightly distracting. You think that the piercing wound is contributing to the problem.

You wipe under your nose, and fling the blood towards the floor, lifting your hands up again. She’ll have to try harder than this to upset you.

There’s a couple of spots that you’re sure would get back at her. Her ribs, her nose, her teeth, her jaw, her eyes. You know that anything to her ear or the side of her head will immediately be enough for her to pause. You just need a way to get there. An opening.

Trink moves towards you now, and you let her. You’re not afraid of her punching you again. You want her to try. You keep where you are, only shuffling in the circle. One step closer, and then another. She could swing if she really wanted to. She must be going for something else. You’re not sure what, but does it really matter?

She barely brings her hand down. You dodge the attack, and then your hand hits her cheek bone. And then her jaw. She pushes you off of her, you bring your knee into her side, sweep her feet, and let her fall. You bring your foot back, hitting her stomach, and then her ribs. She’s not on her back just yet, not open enough for you to be on top of her.

Fine.

You swing your foot up towards her face, she’s not able to catch it in time. 

Her head flies back, shoulders hitting the wooden floor. 

The Erudite girl you fought a while back was in much worse condition than this.

The fight isn’t over. Trink brings herself to her elbows, eyes on your face, squinting. Her vision must be blurry. Unfortunately for her, it’s about to get so much worse. She’s still kicking, which means that you need to be too.

You slam your foot into her side, and then sit on top of her hips. You bring your fist up, watching the blood from your nose land onto her chin. Payback. First is her nose, bleeding. Next is straight to her mouth. After is her cheek, settling for a black eye. She goes to punch up once, aiming for your throat. You grab her arm and twist.

“Give up.” you tell her, twisting harder, “Give up!”

Her face is twisted in pain, mouth open as she pants. When you force it harder, she lets out a scream.

Half her body is twisted one way, her cheek pressed against the wooden floor. The other arm is pinned behind her, she wouldn’t be able to get it, even if she tried. You’ve got the upper hand.

You curl your hand into a fist, eyes landing on her temple, “Well, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

Your fist hits the side of her head hard enough for your knuckles to feel like they’ve broken. The tension falls from Trink’s body, you let go of her arm. When you get to your feet, your immediate focus is your nose and the blood coming from it. You squeeze the bridge, tilting your head back slightly.

One look at Caspian, and he’s giving you a nod of approval. He circles your name.

You head toward Finnick and Thyme. In order from most to least damaged, you’re most, Thyme is in the middle, Finnick is least. There’s not a single scratch on him.

Before you can say anything, Finnick’s directing your chin up so that he can examine your face. You watch his eyebrows draw in, “Doesn’t look like it’s broken.”

“It hurts to move, obviously.” you say, “I think the piercing isn’t helping.”

“Probably not.” Finnick lets you free, “It could be worse, the stud could’ve ripped your nose open.”

You give him a smile.

“You were really good.” Thyme says, she’s still playing with her hands.

“Yeah, congrats!” Finnick grins, “Tapped into your raw power, huh?”

“That, and I’ve got a problem with Erudite’s.”

When you turn around to look, Trink is just barely turning over, a hiss leaving her lips. She presses her open hand to the side of her head and closes her eyes. Now her friends go to collect her. With Allio slinging one of Trink’s arms over his shoulder. Trink can hardly keep upright, leaning into him heavily.

Amos is finally on his feet, his nose no longer bleeding. Eytelle is still nursing her jaw, and you catch the glare that she’s giving Finnick. You crack up, elbow Finnick, and then jerk your head in their direction. Finnick looks too, and you can hear a snort come from him.

“Something tells me that they’re mad.”

“Yeah? What gave that away?”

“I don’t know, maybe the bruises forming on their faces?” Finnick suggests.

Caspian claps his hands, “The rest of the day is yours! See you bright and early for fighting tomorrow morning!”

You grab a hold of Finnick’s sleeve for a second, “I’m going to talk to Caspian. I’ll catch up.”

“We’ll wait for you outside of the door.” he wiggles his eyebrows, “No promises that I won’t eavesdrop.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him.

You watch as everyone slowly leaves the room, except for Laurel and Caspian, who still stand at the chalkboard. When the door shuts, concealing the last person, you finally speak, partially ignoring Laurel.

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious, you know.”

Caspian stares at you for a moment, “The proper response would be ‘thank you’.”

“I don’t need your help.” you snap, “And I don’t want it, either. I can take care of myself. I’m just letting you know that your hatred for Erudite’s is a clear sign that you’re still attached to Abnegation.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t need him to.

You turn and leave the training room, the door sweeping shut behind you. Like promised, Finnick and Thyme are waiting for you in the hallway. They’re talking about who they might be paired up with tomorrow. You can start your guessing now, but you’d rather worry about it tomorrow.

“How was it?” Finnick asks.

You give him a shrug, not really in the mood. You already knew that Caspian giving Trink to you was a gift, but you didn’t think that he’d demand a thanks. What an asshole. It’s been five years and he still hasn’t changed. You need to keep him at a distance.

Finnick doesn’t nag you, but judging by the look he gives you, he won’t be letting this go. You can expect him to ask about it later, which you actually prefer. At least then you’ll be cooled down enough. Plus, you’re not too entirely sure you want Thyme entering your business just yet. It’s been two and a half days.

You wonder how Reed and Alyssum are coping.

Actually, you don’t think you have to wonder. 

Alyssum has noticed the difference, she’s three, which means she’s old enough to comprehend the fact that you’re not there. In fact, she might have even asked Reed where you’ve gone, no doubt earning some sort of stern glare from him, trying to silence her. The problem is, she’s still little, she doesn’t understand it to that extent.

You’re sure that no one has mentioned you, in courtesy of Reed. Abnegation is all for not inconveniencing others, and bringing up an event that’s usually frowned upon is like reminding the person of the stain on their family’s reputation. It’s two-timing now, too. First it was Mox, and now you.

Naida might be talking about it with Reed. As far as you can remember, before your parents died, he wasn’t a naturally curious person. This is why he’s a good fit for Abnegation, he’ll take the orders he’s given, and just do it without question. Volunteer work, a government job if he was elected, whatever Abnegation might want him to do. However, this doesn’t mean that he hasn’t turned to Naida to ask her questions. To see if she saw it coming at all.

She’s a mother of five, she’s raised two kids so far that have switched factions. She must have picked up on the mannerisms somehow. Calandra, her oldest, went to Erudite. Normally that would mean she was showing signs of high intelligence, especially in high school. She might not have been able to bring books home to continue her studies in the comfort of her own bedroom, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t be in the honor classes in high school. 

You think you vaguely remember that being the case for her. Honestly, you weren’t really paying attention to her because she’s not your direct family. Of course, you would sometimes see her during holidays or dinners with her entire family before and after your parents were still alive. You really only began paying attention after she left, she was the first person you knew from everyday life that transferred. The second person was Caspian, who obviously ended up in Dauntless.

At this point, you think that Naida might have seen something in your interactions, but chose not to say anything because you probably confused her. You aren’t all Abnegation, you aren’t all Dauntless, and you definitely aren’t all Erudite. You showed traits from all three, two of which, her own children had shown signs of too.

Now that you’re thinking about that, you think that might be a problem, considering that if being Divergent is supposed to be dangerous, you were giving her mixed signals for years. And you might not have known the terminology for what you are exactly, but that doesn’t mean that all the adults in your life don’t. Reed and Naida, and Amon probably do. Amon more than anybody because he’s involved in the Abnegation government.

You think that this is the extent of Reed’s curiosity, though. He might be wondering if he could have spotted the signs earlier, and if Naida tells him anything--if he even asked--then he’ll try to do better with Alyssum. Since Reed is one of the Abnegation members that fully believe in Abnegation’s faction supremacy. 

As for missing you, there might be another spot in his heart that’s empty. You think that if Reed had known that both of your parents would die, he wouldn’t have stayed in Abnegation to be responsible for the teenagers and kids that would eventually leave him. The thing is, he’s not the only person that this happens to. Parents in Abnegation have this happen to them all the time, especially when they only have one kid. It’s not really preventable. 

Your mother’s death was unfortunate, modern medicine couldn’t save her. Your father’s death was accidental, as he was just helping someone like he used to do all the time on his walk home from work.

Reed could be regretting all the times he was too harsh on you. You think that you inherited the overthinking from him. He always sits in silence, so any questions must make him hesitant, but his actions can’t show that. And since you’ve always been forced into silence, not allowed to ask questions, you’ve been left to make up scenarios of what possible outcomes could be.

In this case, Reed might be eligible for Erudite. He has been taught not to ask questions, which would make him more prone to curiosity. Then again, he fits in too well into Abnegation to be just Erudite alone…

Does divergence run in the family?

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair anteric #anteric #anteric chapter three

[justcallmefox89]

Truth or Dare Part 3

It’s Arianthi’s birthday and Diavolo has decreed she can have anything the Devildom can provide.  She requests a slumber party at the House of Lamentation; her, the brothers, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos.  Asmo has suggested a game of Truth or Dare and everyone is ready to play, but things quickly spiral when secrets and risky dares collide. 

TW: body image issues. eating disorders

Written from the perspective of my female MC, Arianthi.  

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Blackpink - Playing with Fire

Ursine Vulpine - Wicked Game (cover)

Dark Sarah ft. JP Leppaluoto - Dance with the Dragon

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Hollyn - I Wasn’t Good Enough for You

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

Everyone refreshes their drinks and we all gather in a circle on the floor; Belphie immediately lays his head in my lap and Asmo cuddles up on my other side.

“Hey sleepyhead, you have to play too,” I say, ruffling Belphie’s hair gently.

He gives me a lazy smirk.  “I will.  I can’t wait to learn all your secrets.”

“Oi!  I wanted to sit next to Arianthi!”  Mammon complains.

“Too bad!” Asmo and Belphie say in unison, wrapping their arms around me. 

I shoot Mammon an apologetic smile and he grumbles as he walks away and sits next to Simeon. 

“Ok, what are the rules to this human game?”  Diavolo’s eyes are glittering with excitement, while Lucifer looks like he’s trying to hold off a migraine. 

“Super simple,” I answer.  “Everyone takes turns asking another person truth or dare.  If you say truth you have to answer whatever question you’re asked, no matter what it is.  If you say dare then you have to do the dare, no exceptions.”

“Ok!  Everybody is clear on the rules so let’s go!  Birthday girl gets the first turn!”  Asmo squeals in excitement.

I take a glance around the circle and settle on Beel, innocently eating cake. 

Perfect.

“Hey Beel, truth or dare?”

He looks up from his plate in surprise.  “Ummm, dare I guess?”

You truly are a kind and generous God.  Good lookin’ out. 

I shoot my eyes heavenward for a moment, then refocus on Beel.

“I dare you to streak around the House of Lamentation.  Twice.”

“Urk!”  Beel chokes on his cake, and Mammon slaps him on the back.  Eyes watering and cheeks flushing Beel looks at me.  “For real?”

“It’s the rules.”  I shrug innocently.  

Asmo is cackling with glee next to me, Diavolo is snickering, Lucifer looks like he wants to die, Solomon and Satan are wearing matching smirks, Simeon looks scandalized, Belphie is silently shaking with laughter, Leviathan is red to the tips of his ears, Mammon is glaring at me, and Barbatos is stone faced. 

Beel shoves his plate away and heaves a sigh as he gets to his feet.  He slowly starts stripping down, until he gets down to his boxers.  He starts to walk to the front door before I stop him.

“Uh uh Beel, boxers too,” I say with a smirk.

He blushes all the way down to his chest and quickly steps out of his boxers.

“Goddamn Beel!” I exclaim without thinking.  I already knew he was ripped but this....... this is perfection. 

“Arianthi!” Mammon claps his hands over my eyes while Beel rushes out the front door.  

We all rush to the windows to watch Beel complete his laps around the house. Mammon stays close behind me trying to cover my eyes every chance he gets.

“I could give you something to look at that you’d like better than Beel,” he mutters in my ear angrily.

I turn around and look him.  “Do you really mean that Mammon?  You want me to see you like that?”

“W-w-well I mean,” Mammon stutters are he turns bright red. 

He’s saved as Beel sprints back into the house and slams the door behind him.

I roll my eyes, frustrated with his emotional constipation.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  

I turn and start walking back into the living room.

He grabs my arm to stop me.  “Whaddya mean by that?” 

I try to jerk away from him but he holds tight.  

“C’mon, answer me.”  Blue eyes meet mine, pleading.

“Let her go.”  

We both jump at the sound of Diavolo’s stern voice behind us.  Mammon opens his mouth to argue, but Lucifer’s presence next to Diavolo stops him.  He lets go of my arm and takes a step back.

“It’s fine guys, we were just talking.”  I give them a quick smile.  “Let’s get back to the game.” 

We all settle into our places in the living room.  

“Ok Asmo, since this was your idea it’s your turn,”  I tell him.

Asmo grins, slowly looking around the circle until he settles on Solomon.  “Solomon, who has been your best lover since you’ve come to the Devildom?” 

I roll my eyes and laugh a little.  

Typical Asmo.  He has to know the answer will be him. 

Solomon takes a sip of his drink, his expression serious.  “Definitely Arianthi.” 

Oh shit.

“What?!”  Mammon’s yell is so loud everyone winces. 

The rest of the group immediately starts bombing Solomon with questions. 

Asmo turns to look at me, his expression equal parts shock and pride. “Seriously?”

I shrug and take a long drink.  “Yeaaaaaah.”

“I’m both jealous and intigued,” Asmo says, curling a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Asmo!  Get your filthy hands of Arianthi!”  Mammon yells again. 

He whirls around to look at Solomon.  “When the hell did this happen?” 

Mammon turns back to look at me.  “I thought I was supposed to be your first man?”

I stare into my drink, knowing I have nothing to feel guilty about but feeling guilty anyway. 

Solomon looks at him and shrugs calmly.  “It was Asmo’s turn and he’s asked one question.  I believe that’s all I’m obligated to answer.”

“You motherfu-” 

“Ok, so I think it’s Diavolo’s turn,” Asmo interrupts.

“Solomon, truth or dare?”  Diavolo looks unusually serious. 

The brothers and Simeon all turn to look at Solomon, waiting on his answer.

Well, damn.  

I chug some more of my drink, already dreading where this is going.  

“Truth.”

Goddamn you Solomon.  Goddamn you and your magic dick and your pretty face.

“When did you and Arianthi have your little encounter?”  Diavolo’s tone is cool, his expression unusually serious. 

Lucifer tenses next to him, while Barbatos is almost smiling.  

Once again, Solomon is the epitome of calm.  “The first week of the exchange.”

Solomon directs his next comment at Mammon.  “At that time I believe you were still refusing to call her by her name and doing anything you could to avoid your responsibilities towards her.” 

Solid point Solomon.  Solid point.  

Mammon starts to stand but is yanked down roughly by Beel.  

“Your turn Mammon,” Diavolo says, not taking his eyes off of Solomon.

These motherfuckers. 

I realize what’s happening a moment too late. 

They’re working together.  Assholes. 

I scowl are the carpet. 

Belphie wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me.  He realizes what’s happening too.  I relax a little more when I feel Asmo's hand squeeze mine.  

“Solomon, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”  

Of course Solomon isn’t going to back down from their little game.  

I finish my drink and start in on Belphie’s. 

Lucifer attempts to cut in. “Maybe you should choose someone who hasn’t gone twice in a row Mammon.”

“Nonsense.  We play by the human rules,” Diavolo answers before Mammon can.

Lucifer sits back and waits for Mammon’s question like the rest of us. 

“Where did this little hook up happen huh?  ‘Cuz it sure didn’t happen here, I woulda known about it.”  Mammon is straight up pissed and my guilt is slowly turning into annoyance. 

He has no right to be angry over something that happened months ago, before we had even started hanging out.  He didn’t have a claim on me then.  Shit, he doesn’t even have a claim on me now.  

“At the library.”  Solomon smirks.  “If you would like specifics on where in the library- on one of the study tables, against a bookshelf, in front of the window that looks out over the quad, and in one of the armchairs.”

Diavolo and Lucifer look like they’re in shock, Simeon looks like he desperately wants to be anywhere else, Beel is still eating cake not even tuned into what’s happening, Levi turns red and stares intently at the carpet, while Asmo, Belphie, and Satan are outright giggling.  Barbatos just looks at me with a smirk.

“Wha-?”  Mammon is so angry he can’t even speak.

“It was a busy afternoon.”  Solomon takes another drink, looking at Mammon over the rim of his glass.

I snort into my own drink, laughing, Asmo’s giggles infecting me. 

Mammon looks at me, a mixture of rage and hurt on his face.  “You really think this is funny?  Him just spouting out your business like you’re just some -”

“Some what?”  Belphie interrupts, suddenly alert.

Mammon bites back a response.  “Nothing,” he mumbles.  

Belphie looks up at me from his position in my lap.  “I think I’d like to take a turn now.  Arianthi, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”  

There is no way possible this night can get any worse.  Might as well just go hard in the paint.

“I dare you to kiss,” Belphie trails off as he looks around the group.  “Levi.”

Levi’s head shoots up so fast I’m afraid he cracks his neck, while Mammon lets out a low growl of pure rage.  

I shrug and finish off Belphie’s drink, before I slowly crawl across the carpet to Levi.  When I reach him I throw one leg over him and straddle his lap.  

Levi is blushing so hard I can almost feel the heat radiating off his face.  

I put my hands on his shoulders and lean down to whisper in his ear.  “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable or you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.  I’ll make Belphie give me something else.”

Levi doesn’t say anything for a long moment, refusing to meet my eyes.  

“It’s ok Levi, I don’t want this if you don’t,” I reassure him as I move to get off of his lap.  

His hands shoot out and grip my hips, firmly settling me down into his lap.  

“I want this,” he whispers so softly I can barely hear him.

I can feel everyone’s gaze on us as I tip Levi’s chin up so I can look at him.  He’s still a little flushed, looking nervous but also excited.  I can feel his hands shaking as he holds onto my hips.  

I gently bring my mouth down to his.  I can hear the wolf whistles and Mammon’s shout of anger before I devote my full attention to the kiss. 

Levi is clumsy at first, pressing his lips a little too roughly against mine.  I lick at his lower lip, encouraging him to open his mouth, flicking his tongue with mine when he allows me access.  He moans into my mouth at the intimate contact, sliding his hands under my robe to stroke my back, before pulling me down while simultaneously thrusting up against me.  

My eyes fly open at the contact and I gasp, giving Levi an opening to fully explore my mouth with his tongue.  I eventually pull away, giving his lower lip a little bite before I rest my forehead against his. We’re both panting a little, and I reluctantly pull away from him to return to my spot next to Asmo and Belphie.

I sneak a look at Diavolo and Mammon.  Diavolo looks extremely displeased and Mammon looks like he wants to murder Levi.  Mammon glares at me with something like betrayal on his face.  I return his look with a stubborn one of my own.  

He doesn’t own me.  He can’t even admit that he cares about me.  

“Damn.” Belphie smirks at me as I reclaim my seat.  

“Ok Satan, your turn,” he calls across the room to his brother.  

“Mammon, truth or dare?” 

Oh no.  That’s the smile that means nothing good is about to happen. 

I try to telepathically beg Satan to forget whatever he has planned.   

“Truth I guess.”  Mammon shrugs.

“How do you really feel about Arianthi?”  Satan asks. 

Oh no.  No no no no no.  Belphie and Satan are trying to force Mammon to say how he really feels about me.  On one hand, yes, he needs to admit it or quit trying to claim me.  On the other hand.......this could be a total disaster.

Every eye in the room is now fixated on Mammon.

“Whaddaya mean?”  Mammon scowls.

“It’s pretty obvious that you have a crush on her.  Do you want to date her?  Will you miss her when the exchange program is over?  Or would you want her to stay?” 

Mammon shrugs.  “What do I care what some stupid human does?  She leaves and it’ll be like she was never here.  Not like I’d ever date her, I’m THE great Mammon after all.  I’m a damn model............. if somebody’s going to be with me they have to look good.  I’m one of the lords of the Devildom, why would I settle for some chubby, average looking human?”

Suddenly all the air is sucked out of the room.  I can only focus on Mammon.  I halfway register Belphie sitting up and Asmo gasping next to me.  I can’t breathe.  He could have broken one of my bones and it would have hurt less.  Suddenly the old chorus of doubts begin running through my mind. 

Not good enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, never never never enough. 

I’m on my feet before I realize what I’m doing.  “I uh, I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.”  

I’m faintly aware of Diavolo trying to grasp for my hand before I bolt out of the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom.  

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

Solomon looks at Mammon stoically.  “You really are the stupidest demon in the entire Devildom.”

“I can’t believe you said that,” Simeon scolds.  “That was unnecessarily cruel Mammon.” 

The twins glare at him while rage twists Asmo’s delicately pretty features.  “You asshole!  You complete and total scumbag!  If I could set you on fire I would!” 

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Satan says softly, a guilty look on his face.

“No one blames you,” Lucifer reassures him, while Barbatos and Diavolo nod in agreement. 

Levi glances nervously at the door, wondering if he should go after Arianthi. 

I don’t want her to hurt herself.  I don’t know how she’ll take this.  And I’m the only one who really knows........

“Why’s everybody all mad at me?”  Mammon asks, throwing his hands up in the air.  “I just answered Satan’s damn question.” 

Levi snaps.  “You know why?  Because we all know it was a bullshit answer!  We all know you want her but for whatever stupid reason you won’t admit it!  She cares about you even though you’d sell her for a fucking Grimm and you bounce back and forth between being jealous and treating her like she’s replaceable! She’s deserves so much more than you.  So much fucking more.”

Levi launches himself at Mammon and the room erupts into utter chaos.  

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

I open the door to my room as quietly as I can and sigh in relief when I see Luke is still asleep.  I pass my hand over the closed door, murmuring the words to the spell that Solomon taught me to ward the door against demons.  Only humans and angels can pass through. 

I can’t handle seeing the boys or Diavolo right now.  

I numbly gather up some clothes as I make my way to my bathroom.  Belphie’s sweats.  Beel’s t-shirt.  Levi’s hoodie.  

I drop the clothes on the tile floor and softly click the lock.  I lower the robe Asmo gifted me and look at myself in the mirror.  

Fat arms.  Thick legs with cellulite on my thighs.  Love handles.  

I pinch at the excess skin and fat on my stomach and feel the oncoming sting of tears. 

It’s stupid to be surprised by this.  So fucking stupid.  Stupid to get your hopes up.  Of course he doesn’t care about me.  He’s right.  He’s absolutely right. 

Panic starts to rise as my shoulders tense up and my stomach clenches.  I struggle to control my breathing as I remember everything I’ve ate and drank tonight.  

Get it out, get it out, get it out.  Do better, be better, be worthy. Get it out.

I turn on the shower to drown out any noise and I reach for my toothbrush on the sink.  I kneel in front of the toilet as I gag myself.  I’m vaguely aware of someone knocking on the door and I think I hear Luke’s voice.  I ignore it.

Get it out.  Do better.  Have more control.  Be better.  Be worthy. 

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

Luke runs out of Arianthi’s room and down the stairs, speeding towards the living room where he can hear raised voices.

“Hey!”  He gasps, screeching to a halt just inside the doorway.  

He’s momentarily speechless watching the scene unfolding.  Mammon has a bloody lip, while Levi has the beginnings of a black eye.  Beel restraints Levi and Lucifer holds onto Mammon.  Everyone is screaming except for Barbatos and Simeon who are backed into a corner, out of the fray.

“Hey!” Luke shouts.  He shrinks back as every gaze in the room turns to him. 

Simeon crosses the room to stand next to him.  “What’s going on Luke?  Is everything ok?”

“I-I woke up in Arianthi’s room and I heard her in the bathroom.  I think she’s sick,” Luke answers softly.

Levi’s head snaps up.  “What do you mean sick?”

Luke hesitates at the intensity in his voice. 

“What do you mean sick!”  Levi shouts. 

“The shower was on so I couldn’t hear very well but I’m pretty sure she was throwing up.  And crying.  I knocked on the door but she wouldn’t answer me and it was locked, and I was worried so I came looking for you guys because I didn’t know-”

Levi wrenches away with from Beel with a sudden burst of strength and sprints out of the room, moving towards the stairs.  The brothers and Diavolo hesitate for a moment before chasing after him, leaving Luke, Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon behind.

Luke looks at the others, worried and confused.  “What’s going on?  Is Arianthi going to be ok?”

“I really don’t know,” Simeon whispers. 

#obey me #obey me! shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me luke #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me diavolo #lord diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me birthday #obey me asmo #obey me luci #otome game #otomoe #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #obey me! #obey me shall we date

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: They Are Cryin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Fuck."

It wasn't a painful awakening; she actually felt damn good. Clearer, like the tiny neurons in her brain fired without a jolt of pain. The sweet moment of clarity after the removal of an infected tooth. Bliss. If only a familiar face could loom over her, a happy embrace of the one she loved. A blissful reunion.

The aging woman who looked over her with a sour expression erasing her gratitude and any field of butterflies illusion. Along with the confusion of waking up in unfamiliar territory.

Right, she was dying just a moment before.

"Where am I?"

This sloppily white-painted interior was not part of the shopping center she recognized. The medical machine that counted out her vitals was also out of place, but that was a minute detail. Jane had woken up from the dead once already, just not inside of a shipping crate. Make that one low she had not yet met.

"Just outside of London," the woman's scowl relaxed, "you're with the Special Operations Biotic Company. Luckily for you, I understand you had a rattled implant."

Her hand was grabbed before she felt her spirits utterly bottom out, the woman's dark brown eyes peering out at her from behind black and white streaked hair. A moment of shared pain passed between them before Jane could not manage to keep up the contact, "how about the LT? My home?"

"The latter is in one piece. I'm not familiar with the person you speak of," the lady spoke gently, "you were rushed here after an injury. But let me introduce you to the person that saved your life, Doctor Balcan."

Jane's gaze shifted to the person arriving on the other side of her bed, the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld. Dark brown hair and eyes loomed over her; the soft smile set upon full brown lips looked perfectly primped without a touch of makeup. The simple doctor's smock hung perfectly on her body, the garment unable to smear an ounce of the poise this woman possessed. As the female nodded in greeting and her long lashes crested her cheeks, Jane was infected with jealousy.

"Thank you, Helen," even her voice was sweet, not in an artificial way, but in the vein of the sweetness of a ripe strawberry, "I think I can handle Jane for the moment if you wouldn't mind grabbing her meal."

The woman waited for Helen to leave before speaking again, "how long have your biotic powers been misfunctioning?"

"Since the Reapers fell," time was a funny thing to Jane anymore.

"Just shy of seven months," the minuscule movement of her eyebrow hardly seemed surprised, "though, I wasn't expecting to be fixing an L5n implant."

"Who else would be stupid enough to bullrush a krogan," any vanguard worth their salt knew how other biotics could view them. Rash. Stupid. Bullheaded.

"I think your stupid luck is what saved your life. You should have had severe seizures attacks, if not died from them, months ago."

Jane continued with a snarl, "but the mall. How... did everyone make it?"

"It was unkind of us not to tell you immediately, but only one civilian casualty," the doctor proffered a soft smile, "the Special Ops group got to your compound in time to repel the brunt of the attack. We had heard there was a pocket trying to rebuild; we just weren't sure if you were friendly, so the entire team did not come along. They had to rush you back here. The equipment is too fragile to move quickly."

She was even nice, gross.

"I was asked to pass on the message that you keep your ass down," at least the swear word brought her down from the utterly ethereal.

Jane's smile cracked, slightly painful against the cybernetic scars that littered her cheek.

"Your body is a curious piece of work; the sheer amount of upgrades and scarring at a microscopic level is fascinating," the woman pulled out her datapad, scrolling down what Jane assumed was a list of medical notes, "synthetic weaving to reinforce bones, microfibres in your muscles, synthetic skin fibres as well. I can't imagine the cost of that modified biotic amp."

Jane looked at her blankly, "you certainly poked around."

"Somebody wanted you alive," strawberry remarked, undeterred, "I'd think you're some sort of mad scientist experiment -that's a foolish notion. But I have my bets on Special Ops... N7."

Jane's eyes snapped into a glare, setting her jaw hard. Teeth grinding into her following biting statement, "don't attempt to bite off more than you can chew."

The woman returned the statement with tempered pity, lips tucked into a frown. The kickback from her calloused words came back twofold as a sharp pain seared across her orbital bone, requiring a hand to staunch the heat before it ended out in a cry. Jane should be thankful, instead, she was pissed. Most of the angst directed inward, some at the patheticness of the situation, little at the well-meaning doctor.

"Can I go?"

"I'll need you here for a couple more weeks minimum."

Fucking perfect.

The doctor continued before Jane's snarl turned into an attack, "you know you need to keep your biotics offline for a while. During that time, we can prepare to merge our groups as one. We'd like your help in escorting us back."

The last line was a platitude, but the LT's message made more sense. The guilt of their previous encounter started to trickle into her psyche before she squelched it away with a flinch, "any more orders, doc?"

"As you are The Commander, I think I should be deferring to you."

"Come again?"

The female laughed behind her hand, "it's obvious who you are. You may fool everyone else with the fancy scars, wilted demeanor, and blonde hair -which by the way, looks fabulous- but your unique physiology and enhancements give it away. I struggled with the thought briefly because how could the savior of the galaxy be here? You charged in with the strike team that went to activate the Crucible. But by God's grace, you're here."

"You can't be-"

Strawberry waved away the protest with her hand, "I'm more than some yokel surgeon. I don't get to be a spec ops field doctor without further training. You won't fool me."

"You bitch."

"Language, miss!"

The sharp crack of the older's woman's words snuffed the faint glow Jane had unconsciously started to accumulate. But it did not dim her glower, blue eyes pinned on the female tapping something into a datapad. Jane was still, frozen in the moment until the second snap of warmth from a small body clambering into her bed shook her from a blind stupor. The little hands and the mound of mousy hair looking at her with barely disguised disdain.

"But I already know those words," Evelyn murmured, only to increase the scrutiny Helen placed on her patient.

"Why are you-" the room immediately thickened with another aura, a solemn shake from the salt and pepper haired woman stopped her question, "are you here because Pater sent you?"

"It is my job," the girl declared bravely, "Pater said that I was to stop you from fighting with anymore krogan. Or just fighting."

"It was my fault, Evelyn...Helen," Strawberry squeaked, "I poked Mar- sorry, I meant Jane without telling her."

Jane's attention returned to the Doctor, pupils narrowing. That was no longer her name.

"I'll excuse it this time, Rahna," Helen's voice returned to a gentle timbre. Handing over the plate of rations, prepared in a manner that was meant to be appeasing. Simple rations that Jane was not thrilled to consume, "eat up. Biotics need energy. I've seen you guys crash before. I don't want you accidentally breaking something expensive."

Rahna.

Rahna...

Rahna.

The woman raised an eyebrow in her direction, plump lips playing into a smirk. Jane was had. Jealousy sunk deeper into her guts, bordering on hatred. How could Kaidan call her beautiful after seeing this divine creature? Beautiful on the Citadel. Beautiful after the first night they had bunked together. Beautiful every time they fucked after. Beautiful in the small moments. Beautiful in the big and the in-between. Had he meant Rahna all along?

"Two weeks."

"What now?" Jane snapped away from the grip of her thoughts.

Rahna crossed her arms, Evelyn giggled, and Helen spoke, "biotics."

"All of this commotion is probably a little too much for her, right now," Rahna cautioned to a sulking child, "let Jane eat in peace while I run a few more tests."

"Yup, super hungry," Jane murmured under her breath.

The patient's gaze did not stray from the Doctor, laser-focused on the slightest movement she made. Waiting for her to do something rash, her temper barely holding behind her tongue. Violent thoughts collided in her head, the desire to do something impetuous a string she had yet to completely cut. It was the easier way, the brutish way- but it was not the way Shepard did it. Shepard would resist, The Commander famously turned the other cheek. Chose kindness. Some of her could still seep through.

Even if it was in the form of stony silence.

"Why hide who you are? You are the one person who could reunite everyone."

A bloody icon. Hero. Butcher. Madwoman. Lover. Terrorist. Murderer. Savior. Pathetic.

"There's nothing to explain," a surly statement only dampened by a flinch, "I don't owe you anything."

"So, it wouldn't matter if I told everyone?"

Jane's silence was the answer.

"This is Major Alenko's squad, I'm sure everyone would be interested," Strawberry continued, placing her first foot away from the bedside, "Let alone you being Shepard, the Major's fling is a very juicy topic. I'm sure meeting the woman would be a top priority."

Rahna took several steps away, gliding out of the retrofitted container. Someone pulled her back, Jane regretted the breeze against her exposed backside. Luckily nobody seemed to pay them much mind in the moment.

"No," her eyes lit with tears, "don't. I can't."

Kaidan knew it was the end; Mary couldn't bring herself into accepting that. Luck. Stupidity. Credits. Spite. They had all stopped her death, had prevented her from reaching a low she could not climb out of. The brutal murder of her parents. Losing her unit on Akuze. Hell, even the deaths of friends during her campaign against the Reapers. They hurt like hell, but it never brought her to her knees. Now... in this moment. In the reality of losing Kaidan, she crashed. Tears, sobbing, railing against the ground. It was pathetic.

Was it the loss of her entire family aboard the Normandy, or just one man?

Dark brown eyes met her on her level, gentle the hint of moisture in her deep eyes, "everyone here mourns him."

"Fuck you."

Rahna laughed, offering out her hand and pulling the woman up to her feet, "I won't tell your secret, but I think you should talk to someone. We have-"

"No, nobody else."

"You know the risks of PTSD; you can't push through it."

"I'm fine."

Jane's stare hardened the emotions out-drying the tears riveting down her scarred cheeks.

"Or how about a deal, my silence for a few talks? Nothing official, just friendship."

She considered for several long moments, biting back each bitter comment that fought to come out. It wasn't the time for resistance. Talking wouldn't hurt, especially if it meant Rahna kept silent. What was she supposed to do for the next two weeks? Stare at the wall? Teach a child to swear? Avoid Kaidan's squad as much as humanly possible?

"Friendship may be pushing it."

#fshenko #shenko #mass effect fancition #take me home #mass effect spoilers

[thetirashan]

Soup of the Day

Written for 2021 Vyn Spring Event.

Two guys sit in a bar and bitch about how Narathzul can't govern a city worth a damn. One is a future Shadow God and the other has seen some shit in his lifetime. Huberto just keeps stirring his soup in the meantime.

Set between Barateon's death and the Shadow God's arrival in Ostian.

Vendil had a love-hate relationship with transitional periods. They were always full of uncertainty, chaos, and destruction. Sure, he ushered in his own transfer of power from one egomaniac to another but that didn’t mean he liked it. Order and structure were his bread and butter.

Yet on the other hand, three o’clock was always the best time to visit the tavern. It wasn’t the most inviting scene to walk into it but there was something to be said about the cool crisp privacy of a near empty bar. There was just him, a few washed out old men, and Huberto. The latter knew that he was the one to help overthrow Barateon, Vendil could see it in his eyes, but the man stuck to his routine. Vendil ordered a glass of beer and a bowl of unsalted peanuts, Huberto nodded before delivering the order, and Vendil paid upfront. Neither one gossiped about the other. It was balanced and even-handed -- an exchange at its simplest.

The sound of boots shouldn’t have broken him out of his stupor. Occasionally travellers would wander in to scarf a hot meal before passing out in a room after all. They barely paid attention to the innkeeper much less him. With that said, his head still snapped up at the jingling.

It was a steady lulling noise. A single heavy boot step then that faint jingle. Almost comforting in a way as he blinked at the figure strolling through the door. The darkness by the threshold gave him the visage of a spectre but the candlelight revealed a man cloaked in soft browns and greens with a wide brimmed hat crowning his mop of red curls.

Huberto glanced up from handing a customer a plate of smoked sprat with an astonished look. It was quickly gone with a blink and a small cough into his elbow.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I get you anything?” he asked, keeping his eyes directly on the patron before him. Vendil didn’t know the innkeeper well but he could spot a nervous man a mile away.

“I’d like a cup of wine and a bowl of whatever you’ve got over the hearth.” the man, now revealed to be Aeterna, replied. With his hat under his arm, the man’s identity was immediately determined, forcing Vendil to take a long sip of his beer. So much for a relaxing day.

“Potato soup?”

“That’ll do. Just one bowl please.”

As he waited, the man leaned against the counter and scratched at his beard, looking everywhere except where Vendil was lounging. However, the moment the small tray filled with hot soup and wine was given, his head snapped towards his direction with a sunny toothy grin. His teeth were remarkably straight despite the coffee stains.

“Well, well… if it ain’t the lava hopping asshole.”

Huberto’s eyes widened for a brief moment before clearing his throat and focusing on cleaning the dishes in a tub near the hearth. Vendil just sighed, swallowing his bite of peanuts.

“Vendil.” he replied curtly.

“I know. I’m poking fun at you. Still gives me a giggle from time to time.” he drawled out, taking the seat across from the other man. He could only sigh as Arthan let out a rusty old gate chuckle.

“Why are you here?”

“Aw, why you gotta be like that? You know with Anku all a-buzz that there’s no work so I decided to crawl outta my hole. Heard that someone let ol’ Narry boy out of his cell and let him go wild. Now he’s in Erothin with his fingers up his ass while you run the show. Am I caught up?”

He opened his mouth to reply, only to shut with a clack. Arthan’s grin grew obnoxiously as he leaned back and sipped on his cup of wine. Vendil could only groan and rest his forehead against his hand as he slouched over his beer.

“Perhaps it’s… something like that.” he mumbled out, taking a long sip of his beer. Glancing down into its bottom, he briefly wondered if a second was in order. Wasn’t part of his ‘destress’ routine but neither was a mouthy Aeterna that kept grinning at him.

“Mm, I’m guessin’ by all those posters slapped on every corner that he’s taken a bunch of credit too.” he tsked, not bothering with the spoon to enjoy sipping on his soup. Vendil only grunted at that. “I wish I could say ‘I told you so’ but even I didn’t expect him not to… I dunno -- not give a shit about his partner in crime.”

His sigh could barely be heard over the crackling of the hearth and Huberto’s soup pot stirring. Arthan cocked his head to the side ever so slightly as his grin softened to a smile. “It wasn’t always like this.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“What do you mean…?

“You’re running a city for him. Now I’m making an assumption but I figure that it’s a high stress job. You’re no longer the hero that saved him but an underling that files tax reports. None of those posters even mention you. Not exactly fair and not a good sign.”

The pinch of peanuts that Vendil held quietly dropped back into the bowl as he glared. Arthan, of course, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “Good sign of what? The city is doing relatively well considering the coup.” A wave of disgust washed over him at how weak his words felt. Suddenly he yearned for the taste of whiskey, not cheap beer.

“He’s half assing city governance to the extent that his closest friend is hiding at a bar to avoid snapping from the pressure. Imagine what’ll happen once he gets Nehrim under his belt.”

Immediately Vendil held a single finger up, earning a cocked eyebrow. “How do you even know any of this? Or are you just pulling all this out of nothing?”

“Shit, Vendil, just open your ears and walk around the market. I’ve only been in the city for three hours and a five minute smoke break by the bank told me more than I wanted to know. Vendil Auralus approved of some new guards, Vendil did such ‘n such tax reform, talk to Vendil if you got concerns. Blah, blah, blah. Not too hard to put two and two together.”

An awkward silence soon filled the room, leaving only the sound of the crackling logs in the hearth. Huberto, despite his nature, peeked over his shoulder towards them, still hunched over the dish tub. A quick wiggle of the eyebrows from Arthan made the man snap his head forward so quickly that Vendil was sure he had whiplash.

“I, uh…”

“It’s so damn obvious that it might as well slap me on the ass on the way out. I’m only telling you this because you seem to be the only one who doesn’t know. Don’t feel bad about it. No one really knows their own reputation.” Arthan’s chair creaked softly as he leaned back further like a lazy cat in the sun. Vendil simply glanced at his reflection in his glass. His face was colored piss yellow from the beer but even that unflattering shade didn’t hide the circles under his eyes or the droop of his ears. Golden eyes were unashamedly looking at him once he finally tore his gaze away.

“You’re not chickenshit so what’s the problem?”

Another sigh -- probably the millionth of that afternoon. “He murdered his girlfriend and father. Narathzul’s not exactly the most reasonable person.”

“So?”

“So…”

“Listen, I’m not exactly the most knowledgeable with history but Narathzul has a mile long track record of failing miserably. Treomar? Just look at the place. His little conquest of Inodan? He ended up getting tossed into a cell and was rotting for a thousand years. His little recent streak of luck has been less about luck and more about you.”

“He murdered his girlfriend and father.”

“I know, I know but you got leverage. You’re justified in saying something. And if he tries to pull something funny? Well, you’ve got a shield and a mean right hook, don’t you? What other options do you got left? At this point, it’s not if he’s gonna fuck you over but when. Do it on your own terms at least.” He loudly sipped on the dregs of his wine. As he did, he spotted from the corner of his eye Vendil’s face contorting into a mess of expressions -- rage, confusion, disgust, and a few unrecognizable ones. Eventually he settled on something akin to a dried out old grape -- scrunched up and quite bitter.

“All he does is pour over the Predestination and sit on his throne. I can barely get his signature much less get him to govern the city. It’s like he sees Erothin as nothing more than a stepping stone instead of a living breathing city. The people here have hopes and dreams and I can’t just ignore them.” he groaned, feeling the tightness in his chest unclench just a little.

“I get what you’re saying but the Predestination?” Arthan asked softly, leaning over the table just slightly.

“It’s a prophecy about the Shadow God or Tel'lmaltath… or whatever. Basically it’s about a god of shadow dethroning the Light-Born and restoring balance. Like all prophecies, it’s vague enough to mask the incompetence of others.” Tension yet again plucked at his chest. This is clearly private information that Narathzul entrusted to him. Focusing on Arthan’s face, he noted the tenderness the man surprisingly invoked. Concern wove itself into the man’s crow’s feet as he reclined back once more. He expected guilt to overwhelm him at the admission but it never came.

Arthan’s lips thinned as he fell silent for a moment. His eyes flickered back and forth between his lap and Vendil’s eyes. “Now that is worrying…”

“What? That he intends on killing the gods?”

“No, no. Those seven aren’t gods. Never were, never will be. Their downfall is inevitable. But what concerns me is the source of this prophecy and amount of shit Narathzul’s going to be in. For a man who spites the gods, he sure does love blindly following higher powers.”

Vendil’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the other all but pour the rest of his now lukewarm soup down his throat. “In a hurry somewhere?” Vendil asked quietly, his voice surprisingly weak.

“I’ve still got some errands to do while there’s time left. Can’t you feel it? There’s a spring thunderstorm coming soon.” His ears twitched as he rooted around in his bag, grumbling as the various mish-mash of his pack clinked together. “Um… oh! There we go. Got a gift for you.”

“You left the king so frazzled that he forgot to properly gift you a token of the Starling’s affections.” he explained as Vendil examined the scroll. The paper felt like butter in his palms, so smooth and alien, with an even odder looking strap of leather tying it together. “A teleportation spell in case you need to head back to Anku, specially made by the old bird.”

Vendil only nodded, knowing better than to question the reasoning of Starlings. “Well, I appreciate it. I’ll have to thank him later.”

A shrug was his response as Arthan quickly plopped his hat back on his head. “The man might be gone by the time any of us get back to Anku. They’re getting ready for the ‘Grand Voyage’ and all that. Thankfully, the old bird is staying behind.”

“The king?”

“Nah, the old bird.” he clarified, not bothering to explain further as he slung his pack over his shoulder after rising to feet. Huffing, he glanced over at the innkeeper who kept himself busy with the soup. “Well, I might see you around later. Might even visit the palace for work.”

“Interested in joining Narathzul’s army?”

“Fuck no, just need the work. Narry can kiss my hairy ass.” he mumbled, rifling through his pockets to slap some coins down for the meal. “Enjoy yourself, you hear?”

“I hear.” he replied yet he didn’t receive an answer nor did he expect one. Glancing down into his beer, he huffed and began to chug. Midway through, his ears twitched at the quiet jingling that grew fainter with each step away. Almost on cue, rain began to fall upon the windows.

“Huberto… I think I’ll take a glass of whiskey if you don’t mind.”

#nehrim #enderal #vynspringevent #vynblr #narathzul arantheal #I bet you fuckers just thought I did nothing but shitpost #look ma i contributed to something #alt title: two dude roast the shit outta narathzul

[coffee-cupps]

A Little Too Late. Right? (1/?)

Right??

Yes, I had to re-upload this due to internet and spelling errors. I hope you guys enjoy it, but a warning; it’s sad. I also gave it a new title.

If you have recently experienced self-destructive thoughts, or have hurt yourself, please reachout to someone. we all love you, I love you, your friends and family love you, so please don’t hurt or think badly about yourself! If you think you have no one to talk too, then please come to me. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to help you/get you the help you need. You’re not a burden, and never will be. No matter your age, gender, sexuality, race, etc, you are loved, even if you don’t believe it. so please; reach out to someone, or reach out to me, and I promise, you’ll feel better.

Warnings: Self-Harm Mention, Self-Destructive Behavior, Heavy Angst, Pissed Off Jetstorm, Depressed Jetfire, Forest Fires, and Burnt Bodies (Kinda)

Note: Emergency requests are now open. If you need something written for mental health, those will be the first ones to get done before any other requests.

Molten ash.

      It was all that Jetfire could see through the hazed smoke, faint crackling filling his audio receptors. Where was he? Who was he? What happened? Questions threw themselves inside his pounding processors as he winced sharply. He made no move to get up, not knowing the damage his body had taken. He exhaled roughly, his chest aflame from the surrounding heat. He was going to die here. And…he was ok with that. He hated that he was ok with that, knowing he should be strong as a member of the Elite Guard but, where were they? He saw no sign of them. He didn’t blame them, they probably wanted this. He wasn’t much help, he only caused destruction. What kind of a useful weapon is fire anyway?? Did he cause this? Did he cause his own death? A staticked chuckle pushed itself past his burnt metal lips. He deserved this didn’t he? Jetstorm didn’t need him, he was always great on his own; he didn’t need him. Jetfire’s flickering optics looked around him. He was surrounded by wild flames but past that, he could see trees, or… what was left of them. Tall burnt, shriveled sticks laid where lush green trees used to stand. He laid on a ground of wet mud, as the flames around him melted any remaining snow in the area. His optics dulled. So…he did do this. He could feel coolant try to fall from his wet optics but it would simply evaporate. The flames seemed to rise, knowing his emotions and feelings; after all, he did make them; and they crept closer to his frame. “I”. His voice couldn’t seem to work, making him frown. “I be sorry”. He pushed through the pain of his burning throat, even though it was begging to not be used, begging for recovery. “I be sorry brother”. His Russian accent almost seemed to melt away, taking his voice box with it. The pain was unbearable, but shouldn’t he be used to it? After all the things he had done to himself, why did this hurt the most? His chest tightened around his spark, almost feeling as though it began crushing it. He groaned. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. But, he knew he deserved it. Didn’t he? He had to, right? It didn’t matter. He was going to finally die, and nothing could stop that. He looked at himself, using all the strengthen left to lift his head up. Both of his legs had burnt cabling jetting out of them, and sparks flying. His hands where as dark as soot, creating black streaks on his body and the surrounding ground around him. All white on his beautiful frame was now a dark, murky, deep grey. And his Autobot insignia. It was melted, fused to his chest plate. On the ground around him was bright pink Energon, some of it even boiling. He was a fucking mess. “I was so sure”. He smiled at the hazy sky before shutting his eyes for the last time.

     His body shook, tears dripping out of his bright blue optics. Jazz held him close, stroking his back comfortingly while glancing at Sentinal Prime, who was looking down; grief lacing his faceplate. “I-“. The Prime hesitated. “I don’t know what we can do”. The crying mech glanced furiously at him, his teeth moving into a snarl. “What?! What you mean you don’t know what we can do?!” Jetstorm clawed at his helm, placing scratches in it. “We don’t know where he went. He was out of control”! The prime persuaded the young bot, knowing anything else he could say wound make him snap. “Brother is out there”! Jetstorm choked oh his dripping tears as Jazz patting his back slightly to help him. Sentinal Prime looked at his cremate, not knowing what to do in a situation like this. “Jetstorm I-”. The furious blue mech interrupted him. “Please…Don’t tell me anything”. His voice was now much calmer as he sobbed openly. “I will go find Jetfire, With or without your help”. He pushed himself away from Jazz and ran out of the ship before transforming quickly and jetting off, as fast as he could possibly go. The air was cold, yes, but he couldn’t give two flying shits. He needed Jetfire. He needed his twin. Jetstorm knew that he would never forgive himself if he allowed Jetfire to offline himself. But…what if he was too late? Despite being in jet mode, coolant still fell from his optics. He sped up, not caring about any of the sleeping humans below. He needed to find his twin. He blasted through the city, advancing to the full forest past Lake Erie.  He didn’t know how far he traveled, but it felt like it took him years just to leave the city. Jetstorm’s thoughts where full of hatred. All words himself. He could have been there. He SHOULD have been there. But he wasn’t. His brother was out there; in the freezing frost; hurt and full of self-hatred. He needed his brother. And his brother needed him.

     The flight was long, too long before Jetstorm could see smoke in the distance, causing his to go at full blast. Before he knew it, a puff of smoke became hungry flames, reaching high into the air. He transformers quickly, hitting the earth hard before looking around at the hissing inferno. His breaths where frantic. This had to be his doing. It HAD to! Coolant stained his cheek as he moved hand up, before sending a powerful blast of a water cyclone at the flames, extinguishing a few of them. He did this a few times, checking every spot he could. He wouldn’t give up, but there was no sign of his beloved brother.  That was, until he stepping something. He slowly looked down and lifted his foot. He let out a chocked sob as pink Energon coated his ped. He set is foot down, and looked around ferociously until his eyes fell on a sigh that he wished he never saw. Jetfire laid on the muddy ground, none of his colors where even recognizable as he was covered in scorched soot. Jetstorm sprinted to his brother and slid on his knees to the burnt frame. “B-brother”? His voice was barely above a whisper as he went to go touch him, but froze, hands above his twin’s chest, feeling the heat radiating off of his frame. “Poor b-brother”. His sobs returned as he laid his helm on his twin’s chest, and sobbed into it. He was too late. He had failed himself but most importantly, he had failed Jetfire. “Brother, I am of the sorry”! He sobbed and sobbed, till he couldn’t sob anymore. He kept his helm on his brother and heaved a quivered sigh as loose tears washed away a bit of soot on Jetfire’s frame. His brother was gone. Gone forever.

Ba-dum

“W-what”?

Ba-dum

Jetstorm froze before placing his audio fin over the center of his brother’s chest.

Ba-dum

Was it?

Ba-dum

It was!

     A spark beat filled his ears, causing him to burst into tears again, but not from sadness. Oh no, not from sadness at all.  Jetstorm pulled his brother’s limp body into his arms and sobbed. He was alive. Jetfire was alive. “T-thank t-the All S-Spark”! The fire that used to surround the twins had died down, now only weak little flames, being extinguished  quickly by the snow that began to fall. He scooped his brother up gently in his arms and used one hand to comm Sentinal. Moments later, a swirl of blue and green appeared, and Jetstorm heaved a sigh. “Brother, we be heading home”.

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #tfa jettwins #tfa jetstorm #reupload #tfa jazz #tfa sentinal #tfa sentinal prime #transformers jettwins #transformers jetstorm #transformers jetfire #transformers jazz #transformers sentinal #transformers sentinal prime #transformers animated jettwins #transformers animated jetfire #transformers animated jetstorm #transformers animated jazz #transformers animated sentinal #transformers animated sentinal prime #mention of self-harm #self-harm #bad thoughts #self-distruction #self-hatred #angst #forest fires #heavy angst #depression