#Who are the other juniors? Who ever you'd like them to be. I will probably have to retroactively tag them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterparkouryo · 3 months

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rebound iv | ✧.*

✧.*

prompt; You had been in a relationship with Peter for months until he broke up with you. It was tough at first, but over time you began to move on and eventually found someone new. However, Peter couldn't handle seeing you with someone else and it was clear he was still harbouring feelings for you.

warnings: one-sided pining, angst (cuz you love it), guilty peter, very bad person peter, arguments, and maybe fluff idk

word count: 8.0k

a/n: ITS HEREEE!!!! tysm for the love on this series and sorry part four took so so so long to publish! THIS IS THE LAST PART DON'T ASK FOR MORE, PLEASE!! i'm so glad to be back, but if i'm honest? this last part is trash and rushed lol.

part one part two part three

"You should consider Ned."

Betty shows a smile, one to only be described as sarcastic before shrugging, digging through more clothes in her closet.

"Yeah, sure, maybe, but I'm more of a committee kinda girl." She offers, pulling out a black plaid skirt, turning to face you.

You accept the skirt from her hold, scanning the fabric curiously before giving her a nod in approval, to which she claps her hands together in excitement to.

"When's prom anyway?" You wonder, putting the black plaid skirt in your bag with the many other donated clothing your friend had gave you.

"Like couple weeks?" The blonde shrugs, closing her closet door before spinning toward you and made her way to the edge of her bed.

Betty had invited you over her house so she could "put you in something" nice for an upcoming date you had with a boy you had been dating for well over a few weeks now.

It was safe to say that asking her for an outfit recommendation wasn't the smartest of ideas, but it's not like you had many other girl friends to ask.

And your blonde friend was definitely the more expert of boys than you were (obviously), despite her having the lesser advance of dating when it came to them.

"What's his name again?" Betty asks, sitting next to you as she sorts through your clothes and folds them neatly.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at her motherly habit.

"Miles." You answer.

"The junior?!" Betty gasp, you can see eyes light up in excitement and can't help but nod and smile widely.

"Yeah." You confirm.

Miles was the better half of you, probably the best version if you were being honest. He wasn't toxic, a sweet boy, and always knew what the right thing to say was at the most inconvenient times. Of course, he was a nerd, or what you'd call a dork (guess you had a type).

It took you a while to come to terms with the fact that the boy had a crush on you, for...well, many reasons, but once the sun came down and reality settled in, you slowly found yourself noticing him more than just a quiet classmate in your physiology class.

Though it took awhile for you to come to terms with those feelings given the fact you had just gotten out of a relationship at the time, but you deserved to be happy, not wanting to dawn too much on your trouble passed.

"He's been asking you out for like, ever." The blonde points out and you laugh as you give her a nod.

"Right, like I felt bad when I kept saying no, and it's only because I was fresh out of a relationship." You explain as Betty nods, reorganizing the closet she messed up on behalf of you.

Miles tried one last time to ask you out on a date, and you finally gave in, though you weren't full healed from your previous relationship, but you figured you weren't the type of person to lead someone on and deserved to be happy with someone who you knew would give what you craved for.

Miles was the perfect example of providing happiness, even if he himself didn't really know that.

When you said yes, you were your nervous self and immediately asked Betty, who was more than thrilled to help.

"And he's so cute." You sigh dreamily.

Betty laughs, closing her closet before turning back around and made her way to you once again.

"You think he's gonna ask you to prom?" She wonders, and you give her a look of confusion.

Honestly, you had little to no thoughts about prom given the fact that who you thought you were originally going to go with wasn't an option anymore. After the past couple of months, you had not given prom a single thought, because by default, there was truly no point in thinking you were going unless your blonde friend forced you against your will to go.

Had you known you'd be dating someone else as the deadline got closer, you'd given it much more thought, but neither you or Miles had voiced your opinion on it, so you automatically assumed he didn't want to go or just didn't have the right courage to ask you.

"I dunno, not something we really talk about." You say with a shrug.

"You should ask him, you're the senior."

You give Betty a look one would describe as if she suggested something completely outrageous.

"No, no that's not a good idea. I think we'll just see how this goes, and if it comes up I'll see how he feels about it." You quickly explain, Betty only shrugs.

"And if he doesn't wanna go I'll take you." She smirks.

"I figured."

You both let out a laugh.

You knew being the ex of a superhero would eventually come back to bite you in the ass.

It wasn't like you could avoid him forever, he was your Queens hero, so yes, you were aware that you did have to hear high praise about him from time to time.

But it being from Miles, the guy you were seeing was weird.

Of course he didn't know of Spider-Man's true identity, but it was eery having to hear your current boyfriend sing praises to your ex boyfriend.

You weren't a mean person either, so you let him.

"And when he beat up those muggers," Miles reenacts most of the accurate actions Spider-Man does. "It was really cool." He smiles from ear to ear at you and all you do is force one back.

"Yeah, well, that's Spider-Man for you." You begin to pick at your food, wanting more than anything to have this conversation come to an end.

Miles being no idiot, notices your lack of interest into the subject of Spider-Man.

"Oh, am I being annoying? I'm sorry." He deflates and you're quick to stop picking at your food to look at him.

"No, no it's not that you're being annoying, I swear. I just...." You trail off.

You were wondering exactly what would happen if you told him you dated Spider-Man. It probably would end up being more questions than jealousy.

And you were in no mood for either.

"I have a friend who works for the Daily Bugle, so you can imagine how much I have to hear about him." You lie and Miles lets out a small chuckle at your sentence.

"Right, I'll make sure to only mention him when completely necessary."

All you really can do is smile at him. Miles was too good to be true, you really had no idea what you could have done to earn such a perfect boy.

Minus the here and there mentions of your ex boyfriend, you'd like to think the date was going well.

You were so nervous as the days went by, getting closer to this well anticipated date and the butterflies never really left when the day became real.

Miles was no surprise a gentleman, bringing your favourite flowers to you and compliments fell from his lips the minute he saw you. He made you feel good.

You two decided on a pasta date only because you expressed how much you loved Italian food and he was more than happy to take you to his favourite Italian spot with its thankfully cheap food.

After the date, he offers to walk you home, and you accept it a bit too eagerly, hoping he wasn't so observant to notice.

You decide to fill the comfortable silence with a question.

"Got any plans for the summer?"

Miles gives you a look as he holds your hand, absentmindedly swinging it back and forth before deciding to answer your question.

"Hm, not really. I just do whatever my parents have in mind." He shrugs.

You nod, giving his hand a small squeeze.

"I mean, we can do stuff?" You suggest awkwardly, your free hand fiddling with the necklace around your neck.

The boy's eyes light up at your suggestion and you can't help but smile at his look of happiness, and he starts nodding before he speaks up.

"I'd love that, totally." He grins and you look ahead of you as you watch your building become more into view.

You both continue your walk, chatting about anything that came in mind and the more you talked, the more you come to realize how much you two have in common.

It was like fate was falling into your hands, and you couldn't be more than happy. It was all too good to be true and you made the mistake of trusting fate in your previous relationship, only to be severely traumatized and heartbroken.

You prayed to any god above Miles was nothing like Peter, if anything, better.

Peter. It had been a long time since you said that name, let alone thought it.

Your train of thoughts are broken when you reach the entrance of your apartment building and you smile at Miles, watching him return it with his gorgeous white teeth.

"I'll see you at school?" Miles slowly drops your hand as you give him a nod.

"Yeah, today was really fun." You tell him honestly and his smile never really goes away.

Before the boy even has a chance to respond, you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

You two never had any sort of intimate moment, even anything as small as this, so you were a blushing mess when you pull away to watch his reaction, noticing his adorable brown eyes dilated and if you pay closer attention, you could almost see the heat rising to his face.

"That good?" He quips and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Bye Miles." You wave as he gives reciprocates it, turning around with a bounce to his step (which you can't help smile at his dorkiness), walking more and more out of view.

You smile to yourself as you make your way to your apartment, and you only wish you knew this'd be your last time at feeling even remotely happy.

You were starting to believe someone was out to get you. Maybe fate wasn't actually falling in your hands and you just had this habit of attracting bad things whenever something good came your way.

This time around, it was not your fault for the bad things happening to you, it was Peter's.

You thought you two had this silent agreement that after you found your closure, you'd never have to talk to each other again, which was going well for the past few months, avoiding each other like the plague or just simply pretending either or did not exist.

For some reason though, the boy couldn't take the hint and it was bringing back old nightmares you didn't want to relive.

Peter had this habit of sticking to you like a bug (no pun intended) and you were worried it had something to do with the still lingering feelings he clearly still had for you, which is something you did not know until you started seeing Miles.

When you said you hadn't thought about Peter in a very long time, you meant it as three days sober without the boy trying to ruin your life. You really had no idea why it was a problem for Peter to be happy for you when you were more than supportive for his now ex relationship with MJ.

Michelle wasn't too keen on telling. you the details of why they broke up after two months of dating, but you had this feeling it had something to do with you, which is so selfish, but Peter being Peter can't help but make the obvious, well, obvious.

Every conversation you have with him ends in an argument, a petty one at most.

So, when he approached your locker, you were prepared for the worst.

"Are you still coming to the decathlon meeting?" Is the first thing he asks you, and it's not like you're expecting an 'hi, how are you?', most of your conversations nowadays are usually straight to the point.

"Why?"

"Because, you never go anymore? Like, what type of question is that..." Peter mumbles the last bit, but you hear it, and you take a deep breath in to not say anything back.

"We'll see, I might hang out with Miles after school." You shrug as you close your locker and you see Peter roll his eyes from the corner of your eye.

"If you're gonna keep ditching, what's the point in being on the team?" Peter questions almost hypocritically.

"You're one to talk." You argue.

"That's different. I have a reason to, you? Not so much." He shrugs and you let out a scoff and turn to walk away, not wanting to be predictable and provoke an oncoming argument.

And as also predicted, Peter follows you like a lost puppy.

"Do you always have to hang out with him after school?" He quizzes, and you stop in your tracks, to give him a questionable look.

"Well yeah, that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do Peter. Once upon a time, we use to do that exact thing." You narrow your eyes at the boy as he looks anywhere but at you.

Again, you're not the smartest person alive, but it was painfully obvious Peter for some reason still harboured feelings for you and you were all sorts of confused as it was him who broke up with you in the first place.

You just wanted him to leave you alone, you've been through so much because of him, but yet, he can't take the hint no matter what you do.

"I know, and I still feel bad about breaking up with you." Peter sighs and you shake your head quickly.

"No, please Peter, stop while you're at it." You warn, watching the boys face visibly deflate at your rejection.

Peter was not stupid (most of the time), so you knew that he knows just how good he was at being a manipulator. His favourite technique was obviously guilt-tripping and being the best at putting the blame on others because he's "been through so much". You learned that the hard way, and now you were glad you could point out the red flags whenever he tried to do exactly that.

"What? I'm not doing anything." He shrugs innocently and you roll your eyes at his faux innocence.

Before you could voice your comeback, the bell rings and you let an all too familiar feeling settle in your stomach.

You decide to keep the silence in between you both, turning around to walk to your class and dare you even try to look back at Peter.

You both knew this was not the end of it, if anything, only the beginning of something worst.

It had been a week since that encountrment with Peter, and of course things have gotten progressively worst for you. All because of him.

Quite frankly, you had no idea why your ex boyfriend was so obsessed with you. Yeah, most exes are and normally it'd be the other way around but when you two were together he never made such an effort as he was trying to make now.

It was painfully annoying and you keep wishing he'd leave you alone, but its almost as clear as day that he will not do that until you rekindle whatever relationship you had to begin with.

Miles is thankfully unaware of Peter's obsession and he has been the best boyfriend (dare you say you've ever had), and unknowingly helping you keep your mind off of things Peter related or not.

"What if we don't go to the movies and just watch one at my place?" Miles suggested, placing a fry in his mouth after he finishes his sentence.

You look up from your shake and tilt your head for a moment to think about his not so subtle suggestion.

"Y'know most movie watchings at home with your significant other leads to a make out session?" You shrug just as Miles eyes widen at your words.

You were kidding of course but you didn't want to tell him that because his reaction was just so adorable.

"Is that a known statistic or...?"

You shrug again and drink your milkshake.

Miles continues to stare at you, digesting your suggestion slowly before nodding his head rather out of habit or he started to consider what you had said.

"I mean, sure why not?" He smiles and you wipe the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth and retort his smile.

It was rare for you and Miles to have any alone time because you both were just so awkward, more awkward than your previous ex boyfriend but you guess it was justifiable considering Miles was a year younger than you and from what you know, barely had knowledge of how girls worked.

You weren't any better, but you at least had some understanding ono how to have a boyfriend and it wasn't anything to be taken seriously because you two were having fun.

On the plus side, you had a plan to ask him to prom (after the whole make out session), and there was this strange feeling that made you have hope because even to a blind person anyone could see how smitten he was with you.

"Are you saying 'sure, why not' to making out with me?"

Miles blinks rapidly before shrugging. "Yeah?"

You nod and play with a fry, the door's bell ringing indicating someone has entered, but you pay no mind to it.

"So are we gonna like...watch the movie first or y'know, make out..first, I mean." Miles clears his throat as you look up, tilting your head.

"Well its not like a thing planned out so, we can just see what happens." You answer unsurely. Honestly, most of half your movie watching with Peter always lead to make outs on some level, but you never really understood how they happen.

But, this thankfully is not about Peter, who broke your heart because he was in love with someone else, Peter who is your Queens superhero, Spider-Man, and Peter, who was walking toward you?

You blink a few times to make sure your head isn't playing tricks on you and once you have time to think, you realize that, yes he is walking toward you, and you have no time to run or hide.

"Do you think we could do that first?" Miles asks with a small smile and you look away from the approaching Peter back to your boyfriend way too quickly for your liking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You furrow your eyebrows and show what you hope was an apologetic smile and not a nervous one.

"Hey guys." The tortuous voice you had no option but facing greets and you watch Miles and only Miles as he looks away from you to show a friendly smile towards Peter, who you are surely becoming more loathing towards.

"Oh, hey Peter," Miles spares you a glance as you shake your head.

One thing about Peter is that he's the kind of guy to set his mind on a goal and make it his mission to achieve it, so whatever it was that he had planned that involved you, you knew that all your interactions so far was merely just the beginning, and it scared you.

"Didn't know you two would be here." Peter presses his lips together, something he did when he was either nervous or lying, and you had a feeling it was the latter.

You remain silent, which evidently did not help with the awkwardness, but you weren't going to give into Peter's satisfaction and talk to him when you were here to enjoy your date with Miles and not acknowledge the boy who broke your heart.

You could feel your heartbeat speed up, and not in a good way. It was the kind of anxiety someone experience when something unpropitious lingered, like a bad taste in your mouth.

You wanted to get up, take Miles' hand and drag him and yourself out of the diner, but you didn't want to come off as rude and have your poor boyfriend question the sudden departure from the establishment, but deep down you knew that it was either that or suffer through the presence of Peter Parker.

"You wanna join us?" Miles offers, gesturing towards the table with a friendly smile, you only frown at your plate of fries.

"Oh no thanks, I'm already meeting a friend." Peter declines, shrugging his shoulders with a small smile.

Mentally, you thank god for the boy declining Miles offer, because frankly, things are already awkward enough. You can feel the tension growing more uncomfortable with each passing second, and you're wishing the waitress hurried up with the bill.

Your boyfriend mumbles a small 'oh', and nods his head before glancing at you, probably wondering why you're suddenly so quiet.

Theres another deafening silence that dawdles in the air and you press your lips together to withhold the grimace forming on your face, because you can't stand any sort of undetermined traction.

Peter lets out a nervous laugh and clears his throat. "I should go, nice seeing you Miles." He doesn't spare you a glance (not that you care) and leaves you and your boyfriend alone, finally.

You look up as Miles watch Peter walk to a far booth away from the both of you, shortly after he's done staring down the boy he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"Does he hate you or something? A blind person could point out the tension." He says with a small frown of confusion.

You shrug and play with a fry. You could keep the truth to yourself or just give Miles the honest answer, which could just make things even more awkward. There's a small debate in your head for five more seconds before you sigh.

"I mean, we dated for awhile a couple months ago." You mumble, keeping your gaze on your half empty plate.

"You dated him?" Miles gasps as you nod silently.

"That makes sense,"

You give him a look as he shrugs.

"He seems like he still has some feelings for you if the tension was that awkward." Miles explains as the waitress finally comes to the table with your bill.

You grab the receipt as you replay his words in your brain. The signs couldn't be more clearer, even if you evidently tried to ignore the fact that Peter still had feelings, it was almost pointless to remain oblivious if even your new boyfriend could see how your old one felt.

"Yeah, well its in the past." You shrug as you stand up from the booth. Miles does the same and holds out his hand for you to take and you smile and accept his offer.

As the two of you make your way out of the diner, you feel a pair of eyes on you but you don't have the energy to turn and scan every single face just to find the culprit who's staring you down. Plus it certainly doesn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly who that culprit is.

A comfortable tranquility takes over when you and Miles walk hand in hand, the warmth flowing from his touch is a solace to the chaotic life that is yours and your mind is temporarily at peace when you're with him.

Fall was leisurely making its way into winter as you felt the freezing air ruminate your skin, the comfortable yet small sweater doing almost nothing to shield you from the chilly air.

You're thankful Miles' hand in yours keeps you from completely freezing to death. His fingers were more of a heater than the thin layer you dare called a sweater.

"Why'd you two breakup, if you don't mind me asking?" Miles' voice is soft as he asks a question you'd much rather not ask since the wound of that scar has yet to heal, but you're not going to hold the curiosity of your boyfriend against him.

"Um," You search for the best way to explain the words stuck in your brain. "He kind of just, fell for someone else." You grimace at the memories climbing its way to your mind and you spare no glance at Miles.

There's a sensitive silence that looms in the air and you assume its because Miles takes the time to digest your words.

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I'm over it so don't feel bad." You reassure and you look over to the boy with a small smile and he unsurely smiles back with a nod.

"Hey, so I was thinking..." He starts and looks down at the pavement the two of you were walking on. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him as you patiently wait for him to continue with whatever it was he was willing to open up to you.

"I know you're a senior, and I'm a junior but I really think you and I should go to prom." Miles blurts and looks at you just as quickly as you look at him, both of your eyes widen.

"Prom?"

You couldn't help but smile at his suggestion, because you were itching to ask him ever since Betty brought the idea to your head. You just didn't know how to go about asking him, and you did plan to make it all romantic like, since it would've counted as a 'promposal'. Miles most likely asked you because the deadline was just two weeks away, and that gave you no time whatsoever to find a prom dress.

"Yeah, if you wanna go with me, I'd really like that. My mom already bought the tickets so..." He trails off and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Now you couldn't say no, not that you had any thoughts to reject his proposal. Never even haven met Miles' parents, or mother, and she was already so eager to see her son and his new girlfriend she had no face but a name to, to go to prom together. Your smile that never really went away extends into a grin.

"I think you stole the words straight from my mouth." You nod as your boyfriend grins from ear to ear and you two stop walking, awhile ago you notice.

Miles pulls you into a hug and you laugh whole-heartedly at his embrace, hugging him back as the comfort embeds through your body.

"Thank you." He mumbles before pulling away slightly to stare at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, which makes you blush and smile with a soft hum.

"You're welcome."

You flinch when your blonde friend tightens the string of the prom dress and you glare at her through the mirror as she mutters a apology.

"This hugs your body so nice, I'll buy it for you." She promises for the 100th time and you roll your eyes and take a step back to observe the dress in your reflection.

If you were as confident as you desired to be, you'd say that this dress had been the one from all the other ninety-nine others your friend had made you tried on.

The dress was your colour, it fit you nicely the way you wanted it to, and you felt beautiful in it. Since dresses weren't really your thing you opted to wear a suit to which your blonde friend gasps in horror as if the option was completely ludicrous and off the table. She told you it was fruitless to wear such a thing to a ball because Miles most definitely would already be wearing a nice tux and it'd be corny to have you in one as well.

You agreed to let her put you in dresses and such like a barbie and you went to your local dress store where she had only made you try on a gazillion outfits until you found the one you were currently wearing, making you absentmindedly check yourself out in the mirror in front of you.

"You look like a twenty-five year old model that Leonardo DiCaprio would go for!" Betty squeals and claps her hands together. You shake your head at her weirdly sweet but yet more disturbing compliment.

"Thanks?" You furrow your eyebrows and turn to look at her.

Betty twirls you around like a princess, observing your fit from head to toe. Almost like an artist critiquing its art.

"I think you'll have Miles speechless." She grins and you smile hopefully. "Really?" Betty nods.

The mirror made you look almost angel like as you stare back at it. You really did feel gorgeous in the gown and you really wanted it to make yourself feel good, and you knew anytime of dress, or even a garbage bag would look good to your boyfriend because he really is that perfect.

"'M gonna go see if I can find any shoes," You hear Betty's voice and you nod as you look at the corset of the dress, tracing your fingers across the fabric slowly.

You continue to check yourself out in the mirror and a person behind you clears her throat and you turn around swiftly, surprised to see Michelle standing there with a shopping bag and an almost glare had you paid close attention to the glare.

Your hand fiddles with the necklace around your neck and she looks you over and your self-consciousness arises with her gaze.

Michelle had not been the nicest person, to anyone really since she broke up with Peter and the quiet girl went MIA from school and the decathlon team. You felt terrible for the poor girl, because there were the obvious reasons and maybe even reasons you didn't know about as of why her and Peter broke up.

"Your dress is gorgeous on you." She hums and you look at her with an unwavering blank stare. The confusion must had been evident on your face because MJ shakes her head with a sigh.

The tension consumed the vibe of both your presence. You speak up in a calm manner.

"Look, I don't know if you hate me or something but I'm really sorry, you deserve so much better MJ." You look at her with an empathetic gaze.

"Michelle." She corrects.

Your nose scrunches up in a small grimace.

"Right, Michelle. Sorry." You nod in understanding.

"I don't blame you for the break up, but we both know." Michelle gives you a look, the only thing you can do is nod once again. Your head gazes at her converses with a defeated sigh, nothing coming to your mind to say to her because yes, you do know.

The tension fades away when the bubbly girl who is your friend, Betty returns with shoes that match your dress with a happy grin and holds them up to you.

"Cute, right?" She shows you her pearly whites and you give her a thumbs up, watching Michelle walk past the two of you and Betty catches the back of the girl's head and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You shake your head quickly, not wanting to talk about it.

After the whole short but definite straining conversation with Michelle you try to take your mind off it, changing into your regular clothes and both you and Betty buy the dress you're satisfied with as well as the shoes and you suggest ice cream for lunch and she agrees without hesitation.

"Divina!" Mrs. Morales exclaims and takes another picture. You try to keep your smile prominent for the maybe millionth picture? You lost count.

When you arrived at the Morales household, Miles' mother was the one to answer and she had gave your mother a look of disbelief, small praising spanish words fell from her lips with a smile. You were already feeling hopeful and just to hear the praising words from your boyfriend's mother who you did officially meet for the first time, was rewarding to say the least.

Miles came down from the stairs, looking quite handsome in his tux and the way his jaw dropped when he saw you standing there with your mother, looking around his apartment aimlessly had been an out of body experience for you, because no one had ever looked at you the way he did, not even Peter.

"Mama, por favor!" He groans from next to you and you laugh as your mother does as well.

Mrs. Morales finally stops taking pictures, placing her camera on the counter nearby.

"Sorry, sorry. You two just look so good together." She smiles and turns to your mother, showing her the pictures she had took.

You turn your attention to Miles, who now takes the time to hold up the container of which had your corsage in it up to you, a silent question and you nod as an answer.

The boy slowly and yet so carefully opens the container, taking out the corsage and slipping it around your wrist, taking ahold of your hand after he finishes, looking from your wrist to your eyes that had already been staring at him.

"You look really pretty, beautiful even." Miles whispers, but before you can say anything there's a flash and the both of you tear your gazes away from each other, to the culprit at hand, Mrs. Morales and your mother both have their phones in their hands with ear to ear grins as they capture the memory of your little moment.

The two of you groan in annoyance at the ruined gravity of peace.

The dance was like anything you could had ever imagined, from the sequence sparkling chandelier lights dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the gym with an almost elegance aura, to the blue and white decorations to represent your school colours made you feel like you were at a ball rather than the prom.

"This can't be the same gym as our school's." Miles hand was in yours as the two of you enter the gymnasium, and you giggle at his words, watching many bodies chatter or dance with each other.

He was right, the gym you were used to always had a weird smell and it unquestionably had no qualities to hold students for a senior prom, yet you were proven other wise.

The two of you make your way further into the dance and you see Betty with Ned, which you find ironic since she had sung a tune in your ear that she would much rather be helping set up the prom and keep it well done than ever consider having Ned take her as a date. You tilt your head at the girl with a knowing look, her only retort is rolling her eyes.

The night was bound to be full of surprises, you suspect.

"You look great guys!" Ned smiles and fist pumps Miles, an adorable thing the two of them did whenever they ran into each other, and you hug Betty as well as Ned.

"Thank you."

Your gaze scan the dance once again, your anxiety rises when you catch a familiar set of brown eyes walking towards your group.

Never in a million years would you had ever thought Peter Parker to attend a dance without a date. It was a out of character thing to observe, but it was true since every year from the ninth grade, stopping at last year, you two attended every single dance together, even making a promise that if you were to break up before prom that neither of you would participate in said dance.

Times had changed of course, given you now had a new boyfriend, attending with him instead of Peter, but the brown haired boy had no date and that is what you truly found weird. But you had no room to judge him, ultimately, it was none of your business, nor did you care why he was even here.

The way he looked at you as he made his way towards you made you nervous for a multitude of possibilities. He had never made the effort to give you such attention before, but there was something in his eyes that gave you an unsettling feeling, a feeling that you were growing accustomed to since he broke up with you all those months ago.

The gut feeling as if something bad foretold in the air.

Once Peter had successfully made it over to the four of you, his gaze never actually left yours and you had to subtly hide behind Miles to inaudibly declare your uncomfortable state, though sadly it went unnoticed as your boyfriend converses with Ned.

"Peter, you look very handsome." Betty voices, causing the two boys to stop their chatter and look over to the boy who broke his gaze away from you (finally), clearing his throat, giving your blonde friend a small tight-lipped smile and greeted Ned with their signature handshake.

Miles gives Peter a nod and he reciprocates it. You look down at your heels, that were a pain to walk in, avoiding eye contact with the brown haired boy.

Thanking the gods from above, Miles takes your hand with a smile and you look up at him with your own, ignoring, shutting out, whatever you want to call it, Peter's gaze that you sensed form into a glare.

"Let's go dance." Betty quickly drags Ned away, being little to no help with the eye-twitching obvious tension between you, Miles and Peter.

Why had Peter made it his mission to give you an anxiety inducing, gut wrenching run for your money every time you two interacted? You wish you knew, you really did.

You fiddle with the necklace and Peter takes notice of it and speaks his mind, and you wish he hadn't.

"I like your necklace." He nods and you stop your fidgeting to glare at him, watching the boy smile innocently. This, of course draws the attention of your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah, cool spider necklace." He smiles.

Peter could careless if you were glaring at him, and you felt your anger boil through your entire body, ready to attack him had he have the audacity to say something sly from his mouth once again.

You both knew that Peter was the one to had given you the very necklace you wore around your neck, almost everyday and the reason you didn't take it off was unclear, but you knew deep down it had nothing to do with Peter, or maybe it did but it was not like you still had the feelings for him you once had before.

It was a shame that the boy took pride in the gloating fact you still wore it, but it wasn't for him. More so, for you.

"Miles, do you wanna dance?" You look over to your boyfriend with a smile and he quickly nods like you had just offered him candy, Peter frowns and you glance at him before walking off to the dance floor.

The two of you make your way to the centre of the gym, most students still danced or talked nearby, but you paid no mind to it as you wrap your arms around Miles' neck, he was unsure where to put his hands and you smile at his awkwardness.

With pleasure, you guide his hand to your waist, he understands with ease. His hands on your waist was a comforting experience for both you and him. As if on time, the music switched from a Taylor Swift song you briefly recognized to a slow song, an Elvis Presley one at that.

You can't help but notice the way he was looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes held adoration in them, and it was the same look he always gave you, but his longing stare was more amplified than per usual, it made your heart speed up and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Your neck begin to itch with anxiety, but it was the good kind and you were so happy that you were able to feel easiness that you had been looking for in the past year.

Miles was the person you were meant to be with, and you felt like nothing could get in the way between you both. No matter how hard Peter tried to slither his way back into your life, the better person will always be Miles.

The solace is beautiful, the two of you holding each other as 'Can't help falling in love with you' (ironic), played in the background, other classmates were dancing as well, but they disappeared from your mind. Everyone but your boyfriend blocked out from your brain, the both of you looked at each other with such protection and warmth that you failed to notice which one of you even leaned closer.

The kiss was short, sure but it was confounding and so very soft. You pulled away with a, looking down as Miles laughed at your behaviour.

"That was nice." He nods and you look back at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah."

"Thirsty?"

You nod as the slow song comes to an end, pulling away from him, but still close enough to feel his residence.

"I'll be quick." Miles promises and gives your cheek a kiss, turning his back to you and walks toward the punch table, that was more of a buffet if anything, given the unnaturally amount of food and desserts decorating the furniture piece.

You gnaw slightly at the bottom of your lip with a smile, and your fingers trace the spider trinket of the necklace around your neck, a voice interrupts your dreamy thoughts from behind you and you turn around.

"Can we talk? I know I say that a lot for the past three chapters of our conversations, but...please." Peter walks closer to you and you take a step back when he does, your hand falls to your side with a frown.

"Not now, or maybe ever." You scoff, attempting to walk away from him but he gently steps in your way.

This was going to take a turn for the worst, that much you could tell.

"Please!" He gives you puppy dog eyes, and looks at you as if this was the last thing he will ever get the chance to do. You groan before giving in.

"Make it quick."

Peter nods and lets go of your arm, trailing his eyes from your necklace down to your dress, the words spill from his mouth before you could even comprehend them.

"I love you." He breathes, and your heart drops to your stomach.

"Stop."

You try to walk away again, because your head was starting to hurt and you didn't have it in you to deal with Peter's bullshit.

"No, listen to me, just listen." Peter quickly shakes his head and steps in your way once more and you notice his heartbroken stare.

"I get that you hate me, I understand that you want nothing to do with me and you're with Miles, but I love you. It took me way too long to realize that, but I--I do." The brown haired boy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, you keep quiet to let him speak his mind.

You were long gone out of love with Peter Parker, the same boy who broke your heart on your birthday, because he was in love with someone else. He for some reason thinks it'd be a good idea to express his feelings at a school dance that you had gone with, with your boyfriend, that was not him.

The deju vu was eating through your body, you were wondering where the hell Miles was with that punch.

"It's too late to even tell you this, but thats why MJ broke up with me, not because I told her but I mean she's a perspective girl so...y'know." Peter shrugs in defeat as you nod slowly, your head still trying to digest his words.

"Peter, you're so stupid." You finally say and he blinks in utter confusion, but you continue anyway.

"You have no right to tell me you love me, months later and I mean months later. Because its unfair and it's selfish, you put me through hell and back, only to do it again once I find a little ounce of happiness." You ramble in anger, not knowing what else to say as you try to put all your thoughts into one simple breakdown for him.

"I know--"

"No, you don't." You cut him off quickly and held up a finger in his face. "Because if you knew like you claimed, you wouldn't had made it your life's mission to seek out attention from me or whatever the hell it is you're trying to do. I was happy for you and MJ, I grew to accept that, so why can't you do the same for me?"

Peter's face switch from confusion and hurt to a glaring look within seconds, and you almost regret your words.

"You told me you loved me while I was trying to meet ends with MJ, and now you're telling me I can't do the same? To the person who's wearing a birthday gift I gave her, around her boyfriend." He argues and sadly, he does have a point.

You were lost for words for a brief moment and Peter scoffs at your silence.

"That's not fair."

"No, if you throw the ball at me, I'm going to throw it back harder. You claim to not love me anymore but you wouldn't still be wearing that necklace if your feelings changed." Peter takes a step closer to you.

You're paralyzed, not having the energy to fight back as his words sink into your brain. He was so painfully right, you knew deep down no matter how hard you deluded yourself that there was still feelings there, and Peter was your first love, so you can't just completely shut him out of your life, no matter what the boy did or how bad he hurt you.

"I know that...but Peter I'm with someone else. Had you told me this before months ago, maybe things would be different, but you need to stop trying." You're sure these words hurt him more than they hurt you, but you were so sick and tired of the one feeling the rougher end of the stick.

Peter needed a taste of his own medicine anyway.

"Please, stop trying."

He nods his head in a silent bob, the tension simmering down from the screaming steam that loomed around the two of you.

Peter looked like a kicked dog, which kind of made you frown, but you knew better than anything to try and comfort him in the way he hoped you would.

"Okay."

"Okay?" You furrow your eyebrows at the one word after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"Okay, I'll stop. I want you to be happy, and I shouldn't be the reason you're not." Peter slides his hand into yours and you feel the unsettling consolation within his touch, biting your bottom lip as you watch him sigh with a deflated smile.

"Just know that I do love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore, I know deep down you do."

You didn't think you'd cry on prom night, but the tears had made an unannounced approach, you were just thankful that the mascara you had on was waterproof.

Quickly, you wipe your tears and nod your head with a clear of your throat and take a step back.

"I should go look for Miles." You gesture your thumb behind you to nowhere in particular, Peter's hand slip from yours for the very last time. He tilts his head and looks around the gym.

"Alright."

You had no idea of what to do, so you just stare at Peter for a moment as he stares at you.

This boy was truly the love of your life, you did everything together but sometimes not everyone is meant to be.

When he broke your heart on your birthday, you thought you would never find the kind of connection the two of you had again, and it ate at your heart. Peter had ripped it out, and held it in his hand, maliciously squeezing at it but not intending to, because he was as lost as you were, truly.

The two of you didn't know how to love, and that was evident. He thought he loved someone else, but he was wrong. Karma some might say, but you'd call it a life lesson for him. You on the other hand, didn't have any idea what you were doing. Miles wasn't a rebound from Peter, he was a saviour from him. Though not put so nicely, but Peter was an experience to learn from, to grow from and that's what you did.

From the break up, the who kissed who, and the lingering feelings he had for you, you all but hoped Peter would find someone who wasn't you, someone who loved him for him as he could love them for who they were.

You knew it wouldn't be you, and you were glad. Peter deserves happiness as much as you did.

Even if the two of you wouldn't end up hand in hand.

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songmingisthighs · 1 year

Text

[15:38] hongjoong × reader (fr. xikers minjae)

⇀ hongjoong loves the fact that his juniors are getting the recognition they deserve. just not like this.

⇁ it's fine. really. so fine. abso-tively fine. fucking fantastic even

"Ah, shit,"

Hongjoong scrambled up as he hastily saved the file of work he was doing for the past... four hours. He remembered you coming to take him for a walk or coffee around three hours ago, saying that he needed to see something other than the blue light emitted from his computer's screen. Of course, in a true Kim Hongjoong fashion, he said "yes" which was followed by "but let me finish this tiny part first" and of course, in a true (y/n) fashion, being impossibly in love with the man, you agreed and sat down on the couch behind him, waiting.

Now, three hours later, Hongjoong realized that you were no longer even in the room and that was when he decided to panic. Hands moving in the speed of light whilst still trying to be careful so he wouldn't knock anything off of his desk or worse, onto his computer. Whilst his file was saving into his computer (in a speed that was oddly longer than usual), Hongjoong tried calling you to know your whereabouts and to prepare the length of apology he might need to do in case you were pissed at him. But unfortunately for him, you weren't answering your phone nor seeing his texts which made him think the worst case scenario. You had gone home because he was being inconsiderate.

Praying that his files would complete its saving progress, Hongjoong took his keys, AirPods, and wallet off the desk and shoved them down his pocket and immediately exit his office to go find you.

Much to his surprise, however, he was met with the sight of you in the communal area of the production office with Joy, Maddox's dog, in your lap. You were cooing at the puppy as you rubbed her furry belly, tummy up on your lap, panting happily and even making eye contact with Hongjoong as if she was taunting him over the attention you were giving her.

"Lucky bitch," Hongjoong grumbled under his breath. Despite the remark, he wasn't really pissed whatsoever, not at anything and especially not at the dog, as he was honestly just glad to see that you hadn't left the building. Which means that there was a chance that you weren't mad whatsoever especially with Joy in your lap. Hongjoong was in the safe zone this time it seems. So knowing that your mood will be all happy and positive since you had the adorable canine in your lap, Hongjoong figured that he can be just as cute and butter you up, saying all the right things and within no time you'd be feeding him pasta.

However, just as Hongjoong was about to join you, he heard footsteps coming closer in a jogging pace, and soon a figure emerged, grinning brightly in his oversized hoodie with something in his hands. "Noona, I found her snacks!" Minjae grinned widely, plopping down on the floor in front of you as he opened the packaging of the dog biscuit happily. Maybe it was Hongjoong's jealousy creeping, but he could almost see puppy ears and tail on Minjae, wagging happily next to you as if basking in your attention. But it was probably nothing and he was just overanalyzing because he had been feeling bad for working when he was supposed to be doing something with you. What made the vein in Hongjoong's forehead almost pop, however, was when you cooed and patted Minjae on top of his head like he was a puppy himself. "Good job, Minjae! You're such a good boy!" And you even complimented him like a puppy, what even is that!?

"Noona," Minjae whined, face blushing as his arms half-heartedly tried to brush your hands away from him, "Don't pet me like a dog!" He pouted, averting his eyes shyly to focus on Joy who he had began feeding. "Aw boo, how can I not, Minjae? You're the most adorable leader I've ever known,"

And that was it.

"Hey!" Hongjoong plopped right next to you, his left arm draping over your shoulder with a huge (creepy) grin on his face (that seemed vaguely threatening towards Minjae). "What are you guys doing?" He asked, purposefully planting a big smooch to your cheek (and regretting it as seen from his VERY red face) and then looking straight at Minjae, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in lessons?" Hongjoong hoped that Minjae would take the hint and scooch away. Far far away and for a long long time. "Oh, I was. But the vocal coach wanted to spend more time with Junmin and Jinsik so I was let out early and I met noona with Joy and I just couldn't help myself!" He grinned. "Of course you couldn't help yourself," Hongjoong muttered under his breath lowly which Minjae didn't caught but you sure did though you pretended like you didn't.

So you decided to have your own little fun.

"Yeah, Minjae was taking care of his members and also me for some reason. Heck, he even helped take care of Joy! Isn't he such a good leader?" You smiled in faux innocence at Hongjoong, clearly wanting to emphasize how good of a leader you think Minjae is. The words made Hongjoong's eye twitch in annoyance and jealousy, not liking that his spot of "favourite leader" in your heart was seemingly threatened by a boy whom he helped mentored. "Yeah... Minjae's an awesome dude, isn't he?" By that point, Hongjoong's smile was strained so hard it seemed like his cheek bones were cramping.

Oblivious to what you two were doing, Minjae looked up with his big innocent eyes and spoke up for himself, "Well, I took a lot of Hongjoong hyung's advice and he took great care of me, so obviously I wanted to return the favour to (y/n) noona!" Though his words were sincere and seemed to praise Hongjoong, the coo and head pats you gave the younger guy only caused Hongjoong's nose to flare as he huffed out a breath.

Luckily, someone (that sounded like Hunter) called for Minjae from the end of the hall and Minjae immediately excused himself. While Hongjoong appreciated the speed, he almost pulled you onto his lap when Minjae gave you a side hug before running off. In Hongjoong's eyes, it felt like Minjae was running off in pure happiness with giddy steps that he got from you and call it the possessive boyfriend and captain in him, but he didn't like that at all. Not one bit.

When Minjae was out of sight, you turned to look at Hongjoong with a grin that was far too smug to his liking. In contrast, Hongjoong was frowning hard that the bottom sides of his lips and the spot between his eyebrows creased in clear annoyance. The both of you stared at each other like that for a while, clearly communicating, saying things without using actual words just by looking at each other. Most of your public communication happened that way as to save yourselves from using words or even having to think about what words to use. It effectively eliminates prolonged argument and you both believed that it was because you just loved each other so much. And you truly do. How else would you both been able to do this?

Finally, giving up, Hongjoong let out a huff before he broke the silence. "Well, you could've said something! And you know, not hang with Minjae? Because I'm the best leader you know, period. I don't care about anything else, I'm the only leader in your heart, okay? You should not be looking at other leaders, heck, you shouldn't even be thinking about other leaders! Because do they have to deal with Wooyoung?? Do they have to deal with Yeosang??? Do they have to deal with literally all five members of 99z along with Seonghwa and Jongho? Because I did and I damn know I did a fantastic job with them! An-" before he could ramble more you had pressed your lips onto his with a giggle, effectively shutting him up as Joy jumped up onto Hongjoong's chest with her tail wagging happily. When you pulled away, Hongjoong's frown has melted and he looked slightly shocked which to you was absolutely adorable. "I'm just hanging with Minjae, Joongie and I said Minjae was the most adorable leader ever, you're my captain, okay? You are my ONLY captain and you're the handsomest, most adorable, and best of the best captain and I love you, okay?" You then stood up with a hand outstretched to him as you hold Joy in your other hand, nodding towards the front door, "Come on, we're taking you out to get you some coffee and Joy some fresh air."

Now happy, Hongjoong gladly took your hand in his, all jealousy melting away as he was finally able to have your attention to himself. Sure, he loves his juniors, but hell will freeze over before he share you with anyone else.

"You can't blame me for liking Minjae though, he's as cute as a button and as determined as a puppy. He reminds me of you slightly."

And there his eye goes, twitching again.

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kyberphilosopher · 1 year

Text

Pass the Dutchie

Word Count: 7908 Requested: Nah Warning[s]: 4/20 special, so drug and substance abuse, crude language, crude humor, adult themes, not my strongest piece ever probably, long, Billy sticks to character sorry, general fanfiction cringe warnings. When Billy assumes you might sell to him, you get back at him by stealing his stash. But after you realize he's not so unbearable, your relationship with each other, and even yourselves, seems to change.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*��･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The summer months came quickly, even quicker than the actual summer. The crisp April morning, tainted with spring rain that left the reek of petrichor hanging in the air for the rest of the day, had given way to a dry and beating heat. Not enough to make you sweat, but enough to fill the school with shorts and skirts over the typical swarm of bell bottoms. You almost felt like you'd missed the memo that day in your own denim jeans, but you were comfortable, and that was what mattered.

You wouldn't miss highschool, you thought, but you might miss senior year. By now, everyone around you had almost completely grown out of bullying. Why continue it? Everyone was about to graduate. You were all adults now. There was no point in nastiness. Mostly, it seemed your class had a fondness for sex and drugs and rock n' roll and not much else. There wasn't much to complain about there. All the popular kids were too wrapped up in all that to harass you at work anymore, or to spread rumors that you were a drug supplier and addict. You're more than thankful for that as you stare at the bouncing, burnt orange basketball being dribbled up the court by Billy Hargrove.

A gust of outside air sweeps through the highschool gymnasium from the double doors to your left. Sunshine leaks through the gap, straining your eyes when you look at it. It makes the rest of the gymnasium appear shadowed in a darker and far more boring grey than it really was. It might've looked exceptionally creepy if it weren't for the few kids such as yourself who decorated the bleachers, and the group of boys playing basketball just a few steps away. The students gave the school a bustling, warm atmosphere that you were more than willing to admit to now that you'd outgrown a lot of your younger angst and cynicism. The air from through the doors smells like your childhood- and something else in the distance.

"Yo, Y/N," a voice from behind you calls.

You let your eyes fall closed in instant exhaustion as you exhale a breath. You already know who it is. "Yeah?" you practically wince.

Ronnie Waters slithers up beside your ear like a snake. You don't hate him- he's funny sometimes. Sometimes. What, with his mousy mullet and sparce beard hairs around his crooked teeth, but mostly he likes just yanking your chain. "Smell that?" he questions, chip breath hitting your nose like a freight train. "Smells like dope outside, man. You gonna celebrate the 20th this year? You selling?"

A common misconception. You'd first smoked pot in the girls bathroom sophomore year and ended up getting busted- without the three other girls who had been smoking the blunt with you. You were quickly labeled as a pothead since then, which snowballed into being a full blown dealer in junior year. Funny how everyone who had previously never spoken a word to you, now threw themselves at your feet for some bud. Sometimes you'd play the prank of handing them a bag of oregano, but for most people, the answer was the same: 'Not selling.'

"I don't sell," you tell Ronnie, not even bothering to look over at him. He still hovers by your side like a bee.

"Come on," Ronnie whines and prods. "I just need some flower for the 20th... please?"

You turn towards him, tone becoming firmer but not angry. "I don't sell."

Ronnie pouts a frog faced frown, mutters a "whatever bro", and slithers away back to his group of snickering friends at the top of the bleachers. Your eyes turn back to the basketball game ahead of you, not really invested, just in time to watch Billy Hargrove dunk a clean one over Steve Harrington's head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Ronnie Waters wasn't the only one who prodded you for an April 20th deal. Back in the locker room, Connie Rachel tossed her blond curls over her shoulder before batting her eyes and taking a 20 out of her bra. You'd felt bad about rejecting it.

Most seniors had partial days from completing all their required credits early on, leaving little classes in the days for them. You were one of the lucky ones who made the cut, which had honestly helped your fondness for senior year. The freedom you felt hopping in your car, waving a polite and quiet goodbye to your fellow classmates was a dignified one. Ronnie Waters, the little rat face, couldn't take it from you. Your feet pick up the pace as you exit the building, rounding the brick corner, converse to asphalt.

It did feel like summer. The sun, the wind, the scent of rain and flowers. The great boulder that jumped out at you causing you to flinch back.

You stumble a few steps, raising your head to see in front of you. Then your brows crease. It was no brick boulder at all, it was just Billy Hargrove. Well, you supposed that was the same thing. He certainly was a great rock of a man.

You weren't close by any means- you know each other by few interactions and by name. You don't hate him, you don't love him. You've seen him break Tommy's kegstand record and become Keg King, shove freshman to the ground in PE, and charm the teacher out of actually teaching the class through pure flirtation. So, he seemed fine in your book. A very upstanding young man.

"Woah," Billy smiles charmingly- a smile you've seen him use before on others- and an annoyance bubbles in anticipation. "Hey there. Watch where you're goin' much?"

You just want to get to your car. You can see the cherry red paint from here, glistening in the sun. But it won't be so easy. Billy Hargrove was pretty popular. Obeying to highschool politics, you couldn't really be rude to him without him using his influence to tarnish your reputation. In a small town like Hawkins, that was certainly something to consider. When Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington had called it quits, he'd plastered her name all over the Hawkins movie theater, complete with profanities. Not only that, but you were fairly unpopular. You didn't have any close friends who could come and save you out of nowhere, or even defend your honor. Now, you weren't hated by any means. But you were a loser. This was just one of the cons of being so.

"I'm just heading to my car," you get out.

Billy looks you up and down, still smirking. You hate it. You could tell what he's thinking from his mouth alone. "Red one, right? The 79'? Nice ride."

So, he's watching you in the parking lot now?

"Thanks."

A minute of silence. A breeze, similar to the gusts in the gymnasium earlier, sweeps through the air. It turns back to spring within the instant, rustling Billy Hargrove's cinnamon brown curls. His eyes light up in the sun like ocean water, rippling and dancing florescently with every movement. He looks nice for a moment, almost boyish with his dimples and muscle tee, still sweaty from the free period gym.

"I heard you might have something I'm looking for," he says. "I was hoping to maybe take it off ya', if ya' catch my drift."

Your eyes flit around the scene. You see the other seniors walking towards their cars ahead of you, pulling out of the parking lot, some disappearing into the trees nearby in walking groups. Did Billy have enough credits to be on a partial schedule? You could've sworn you'd seen him pull out of the parking lot at the same time as yourself a couple times, but he'd been a transfer student. He should've still been catching up technically.

You answer him very calmly, tiredly, monotone. "What's your drift?"

Billy's smile fades, his eyes returning to a wide shape as his face sinks. Another blow from the wind makes his curls dance. His maroon shirt ripples, tanned skin shining. You hadn't seen many men that were quite like him, you realized-whatever you meant by that. When Billy Hargrove doesn't answer you, you question again. "What's your drift, Billy?"

His face is stone, as you're reminded. Billy's tone is a little more annoyed, in his voice and on his face. He must never have been challenged, dared, outright shut down many times in his life. "I wanna buy some dope."

Should you give him a bag of oregano? Tell him you'll come by later and leave it out on his doorstep? Maybe drop a crumb of the real thing in it so it smells just right? You rub your palm up and down the strap of your backpack, thinking. Billy Hargrove sees as you look him up and down. He resembles an angry bull, you the matador. Should you?

"I don't sell," you say, looking down at the pavement under you. "You'd have bought from me already if I did."

You start walking once more, keeping your eyes down. You can hear the younger kids playing in the fields, the other grades practicing soccer, the cars leaving the lot blasting Scorpions and Madonna. Billy says nothing as you shuffle your way past him. He doesn't say anything until you're a few steps up the hill from him.

"I don't believe you!"

You roll your eyes and walk faster, worried suddenly that you may be run down by a familiar Camero.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Billy Hargrove wasn't great, you knew that. But Billy was far, far from the worst. He was cool, you liked him. You wanted to be out of highschool as fast as possible, which kept you from holding grudges or holding hatred. Billy was probably the same way about it at this point. But man, man, oh man- oh, man- did you find yourself wanting to put Billy Hargrove in a room with no windows or doors alone. The little prick really thought he could charm his way into some weed- weed you don't even possess. You've been buying your shit from the super senior Eddie Munson since last summer. It's all based on one nasty rumor.

Billy Hargrove was smart enough to see that certainly. Yet, he chose not to for his own ideas. He knows it is a nasty rumor but plays into it anyway. Why? Because he wants to? Because he has to? Neither? Both? Maybe you should've knocked that smile right off his face. Once for thinking you'd be easily manipulated, and twice for really accusing you of dealing.

No, perhaps not.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day was smoother. Air conditioning wouldn't be brought into schools for another few years, making the school hot and stuffy, but the library was so empty it was cooler. You spent your free period there instead of the gym, doing nothing of great importance. The joint you had in your car at lunch break was mostly faded from your system. With 4/20 right around the corner, you would need more. It was in- what? A week? The nug you had sitting in a carefully wrapped napkin in the cup holder was a rather small nug.

Eddie would have a sale. You knew that much at least. Of course, that's what you're thinking of when you see him standing by your locker.

Not Eddie, of course. His hair is too light, arms too thick, body too tall. Eddie would never carry such a natural and tired smugness to his face. As soon as you see Billy leaning against it, you feel your heart drop to your stomach. An odd anxiety washes over you, one you're not quite familiar with. But Billy hasn't seen you yet- you could turn around and walk away. You can wait it out in your car and circle back for your things.

You don't do that.

"Locker," you only say to Billy after he notices you approaching. That's all you need to say apparently, as he slides his back from its position against your metal box.

"You're a charmer, aren't you?" Billy says sarcastically, a bored expression on his face. "Very chatty."

You open the door and slide your backpack from your person, twisting it around so you can switch out a few books and grab your jacket and keys. "What do you need Billy?" you ask tiredly, wrapping your oversized hunting jacket around your shoulders and adjusting the hood.

He looks you up and down, but not lustfully. Just observantly. Judgmentally, somewhere in there. Billy's eyebrows are creased in a dull annoyance you recognize on him. He is the stone man you think of. You wonder, are his lips always so ever so slightly pursed when he's thinking? Or is that just the natural, bitchy look of his face? His handsome doll face. "Can I help you?" you repeat.

Billy's ocean blue eyes land back on yours. Through the dark eyebrows, they create a strong contrast. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," the boy drawls out. But... he feels genuine. "Maybe I was a little too aggressive. With the 20th coming up I think it's easy to understand why I might be a lil' antsy."

You blink.

"Walk out to m' car with me. I'll treat you to a sesh."

You blink again, harder this time. Then you blink again, slightly faster. Billy's lips are in a thin and serious line. You realize, somewhere in the moment, that he has this disposition with you because you saw through his guise of charisma. He saw he couldn't get in your pants and let that way go. This must be the realest Billy's been to anyone since he arrived at Hawkins high.

Your fingers find the door of the locker, close, and lock it. Then you follow Billy, you slightly behind him at his side, to his car. The air smells like leaves and grass. "You're not stopping at your locker?"

Billy's tone is slightly more exasperated than usual. "Why would I?"

You say nothing.

Through the parking lot, you catch a few stares. Billy was just so popular- you should've known you'd see at least one pair of girls giggling. You watch as he unlocks his car- a blue 79' Chevrolet Camero, and the two of you bend inside in unison. Even your doors close at the same time.

Billy Hargrove's car smells like a mix of several, but very recognizable, smells. A musky cologne, the familiar stench of weed, cigarettes... sweat? Must've been old workout clothes littered somewhere in the car.

Billy Hargrove's head rolls over to you, the back of his pretty mullet getting mussed against the headrest.

"Nice car," you offer dryly.

Billy is still stone, offering no reaction to your words. "I apologize for yesterday. Open the glovebox."

An apathetic sounding apology directly followed by an order. How charming.

Still, curiosity overpowers everything else. Your hands do as the man says, undoing the glovebox and letting it fall open. It's stuffed to the brim inside, random papers spilling all over your feet. A single loose cigarette joins them. "Pick that up," Billy Hargrove tells you, though he doesn't sound so stern or demanding just then.

"The papers?" You begin to gather a few of them up- just a few statements about the vehicle and math papers that must've never found their way to the teacher.

"Nah," Billy gestures towards the white and orange cylinder. "Just the cig'."

You're slightly flabbergasted, but quickly muffle the feeling with, indeed, leaving the papers on the floor and instead offering him the cig between two fingers. Billy slips it into his mouth and lets it hang towards the side, as you're sure he's done a thousand times over already. "There's a lil' plastic baggie in there," Billy continues. "Get it."

Turning attention back towards the glovebox, you root around for a second or two before finding it. Instantly, you know what's inside. Pulling it out into the light only confirms your suspicions, if you could even call it that. You're careful to keep it low and out of sight through the windows, deciding to sit it on the surface between you two.

The bag has to contain two 1/8's, minimum. Inside, the bag does little to contain the stench of the dope, which is somehow strong enough to make you feel a little buzzed just looking at it. Most of the nugs inside are a dark green- but there's more colors than just that. Lime green, deep purple that's practically black. When Billy Hargrove picks up his bag of goodies after a classic man-spits-loogie-out-the-car-window move, the nug he picks out is a forest green with tiny orange veins running up it, spreading all around.

"Having a sesh?" you question, somewhat quietly, all while keeping your eyes fixated on the nug.

"Yeah," Billy rolls the nugget over in his fingers. His eyes are stuck on it too, making him sound just as far away as you are. "If that's cool?"

You mutter a response with only half a thought to it. "Reeks like shit."

Billy Hargrove's nostrils flare, and he rolls his head along with his eyes back over to you. It's brief, however, as he quickly rolls them back ahead. With his right hand, he leans forward to snatch a pack of rolling papers from the dashboard. "Fuck outta my car then," he mumbles.

Your reply is immediate: "No."

Billy Hargrove's mouth curves up into a smile as he scoffs. "Alright," he starts, his voice devoid of all anger. "Hold this. Now, this is the shit from California. All kinds of stuff up there."

He gives you the nugget, and takes the cigarette from his lips to place behind his left ear instead. You inspect the weed yourself now, noticing a faint sparkle from somewhere deep within it. The stench is certainly... potent. Being so close certainly can't help it. But there's something else you can smell too. Something fruity?

"Had no idea," you say.

"Here, you crush that up while I roll."

Your eyes switch from the dope in your hand to Billy in the drivers seat. Your brows crease slightly in shock and confusion as you look at him, and you realize in the back of your head that this is the closest you've ever been to each other. You know he's noticing your face- he has to. Something about that throws you off. Something about Billy Hargrove specifically noticing it- having this moment in his memory forever- makes the sides of your face feel hot. "You don't have a grinder?" you ask in disbelief.

Billy's orbs flicker between your own. His face is back to something like grumpiness again. "You talkin' about that little twisty thing?"

"Y... yeah?" you say. "It makes crushing up weed way easier. It catches the kief?"

Billy Hargrove somewhat resembles an agitated bull about to charge. You can see the gears twisting in his brain, however, and you know what he's thinking. He thinks you're playing a prank on him, or trying to make him look stupid. "I'm not shitting you," you say quickly.

With an annoyed breath he turns back to the paper in his hands. It goes quiet, uncomfortably so, so you turn back towards the nugget too. You take a paper that fell from the glovebox from the floor- an old science quiz that he'd managed to score a 79% on- and wrap it over the nugget. It's not the biggest nug you've seen, but it's more than enough for one joint split between the two of you. You simply begin smashing it carefully inside the paper, then opening it to pick out any loose pieces of stem.

It's once you've practically finished the task that you hear Billy's gruff voice from beside you. "You think you're so smart, huh?"

What?

You turn to him, catching the humored smile on his face as he continues rolling. He's shaking his head slightly all the while.

You're not upset. On the contrary, you're relaxed. You let the paper, now swarmed with little weed crumbs all piled messily towards the center, sit gentle on your lap as you lean back. "Not really."

Billy Hargrove does pause for a second, so fast you would've missed it with a blink, but you see it. "Could've fooled me," he mutters. Then he gestures for the substance in your lap. "Here."

You pick up the paper gently, with two hands, the way a child might hold a dinner plate. Billy Hargrove meticulously picks the crumbs between his two fingers, lips slightly pursed and brows furrowed in concentration, and lays it in the dip of the rolling paper.

"Promise it's not laced?" you whisper out hoarsely.

Billy freezes again, before a smirk takes up on his mouth. He turns to you, eyes wide, and leans forward. Although his hands are filled, he still finds a way to wiggle his fingers at you. "Oh, scared?"

Your face drops into sarcasm. Really? your face asks him. "You think so?"

Billy Hargrove turns back to the joint, and finishes packing after a few seconds. "Clearly," he snarks. He rolls his head back over to you, face suddenly very, very pretty. "You want the first hit?"

"If you're actually offering," you decide slowly.

Billy passes the joint to you as you reach into your pants pocket for a lighter. With a bit of wiggling, you manage to pull it from the fabric. "Here, I'll light," he says. So, you switch hands. Billy giving you the joint, you giving Billy the lighter. Billy fucking Hargrove.

With one final suspicious glance around the parking lot, you place the joint between your lips eagerly before leaning down. You can practically taste the hemp on your tongue. Billy Hargrove follows suit, leaning down out of sight of the windows and flicking the lighter to life.

"It's pretty strong shit," he tells you as his hand wanes closer toward the paper. You pray he doesn't decide to blue ball you right in that moment and fall back into typical Billy Hargrove fashion, and he doesn't. The end of the joint lights up orange and yellow, dancing and sparkling right before your eyes. The inhale is smokey and sudden, hitting the back of your throat like a train. You can only take it for two seconds before squeezing your eyes shut, at which point Billy grabs the joint right from your mouth.

You feel it fill your lungs, stilling yourself before letting it expel from you. It comes out through your mouth in a gentle stream, and when your eyes turn to Billy, smoke is pouring from his nose for a second longer than yours. Then you both lean back into the seats of the car.

Billy dips his head down and stares out into the parking lot before reaching down and rolling the window up. He glances to check if yours is closed before bringing the joint to his mouth again.

You watch him inhale. Already, you feel your eyes fall half lidded. You're certain the turning of your head is ungodly slow, more snail like than anything. But you don't care about that. You're watching Billy Hargrove's adam's apple bob once with the inhale, then your eyes wander up to his jaw. His nose shape isn't half ugly. Well, actually now that you're here, it's sort of cute. Has his hair always been so curly?

Billy Hargrove breathes this hit out of his nose again, eyes falling closed. He lets his head fall back against the car seat so that his face is pointed towards the roof, relaxed but still Billy.

Cautiously, your fingers dance towards the smoking joint still in his hand that rests on his lap. It's the closest you've been to physical contact with him, which would surely end in you getting your shit rocked if you make one wrong move, so you're sure to move slow. Almost comedically slow.

When the man feels the joint ease out of his grasp, his eyes snap open with a breath. Billy's blue orbs roll down to see your hand greedily try to snag it from his own, but he just lets it happen. He doesn't even look like he's going to rock your shit. Not even one little punch. His hand simply loosens until you pull the jay away for yourself.

"Light."

Billy side eyes you somewhat as he lifts the lighter up to the joint for you once more. "Good shit, right?" he lulls, face and eyes empty of emotion. He looks grumpy again.

You nod lazily, closing your eyes and taking your second hit. It's more bearable this time, and you manage to inhale for three seconds instead of two. You hold it for a moment in your lungs before letting it go, breathing out through your nose and mouth. "Can't remember the last time I hotboxed," you manage to drawl, though you immediately forget doing so. You're almost confused when Billy Hargrove responds.

"I probably do it..." he swallows and lets his eyes close again. "Probably every day."

"You're stronger than me."

"My tolerance is probably fuckin' crazy," Billy says as his eyes peel open. "My hit."

You pass it back to him.

"So you got any plans for the 20th?" he asks, and suddenly you're moved at the contribution he gives to continue the conversation.

You shrug. "Smoke."

Billy nods his head with a smirk, mid hit. "Yeah, that's the plan," he says after breathing out. "You gonna have any special deals that day? Any, uh, discounts?"

Your brows crease as much as they can through lazy senses, which isn't a lot at all. "I told you I don't sell."

Billy's eyes flicker between your own for a moment- again you can see the gears turn inside him. "You were serious about that?"

You nod. "Yeah, I'm not a dealer."

Billy Hargrove's eyes look you up and down for a second, again so missably quick, pretty and blue and distracting. (Distracting? How strong is this strain?) "So where'd you get your shit from then."

"Eddie Munson."

Billy's face splits into loud humor. Eyes light up, go big, mouth scoffing in disbelief. "The super senior?! You're fuckin' with me."

You playfully throw up your palms in mock surrender. "He has good stuff."

"But isn't that guy like, fuckin' crazy? He's always playin' that dumb nerd shit."

"He's pretty nice to me," you offer. "But, dude, he never plays Kill Em' All if we smoke?"

Billy takes the joint right from your hand, just how you did to him. His dark brows furrow much easier than yours as his eyes fall to you once more. "The Metallica piece?"

You nod.

"You're shittin'."

You shake your head.

"Jesus," Billy puts the joint in his mouth and holds the lighter to it. "What a fuckin' loser."

You can't help it. Really, you can't. Billy's words aren't that funny- probably aren't funny at all- but the laugh that escapes the back of your throat comes out in a scoff-snort combo that causes even Billy Hargrove to remove the joint prematurely to cough out smoke.

It's a nice moment. You don't find yourself resenting him or judging him and if he's doing so to you, you can't feel it. At all. You're just two idiots getting high in the car, being idiots high in the car. Billy's presence is welcomed by you, shockingly enough. It shocks you twice over- once, because it's Billy Hargrove. Twice, because for the first time in a while, you feel like you might just have a friend. Just for the moment- just for the moment.

"Ah, shit," you hear Billy break. "Fuckin' idiot."

You pull yourself a little closer to the present (as much as you possibly can as your body seemingly floats to the sky), and turn your eyes out the windshield. Through the hazy white mist that's settled in the car, you can make out a large and annoying figure by the name of Tommy, waving his arms over his head and grinning like a dull fish. His girlfriend, Carol, follows a few steps behind him, similar smile plastered to her face as her brown curls bounce.

"Damn," Billy Hargrove's face drops. "Just when I was startin' to enjoy it." He moves to open the door, and that's when you say something that makes him falter and look back to you.

"I gotta take off anyway."

Billy can't decide between taking a step forward or taking a step back it seems, almost like he's glitching. The boy leans down, turns his head to you. If you hadn't just smoked with him, you might not be able to tell he was high. His eyes aren't red, just pulled into that sarcastic, grumpy, pursed lipped look he's always wearing. "You sure?"

You shrug. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

Billy holds your eyes for a second more, jaw clenching. He decides not to say anything, however, and closes- a soft slam, really- his door closed. You watch him strut out to greet Tommy and Carol as Tommy points to you in the passengers seat with a grin you just loathe.

Quickly, you gather your backpack up from the floor. Out of courtesy, you find yourself quickly and inexplicably pulling the papers on the floor into a stack to place back in the glovebox. You click it closed without thinking, turning to leave when you stop.

The baggie still sits in the cupholder. Unattended, California bred and strong. You know how dumb it would be to take. You're not stupid enough to steal from Billy fucking Hargrove. But a few nuggets? Billy wouldn't notice. Especially not now, high off his ass, talking it up with Tommy about probably fucking nothing.

So, a nug or two wouldn't hurt...

Your brain convinces you you're a ninja. You swipe two medium sized nuggets, one dark green and one light, and cram them deep into your pocket. You're sure to zip the bag back into place to avoid suspicion as a rain of confetti seemingly falls around you.

The guilt is already washing over you somewhat, but it's deep, deep down inside. You almost can't even recognize it. You open the car door, sling your backpack over your shoulder, and watch the smoke ooze from the vehicle like a thick cloud. You must look like Zeus right now.

After the door closes, you're quick to walk away. Luckily, the lot is small, and you can see your car from here. Your foggy brain almost forgets about Tommy and Carol, who can somehow still see you even through your fast pace. "Hey!" Carol calls. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

You just walk faster and keep your head down. You feel two things just then- Carol's laughter filling the air, and Billy Hargrove's eyes on your back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Much to your own surprise, you do not grind up and smoke those two nuggets that night. Nor do you do so the day after, or the day after that. You highly consider it on the third day, though Billy Hargrove manages to completely deter your mind from it.

He doesn't do anything outright ruining- oh no. Billy just so happened to hold eye contact with you in the lunch line after rolling his eyes at something. It only lasts two, maybe three seconds. But it's enough to turn you off from smoking his-your- weed.

On day five, two days before the 20th, Billy Hargrove receives a test back in math that makes the right corner of his lips twitch up. You know, because you watch him very carefully from your corner of the room.

Billy tries to disguise it, of course. The man of rock and stone is always cautious to keep up appearances. Always frowning, always angry, always too good for something. But whatever he got on that test was, and is, worth more than that little mask. In your head, Billy Hargrove is proud of himself. He worked hard for something and he got a reward for it. Just like you, just like the people you admire, just like everyone else on the planet.

And you stole from him.

On day six, you find, once again, that Billy Hargrove has made himself at home against your locker. Again, you do not run away. From deep, deep in you, you're almost happy to see him. Almost.

"Billy," you greet flatly. The boy once again slides away from your locker so that you can open it, sly as a fox.

"Y/N," Billy greets back. He watches your face as you trade some books and binders, packing your bag to go home. You might be worried about him confronting you about his missing nuggets if you didn't know any better. No, Billy Hargrove was a hot headed bull. If he had noticed, he would've said something by now. Hell, you'd probably have a broken arm or something. "Still planning on smokin' tomorrow?"

God, don't bring it up. "Yeah, hoping to." You close the locker and clutch your jacket in your arms. Billy walks in time with you, neither of you acknowledging the accidental bumping of shoulders that's brought about through the crowded hallway. "Why do you ask?"

Billy Hargrove doesn't look at you. He looks straight ahead, almost as if he's in pain from what he's about to say. He looks like this is some great task for him, saying whatever he's about to say. Taller than you, you watch his sullen eyes as he speaks. "Was wonderin' if you wanted to smoke in the car again."

Your brows crease for a split second. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

The sun illuminates you both as you walk through the open doors and out the side exit of Hawkins High. The spring breeze dances with the summer air gloriously. "Any particular reason you're asking me and not Tommy?"

Billy wastes no time in responding. "Tommy's a fuckin' idiot."

The laugh almost spills out of your mouth, but you manage to catch it with a cough. "Oh, okay. Yeah, he is."

Your walking slows as you approach your car, which catches the glint of the bright, bright sun. Billy turns to you, watching with his usual casual swagger as you fumble to get your keys out. "So you in?"

I stole your weed! you want to blurt out. I stole it and I actually feel kind of bad about it!

Instead, you glance down at your shoes, instantly giving away your poker face. "Oh, uh, maybe."

Something washes over Billy's face, but only for a second of a second. Maybe not even. Disappointment? Whatever it is, it's replaced by his usual expression. Pursed lips, unimpressed eyes, and the feeling that he's cursing you in his brain. "Well," he glances around the parking lot. The sun bounces off of him too, but in a way that looks better than it does on your car. It looks like it's meant to bounce off of him. "Let me know. You've got a phone book." And then he's already walking away with his back to you before you can say anything more.

You don't like watching him go. Sure, Billy's ass did look fantastic in the jeans he typically wore, but it did little to negate the odd feeling of despair and loneliness you suddenly felt. But Billy Hargrove wasn't your friend. He wasn't anything- you weren't anything to him. He just wanted weed out of you anyway. Ironic, considering.

It was true, you could always look up Billy's last name in your home phone book and come clean. You think about this as you seat yourself in your car, which feels and smells like a microwave from the oncoming heat. You knew you should really just call him. Just take your beating and get on with it.

But there was a little voice in your brain that said otherwise. It was that voice that gave you the idea.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Billy Hargrove lived on 4819 Cherry Lane, in a little pale house. It was cute, only one story. Very family friendly. It looked like his mother had taken a great bit of care in taking care of the family's plants, which bloomed in shades of poppy red and cherry blossom pink in the bushes right outside. You felt some guilt in thinking that Billy didn't deserve this.

It looked too juxtaposing compared to him, even in the dark of night. It looked too quaint, too warm and nurtured. But you knew better. Even though you're about to commit breaking and entering- or preferably just entering- you know better. There's something in that house that hardened Billy Hargrove. His mother? His father? Something buried deep under his bed? Whatever it was, now wasn't the time to poke.

The leaves crunch under your shoes with every step, but the hum of the cicadas drowns it out for the most part. You round the house so you're at the right side, relieved that all the lights are off. You can see through the little half sliding window, covered in dust and pollen, that it leads to an empty hallway with more pale walls.

There's no doubt in your mind. You're already committed. One hand on the window and another against the house's siding for support, you push the window apart. It comes off easier than expected, wheezing from friction as you slowly ease the panel open. No going back, there is still no doubt in your mind. Returning Billy's weed is the best thing you could do for him. And would you look at that- can anyone really call it breaking and entering if you haven't broken anything?

Both palms clasping the edge of the window, you vault yourself up and over. Exiting the summer night air and entering the Hargrove home comes faster than expected, but your shoes touch down nonetheless. You'd say it feels like a dream, but it's too fast to be a dream. The wooden floors are too solid, and the smell of Billy is too strong.

Billy Hargrove's bedroom isn't far from the window you climbed through. It's a few steps forward from your position down the hallway and then to the left. You expect to see the door closed, probably locked, which was why you'd brought two long and thin hairpins to pick it open, but the door is open. Every single light in the house is off, and Billy Hargrove's room is dark.

Silently- and bravely- you peak your head into the room. Again, you expect to maybe see him in a limp heap on the bed, but yet again, it's empty. Better for you, you suppose. Easier to get in and out unnoticed.

You see the Metallica poster by his bed, the laundry shoved into the corner of the room. You see the plain blue curtains with the little tiny hole burnt into the fabric, the unmade bed, the bottles of cologne and hair product and combs. You see the closet, hastily left open. Even with the lights off, you see it all. You see Billy Hargrove's life.

It moves something inside of you. You're not sure why. But then you only use it as an incentive to not be weird, to not be a creep anymore then you've made yourself into. Hastily, eyes already adjusting to the dark, you pull the two nuggets of Billy Hargrove's strong California weed- one light green and one dark- and quickly walk over to the boys bedside table. There's nowhere to leave it organically really, so you opt for just placing it by the little table lamp. Not sure what Billy Hargrove has that for, you can't imagine he's doing much reading before bed.

And then it's done. The weed you stole is returned. All is well.

You back away slowly, almost as if the nuggets were cursed objects in a horror movie. Then you turn around, practically flying back down the hallway and launching yourself back through the window with ease. Maybe it's the anxiety, or the adrenaline, but you're quick as a cat and silent as a mouse. Your shoes crunch the grass once more and you feel the warm nights breeze caress your face, protecting you from any danger. You turn around and slide the window back shut until you hear the hissing turns into a final click.

Your shoulders soften, and you turn away from the house. The crickets are loud tonight, you realize, and the cicadas. They tell you that you did the right thing. They tell you that you did it out of something good instead of fear. It's enough.

When you come back to the front of the house, you expect to see the same emptiness you'd seen before. The street, some trees, the darkness and the moon. But you're met with the opposite.

Billy Hargrove stares at you. He leans against his blue car parked on the street right outside 4819 Cherry Lane. Cigarette in hand, he raises it to his lips and takes a drag, but his eyes never-not once- stray from your own. They're just piercing into yours yet again, daring you.

You are so fucked.

Billy takes the cigarette from his lips and breathes the air out. He reaches a finger out to you and pulls it back towards him in a 'come here' motion.

All you want to do is run away before he beats your skull into the dirt and breaks your arm. But if you imagine he's leaning against your locker instead of his car in the dead of night, suddenly it's not so scary. You swallow, and begin towards him.

When you're finally there, right in front of him, Billy's the one to speak first. His voice is low, but his face isn't outright fuming. You can't tell if that's better or worse. Billy Hargrove plotting doesn't exactly sit right with you, but you're not sure how much experience he has in that realm anyway.

"You broke into my house?"

"No. I didn't break anything."

Billy holds your stare. His face is the stone man once again. "You're funny," he says, in a tone that makes you believe you're not really all that funny at all. The pretty brunette takes another hit. From this close up, you realize it's not a cigarette at all, but a blunt. A skinny one sure, but the smell and shape is more than familiar. "What are you doin' in my house, L/N?"

Nope, don't say a word, your brain says. You obey. "Just browsing."

"Browsing?" Billy deadpans.

"Browsing."

It's silent. His blue eyes flicker back and forth between your own, digging out the truth. He'll find it sooner or later, you know that for sure. "You know, I've had some crazy girls do some crazy things for my attention," Billy Hargrove starts. "But this might just be the craziest."

The word slips out before you can control it. "Gross."

Of course, it wasn't gross. Billy accusing you of wanting his attention? It was half true. Maybe you cared for him just a little. You mean, he'd been sort of welcoming to you, hadn't he? That day in the car? And yesterday, at your locker?

There's another minute of silence. Billy Hargrove's eyes are still dancing between yours, and you're still holding it. There's no anxious pit in your stomach. There's no desire to take a step away. If he swings, he swings.

Instead, he says, "Want a hit?"

Your brows furrow in confusion. "I- I mean, yeah?"

"Take it." Billy takes a short hit himself before practically cramming the joint in your hand. "It's 4/20."

You observe the jay carefully, twisting it around in your fingers as your eyes scan it. It's not laced or poisoned, at least, given that it looks like Billy's been puffing on the thing for a while. But there's no reason at all for him to share with you. He did, after all, just catch you in a blatantly illegal act on his property. Simply informing you that it's April 20th isn't enough.

"You really want to smoke with me that bad?" you ask, tone genuine as you hesitantly raise it to your own mouth.

Billy shrugs.

"Thought you'd be more pissed," you only say instead. Then you accept your fate, inhaling the still light cherry.

It's much easier on your throat than the other time, not as harsh. It fills your lungs with peace, sucking up any last remnants of anxiety that might've lingered. When you open your eyes, Billy Hargrove is just as pretty as he was before you closed them. With all that effort going into his appearance, you guess he'd have to be. But Billy Hargrove probably would've been pretty no matter what. If he kept his hair long or short, messy or tamed, skin tanned or pale. Oddly enough, you really believed that. You really, truly did.

You pass the joint back to Billy. "Where's your parents?"

Billy shrugs once more, this time mid hit. "Hell if I know," he replies. "Vacation, I think? Little brat's off at a friends house til Sunday. Place is all mine."

His tone is easing up already, which you think to take as a good sign. When you open your hand, Billy passes the joint back to you with no hesitation. "Lucky," you offer back, taking your hit.

"Gonna need to light it again soon," the boy says. "Got a light here."

Sure enough, Billy produces a little metal lighter from his back pocket. Different from the one he used before, but smoother on the flame. He raises it up to the blunt, and you eye him for a moment before leaning in.

This hit is better than the last few. You want to smile after this one. "How'd you even know I was here?"

Billy Hargrove crosses his arms and settles back into his lean. "Divine providence," he drawls with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't be fuckin' lame."

"I'm sorry?" Billy's dark eyebrow quips up attentively. "Who just broke into who's house?"

You smirk a little- just a smug little twitch that you find you can't help. Whether it be the bud or the conversation, you stifle it best you can to no avail. "I already told you I didn't break anything."

"Mm," Billy hums. His face is full of sarcastic disbelief as he snatches the jay right out of your hand so fast, it burns the tip of your finger.

"I promise. I'd never."

Billy takes his hit. Both of his eyebrows raise in thought before he makes a point to blow the smoke in the exact direction of your face. Immediately, your eyes flutter close at the impact, which rivals that of a brick wall. Even your nose twitches at the force. "You think I'm going to trust the word of a criminal?"

You look at Billy Hargrove. Curly taupe hair. Big, blue, dollface eyes framed by perfectly full brows. A cute button nose. Tanned skin basking in the summer anticipation. He wasn't so bad, you supposed.

You can't help but dip your head as you smile, shaking your head as you find yourself growing shy.

Unknown to you, Billy smiles a little too, before raising the joint back to his lips and inhaling.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I HAVEN'T POSTED IN YEARS LMFAOOOOO. Hope everyone's doing well. This is just a little treat for you guys for the holiday if you celebrate. If not, just enjoy Billy. I actually kinda liked this pairing. I'd make a part 2, and I actually mean that. I do intend on getting back into posting but I need to do it at my own pace. I'm gonna close requests again so I don't get overwhelmed and just move slow. I am, as always, apologetic for any spelling errors I may have missed, and grammar errors, and I apologize if this at all feels rushed even though I've been working on it for the whole week. Sorta felt like I had to speed it up at the end since there is a word or paragraph cap on tumblr and i was getting hella nervous about hitting it. Anyway, stay safe, take care.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things x reader #billy stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #billy hargrove stranger things x reader #billy hargrove stranger things imagine #billy hargove stranger things imagines

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training4theapocalypse · 11 months

Text

Finders Keepers Ch 6. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex - F & M receiving, Face Sitting, 69

Summary: Your letters over the Christmas break are driving McLaggen mad. He wonders what you'd think about meeting up in London the day before you need to catch the Hogwarts Express?

A/N: I would very much enjoy suffocating this man.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @lolitstiana, @ratsys, @aweidlich

Chapter 6: First Name Basis

Dear Cormac,

By the time this owl arrives, I expect you to have at least four training sessions under your belt. You’ll note that I’ve kindly given you a day off for Christmas.

It’s a shame we didn’t have more time before the holidays together. This is the first Christmas break that I’ve ever wished I was at Hogwarts. I’ve heard the castle is extremely empty this time of year. Who knows how anyone passes the time with nobody around in all those deserted classrooms?

Anyway, I hope you’re having a good break.

xoxox

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry Christmas!

I wasn’t sure how to address this back because I think that was only the second time you’ve ever called me Cormac… Are we on first-name terms now?

We spent Christmas Eve at Rufus Scrimgeor’s party but it was different this year… I’ll tell you more in person in case this owl is intercepted. My dad, uncle and I were still extremely hungover for Christmas Lunch the next day (yes, even worse than on the train home after Slughorn’s). Mum was not happy.

You might be disappointed to hear that training has frankly been the last thing on my mind. Every time I think about Quidditch my mind wanders to the last time we were on the stands. We were having a conversation that I’d be keen to continue… if you know what I mean.

CM xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Gryffindor’s Reserve Keeper,

I hope your hangover is less painful today.

Has anyone ever told you that you are such an unbearable show-off? I can’t believe you name-dropped the Minister for Magic in your first letter to me. How likely is it that these owls will be intercepted do you think? I’ve never really considered the possibility of anyone else wanting to find out information from my letters. But then again I’ve never written to such a big-shot with important Ministry connections before.

I told my mum and dad all about my invite to the Holyhead Harpies tryouts. They’re muggles so they’ve never really got their heads around wizard careers but they love football (kind of like muggle Quidditch) so sport is something they can understand.

I am in fact disappointed you haven’t been training hard over the break - although I can understand your preoccupation with our last conversation on the stands. My mind keeps wandering too. It was probably my favourite conversation I’ve had involving Quidditch - which is saying something.

Let me know what you think about the chances of interception. I got a Polaroid for Christmas ( muggle camera) and I have a photo I think you’d like…

With love,

Ravenclaw Captain and First Choice Keeper

xoxoxo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Holyhead Harpies Future Keeper,

I’m pretty confident that nobody else is reading our letters. And I’m not just saying that because I’m dying to see whatever it is you want to send me. Your letters have been arriving so quickly that there’s no way anyone has had time to read them before they got here. Or maybe you just write exceptionally fast because you miss me so much.

The past week has been agonisingly slow. Usually, the Christmas holidays come to an end far too quickly but another week without you is driving me mad. The last few weeks of term when we weren’t speaking to each other feel like a wasted opportunity.

I’ve been too distracted to finish Slughorn’s Potions essay. When I think about Potions, I think about you. And then I think about that dress. Fucking hell. Although it’s not a patch on the protective headgear you wear playing Quidditch. Obviously.

Speak soon.

Big Shot Junior Minister for Horrendous Hangovers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear letter inception squad,

Please be warned that I am attaching with this correspondence an explicit photo of my tits and cannot be held responsible for any serious side effects that may occur upon viewing (dizziness, uncontrollable hard-on, etc.)

My beloved boyfriend has informed me that he is being driven mad by my absence and it is my only desire to help alleviate his pain. Well, maybe not my only desire.

Cormac, if this letter ever finds its way to you without being censored by the powers that be. I need you to know something…

It’s you who’s writing quickly, not me. You miss me more.

With love,

Redacted

xoxox

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my girlfriend (apparently),

Fuck.

It took me several minutes (hours? Days? What year is it?) of staring at your picture to realise muggle photographs don’t move. Or maybe they do. I should probably check again, just to make sure. Yep. Still not moving. I sincerely hope you didn’t need this photo back. It’s in significantly worse condition than when you sent it to me.

If I say I miss you more, will you come and meet me in London a day early? Say the evening before the Hogwarts Express leaves? It’s not like me to beg… But I’ll say anything. Do anything.

Then again, maybe I don’t need to beg as you just asked me to be your boyfriend. So you clearly miss me more.

Love,

Your unbearable showoff xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the afternoon of the second of January, once you’ve put your things in your room at the Leaky Cauldron, you come downstairs to find McLaggen waiting for you in the pub. It’s not like you forgot during these past two weeks apart how hot he was. But in person, he’s like the quintessential English boyfriend from every muggle rom-com you’ve ever seen.

You greet him and he pulls you into a kiss, cupping the back of your head. You need to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips - this was much easier when you were sitting on his lap. Your cheeks burn hot just thinking about it. “Maybe I did miss you after all,” you murmur. He smells sweet and spicy, just like you remember.

“Good. I missed you too,” he says simply and kisses the top of your head.

He takes your hand and you leave the Leaky Cauldron. Despite it being the day before the Hogwarts Express returns, Diagon Alley is eerily quiet. Most of the shops are boarded up and the few people who are out, go about their business in a harried, closed-off kind of way. Recent Death Eater activity has everyone frightened. Except for you two reckless idiots, apparently.

“Things felt so normal back home. Not much has changed in the muggle world. Not yet at least,” you say, as you wander down the deserted cobbled street. “Anyway, tell me about Christmas at Scrimgeour’s. Since you’re such a big deal and couldn’t put it in a letter.”

“Well, to be honest, it was pretty tense,” he tells you in a hushed voice, his face is serious. “That’s why I ended up so drunk.”

“Oh.” Your face falls. You sort of thought he was kidding. “So, were he and your dad talking about Ministry stuff all night or something?”

“No, it was me he wanted to talk to, actually. He kept asking me about Harry Potter and if I knew anything about his private lessons with Dumbledore. I had to pretend I didn’t know he was even taking lessons with Dumbledore.”

“He is?”

“I’ve just heard rumours. But Scrimgeour’s questioning pretty much confirmed it.”

“So you didn’t say anything? Even though your dad works at the Ministry?” you ask, thinking of Marietta’s mum and Umbridge.

“Nah,” he says casually. “He’s pretty high up. Got a decent bit of leverage. I’m not worried.”

Wouldn’t a position of power in the Ministry mean he was more at risk? But then again, what do you know? Your parents are muggles.

You look up at him - you’re actually impressed. Would you be able to hold your nerve if the Minister for Magic wanted information from you? “Well… you’ve got guts, McLaggen. I’ll give you that.”

He shrugs like it was nothing.

Eyelops Owl Emporium is one of the few shops open, so you go in to pick up some owl treats. “My parents found the owl thing hilarious at first, you know,” you tell him. “They still don’t really get why they can’t phone me - that’s how muggles communicate long distance,” you add when he gives you a confused look.

“And they didn’t mind you leaving them a day early?”

“Sort of. My dad wanted to watch a football game with me today. He says I’m losing touch with my non-magical roots so he writes down all the scores and sends them to me every week,” you smile fondly and pay for your owl treats. “What about your parents?”

“Dad doesn’t know, Mum was distraught until I said I was meeting you. Then she was delighted.”

“Oh?” Not quite ready for that conversation with them, you had told your parents you were meeting Cho and Marietta.

“She was worried about me coming to Diagon Alley so she tried to convince me to bring you to ours instead. But it’s a bit early to subject you to that. She and my dad met at Hogwarts, you see. I think she was anxious that I was in my seventh year and hadn’t ‘settled down’.” He rolls his eyes. “When they were at school everyone ended up married to whoever they went out with.”

You laugh as you exit Eyelops and the bell above the door tinkles. “As if the dating scene ends after Hogwarts.”

The two of you aimlessly wander around a few more of the only shops that are still open, catching up about your break before making your way back towards the Leaky Cauldron. “So… tell me about football. It’s like muggle Quidditch, right?”

You try and explain the rules as you walk down the cobbled street.

“The keeper’s the only one that can use their hands?” He looks at you sceptically.

“I promise it’s more exciting than it sounds… Speaking of keepers, any sign of you getting a game this year?”

“I doubt it. Weasley would need a serious injury for Potter to consider replacing him.”

You enter the pub and find a quiet booth near the back.

“Well, you never know.” You say, sliding into the seat opposite him. “I heard from Padma that Lavender is getting annoyed about him and Hermione spending so much time together. Maybe she’ll do you a favour.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry,” you grin. “Too soon to bring up your ex?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Depends, is it too soon to ask if you’ll be cheering on your ex-boyfriend Smith at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff game? If they beat us the cup is basically yours.”

“Only if Weasley is playing.”

“Yeah? So if I play you’ll be in the Gryffindor stands?”

“Yeah, alright then.” You scrunch up your face as if you can think of nothing worse but actually, you’d like to watch him have his chance to finally play a game. “You can give me your Gryffindor jumper to wear.”

“You realise I’m going to have to break Weasley’s leg or, I dunno, poison him or something because that sounds extremely hot.”

McLaggen goes up to the bar to order drinks and when he comes back he tells you all about the Quidditch world cup two years ago while you listen to his every word longingly.

“I wish I could have gone to the final - it’s just that my parents want to see me as much as they can during the summer. And it’s not like they could have come with me with all the anti-muggle protection stuff,” you add wistfully. “I hope they can see me play a game one day.”

“What, they didn’t watch you play growing up?”

“Well, I didn’t play growing up, did I? I picked up a broom for the first time during my first flying lesson at Hogwarts.”

He puts down his drink. “What?”

“Keep up, McLaggen, they’re muggles.”

“No, I know that. I just never really thought about it. Blimey, it’s really not fair, having to learn to fly years after everyone else.”

You’re more than used to it by now. “What about you? When did you start playing?”

“My dad got me my first broom before I could walk, or so he tells me.” You smile. There’s something sweet about a tiny toddler zooming around with a miniature quaffle.

There’s something else on your mind. “Do you think your parents would be alright with you going out with someone who’s muggle-born?”

“I mean, you know Mum is already desperate to meet you. My dad is a bit more… old fashioned though,” he adds, a little awkwardly. “But he’ll come around when I tell him.”

You laugh “My dad’s the same. I haven’t told him either.”

“He wouldn’t be alright with you going out with a wizard?”

“Wizard? Fine. English? Not so much.”

He laughs like it’s a relief that it’s not just his dad’s prejudice that would be a problem. “Does that mean we’re definitely going out with each other then?”

“Oh.” You remember your letter. “Yeah, let’s say we are. For the sake of us not falling out again.”

“Very heartfelt of you.”

“Sorry, I’m really bad at this,” you admit. “I mean if I’d just told you when I fancied you that would have made things a lot simpler.”

“Easier said than done,” says McLaggen fairly. “I could have told you too.”

“When was that, by the way?” You ask coyly, leaning on the booth table and resting your chin on your hand.

He clears his throat. “I dunno…”

“Oh, come on, McLaggen.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“Alright then -“ you take a sip of butterbeer. “- I suppose after the first Potions lesson this year. When you caught me in the corridor and I realised you smelled like the Amortentia we’d just made.”

“Wait a minute…” he knits his eyebrows together. “Do you use perfume or something that has coconut in it?”

“Yeah?”

He leans in and says quietly, so the other patrons don’t hear him. “I just realised the Amortentia I made smelled like you, when I had my face between your tits after Slughorn’s party.”

You feel your skin flushing hot. “Cormac.” You squirm a little, thighs clenching together, remembering his soft little moans as he inhaled deep in your chest.

“If that made you blush I definitely can’t tell you when I first fancied you.”

You shuffle in closer still towards the table.

“Tell me, please,” you whisper.

“Alright… it was last year when Ravenclaw lost to Gryffindor in the final.”

“Don’t remind me. Before or after McGonagall was about to expel me for threatening to set fire to Harry Potter’s broom?”

“Hah, no it was well before the final whistle. You were really anxious in goals - sort of wriggling on the seat of your broom with a kind of anguished expression on your face, watching the Ravenclaw Chasers cock it up.”

“And that was… that was what made you fancy me? That I was stressed out?” You raise an eyebrow and take a sip of your butterbeer.

“Well, yeah. I thought if you sat on my face the way you were sitting on your broom, I could get you to make those faces again.”

You almost spit out your drink. Your face is positively on fire. “Oh my god, Cormac…”

“I’d probably make you say that too,” he adds with a smug smile, and in spite of yourself, his attitude makes your lower abdomen tighten. He is so full of himself and every bit of common sense tells you that should hate it. But you don’t.

Sitting back in the booth, you look him over silently as your wet dream from weeks ago, the one about him going down on you in the Potions classroom swims to the front of your mind. Your legs wrapped over his broad shoulders, and the way his stubble had felt between your legs had all felt so real.

“Was that too far?”

You snap out of it and shake your head, realising you had been biting your bottom lip. “No, I just… I was wondering what it would be like.”

He leans in over the table towards you and so you do too. He takes your hands in his significantly larger ones and whispers seriously. “So you’ve only been with girls before, right?”

“Yeah.” You knew this was coming. At some point or another, you’d need to tell him that the closest you’ve come to touching a penis is when you felt his against you when you were sitting on his lap.

“Then I’ll probably be terrible at eating you out. You know - in comparison.”

That fucker.

You can tell from his stupid smirk that he knows he’s good. His dimples appear at the corners of his mouth as he looks into your eyes. Everything surges up in your molten hot and you swallow, mildly embarrassed by how turned on your feel just from that arrogant smile.

“Not Cormac McLaggen admitting he might not be the best in the world at something?” you tease, trying to downplay how eager you are to find out.

“Oh yeah. It’ll be awful. Really, really sloppy.” He pulls your hands towards him and kisses your knuckles slowly. You look around the bar from your deserted corner booth. None of the few patrons are even glancing in your direction.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “Some - some people would say sloppy is good.” You know from your own experience that sloppy is great. But honestly, you’re worried about telling him that you’ve got no idea what the definition of good is when it comes to giving head to a man.

“Mhm,” he murmurs and slips his tongue between a gap in your fingers. God, your pussy feels slick, desperate for him to give it the same attention that he’s so brazenly paying to your hand. He maintains eye contact with you, the pupils of his green eyes dilated in the dim light of the pub.

“Cormac, I know you’re joking about being bad but I - I’ve never… I mean, I’ve never even seen a - “ you mouth the word ‘penis’ “- before.”

Cormac stops kissing your hands and places them on the table with a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. Mine is like this- ” He gestures with his thumb and forefinger, almost pinching them together.

You narrow your eyes. “Shut up. I felt what you were packing on the stands.”

“You don’t need to worry about it anyway. Don’t feel like you need to do anything you don’t want to.”

Oh, you want to alright. But when you asked Cho and Marietta what to do with one that night you came back from the Quidditch stands it sounded complicated - beyond terrifying. And the pressure you put on yourself to be great at everything doesn’t make it any less daunting.

But God, the way his cock felt when you were pressed up against him kissing him the last time you saw each other - it was as if your body was begging you to have him put it inside you. Your pussy clenches, imagining the feeling of rubbing up against him again.

“Are you finished your drink?” you ask, the heat between your legs aching for him now.

“Almost, will I get another round?”

“Maybe later when I’m finished sitting on your face.”

“You are something else.” He doesn’t need to be asked twice and abandons his drink, letting you lead him upstairs.

You open your room door, turn and grab the front of his jumper and drag him inside. You stand on your tiptoes again to kiss him furiously. He kisses you back, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck,” you say between kisses. “You are such… an arrogant… git.”

“Yeah?” he lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “Well, you fucking love it.” He says, carrying you over to the bed where he throws you down and climbs on top of you. You feel the hard bulge underneath his jeans pressing into you under your skirt and you raise your hips, pushing yourself up against him, pressing your clit against the protrusion.

He lifts your t-shirt up over your head and unhooks your bra before tossing it carelessly aside. McLaggen swirls his tongue around your nipples, desperately sucking and slobbering all over your chest like a starved man.

“I mean the picture was good but fuck, your tits are perfect in person,” he groans, trying to fit as much as he can into his mouth. His neediness makes you grind harder into him - you’re practically humping the fabric seam of his jeans.

“Fuck, Cormac…” you whimper helplessly, the burning friction from your pussy pressed up against him is all you can think about. You can already feel your orgasm flickering in the pit of your stomach.

“I need you to stop saying my name like that. I’m gonna cum right here if you do.” He grips the bottom of his jumper and pulls it, along with his t-shirt up over his head. You breathe heavily, looking at his muscular chest and abdomen in the low light of your candle-lit room.

He watches you hungrily as you slip your skirt and underwear off and he lies on the bed to pull you on top of him, directly over his head. You sit on his chest, your knees bedside his ears and look down at him, biting your lip - it’s like he was made to be here like this between your thighs.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he says, running his hands along the back of your thighs and settling them on your hips.

“How do I do it without suffocating you?” You’ve never had anyone go down on you in this position.

“Do whatever feels good. If I die, I die,” he grins up at you. “Just let me taste you.”

You shimmy forward and he grabs your ass so he can press his face against you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. McLaggen sucks and rolls his tongue all over your pussy like he’s kissing your mouth. He laps up your juices, wet warmth enveloping your already soaking-wet slit, making you feel even slicker.

He pauses to kiss your inner thigh. “Play with your tits for me.”

You do as he asks, pushing them together and pinching your nipples as you keep your eyes locked with his. His technique maybe isn’t as deft as you’re used to but, oh my god, he’s enthusiastic. McLaggen’s tongue flicks back and forth over your clit but you want his whole mouth again, so you leverage your hips slightly.

He feels your adjustment and moans in encouragement, fingers kneading into the flesh of your ass. This is what he wants, he wants you to lose yourself completely like this on top of him. So you decide you will.

“You feel so good,” you whimper and lace your fingers through his dark blonde curly hair, grinding yourself on him. On his lips, his wide tongue, his stubbly chin. He keeps licking sloppily as you use his face to get off.

“Fuck, Cormac…”

“Don’t or I’ll cum,” he warns between licks and while the thought of making this huge, hulking man under you cum just from eating you out and hearing you say his name sends a jolt of electricity through your body, you want to make him feel how you feel right now.

“Can I suck your dick first?” You ask, halting your hips from moving.

He pauses. “You’re sure?” You nod. “Just keep sitting on my face. Please.”

You flip around to face the other way, sitting backwards on top of him. You undo his jeans and he pauses, anticipating your reaction. The feeling of his hot breath on your skin makes your hands tremble as you push his jeans and boxers down.

His cock springs up, hitting his toned stomach and your eyes widen. You already knew that it wasn’t what he had implied earlier but…

“Jesus Christ, Cormac.”

“Oh come on, don’t react like that. I thought you said I was arrogant enough as it is”

Fuck.

You extend your hand tentatively and grip the length of his cock. It’s prettier than what you’d imagined from Cho and Marietta’s vivid descriptions. Not that you’d tell McLaggen that - his already inflated ego really would be unbearable if you did. You could never have thought you’d actually want to suck it, from the details they’d given you when you asked them nervously how to do it. But you really, really do.

You lean forward and, still gripping him in your hand, you swirl your tongue around his head. There’s a pleasant vibration as presses his lips against you again to moan against your pussy.

“Is this okay?” You pull back to ask tentatively.

“Fuck… Yes.”

The shakiness in his voice encourages you to open your mouth wider and swallow as much of him as you can. He’s so tall that you can’t reach the base of his cock without moving forward and when you try, he clamps his hands down on your hips to stop you from moving away from his face.

And then you feel his mouth devouring you again, his lips and tongue attacking your clit without mercy. Fuck.

You try to whine but your mouth is full. From the way his fingers dig into your hips, you can tell he appreciates the noises you’re making all the same.

You bob your head up and down, gliding your tongue around his cock. His own tongue moves in firm circles round and round, bringing you closer and closer to the brink. Pulling your head back, you gasp for air but keep jerking his length, now slick and wet from your saliva with your fist. “Fuck, Cormac… I’m…”

Bliss floods your body and he groans loudly but keeps pace as your cunt twitches on his face. Your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and tingling. You can’t help yourself repeating his first name over and over until it becomes a babbling stream of words, feeling his face pressed right into your pussy, his tongue dragging all over your clit and his nose between your folds.

Cormac tries to keep licking through the aftershock but you wriggle away from the overstimulation. You move down his body and this time swallow his cock as far as you can, lips almost reaching the base.

“Wait, I’m… fuck…” He grits his teeth. “Careful, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

Baby. It’s the first time he’s dared to call you that.

And you like it.

You feel his thighs tense under your grip. He makes a conscious effort to stop his hips jerking upwards, letting you continue to take the reins at your own pace.

“Mhmm,” you hum in encouragement - ready for it.

He stares at your beautiful pussy in front of him - all flushed and rosy and wet in the low light. He did that. He made you a mess like that. It drives him over the edge as the sounds of you sucking and swallowing around his cock fill the quiet room.

“That’s it. That’s - Oh, fuck -” He swears incoherently and it’s your cue to take him as deep as you can. Cormac empties his load directly down your throat, and you suck, draining him of the hot, salty liquid. You swallow and gasp for air. You had needlessly braced yourself for it to taste much worse.

Exhausted, you slide off him and cuddle into his chest, practically glowing with pride. The two of you lie there, your hearts still pounding as you listen to each other breathing raggedly for a few moments.

“You’re… fuck. Unbelievable,” he pants eventually, interrupting the silence.

You smile, tracing your fingers along his chest, silently adding 'sucking cock' to your list of achievements. It feels like you’ve passed an exam with flying colours.

“Well, for the record, you weren’t awful at that.”

“Compared to your comments about my flying, that’s as good as praise from you.”

“Don’t get used to it.” You tilt your head up to look at him as he stares at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat under your hand slowly returning to normal. “What is it about your own name that gets you off, by the way?”

He laughs. “I know I can be a dickhead but you don’t think I’m that bad, do you?” You run your fingers through his tousled hair, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow. “It’s not just my name, it’s when you call me Cormac. You only call me that when you’re turned on.”

What? “I- I do not!” You splutter.

“Yeah, you do. You did it on the Quidditch stands, then in your letter and then again tonight.”

He’s got you there. “Or maybe I only call you McLaggen when you’re irritating me… McLaggen.” You laugh and kiss the crook of his neck.

He squeezes you tighter and presses his lips to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo.

“Yeah, that makes sense too.”

Chapter 7: Fine

#freddie stroma #cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen x reader #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fic #hp fanfcition

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blueparadis · 2 years

Text

“Meet Little Miss Sano !”

—›› cw :: afab-reader, super fluff, mention of stepcest, menstrual cycle, explicit kissing, mentions of Shinichiro, Emma, college au, mature language, mention of foster parents; precis–Big (step)brother comforts Miss Sano for the first time; wc–1.5k tap here to browse my works.

The day Shinichiro brought you to the Sano household was the luckiest day of your life since all you ever wanted was a big brother doting on you, taking care of you, and keeping you safe, especially from those gawking stares. Childhood bleached from happiness, too many houses, too many surnames, and too many abusive parents until you crossed paths with your bloodline.

“There you go, Awhh! Don't be afraid. He's not gonna harm you...”, Shinichiro's voice laced your ears as you gripped onto his sweatshirt as if your life depended on it. Meeting new people always felt like a knot of death around your neck, trying to kill you yet not giving you the privilege of dying.

Fear was so deep-seated in your heart that it took months for Shinichiro to get you comfortable. He was nice and kind and unlike other visitors, he didn't bring candies and soft toys; he brought flowers and books. You always found it strange but your heart wouldn't suffice enough courage to spill it out.

And one day, when you were quite comfortable in his presence, you finally mustered up enough courage to open up to him he brought someone. Shorter yet firm built, seemed like your age, blonde and a little chubby cheeks with a dorayaki in his hand. While you stood in surprise, the boy gave you a piece of his dorayaki exclaiming, “I can only give you half”

Shinichiro ruffled his hair while you looked at him seeking assurance. As Shin nodded you took it. That was your first meeting with Manjiro Sano. How could you not like such a home? But Shinichiro had his flaws; he never mentioned anything about Emma, probably because telling either of you might reopen old wounds. He didn't want that, never.

So, the day he brought you to his home you're a bit cautious seeing such a lovely face but couldn't seem to ask. But Manjiro sure was perceptive. "That's Emma! Our little sister", he softly added. That day, Manjiro couldn't avert his eyes from you, you looked like an angel with a crescent adorning your face.

Life became simple and easy to understand. There were no more fights, no more terrible headaches, and no more scars. It didn't take you long to settle in comfortably in the Sano house and Emma warmed up to you so quick. Tackling the brothers became so much easier for her as you helped her in cooking.

Shinichiro still brought you flowers and books. So, one day the Junior Sano popped the question you always wanted to ask. Shinichiro said flowers because they glow if you take care of them and books because who doesn't like to read stories. He was always like this silly yet charming.

But Manjiro came in shades. Sometimes he fought with you over the last piece of dorayaki and sometimes he used to wait outside the college even though he missed it that day. He never let you be alone; Even though you were quite capable of crossing the road by yourself, Manjiro always used to hold your hand. And if you complained, he said that it's not you, it's him who gets confused among the cars and lights. Bike rides with him were the best and since you loved flying like a bird he always used to take you out late at night. Days passed like blooming tulips. Finally, you knew what happiness tasted like; but seasons change don't they?

As soon as you entered the house you threw yourself on the bed. Just when your eyes were giving up you felt the mattress sink. "Hey, everything all right?", Manjiro asked tucking your hair behind your earlobes to take a good look at your face. "Yep. Just tired. ", you mumbled.

"I was about to go to pick you up.", Manjiro said as he left the bed to fetch the water bottle. You'd have called him to take you home early but didn't want to bother him. Besides, you could barely talk from the exhaustion and this massive stomach ache. Getting out of the bed you checked your cupboard and your guess were totally on point: it was your month yet you were out of tampons.

Manjiro looked at your worried face and his question was at the tip of his tongue, “What’s wrong? Why the frown?”, to which you hesitated to reply because till now you never talked to him about these things. “I — I need to go out”, you blurted out to which he jerked his head accompanied by his dancing eyebrows asking for further explanation.

The more you hesitated, the clearer it became to him. He tapped on your shoulders and asked you to get a shower, to get refreshed. When you came out of the shower, you noticed a pack of tampons on your bed and got a little embarrassed.

Drying your hair you went towards the kitchen to fetch food but he was already there sitting on the couch, legs stretched onto the table, one hand kept on the backrest of the couch while the other held the remote. “Hungry already?”, he asked as you sat beside him.

You nodded letting him know that you weren't. He snapped his fingers to gesture for you to lay down on his lap. It's one of the sweetest things you two shared. Whenever either of you felt down, the other sought comfort by laying their head down on your lap. Although, it was mostly him enjoying your pillow-like lap.

Manjiro turned off the TV and skimmed his hand through his hair. You noticed his sharp jawlines and forced yourself to look away. A deep exhale as his arm slips from the rest upon your belly to adjust the hot bag you were holding. “Feeling better?“, he asked as you took his hand and started to play with his fingers. “Yeah.”, you added.

“Take rest tomorrow. Don't go to college. I won't too”, he muttered.

“And do what? Start watching a new series?”, you muttered as his other hand gently stroked your forehead. His eyes fell over your body. You tapped on his nose to gain his attention. He started to play with your hair again while you interlaced his fingers with yours humming a tune. He kept talking about his day, about how he did most of the grocery shopping, Emma was there too, a little too excited since she doesn't get much chance to go out.

Manjiro noticed that you were lost, somewhere else; he didn't complain, he felt happy seeing you relaxed in his presence. You slid the hot bag while Manjiro tucked his hair behind his earlobes jocking down and pressing his lips against yours. You swallowed a gulp and your palm that rested in his gripped harder while the other clenched the sheets. He pulls away, face still inches apart from yours as your boobs heaved vigorously.

“What was that?”, you sternly asked sitting upright facing him. He folded his legs and buried his face in his palms exhaling deeply. He is nervous too. As silence seeped both of your skin you got up to leave but he pulled you back into the couch. His hand over your back as you closed your eyes in reflex. His hands are ice cold. He was way more nervous than you. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I— I shouldn't have. Sorry”, he mumbled rubbing your back calming your senses.

As your breathing relaxed you looked at him, his eyes tainted in sadness and worry; you could get lost and never find your way back. “Has he always looked at me like this?”, a thought popped and you wrapped your arms around him mumbling how frightened you were for a moment that you'd lose him. “I didn't mean to scare you”, he softly spoke.

His husky voice wrecked your senses as he curls his hand around your body kissing your temple. He quickly moves on to your neckline making you gasp. You pull away from the embrace, breathing heavily and so does he.

He takes your palms in his eyes looking down asking, “Do you trust me Miss Sano?” to which you fail to respond but your hands wrapping around his, intertwined fingers are enough for him. “Close your eyes!”, he directs, and as you do you felt strawberry-scented lips taking yours. He holds your chin between his index and thumb deepening his kiss and then breaking is followed by a kiss on your cheeks.

“Manjiro”, you call as he rests his head on your shoulder. “hmmm?”, he hums to which you just convey that you both are going college tomorrow. He jumps out of the couch in excitement merrily exclaiming,“So, we're going on a date!“ earning a pout from you.

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badcaseofcasey · 5 months

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one single thread of gold (tied me to you) | Part 3 aka: my Steddie soulmates au, Eddie's POV Part 1 | Part 2 | Steve's POV

guess who's baaaaack? Sorry for the long wait between parts, but here's part three of Eddie's POV! I'm back to working on this fic primarily, so will hopefully have the next part sooner rather than later! As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

As Eddie settled into life in Hawkins, he quickly realized that the universe must be playing a practical joke; there was no way in hell that Steve Harrington was his soulmate.

His assumptions that first day at Hawkins High had proven correct: Steve was popular, painfully mainstream, and had zero time or attention for anyone outside of his circle of influence. In some ways, being so utterly ignored by his soulmate hurt worse than if he’d been outright rejected. It was a reminder every day that Eddie wasn’t even significant enough in his soulmate’s life to merit rejection.

Eddie had learned how to use his outcast status to his advantage well before he’d moved to Hawkins - how to wear the mantle of “freak” like armor. He found the other outcasts and was able to use his reputation (and the fact that he supplied weed to most of the popular kids) to protect them, too.

He carved out a section of Hawkins that was his own and made just enough space there for the people he cared about. Over time, he slowly brought more and more lost sheep into the fold, founding Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin with people he could legitimately call his best friends. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as someone like Eddie could ever hope to get.

Corroded Coffin’s practices were often one of Eddie’s favorite parts of his new life in Hawkins. Gareth had started at Hawkins High Eddie’s Junior year, but he saw Eddie’s Dio patch on his first day of school and was ballsy enough to approach the older teen to ask if he played any instruments. Since then, they’d added Jeff, and Freak (who was actually also named Geoff, but happily went by Freak to avoid any confusion). They were sounding more and more like an actual band these days, and they had a standing gig at the Hideout to prove it.

Of course, sometimes the peace of shredding through whatever insane guitar solo Eddie had learned or come up with that week was shattered by one of the other guys bringing high school into the mix.

“Are you guys thinking of going to the party this weekend?” Gareth asked.

“What party?” Jeff responded. “I haven’t heard of one yet.”

“Harrington’s parents are out of town again,” Gareth said. “He’s hosting; I heard Carol Perkins talking about it during Bio.”

“Probably not,” Jeff said. “My mom’s been on my ass about homework lately - she like, actually wants me to get into college, especially since my brother got denied from everywhere except Ivy Tech.”

The rest of the band nodded sympathetically. Even Eddie had Wayne on his ass to apply to college - as if they both didn’t know he’d be repeating senior year. He had way too many absences and D’s on his transcript for them to give him a diploma this time around.

“What about you, Eddie? Are you going to be there selling?” Gareth asked. “I hear Harrington’s crowd has enough money to throw around.”

Eddie strummed loudly and let the feedback echo through the garage. “I would love it if I didn't have to hear Steve Harrington’s name during band rehearsal for once.”

Gareth looked acceptably cowed by Eddie’s response, but was clearly not going to be deterred. “Come on, guys. You’ll be graduating soon and I’m going to be stuck at Hawkin’s High with Freak and zero street cred.”

“You don’t get street cred by going to parties like that,” Eddie argued.

“Okay, maybe not - but what about girls?” Gareth challenged. “You know all the girls show up hoping to hook up with Steve and when they are inevitably disappointed, they’ll be looking for a shoulder to cry on. I could be that shoulder!”

“Don’t you ever wonder if the King Steve thing is all an act?” Freak piped up. “You hear about all these girls, but do you ever really see him dating anyone? For all we know, he and Hagan could be hooking up behind closed doors. The way they act around each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who were soulmates, not Tommy and Carol.”

Eddie whirled around to glare at Freak. “What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m just saying that all that bravado is there for a reason,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to cover up something.”

To this day, Eddie isn’t sure what made him do it. Maybe all the talk about Steve’s words and his sex life had gone straight to his head and stopped him from thinking straight. Maybe he’d been waiting for an excuse to do it and it seemed like as good a time as any. Or maybe, Eddie desperately needed a distraction to a different topic.

Whatever it was that made him do it, Eddie found himself saying, “Would it be so disgusting if he did get his words from a guy? Pretty ironic to be a homophobe as a guy named Freak, huh?” His tone of voice made it absolutely clear which side Eddie found himself on.

“Woah,” Freak said, holding up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really?” Eddie said. “What did you mean it like? The only reason it’d be big news if Harrington was a queer is if you have some sort of problem with it.”

“C’mon, Eddie,” Jeff said, always the peacemaker, “you know it’d be a big deal if the ladies man of Hawkins High was actually into dudes. Freak didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. “Sorry. I got defensive.”

“No worries, man,” Freak said. “But you know I don’t have problems with people like that. Us freaks have to stick together.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and accepted Freak’s handshake as everyone went back to their instruments. Luckily, his little outburst seemed to at least have gotten them off the topic of Steve Harrington. They messed around with a few cover songs and even got an original song or two started before Jeff had to leave to go work on homework.

As Eddie was packing up, Gareth came over, trying to come across as nonchalant but missing it by a mile.

“You know, we’d all be cool with it if… if you got your words from a guy,” Gareth said quietly.

Eddie snapped his guitar case shut and turned to look at Gareth. “Yeah, man. I know. Thanks for saying it, though.”

“Imagine if Steve Harrington was the person you got your words from though,” Gareth said. “That would be hilarious.”

Eddie just huffed out a laugh, trying not to give anything away.

Unfortunately, Gareth knew him too well.

“That would be hilarious, right?” Gareth asked, skeptical.

Eddie looked at him and raised his eyebrows, mouth stretched into a grimace.

“Oh no,” Gareth said. “No way, man.”

“Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

“No, I mean - I’m gonna have to put up with you falling for Steve Harrington one of these days - if it hasn’t happened already - oh god, tell me it hasn’t happened already.”

“As if,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh good, I still have time,” Gareth said, theatrically relieved. “I need to enjoy my Harrington-free life while I’ve still got it.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie said fondly, shoving Gareth just hard enough for him to lose his balance.

As they walked out to the car, still laughing at each other’s ridiculous behavior, Eddie couldn't help but feel a little lighter. He might not have the same faith as Gareth that he and Steve would ever end up together, but it was nice to know he’d always have friends like this by his side.

taglist: @awkwardgravity1 @infinitetrashbag @vampireinthesun @swimmingbirdrunningrock @maya-custodios-dionach @thev01dd @obsessivlyme @a-little-unsteddie @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @spectrum-spectre @red-panderz69 @magpiemuseum @minjintea @finalmoondragonn @thatonebadideapanda @estrellami-1 @freyaforestafay @biatcgh @sadcanadianwinter @im-sam-fucking-winchester @bidisastersworld @justanothergirlwithobsessions @anaibis @thing-a-ling @rosered93 @newtstabber @void-o-chaos @thegingerrapunzel @baron-zemo-trash @katireads @child-of-cthulhu @the-s-is-silent @i-must-potato @hellomynameismoo @lovelylilbadone @theotalksalot @lydi-cyan @background-noise-headache @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @slitherynchiken @grapefruitgalaxy @bookbinderbitch @luthienstormblessed @blues-tunes @murdblurdock @grtwdsmwhr @xpaperheartso @anaibis @thedyingwriter

#my fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #soulmate au #met as kids au #Stranger Things #steddie soulmate au

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heavensentofficial · 3 months

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Hello Miss Lettie.

I was wondering if you'd be willing to discuss your religion and the way you feel about the temple itself with me? I know you're a busy person, of course, so I'm happy to work around your schedule.

If not, that's perfectly fine as well.

Thank you in advance,

- @code-dread

Hello there!

Of course! I am busy, but I would consider this exactly the kind of thing I am busy with. By which I guess I mean my job? Hehe... And it is an interesting question... Somehow I'm not sure I've really been asked before...

I did notice you speaking with Jordan, by the way! It's always heartening to see new people take interest in the temple c:

As for your question,

I think I may have a different perspective on the temple than most people here? Mostly in that everyone else here has made vows of their own volition and experienced other things, while I've always been here! And in that I have a lot of information that the others here don't. I even need to keep secrets from Brother Jordan ahaha ^^; I'll have to be careful with that sort of thing when I'm sharing my opinion, come to think of it.

...

You know, I'm not sure where to start! The temple is all I've ever really known, so as much as I'd like to give you helpful, concise information, it is a bit of a case of trying to explain how I feel about my life as a whole ^^; ... I hope you will forgive me if this is a bit all over the place!

Hmmmm... Firstly, I think I have to make the disclaimer that this is an organised religion, right? I'm not sure there really is such a thing as organised religion without flaws or corruption - and because of my position, I tend to see a lot of it quite up close, which makes me really sad. :< I have a lot of affection for this place and the people in it, so seeing certain individuals use it in such a way truly hurts. I often find myself wondering just what it is about the temple that seems to be enabling the sort of exploitation I keep seeing, but I'm not sure it's something I'm brave enough to bring up to anybody. Maybe one day... I do what I can to make things easier for people for the time being. ^^; The safety of our flock is of the utmost concern, after all. (hehe. flock...)

That aside, I think the temple does a lot of good! In my own experience, I was raised here, so I'm naturally thankful for that. I've been kept very safe from the various dangers and corrupting influences in town and had lots of opportunities to learn and to help people because of it. ^^ (Besides, from what little I've heard of the alternative outcome, I'm not certain that someone with my constitution would cope very well at all.)

One of our main rules is obedience to our elders... I choose to take this to mean that we are allowed to privately question them, but to we are expected to only act on this after the fact. (Unless you find someone older still whose age-authority cancels the other person's out! That's why I have learned the exact ages of everyone at the temple, to avoid those with unclean intent ^^) While there are those who would take advantage of this, in theory, the idea is that we should look up to and respect those with experience - and in the same vein, have a responsibility to guide and care for our juniors. And I think if everyone did that, it would be a lovely world. ^^ So in that sense, I'm quite blessed to have so many elders here.

We also place a heavy emphasis on sexual purity... To my understanding, this temptation is a constant plague that humankind suffers from greatly - especially in this town. I've heard frightful things of what happens outside, perpetrated by those overcome by their sin, so perhaps we are onto something. I myself believe that everyone can grow and improve so long as they truly desire it, so I try to be kind even to people that do bad things, but the temple as a whole is uh... Quite firm in their treatment of sinners as a whole. This is probably good, though ^^ To grow and become pure, people need both harsh correction and balm for their wounds. Otherwise my approach would just be coddling, right?

Ummm... I hope this has been helpful? It's hard to know what to include and what not to! This being my whole life and all. If you ever see me, feel free to approach me to talk, if you should so wish! Or to just ask more questions here, I suppose? Whichever you prefer if you need to.

#((This question was challenging to answer but also super fun! Love the opportunity to try to sneak in a lil character study))#((She is of course being uh NOT FULLY HONEST here - she can't exactly get away with that. Or even Very honest.))#((But I hope people enjoy extrapolating what they can from this hehe))#((Fun game to play is drinking at every red flag))#((Another one is overthinking what she actually means - particularly when she seems like she's being #super guard lowered totally open and honest lmao))

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fincalinde · 1 year

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nie huaisang and/or nie mingjue for the ask meme 🧋

Bold! Very bold. Standard disclaimer that I'm aware not everyone is aiming for canon consistency in their fan content, but I find it disheartening that there is so little content produced where the end result is canon consistent. When I express frustrations it is in relation to trends and not specific fics or individuals.

Nie Huaisang

a song that reminds me of them

I honestly don't have any songs that remind me of him, beyond the very weak connection of the results of the impact he has on other characters. He's not a character with much interiority, so nothing really clicked for me in that regard.

what they smell like

I imagine he smells pretty good since he likes to dress well and wear jewellery and that implies he's relatively fastidious. I am guessing he probably smells like clean human in the early part of his life, and then maybe once he's clan leader he has more scope to have whatever incenses he wants floating through the Unclean Realm so then he might smell of those. And obviously there's various hair oils—he's got his signature look with his rings and his fan so it's possible he has a signature hair oil. But maybe it would be declassé to wear so much hair oil that everyone else can smell it and you'd only be able to tell up close and personal oh my god why have I written this many words about how NHS smells

an otp

There's certainly no one in the cast he makes sense with. My personal feeling is that he's really not the type of person who's ever going to work effectively in any kind of partnership, so I don't see him ever being in a relationship that would be a healthy and successful one. I imagine he does marry postcanon though - now is the time to sire heirs and keep the Nie on top.

a notp

The idea of NHS with JGY is particularly distasteful to me.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

Personally, I think the collective dynamic of the Venerated Triad isn't complete without NHS as the unofficial fourth member. LWJ, as is typical, opts out and doesn't give LXC the courtesy of referring to his sworn brothers with fraternal address (not that LXC minds, ilhsm). NHS however is all in on this bonus brother scheme. Not only does he address LXC and JGY as er-ge and san-ge, but he actually treats them like big brothers. He's pleased to see LXC, he's even more pleased to see JGY (omg presents), and it's quite nice that JGY in particular is trying to make up for NMJ's weaknesses in this area. That's not to say that JGY is correct to not make any demands of NHS at all, but he's certainly attempting to be a moderating influence and it's just all really interesting to me.

Of course once NMJ is dead, there's presumably not much time before his corpse first escapes its tomb and NHS concludes there was foul play. So we can't read too much into the way NHS runs back and forth to JGY and LXC, in the sense that obviously a large part of this is an act. But it's still interesting, and I think a lot of people forget that the narration says NHS is bothering LXC at the Cloud Recesses just as often as he's flinging himself on san-ge for fuss and support. This could become its own very long post, so I'll stop here.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

Obviously there are numerous 'headcanons' I disagree with, but to pick one of the most irritating ones, I really dislike this recurring theme I see of NHS showing his hand either postcanon or in divergences. This is a man who never broke character in all of canon—why on earth is he suddenly monologuing at length about his grievances in front of [insert characters here]? Canonically, all he does is obliquely confirm to WWX that he was behind setting the arm on the Mo family, manipulating MXY, killing the cats and luring the juniors, desecrating MS' body etc. But it's all implied and he does not ever relinquish plausible deniability.

It really makes no sense to me to think that NHS would drop his act postcanon, either in the canon scenario of dead JGY, or in a divergence scenario where JGY survives. As infuriating as it would be for him if JGY escaped, he's going to redouble his efforts rather than sabotage himself by confirming WWX's suspicions to literally anyone. He's held it together thus far even when it looked like his plan might go awry, and there's no reason to think he can't continue to hold it together through any further plans and/or confrontations.

NHS' greatest weapon is his ability to not break character, and we already know he doesn't break character in victory. So, a setback as basic as JGY surviving would just not be enough for him to relinquish his modus operandi. I really think he'd be privately furious and distressed, but would continue to disguise that and simply attempt to regroup. (Although, as I have also said before - in a divergence where JGY knows NHS is his enemy, NHS is toast. JGY outclasses NHS on every level and the only advantage NHS has is JGY's profound belief in his harmlessness. Once that is gone, it's game over.)

the position they sleep in

I've never really thought about this but I bet when he was little he would crawl into NMJ's bed and proceed to keep him awake all night by fidgeting.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

Maybe one day I'll confirm how he fits in to my ATLA AU and write that. I do know where he is and what he's doing.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

I can't say I've ever paid much attention, but I definitely find the wardrobe of CQL NHS to be disappointingly bland and unmemorable, so maybe just his default official artwork outfit? Seems like it fits the canonical brief of being sharp and fashionable with bonus fan.

—

Nie Mingjue

a song that reminds me of them

Definitely Running Deep by Delara.

Looking deep inside my thoughts And reflected shit I thought I could control But I'm paralysed and terrified And it's killing me but maybe that is fine

what they smell like

Human being + something a little bit metallic.

an otp

He's canonically ace as in no interest in relationships or sex, so none. As a side note I do think it's interesting that he doesn't marry and father children - I assume before the war he thinks he'll have more time, and afterwards he realises time is too short for him to raise and train his own children. But there's just a whisper in there of the classic NMJ 'do as I say not as I do' approach, because it's still a choice he's made that was influenced by his own preferences rather than solely his duty as clan leader.

a notp

I cannot think of any ship I dislike more than Nieyao. If I get into this it will become a dissertation, so we'll just leave it there. Suffice to say:

Physical abuse and mortal terror are not things that interest me when I'm shipping.

I am not in the habit of ignoring canonical character dynamics for my own convenience.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

Perhaps weirdly, I really enjoy NMJ and LXC because of the layers. I really like that the affection between them is genuine but that they just do not get each other and you can see throughout the flashbacks the way their relationship is eroding. And it's not drastic, dramatic erosion like NMJ and JGY, but instead the kind of sad recognisable drifting apart of two people who became friends in their youth because they're from similar backgrounds and have unique and heavy responsibilities—but those similarities are just not enough the older they get, and the more time passes the more apparent it becomes that they have fundamentally different outlooks on life.

I like that NMJ refuses to engage with LXC's basic point about context mattering, yet before he's fully in the grip of the sabre spirit maxing out his worst instincts, he's still capable of being moved by human sympathy when it's LXC making the argument. I like that LXC is the only person NMJ is ever visibly pleased to see. I really believe NMJ cares deeply about LXC, his only actual friend.

And, conversely, I also really like that NMJ is able to see that LXC has a closer bond and rapport with JGY and is frustrated by that. I don't know that I'd go all in on the theory that he's jealous of how close LXC and JGY are as a primary motivation as that's a bit too basic, but I do think that feeling of exclusion is one of the many factors swimming around in the murky depths of the dynamic of their sworn brotherhood.

Finally, I just love the contrast between LXC's relatively clear-eyed view of JGY, where he has a very good understanding of who JGY is and what he's all about even if he's not aware of all the lengths JGY ultimately has to go to, with his absolute obliviousness to who NMJ really is. NMJ is literally trying to stab JGY to death in public and only LXC's intervention prevents murder and yet another inter-clan war, and LXC is still like oh dear, Da-ge really is under a lot of stress. LXC is drifting further and further from NMJ (see the excellent meta from @xiyao-feels for a breakdown of this). Yet he still thinks of NMJ as being at heart the youthful clan leader he first befriended, rather than the current worst self incarnation whose negative qualities have been turned up to the max and who is a lethal ticking time bomb, a danger to everyone around him.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

As always, do not get me started. I am absolutely baffled as to where cuddly wuddly giant teddy gym bunny biker Etsy crafter in touch with his fee-fees all bark and no bite NMJ comes from, because he certainly does not feature in canon. I'll stand by this for both MDZS and CQL. I've probably spilt enough ink on MDZS NMJ and we are given very detailed insight into his state of mind so that's a lot easier to reference, but it's worth noting that CQL NMJ is just as profoundly hypocritical and violent and it's vital to incorporate that into his character. Writing only his superficial righteousness, his love for NHS and his affection for LXC is really not enough. It annoys me when aspects of characters are excised in order to sanitise them for what appears to be mainly shipping purposes.

the position they sleep in

I think maybe it varies but he doesn't move much in the night unless he has nightmares. Which no one knows about because he always sleeps alone.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

I also know what this guy is doing in my ATLA AU, and I'm super boring and not a huge fan of genuine crossovers—usually I prefer mashups where the characters of one canon are integrated into the setting of another without aping the original plot. I think it's really important to retain his arc of a) losing himself to all his worst qualities, and b) acknowledging that he's choosing to lose himself and handling it badly, but also it's not much of a choice when he can't opt out of the system he's in. I'm thinking maybe an X-Men AU where he has some kind of power that causes sabre-spirit-type degeneration and violence? It would need some kinks worked out of it but might be a decent shout.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

Obviously his best look is when WWX is flicking his naked disembodied torso. Iconic.

#ask #thatswhatsushesaid #roquen meta #howling sadly into the night:#NMJ IS SO INTERESTING #whyyyyy would you construct something else out of whole cloth #when we have this to dig into?#beyond my comprehension

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jihoonmk · 5 months

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so, this is probably the latest i've ever been with an intro post (a week? i think....) anywho! it's just me, jiwoo's mun here with a 2nd (but not really a new muse, just bring life back to a muse who has actually lived a few times before and i have a special attachment to hehehe). meet kang jihoon, my sweet boy with quite a bit of trauma (which i won't get into here much + will make sure to use tw's as needed!).

he's my black bird manipulation baby who just wants to fit in and feel like he belongs somewhere. he can also do a bit of dream walking, but he's sort of afraid to use his minor ability due to the risks of it (listed on his profile).

anyway, i'll list below a few things to know about him for plotting purposes so if you'd like to plot with this boy here feel free to like this post and i'll slide into your dm's! (i will be getting to jiwoo's stuff tomorrow, i promise i haven't forgotten anyone. it's just been a really hectic week. ;;). of course i also have a discord but that's only available upon request if it's easier for you to plot there! ^^

things to know:

jihoon is from Melbourne, Australia where he previously lived with his mother and father (who was, and still is, completely unaware of this magical world that jihoon is a part of and he would very much like to keep it as a secret from the man for as long as he possibly can).

family death tw: his mother sadly passed away when he was 17 years old, leaving behind only jihoon and his father. her death took a major toll on not only jihoon, but his father as well (taking her death extremely hard to the point where he began to change after).

jihoon isn't exactly close to his father, even more so after everything that happened when it just became the two of them. it's part of the reason why he managed to 'train himself' to be 'invisible' in others' presences and learned to keep to himself when in rooms with other people.

abuse tw/alcohol tw/family death tw: after his mother's death, jihoon's father began drinking uncontrollably. it got so bad to the point that he began drunkenly taking his sorrow/anger out on jihoon, often beating him to make himself 'feel better' while dealing with the death of his wife. jihoon learned over time to just stay still and take the beatings that he received, knowing that if he tried to stop his father, run away, or even begged him to stop then the beatings would only get worse. eventually the man fled Australia and moved to busan in order to evade any of his wife's family, running out of excuses as to why they couldn't check up on jihoon and see how he was managing after his mother's passing.

the day that an elder visited jihoon, thankfully his father was too 'out of it' and passed out on the bedroom floor to even notice any visitors. this day was the one day that gave jihoon the slightest bit of hope of even having some sort of 'happiness' in his life. a life away from the not-so-perfect life that he has at home with his father.

it took quite a bit of convincing to finally get his father to agree and let him leave busan to go to 'seoul', telling the man that he would have a better 'job' opportunity there and that he'd be able to give the man even more money. thus giving jihoon the chance to get away from the man and more or less go into hiding where he could start a new life for himself in jeju.

it's only when jihoon arrives in jeju that he realizes he had never been on his own before, making him even more nervous and aware of his own surroundings. even after starting his studies, he mainly kept to himself and would be known as that one kid in the back of the class. the kid that was always so quiet and didn't have many friends, despite others actually trying to approach him to befriend him.

even now, in his junior year, jihoon has very few friends and mostly keeps to himself. he works in order to feed himself, is one of those students that always turns his work in on time, and can even be found gazing up at the starts most nights while lost in his own thoughts. no one really knows what's going on inside that head of his, and it seems that his only 'friend' is his companion (aside from the few that managed to break through those walls he had previously built up around himself).

#mk:intro #{ let's just pretend that this isn't 100 years late? c: }

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apolloanddaphnis · 11 months

Text

Poppies in October

Part III

Disclaimer: Lots of angst, mention of eating disorders, mentions of rape. Queer pairing and not proofread.

James POV

Everyone saw the breakup.

It was like a broom accident during a Quidditch match, ugly and horrible but you couldn't find it in yourself to look away.

Seeing Marlene McKinnon disrespect Lily Evans like that, seeing the proud look on Dorcas's face who was supposed to be a good friend of Lily's….Lily, who is kind to everyone who never says a bad thing to anyone, even when she was trying to be mean to me to soothe Marlene's insecurities, she still looked apologetic and secretly left me a box of red chuck Taylor's, a muggle shoe I love. My favorite shoes I wear everyday. How could anyone treat someone that sweet like that?

I couldn't look away, Remus was fuming, he's so close to Lily and he ran over to Marlene fuming. I never liked Marlene, partially because of my crush on Lily but also because I know her well as my teammate. She's a seeker and the youngest captain to ever be on Gryffindor. She's good, so fucking good. Like lightning, so fast you'd think you imagined seeing her, that's why we call her Bolt. It makes her cocky, she gets any girl she wants, likes to play the field, not just Quidditch. She's strong and has a masculine beauty, and treated Lily like she was replaceable.

Now they're over. I don't know where Lily went that night but she was gone for a long time, didn't come back until 3, and strangely didn't alert anyone she missed curfew. Lily has her secrets and I understand that better than anyone, her talents surpass her just making high marks.

I stayed up until she made it safe, and when she returned she wasn't crying anymore.

The next day was weird.

Regulus Black was acting so strange in the bathroom.

He snapped at me, stared at me, and made a comment about my lip gloss.

I think he found me attractive and didn't like it.

I'm aware of how handsome I am. Tall and lean with svelte muscles, ideal for being a chaser, like a cheetah almost. I tried out for seeker but Marlene just happened to be better.

My olive skin tans beautifully, I'm grateful for my mother's Persian heritage. I have high cheekbones and lips attractively full for it that naturally come in a red raspberry color, which compliments my hooded amber-cognac colored eyes. Girls envy my lashes and my shoulder length black ringlets that are cut in a wolf cut.

It didn't surprise me that my best friend's little brother checked me out, but it did surprise me that I liked it….a lot.

When did he get so hot?

I swore off Slytherins, not only because most of them are junior death eaters, but also because I intimately understand what happens when you get too close to one.

I wish I didn't lose my virginity to Severus, I wish it was my choice to lose it. But he seemed so shy at first, I fell for the backstory, his life isn't the easiest. But that was no excuse…I took a deep breath, I won't waste any tears on that slimy little bastard, not anymore.

But Regulus, he is so…Merlin, I want to get down on my knees and suck him off in the stall.

But he's Sirius's little brother, and Sirius warned me about him. I know how unsympathetic Slytherins are, how they prioritize duty and expectation over what's right. Besides he seemed very upset that he found me attractive anyway, Snape probably told him all about how I was whore for him.

Well if he believes that he can go fuck himself.

I finished up fixing my makeup, I love this lip gloss from Rusalka Budapest Cosmetics, it's cherry red and called Dragoness, and the enchanted lip gloss never smudge or come off unless you utter a cleaning charming, and it tastes like cherries jubilee and amaretto. I fluffed my curls and sprayed on my perfume called Enchantress before getting up from my vanity table. "Padfoot I know you stole my other lip gloss."

He was hitching his skirt higher, he got away with wearing the Hogwarts uniform skirt by calling it a kilt claiming his Scottish heritage from his gross father's side, and yes he did say gross to McGonagall. Well one Scot to another, he got the approval. "Which one?" He asked as he bent over our shared vanity to fluffy his mid back long, dark hair. He smells good, like he stole Mary's gardenia perfume good. Sirius Black is a major clepto, but I love the slag. Even though he is prettier than me.

Someone else seems to love him too, more than brotherly bond. I watched Remus from the bed, reading his thriller novel, jaw clenching as he watched our friend parade around in school girl skirts. I smirked, they're so into each other, when will they both admit it?

I plopped down next to Remus and sighed playfully, faking looking properly annoyed. "What are you reading, Mooney?"

"Have a look, you nosy little tosser." He smiled and handed me a muggle Novel called A Clockwork Orange. I prefer muggle writers, not having the genuine knowledge of the magical world makes you more imaginative. "Can I read it when you're done? What's it about?"

"No abso-fookin- no, and don't give me those doe eyes, you always steal my books and n'er give them back, where is 1984?"

I looked down with a suspicious smile and Remus snatched his book with the screaming mouth and fire back. "Exactly, no Prongs I'm dead serious, every time you're gaggin' for one o' me books- one of my books…no!"

Remus is from Manchester, he's got a strong Mancunian accent that he tries to get rid of to sound proper for you know who, but when he gets comfortable and upset he slips in.

"But Mooney!"

"Touch it and I'll give you a right hook in the newtons!"

"Bitch, what does that even mean?" I laughed.

He tossed a pillow at me with his face turning red. "Are you going to eat tonight, Pads?" Remus asked, trying to sound casual, but his dark eyes filled with concern. If Sirius thinks he can get anything pass that boy he's dreaming.

"I do eat mum." Sirius bit back as he added his tenth coat of mascara .

"Hekate, I do hope I'm not Walburga, I swear I shaved this morning." Remus teased.

I saw Sirius's red lipped smile in the mirror. "I had salad and soup."

"S'not enough. You need protein, you love the smoked honey chicken rotisserie. You love the hot cross rolls and the Yorkie pudding and–"

"All things that make me look like a right cow."

I frowned, I noticed Sirius had been eating less but I didn't realize how far it's gotten. Before I could respond to the madness, Remus cut in. "Dammit, Sirius-"

"Let's drop it, yeah? Don't worry Moonman, pumpkin soup has plenty of carbs." He didn't let any of us respond, just walked out just like that.

Peter then entered and looked around at us as he read the tension. "What did I miss?"

With a growl of frustration I never seen on my mature friend, he got up and shoved past Peter so hard he fell to the ground, his white-blue eyes widened in fright at Remus' lethal snarl that is usually reserved just for one night a month. "Everything as usual, you're never here when it matters!" He raged before leaving the dorms with a thunderous slamming of the door.

I rushed over to help Peter up. "He didn't mean it sweetheart, he's just worried about Padfoot that's all."

Peter glared at the door. "He's always worried JUST about Padfoot, like they're bloody married or something, I expect rough behavior from his kind though." He muttered Darkly.

My blood froze, I couldn't believe what one of my closest friends just said. "Peter, what did you say that for what exactly did you mean by his kind?" I asked weakly.

My friend looked worried before composing himself. "Just he's, just an unfunny joke. I'm sorry Prongs I didn't mean it." He clung to my tie and gently stroked it looking into my eyes. "I didn't mean it, honest." He said softly and breathy.

Of course he didn't, he's little Wormy, so I hugged him close. "It's okay Wormy, I know you're just hurt, it's okay. Now, let's go eat. I'm starving!" We headed down together.

On our way to the Great Hall, Peter excused himself to use the loo, I waited outside of it. I'm the kind of friend that accompanies you on all bathroom trips, it's an absolute must. To pass time, I looked at the map, and it looked like Xenophilius and Pandora had been in that broom closet far too long.

Suddenly I saw none other than the footsteps of Regulus Arcturus Black approaching. I folded the map away quickly and tucked it into the pocket of my robe. I spun around to look unsurprised at the walking talking personification of sex. I wanted to lick his jawline and find out what that big bulge in his pants really looks like. And those curls… I leaned against the wall and bit my lip, fluttering my lashes. "Working your corner, Potter?"

I laughed humorlessly before smiling flirtatiously and played with his silver and emerald tie. "Why, interested in the price?"

His nostrils flared and pupils dilated, I smirked as he looked down at my red painted nails. "You can't have me like you've HAD everyone else Potter! You can't have everybody!"

I flinched, I thought I saw a twinge of regret in his eyes but I probably imagined it.

Oh no, no, no…he knows, Snape told him! That evil little snake, that cruel pathetic little imp! I tried my best to push back those tears but it was so hard. "No, I– I'm– what did he tell you?" I was shaking.

His cruel snarl disappeared, his silver-green eyes widened. "James? James, calm down, breathe, who told me what?" He gently moved closer.

"Snape! I swear it wasn't like how he said I swear!"

His eyebrows furrowed and he gently took my hands to bring me back. "James focus right now" his voice was stern but tender and soft. "James, I need you to focus, this is very important, okay?"

I sniffled and looked at him with hesitancy, I felt so small even though I was taller.

The way Regulus looked at me right now made me want to cry. He gently stroked my hand and I could breathe a bit. He smells nice and snuggly like snow, wintergreen, and hot chocolate, he smells like Christmas and the warm flames from a fireplace. His long fingers stroked my chin and I looked down into his eyes. "James, did Severus make you…did he force you–" he choked the last part out.

I didn't want to remember, I didn't want to think of how helpless I was. I wanted to forget, he said it was all my fault for being so handsome and cocky, I needed to be put into my place.

I crumpled into his arms and his arms were around me. He was surprisingly strong and he pulled me under an alcove. I buried my face in his chest, if he wasn't wearing a jumper I'd soak his shirt. He didn't make fun of me, just stroked my hair and eventually rubbed the nape of my neck, a weak spot I wasn't even aware I had.

I was embarrassed by the pathetic little noise I made but all I could do was nuzzle more. "You're like a puppy Potter." He remarked softly, he rubbed behind my ear and I moaned.

"What, no dirty retort?"

I know he was joking but I still couldn't help but whimper with tears. "Fuck, James I didn't mean it." He lifted my face from his jumper and gingerly wiped away the tears. He stared down into my eyes with such a soft look I didn't even know I needed so badly. "You are not dirty, Snape is…fuck, there's been too much tears this week." He stroked more tears away and I leaned into his touch, I watched his eyes lowered to my lips and his Adam's apple bobbed.

I leaned forward and kissed him, his hand lowered to my back before pulling away and I felt cold without his lips on mine. "I'm not going to take advantage of you."

"You aren't, you're making it better."

He pressed his forehead against mine and sighed. "Let's go to the hall, you need to eat." With that he had us stand up and when we walked in together, no one could look away, especially Lily Evans.

@meetmyothersouls @sufferingstarlight

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #james potter #james x lily x regulus #regulily #regulus black #james x regulus #lily evans

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backupthere · 1 year

Note

💁 (for any if the Back Up There stories!)

Did readers influence/change any part of this story?

Since you didn't ask for any particular story, I'll talk about the series as a whole.

The short answer would be "no", in that each story is always complete before I start posting, so nothing that happens in the reactions to one chapter will change what happens in a later chapter.

However, there are a few things that do make an impact. The cast for the universe is huge, and sometimes I like to outsource the creation of characters, which helps to lower the risk of the background characters just being the same four guys over and over again. Those kind of things happen here rather than on AO3, where I'll post asking people to give me a number or a name so I can throw together some character lists. (Once a guy has a name he usually grows a personality by himself...)

The other thing that happens is when somebody leaves a comment about a character reminding them of somebody - particularly if they're talking about guys in the UK leagues, but it can happen with anybody - sometimes a background character gets a face or a skating style due to those comments. It's always clear that the commenter isn't doing it on purpose, and I think if it was deliberately done to try to influence a characterisation it wouldn't work.

One rule I have for myself with this 'verse is that once a fact is established, no matter how tiny, that's canon and cannot be changed. So a casual comment that gets me thinking (did these guys know each other in juniors?) or a response to a plea for character names throwing up a new guy who shares a surname with an existing character can lead to an indisputable fact - there's a guy on the Eagles who has a cousin on the Pumas and they have never interacted in any of the stories so nobody would know this, but the fact remains that they are related because somebody said so and I said "okay then". (I think that might even have been you...)

The very early stories in the 'verse, the short ones that aren't as good because they were silly throwaways before I realised that this thing was just going to be my entire life, also came from more of a chat background, where somebody (@swedishgoaliemafia) would say "hey wouldn't it be neat if - " and then just sit back and watch the carnage. The very first story came out of a chat about why a team had turned up with no backup netminder, and what might have happened to him, and although that wasn't technically influenced by a reader on the basis that there wasn't anything to read at that point, the series as a whole probably wouldn't exist if that conversation hadn't happened.

I also try not to change what I write next because of the audience - I've seen some talented writers get too caught up in their readers' demands for "I wish you'd write a fic where - " and start churning out stale and repetitive work because they stopped writing for themselves, and I don't think I could go down that route... not that that's really a thing for me, as nobody ever sends me prompts or requests for some reason! I do however have in mind that what I'm writing is intended to be read and enjoyed by somebody other than me, and I think there's always subconsciously going to be a little bit of that running through things. I might not set out to write a story or a character or a scene because of something a reader said to me, but it's always hugely satisfying to get a comment saying "X made me cry" when I'd known that it would as I wrote it.

I'm writing for myself, but I'm thinking about you guys as I write.

#ask the author

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the-timeless-founder · 2 years

Text

Modern Saeclus Sanguine

I talked about this with @secretarykang and like everything, I just HAD to do this. I might add the others, but we'll see how that goes.

Family:

Third son of a rich and successful family with two older brothers. He was and is somewhat spoiled but he is humbled by his mother's teachings and socializing with common folk.

He was sent to stay at a relative's state as a kid for a year and he returned a changed person and had a scar over his eye.

Arte and Clius made sure they paid for that.

His two brothers each have their own successful careers, Nocsis is the one who inherited their father's estate and banking company while Caranthus has his own construction business.

He keeps in touch with them and his in-laws whenever he can. Respects his in-laws so much and is always polite and sweet to them. Adores his brothers' children, and they also adore him back.

Giesbach was a business partner of his father's who ruined his fortune and ran away with whatever remained of it, leaving his two sons to pay it off behind.

And this left a bad taste in the three brothers' mouths so they paid off the debt, but Saeclus was the one who reached out and took those kids under his wing.

They live with him now. At first, he felt like he was in way over his head being a twenty-something year old single man taking care of two teenagers, but he got the hang of it.

Now they have their own little dynamic, and Saeclus feels like the father or older brother the two of them deserved. He personally looks after them, and tries to spend enough time with them.

He knows he can't make up for their dead mother and coward dad, but he does his best.

Personality:

He's that nice and smart rich boy who doesn't understand how the common sense of money works. If you tell him a dress can cost less than half a grand he's not gonna believe you.

He can manage a multi-million dollar brand but buy a normal perfume that doesn't cost half of people's salary? That's possible?? Disbelief...

Definitely an artistic kind of person, and has a habit of citing poetry and writing pieces in response to questions he wants to dodge.

Genuinely kind-hearted, loves physical touch as a form of affection, and is super polite to strangers and colleagues alike. Comfortable letting people be around him, warm and approachable, and super helpful if you ask nicely.

Don't get on his bad side though. He'll humiliate you without uttering a word of profanity. Somebody call 911 he just murdered someone's pride. He's got the snark, he just usually prefers to not use it.

He's also fiercely competitive when challenged despite his usually easy-going attitude. If you're coming at him, you'd better bring your A-game because he won't be backing down.

Raised to be and is a perfectionist to the core. And he holds himself to a higher standard than anyone else in his life.

Basically a less traumatized version of the usual Saeclus.

Career and Education:

CEO of the most popular sweets production company, he owns a famous chain of bakeries all around the world and has the highest standards ever. Though he didn't inherit that company, he was born into a high class and old money type family.

Sincerely wanted to major in arts, but his family (mostly his father) firmly objected to that. Through some fights with his father and some logical talks with his mother and oldest brother, he finally agreed to major in business.

Kinda salty about it but he doesn't complain because he's not bitchy like that.

He probably studied abroad in some lavish university where he shared a school with Karlheinz (and probably Devyn).

Two years older than Karlheinz (so three years older than Devyn), and he's the only junior he genuinely dislikes. Not only are they competitive as hell, they legit chip away at each other's sanity every time they speak.

Likes Devyn a lot though. He thinks she's someone who acts her class and age, and he admires that a lot.

#diabolik lovers oc #saeclus sanguine #diabolik lovers #diabolik oc #saeclus #dl oc #my oc #modern au

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schumigrace · 11 months

Note

so sorry about the anon hate; i feel like it happens whenever slight criticism/not overwhelmingly positive opinions are aired. it's happened to me with various other drivers, too :/

but anyway! i have two fairly expansive points for you! and some extra bits of discussion, too :) <3

a) the "lando paydriver" thing seems to have originated from a singular article written by a quasi-"journalist" fan on a fan-based journalism site, with no real evidence and, probably more importantly, hasn't ever been corroborated by any of the actually trustworthy, legitimate f1 publications. it's also been propagated by those who don't particularly like him who've just seen that his father is wealthy and have made assumptions.

he talked his dad's wealth in a quite measured way on a podcast a year or two ago; he essentially had his dad's backing through the junior series (rather than academy or just sponsor funding) which let him be more flexible with what, where and how he was competing (mainly being able to nope out of the general vicinity of helmut marko), but he set a boundary with his dad that f2 would be the last thing he paid for.

lando won the autosport brdc award, which was affiliated with mclaren at the time, which lead him down the path of simulator tests and eventually signing as a junior with them, which lead to the simulator, test and reserve driver roles he had in 2017-2018. which lead to him signing for his debut f1 season in september 2018, when he was still 2nd in the f2 championship.

the paydriver moniker is a strange one nevertheless; as you say we've seen a good number of actual paydrivers and sort-of paydrivers and even not-even-really paydrivers prove themselves to the point where there is no point or even merit to bring up how they got into the sport in the first place. and so at the end of the day... if you had the money, why wouldn't you?! i know i would lmao

b) i don't think i can ever begrudge lando for what can be interpreted as only ever talking about mental health when it pertains to himself. precisely because it does pertain to himself; lando opening up about the doubt, the anxiety and his mental health being at its worst in his rookie year is incredibly brave, and quite frankly inspiring to me. i know it lodged in the back of my mind when i eventually had to stop bottling everything up and talk to my family and eventually go to therapy/counselling for my anxiety. he might not always be the most eloquent about it but it will always be a point of admiration for me.

for everything else i feel that's just up to a lot of interpretation; i think he does genuinely struggle when it comes to packaging his non-driving related press into a way that is understandable or even palatable to those who aren't fans of him, and sometimes he doesn't always hit the mark; he's by far not the most eloquent driver on the grid.

there are nuances to everyone in the paddock, and i think we sometimes forget just how much scrutiny all these guys are under and how much the quotes used in articles can sometimes really miss a lot from the context of tone, be cherry picked or twisted. and even after all of that, lando arguably gives over more of himself to public scrutiny than anyone else with all his streaming and other social media activities.

and, i almost always hate this reasoning but it does have to be said, we forget how young he was coming into f1, just freshly turned 19. and already with a big social media following even then; the maturing you'd go through over 5 years would be very strange and not always linear. it's a weird one.

overall while i do hold lando quite close to my heart (as you could probably tell) he can be marmite-y to those who don't "get" him. and that should be okay, too.

and anyway f1 is just a game of picking your favourite fallable tax dodgers! people often take anything and everything much too far to heart for these 20+ "some guys".

hope you have a lovely day/night anywho, and apologies for the long message :)) <33

hey nonnie. thanks for this! I really appreciate your take on this (and thanks for being so respectful about it!)

I should clarify, I also admire lando discussing his own mental health. The issues I have come from his apparent reluctance to speak out when it comes to the abuse other drivers face, again - I'm only basing this off of what I've seen, and I've personally never seen him go to the defence of anyone else. It only makes me uncomfortable because as an ambassador of a mental health charity I'd just, idk, expect more ? I guess. But like you say, they are at the end of the day just "some guys", and we probably shouldn't expect a lot from any of them.

Anyway. I don't really have much else to add to this, I think you've made some good points

#*says im logging off and not commenting further* *immediately comments further*

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gracefulsunflower · 2 years

Text

CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 15

PUBLISHED: 29/05/2022

!!FIRST PART HERE!!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

READER'S POV

I twirled my finger in the telephone cord nervously until I heard Lizzie's 'hello?'

"Oh! Lizzie, it's (Y/N), I've just had a dream, and I needed to tell you because you were in it," I rambled as Finn Junior came and weaved between my legs.

'Was it a vision, like the ones Polly has?' Lizzie inquired, and I shrugged.

"I'm not sure, but it felt real enough," I admitted as Finn came down the hall, just waking up, his curly hair all over the place and only wearing boxers and a singlet.

Finn jutted his chin up, and I mouthed 'Lizzie', making him nod as he put the kettle on to boil then reached up to grab two mugs. I watched him as he did so, revelling in how the skin tightened over the muscles in his upper arm, showing them off.

'Tell me about it,' Lizzie demanded softly, bringing me back to reality and making me avert my eyes from Finn.

"You had a baby, and she grew up to be gorgeous, like someone you'd see in the pictures. Her name was Ruby," I stated, leaning back against the bench, smiling slightly, "And I saw her father, too. The blue eyed devil. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

'Tommy Shelby,' She sighed, then took a slight pause, 'It's true. I am pregnant, and he's the father. He doesn't know yet.'

"Are - Are you keeping her?" I asked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, Finn now going over and relighting the fire.

'Yes. I want a baby,' She states, making me grin.

"Well then, Miss Stark, congratulations. I'll knit you some baby boots, beanies, and a blanket." I informed her.

'I don't need them just yet!' Lizzie protested with a chuckle.

"It'll be good to have them on hand," I pointed out, making her hum in agreement.

'I'm feeling a bit tired, I reckon I need some more sleep, see you at the shop?' Lizzie said, then yawned.

"See you at the shop. Talk to you later," I replied, then Lizzie hung up.

"Who's the father of her baby?" Finn questioned, and I put my finger to my lips, signalling that it was a secret.

Finn huffed, but nodded as he came back over and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and put sugar into his blue mug.

"I'll take Jenica's cake tin back over to her," I said as it caught my eye on the bench.

"Who the fuck is Jenica?" He asked, pouring the now boiled water into his mug.

"My cousin, Jenica Palmer. She's probably your distant fucking relation too, with how big and connected gypsy families are," I remarked, then chuckled.

"I'll come with you," Finn announced after pouring milk into his cup.

"You've been in my pocket ever since I got back, Finn Shelby, I don't think so," I warned, wagging my finger.

Finn nodded, knowing not to push my limits, then handed me the tin, "Take a gun with you, put it in your bra or something. City's still dangerous."

"I will," I snapped, frowning as I turned on my heel and went up the corridor, grabbing Finn's handgun off of the table, unloading it then putting it into my bra.

I grabbed the silencer too, putting it into my bra.

I knew that we were in trouble, it held on to the Shelby's like a bulldog. I didn't need reminders every five seconds. I grabbed my socks and put them on, then grabbed my boots, pulling them on. I looked over at my vanity, and decided that the walk was too far away, instead grabbing the hair tie on my wrist and scraping my hair up into a bun, grabbing my coat, and walking back out to the living room, where Finn was frying, eggs, sausages, and tomatoes in a pan, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"I won't be long," I informed him, making him nod.

I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down a reminder to knit the stuff for Lizzie, and one to buy our own cake tin, then left the flat, borrowed cake tin in hand. I walked along the balcony in front of the apartments, humming a song I had heard on the radio.

I went upstairs, then entered the building, taking the internal stairwell instead of the fire escape for once, sick of the clanging sound it made with my boots.

I walked up to the fifth floor, and headed to the third door on the right, knocking on it.

Jenica opened the door, baby Violet on her hip.

"Cousin," She greeted warmly, pulling me in for a hug.

"Hello, cousin. I brought your cake tin back," I said as I released her from the hug, handing it to her, "I've got to get back to the apartment before Finn sends out a fucking search party, I'll come visit you and baby soon."

I pressed a kiss to Violet's forehead, making her giggle.

"All good, see you then." She said, and shut the door.

I walked down the internal staircase, and heard a familiar voice yell; "Everyone stay indoors! Stay down! By order of the Peaky Blinders!"

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, yanking the gun out of my bra, "I should've stayed home."

As I was putting the silencer on the gun, I looked down, and Tommy was coming up the stairwell.

"Thomas!" I hissed, making him look up, "What's going on?"

He ignored my question as he approached me, grabbing my arm and dragging me along with him.

"Why do you have a gun like that? Are the Italians here?" I questioned, and he shushed me as he continued to lead me God knows where.

My heart started racing. I didn't know these buildings like the back of my hand. I wasn't a Shelby, born and raised here like he was. I felt blind.

He stopped and leaned against a wall, panting. I started panting too, although it was from nerves instead of being out of breath. I reloaded my gun, then watched as Tommy reloaded his gun, then I pocketed the empty cartridge, making him look at me.

"You've been pushing papers around for too long, that could lead them to us!" I busted quietly, making him nod.

We heard voices in the stairwell, so he lead me through the door on our right. He lead me through the building to a fire escape, and looked around quickly. He lead me downstairs. I noticed someone walking down the street, and aimed my gun at them.

"Oi!" I called out, making him turn around, revealing the gun at his side.

I took one shot, sending a bullet through his head, watching as he fell to the ground in a heap.

"Stay here, watch my back, and if Luca comes, I get that shot," Tommy commanded, and I did so, kneeling down and pressing my back into the window behind me to make myself less visible from the street.

My hands were shaky, and cold. I heard someone speaking Italian as Tommy stepped off of the bottom step, and peeked over the edge of the landing, watching as Luca Changretta took shots at Tommy. I kept my eyes on the pair as they exchanged shots, then as Luca's gun ran out of bullets.

He put the gun down, and walked towards Tommy, and another Italian appeared from around the corner. I steadied myself, then took a shot and killed the other Italian, making Luca jump as his crony hit the ground. I let out a breath, then ran back upstairs and in the door Tommy and I just exited, making my way back to my own apartment.

I tried the front door, and found it locked.

"Finn!" I called out desperately as I knocked on the door, feeling shaken.

Finn opened the door, and I pushed past him, tripping over my own feet as I run to the bathroom, and knelt in front of the toilet, where I promptly vomited. I didn't even have anything to eat yet, so it felt horrid.

As I dry heaved, I felt a hand rub my back. Finn.

"What happened? Italians?" He asked, and I nodded, flushing the toilet.

"Tommy — I came across him when I was coming back from Jenica's. He had Italians after him, and he dragged me along with him. I don't know these streets, I don't know these buildings, I was fucking blind, thrown in the deep end!" I spat, feeling tears well up in my eyes, "If I knew what was happening and if I knew these buildings I'd be fine, but fucking hell, he just ordered me about like I was a soldier under his command, never again!"

I wiped them away angrily with a sniff, then heard stuff hit the sink, and the sound of something filling up. I looked up to see Finn offering me the cup that our toothbrushes usually sat in, but filled with water. I took it, muttering a quiet 'thank you' and took a sip, swishing it around my mouth then spitting it into the toilet, repeating the action until my mouth felt clean. I handed the cup back to Finn, who sat it on the sink, then helped me stand up on shaky legs.

"Feeling sick still? Want to eat breakfast?" Finn asked, and I shrugged.

"I'll keep it warm on the fire until you feel alright. You should shower, I've got a feeling we're going to have a family meeting soon." He stated, and I nodded, turning the water on.

"I'll set you out some clean clothes," Finn mumbled as he exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I stripped down and hopped into the shower, welcoming the feeling of the warm water on my skin. I had washed my hair last night, so there was no need to do it now. I stood under the hot water for a bit, waiting until I felt all of the tension wash off of me, then moved to clean my body, deciding to use Finn's body wash instead of my own. Once I was done, I turned off the shower and leaned out, grabbing my towel off of the rack and drying myself, then wrapping it around my body. I put my dirty clothes, bar my coat, which had been washed yesterday, into the laundry basket behind the door, picked up my boots, and walked to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I spotted the clothes Finn put out on my bed, walking over and drawing the curtains closed, then quickly got dressed, then put my boots on. I walked over to my vanity and grabbed my brush, undoing my bun with one hand, and pulling my hair over my shoulder, detangling my hair then pulling it down into a plait, in case I had to do any more fighting today.

I walked out of my room, down to the kitchen. The smell of food didn't make my stomach turn, a good sign. Finn was plating up the food. I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed my yellow mug down, making myself a cup of tea.

"You feel alright now?" Finn asked, and I nodded.

"Fuckin' nerves making me sick, that's all it was," I grumbled, taking a sip of my tea.

I grabbed my plate from Finn and carried it over to the table, placing it and my cup down, then headed over to the cupboard, grabbing a tin of cat food out and putting it into Finn Junior's bowl. I was surprised to learn that, while I was with the Italians, Finn had gotten the cat bowls, beds, blankets, and even a litter box with the cat's name on it. And the pair of them still hate each other.

I put Finn Junior's bowl down at the end of the bench, and he got up from his place in front of the fire and sauntered over, purring as he swayed his tail.

I sat at the table, next to Finn instead of across from him, and started eating, thanking him for the food first. We ate in a comfortable silence, and once we were done I took everything to the sink and washed them up, leaving them in the rack to dry.

The phone rang, and I picked it up.

"Hello?" I greeted my hand coming up to fiddle with my half heart pendant.

'(Y/N)? Family meeting, one hour. Polly's house.' Tommy said, then hung up.

"Fuck!" I bellowed, slamming the phone back down.

"What happened?" Finn asked, coming to stand next to me.

"Family meeting, one hour, his house," I mocked in a deep voice, making Finn chuckle.

"We can't even take the car because you got sick in it last night and it still stinks," I grouched, making Finn blush.

He was absolutely legless, Isiah had to call me to come get him from the Garrison. I should've left him there on the floor, or behind the bar.

"I'll call Arthur to come pick us up," He stated, making me nod, "I'll go have a shower, I'll be ready to leave in fifteen, I can read you some of the paper before we leave if you want."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Why are you being nice to me? Is it so I won't be mad at Tommy?"

He looked taken aback, then narrowed his own eyes at me, "Am I not allowed to be nice to my wife? Would you rather be a drop dead cunt?"

"No — But you were never nice before I got taken!" I defended myself, making Finn roll his eyes and turn on his heel, heading to his room.

"You are worth the effort, fuck what anyone else told you before," He threw back quietly over his shoulder, then added, "If you weren't so contrary all the time we'd probably be an alright pair."

I scowled and picked up the pan that Finn had used to cook the food, and launched it after him, "I'm not fucking contrary! I'm complicated!"

He just laughed me off, "Yeah, you've got layers; like an onion."

"Stop comparing me to an onion!" I shrieked, before regaining my composure.

I looked down at Finn Junior, who was looking up at me with a funny look on his face.

"Don't stare at me like that."

•••

THIRD PERSON'S POV

"They're here," Polly announced, looking out of the window and seeing Arthur, Linda, you, and Finn in Arthur's car.

You were poking Finn in the side of the head, talking animatedly. Polly wouldn't be surprised if you were arguing about something. Again.

Finn hopped out of the car, helping you out, then all four of you crossed the street, heading to Polly's. Once inside, you sat at Polly's dining table. There were only four seats, Arthur and Johnny Doggs took two, Lizzie and Finn taking the other. Finn pulled you down to sit on his lap, and, to everyone's surprise, you stayed there, not protesting as he sat a hand on your hip.

You were glad Finn let you sit in his lap, because nothing could make you stand next to Linda. At least this way Finn could hold you back if you tried to hit her. Standing on the other side of Charlie meant standing behind Johnny Doggs. Finn figured that this way was the best bet.

"So," Arthur began, tipping the contents of a small blue bottle onto the table, "What the fuck happened today, Tom? We all heard, shooting in Artillery Square."

Tommy nodded softly, "Yeah, there was. Today I killed two men. (Y/N) killed two as well. Now our enemies will have to wait."

You saw out of the corner of your eye the other three sat at the table looking at you in disbelief. You didn't blame them. You didn't look all that threatening, but that's precisely why you were dangerous. No one would expect the gypsy girl to be wielding a gun.

"I suppose they uh, I suppose they took you by surprise, did they?" Arthur questioned, tapping his blue bottle on the table one last time.

"No. They took (Y/N) by surprise; I knew they were coming." Tommy informed the group, making you and Finn side eye each other.

Why weren't you told that Tommy was going gallivanting in your backyard; with all guns blazing? You two could've helped, or hid.

"Just after Christmas I received a letter from Luca Changretta, offering to spare my son if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up." Polly said, making your eyebrows shoot up.

She was either very stupid or very brave to do that. You thought the latter.

"Because that was the plan that Polly and I agreed on," Tommy added, "I knew that Luca would want to pull that trigger himself, so I used the set up as bait to bring him in. (Y/N) just happen to be in the wrong place at the right time, and thank fuck she had a gun."

Finn squeezed your waist at this statement.

"Never again, I went in blind. I didn't know what the fuck was happening, or why, and I didn't know that building. Next time you need my help, you tell me beforehand," You warned Tommy, who nodded.

"You're a fucking idiot, Tom." Arthur said, sniffing and jerking around in his seat, the snow probably already taking its effect.

"Look, I didn't get Changretta, but I got two and (Y/N) got two, together we got four. All right? That's it, that's what happened." Tommy said in his 'that's final' voice.

Charles came into the room, and Tommy picked him up.

"Aye, but he's right. I mean, it thought you'd gone soft." Johnny Doggs said, standing up from the table and chuckling, "So you got two? And the lass did too?"

"Yeah, I got three. She only needed one shot each, fucking good aim on her." Tommy said, adjusting his son on his hip.

"Well, I'll drink to you, Tom, you mad bastard. And to you, (Y/N), for your services." Charlie said, raising his glass.

"You make it sound like I'm a whore." You said blankly, making Lizzie chuckle, "No offence, Lizzie."

A laugh went around the room, Finn pulling you in so you were leaning against his body.

"Pretty soon, you are gonna get the shakes when your blood cools down. Now, let's go get a drink," Arthur said to his brother.

"Dad, you got four what?" Charles asked, a big grin on his face.

"I got four shillings for a three-shilling horse." Tommy stated, making you chuckle, "Now, my boy, you come with us, huh?"

You watched as all of the men walked out of the room, bar your husband.

"You going to drink with them?" You asked Finn, who shook his head, "I've got whiskey here."

You hummed in agreement, watching carefully as he poured you a glass, and topped his up. You missed the knowing look that the women down the other end of the table shared.

§§§

Ooof long chapter lol

I have a personal Tumblr blog where I post my photography if you all are interested in keeping up with me, I only started using it today tho lol (I also plan on posting other stuff too lol but I'm new to Tumblr so eh)

@naiwillalwaysloveyou

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

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Part 16

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby fanfic #tommy shelby

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