#scho sucks

[goatmilksoda]

Some mfs MY AGE are like "god, gen alpha is so screwed. So glad my parents raised me right" despite the fact that they still had a DS that they could take to family parties by age 6 and a fully working phone and Twitter by 9. GIRL YOU WERE THE PROTOTYPE IPAD BABY!!! DONT EVEN SAY THAT "I lived a real childhood and went outside" SHIT TO ME!!!

#'my sister is so angry all the time. shes 12 so its probably her phone' #STOP BLANING THE TECH AND TEACH GOOD HABITS IN THE FIRST PLACE #goat talk #consider that late elementary school through high scho fucking SUCK and your younger sibling should get therapy!!! #i have younger cousins living normal #happy childhoods WITH technology because their parents know when it is and isnt appropriate and set clear boundaries with them #i know people my age and older that are more poorly adjusted to technology and are more of an ipad baby than my 6 yo cousin

[localaro]

U alive?

before attending this school i was

#hahahha “one of the most prestigious school in this country” my ass #☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ #I HARE THUS SCHO #school sucks

[yawarakaizai]

wearing beast!dazai’s big black trench coat with only undies underneath ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১ !! swinging legs while sitting on his lap and messing with his paperwork until he gets mad and punishes u ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

m rlly glad u’r opening nsfw reqs luv (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ hope have fun writing angel！

ⵌ NOT A SECOND THOUGHT, OH, ROMEO

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT Beast!Dazai (BSD) CONTENTS 17+ CONTENT NSFW, dub-con, usage of 'daddy', fem pet names, dry humping, grinding, bratty impatient reader, implied sugar daddy dazai, dirty talk, degradation, implied unsafe bindings (stay safe during bondage guys!), no lube/dry penetration, maso/sadi, jealous dazai, slight edging, orgasm denial,mean dazai but slightly sweet dazai during aftercare NOTE It's not your fault. It's not your fault there's nothing better to do. It's not your fault daddy promised to be in bed with you soon. You needed him, and he was too busy with the work he promised to have finished earlier! You wouldn't let him get away with this. But - who really has the upper-hand here? COMPANY Lolita

A/N aahh back f rom scho ol trip ;///; first nsfw fic !! h ope its okay (☍﹏⁰) i have more reqs in i nbox !!! i hope you enjoy th is fic !!!!

This was a dangerous game to play.

How you were going to go about this was a gamble, one that could either go in your favour - or horribly otherwise.

Danger thrilled you. And perhaps maybe that is why you paraded right into Dazai's office wearing nothing but his black trench coat.

" Oh? "

His pen was placed on the desk gently. Gaze eyeing you up and down with an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. " What are you up to, bella? "

You stood there at the entrance with cockiness written all over your face. He knew what you were up to, he knew all too well what you wanted and he decided to play cruel.

Displaying yourself to him in such a teasing manner was the dangerous game. Your bitchiness that will follow will be more reason for him to punish you. You wore your favourite black-lace panties that hung low on your hips, your pretty pussy nearly peeking from the fabric as it hung loose. Dazai's coat was much too big for you, which described why the sleeves covered your hands entirely and you left the jacket unzipped purposefully, the coat just barely covering your nipples, enough to tease - but not enough to satisfy.

" I'm bored. " You hummed, as innocent as an angel, making your way over to his desk.

You twirled his signature red scarf around your hands, pulling the coats sleeves up your forearms to reveal your fingers, adorned with the expensive finger he had bought you.

" I told you I was almost done, did I not? " Dazai stifled a small laugh, sucking in a nervous breath. He wore a white blouse and some black jeans while working in his second office. There had been an incident he needed to look over and the last thing he needed was a distraction.

Dazai really did love you, but it seemed that no amount of training was able to keep a brat like you in one place.

" You're taking too long! " You pouted, hands slamming on his desk as you bent over just slightly, the coat yielding and allowing him to peek at your perked nipples. " My butt hurts waiting for you in our room, so..! "

Standing back up straight, you swayed your hips around the table and - pap! Sat right on his lap, sliding in between his legs very soon after with your back pressed to his chest. " ..This is much more comfortable. "

You emphasise so by wiggling your hips left and right before his hands clamped down on the sides of your hips to stop your ass from digging further against his crotch.

" Princess. " His shaky breath earned a grin from you. " Now's really not the time, okay? I'm almost done, I promise. " He tried to pick up his pen but you kicked your legs, your body moving with the force of so, " But daddy! Please! " You cried out. " At least let me sit down until you're finished! "

Giving in, it was probably for the best knowing you'll bother him either way. " Then I expect you to not move. " Rubbing your hips as his iron grip relented, " Am I clear? "

Of course you weren't going to behave. You deserve to act out every now and then, especially when mean Dazai left you waiting for so long!

" Mhm! " Your head idly rocked with a childish tune playing in your head, leaning back slightly to allow Dazai some movement. He picked his pen back up and began to write while you tried to focus on the fast, cursive writing but just couldn't.

The many words had your brain jumbled and you kept on yawning before daddy even had a chance to tend to you after promising he would.

" Daddy, this is boring. " You complained only to be given a small 'tch, tch' as a response.

Even you talking was enough to distract him. It made you upset, and when you were upset, consequences weren't something you worried or even thought about.

You tried singing, he'd pinch your thigh. You tried humming, he'd pinch your thigh. You repositioned slightly to get more comfortable, he'd pinch your thigh.

It was torture to be kept here waiting especially after you spent so long not only anticipating him meeting you tonight but also convincing Chuuya why you needed Dazai's trench coat and scarf.

You reached over to pick a pen from the cupholder just almost out of your reach and leaned back after. Dazai must've thought you wanted to keep your hands busy since you began to twirl the pen in your fingers. But oh, no.

Because while he was busy on yet another useless paragraph, you scribbled a small little heart in the corner of the page. He didn't seem to like that.

" Princess. " He warned, but you only giggled in the face of his growing anger. " Whaaaat? I'm not doing anything bad! " You threw your head back and looked up, Dazai's head turned down to look at your stupid little smirk. He wasn't impressed, but you both knew deep down he was enjoying this. If that hard thing pressing in between your ass wasn't any indication.

" You can keep acting like a bitch as much as you want, but you know how this is going to end. " He left it at that, knowing you well enough to expect you to continue until he has you flipped over, choking back your words.

" Mm-mm, " You shook your head, scribbling more love-hearts into corner of the page, small little doodles, " I'm only being nice. Daddy's being unfair. " Your legs kicked back and forth as you drew away on the page as though it were your sketchpad.

With Dazai's patience running low, he put his pen away to gather his sheets to read over, his head peering over your shoulder at his notes. Organising information was hard. It was even harder when he had his princess humping back into his half-erect cock.

You could swear that he was reading slow on purpose just to piss you off. You needed his attention now. In a bold move, the next words spoken would end up changing a night that could've ended on a much nicer note.

" Would've just gone to Chuuya if I knew you were gonna be this mean. "

You didn't even have enough time to gasp before your head was pushed down onto the desk, your body bent suddenly and it ached with the unprepared stretch. Your whine came late, but the palm shoving your cheek down made your words muffle until he pulled back , tearing the red scarf from around your neck and bringing it behind you where your vision couldn't see. You didn't dare move from the new position he put you into.

" Ow, ow, daddy! " Your overreactions didn't earn you any pity as he bound your wrists together behind your back securely. It was a little too tight, but that's just how you liked it.

" Can't wait at all, can you? " He huffed, your head still resting on the table, on top of a few of his beloved documents that he spent so long researching for and writing.

" My fault for spoiling you so much, isn't it princess? Lettin' you run the show how you like it. " Unzipping his fly with haste, he let his cock spring free while his other hand pulled the trench coat belonging to him that you were wearing over your bottom, pulling your panties down and letting them pool down at your feet. " Baby got too greedy, now she's gonna be reminded just what she is. "

" But you-! " Your mouth shot open in a gargled cry as he shoved his rock hard dick into your unprepared hole. You were barely wet enough for it to slide in and out comfortably. There was only so much your pussy could give when you had to go through about an hour of being denied. " Daddy! Hurts! Hurts! " You wailed, your legs kicking back and knees buckling with the horribly uncomfortable intrusion. Daddy's cock was thick and long enough for you to feel it push against that certain organ deep around your plush walls. You felt a stabbing pain in your lower abdomen that surged through your body and you thought that maybe this had not been worth it after all.

Hooking a hand under your stomach to keep you from completely falling to the floor, Dazai held your hips and began to thrust as he pleased, picking up pace into something deep but slow.

He would have happily slammed fast if he wanted to, but you only now were beginning to provide him with some self-made lubrication. " Fuck, baby. " He groaned, watching how your cute pussy would stretch around his cock as he'd slam in and how it'd return to it's small plumpness when he'd pull out to the tip only.

It was such an addicting sight, he could silence out your little begs and apologies in favour of watching your pussy instead.

" Dah-ddy! " You squealed, trying to gain his attention, to alert him of the pain.

" Hurts, it hurts, really, for re-al! " Your voice cracked with a hard thrust that made the desk inch forward.

" If that were the case, you wouldn't be getting so wet over this, would you? "

Dazai acknowledged the pain you were allegedly feeling but made no effort in helping soothe.

" Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished. Those are the rules. " Dazai was so, so mean. Your tears did not sway him to go easy. " No bitch of mine is bringing up Chuuya while she grinds down on my dick like a cock-hungry whore. "

" I'm sorry that I said it! " You tried to apologise but knew that ultimately, daddy's word was final.

You had no option but to stay still and take daddy's idea of a fit punishment for today.

At this point, your body had given in to the abuse your pussy was given and finally, that pain evolved into something more hot and arousing as precipitation pooled between your legs.

" Then you've learned for next time, hm? "

Dazai was grateful feeling himself slip in and out easier. His thrusts became more brutal and he seemed to care more about his table that kept moving in sync with his thrusts than you.

You were being used as a cocksleeve.

" Aah- aa-a-aah.. " Your body bounced and rubbed against the polished wood all while you tried to form coherent thoughts.

You thought that maybe, just maybe, you preferred this over daddy's usual spanking.

" G'nna..! Cum! Daddy, think I'm gonna! " You cried out, drool wetting the sheets.

" Hold it. " The command alone made your body seize up with fear. " No! " You choked on a mixture of a sob and a moan. " I'm gonna die, daddy! I'm gonna die, please, please! "

He relished in the way your feet raised to pull his thighs in closer into you, begging him to cum inside you and to give you the early orgasm you wanted so bad.

" Just be a good girl. Just this fuckin' once. Can ya do that? "

You really did sob this time.

Unsure how long you could hold back your orgasm, just before you were pushed over the edge - Dazai pulled out entirely and you shrieked.

Rubbing his cock on your soft ass, you felt thick, hot ropes of his seed squirt lines over your plump behind, wiping away any excess on your inner thigh, just about touching your neglected pussy.

" Noo.. no.. " Your voice was hoarse from shouting, small body hiccuping little sobs at the orgasm stolen from you.

" I said bad girls get punished. " Dazai replied coldly, taking a seat back into his chair after undoing the knot keeping your wrists tied.

At first, you couldn't move, and he watched his cum trickle down your thighs and onto the floor. You stayed crying quietly for a while on the desk until you pulled yourself together - enough to stand up (albeit shakily) to take the two steps forward to be held in Dazai's arms.

" Daddy, daddy, sorry, 'm sorry, I am, I am! "

You held onto his shirt with shaking fists, shivering like you were left out wet in the cold.

" Shh, shh, I know you are. I know you are, princess. "

Cheeks and nose flushed red from tears, his hand rubbed up and down your thigh, squeezing the flesh when he could.

" You can be a good girl when you want to. "

" Y-eah. " You cleared your sore throat, breath hitching every now and then with a hard inhale.

" Daddy had to be mean today, you know why, don't you, my brave girl? " Dazai cooed to you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better view of your tear-streaked face.

" I was bad today, never again, not gonna be bad again. "

" That's my good girl. "

You say it and promise it. You swear it up and down and daddy will give you what you want soon after.

And even then, it'll barely be another two weeks before your next punishment.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

#dazai x reader #beast dazai x reader #beast dazai #bsd x reader

[blueraineshadows]

Blood Bound Part One

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian is breaking the law around the Scottish border as part of a notorious crime ring, whilst budding Auror Leander visits Azkaban to question a surprisingly familiar, long serving prisoner.

11k words. Tags: Violence / Physical distress / Angst / Emotional Distress / Blood

Ao3 link

One: The Prisoner of Azkaban

MC

Blocking out the screams was second nature now. The wails and clanging of the other inmates were a distant clamour as MC held out her pale hand, her skeletal fingers angled upwards as though about to grasp something out of the air, and in a way that’s exactly what she was trying to do. She squinted her itchy, dry eyes, focusing on the point just above her fingertips, her brow creased in concentration as she willed the faint glimmer of power in her blood to gather and manifest.

Her arm shook with the effort, but she wasn’t about to give up, not after that tiny spark of bluish white had flickered into existence yesterday. She could do this.

Warmth sped along her veins, pushed along by the ancient power handed down through unknown generations into her body, born with the gift to summon this rare magic into existence. She allowed the feeling to fill her up, remembering the intensity of it crackling through her frame as she had wielded it with a wand.

No wands in here, though. Forbidden. Her beautiful wand had become an extension of herself in the too short a time she had been blessed with it, but now it was far out of her reach, like everything else she had gained from this world of magic.

Shaking, her breaths coming in quick pants through her chapped lips, MC willed the magic to spark into existence, a faint glimmer of blue and white beginning to form at the tips of her fingers. To feed this little spark, she tried to drag forward the memories of discovering her magic, the encouragement from Professor Fig, and mischievous brown eyes that reflected the glow of fire in the darkness of the Undercroft.

Warm feelings, happy memories. Her heart squeezed and the magic flared a little brighter. She was doing it. She was creating the magic with her bare hands.

So focused was she on her task that she hadn’t noticed the encroaching frost that was creeping across the filthy stone floor towards her bare feet, the walls spreading thick and fast with ice. Her slop bucket hardened, the tepid water in her beaker chilling with the impending arrival of the prison guardians.

The screeching of the prisoners became deafening, and then faded into horrified silence as black wraiths descended upon the corridor, the rattle of their decayed breaths echoing off the slick, dark stone. The warmth began to seep from MC’s body and her flesh erupted into goosebumps, her precious glimmer of magic sputtering out as her focus shifted towards the hated iron bars of her cell.

They had felt her memories, her glimmer of happiness. They were coming.

Panic seized her chest but she gritted her teeth and willed it to calm, closing her eyes and scooting back hard against the freezing stone wall as she slammed down the barriers around her mind. Her precious memories, the soft and warmth that she cherished of her time at Hogwarts were far too special to let those demons of death steal them from her.

She had quickly learned to shield her mind and thoughts in this lower depth of hell they called Azkaban. Those cloaked horrors were drawn to anything beautiful, like decimated magpies. They came and sucked the shiny, precious jewels of memory from your possession and left you with whatever was left. Knowing the darkness and horror that lived alongside her warmth, MC was not prepared to suffer the rest of her existence lost in that cold wilderness of her head.

Every touch, every smile, every lingering look that Sebastian Sallow had bestowed upon her, she wiped from the forefront of her thoughts, pressing them down tightly into a darkened corner of her mind as she focused on the text of her old school books. Counting to ten she began to recite nonsense through her head, such as the properties of the mandrake root. Anything to distract the Dementors from what she really held dear.

She wouldn’t let them take him from her. He was hers, and she was his, no matter the miles between them. No matter the thickness of the walls that held her prisoner in here for a crime she didn’t commit. He was in her blood, and she was in his.

It was all she had to hold on to.

The cold seeped into her bones, skin so pale from lack of sunlight turned frigid as her limbs began to shiver, her skeletal fingers gripping at the filth encrusted fabric of her prison garb. Her teeth chattered as she tried to grit them, a whimper growing in the back of her throat as she fought the urge to scream. Terror, like black tendrils of smoke, began to snake around her, squeezing her chest and sucking the air from her lungs.

No. She wouldn't succumb. She clung to herself despite the fear that she was already lost.

The glare of pure white seared the outside of her closed eyelids and she flinched against such brightness, dipping her head towards her drawn up knees. The rattling breaths of the Dementors filled her ears and she bit so hard at her lips she drew blood, the bitter taste tingling on the end of her tongue as the glacial feel of the room began to recede back to its usual damp chill.

Was that booted footsteps on the stone? Surely not.

Remaining tucked tightly against the wall as the bright light began to fade, she held herself tense as the echoing sound of those steps drew nearer. Had she caved? Was her mind finally gone? She licked her bloodied lip with a dry tongue and jolted at the sound of the lock clicking on her door, followed by the squeal of old iron as it swung open. She risked a peek, her eyes opening to slits as she peered through the matted locks of her hair that hung over her pale face.

There was a man in the doorway. Tall, long blue robes, his hair threaded with silver neatly kept. MC shuffled as if she could press herself into the stone of the wall and disappear, her bare feet sliding on the grimy floor. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a human other than the fading souls behind the other doors in her wing. This man looked healthy and strong, a commanding authority about him as he stepped into her cell and turned to face her.

“Prisoner 2757. Still alive I see,” he said, stopping his large booted feet right before her blackened, bare toes. She stared at the shine of his boots as though she had never seen shoes before. “Do you remember me?”

MC didn’t look up, her back pressed tightly against the wall and her hair hanging limp and filthy as her hands fisted in her clothing, her breaths quick and shallow. The icy horror of the Dementors may have faded but she felt frozen, her suppressed memories locked tightly away, her mind stretched and filled with a buzzing that threatened to escape as a scream from her throat. She was clinging to the edge of her sanity and wasn’t even certain that this man was real, let alone familiar to her.

“Hey,” he said sharply, clicking his fingers in front of her face as he slowly bent into a crouch to get a better look at her. “Look at me.”

Her head shook in denial, jerky movements as her muscles clung to their stiffness. Firm fingers gripped the bone of her chin and tilted her head up, the touch a shock against her skin and her eyes flew open wide as she looked up at the stern face, his blue eyes assessing her with a calculating gleam that made bile rise in her throat. She yanked her head from his grasp, her skull cracking back against the unforgiving wall and she winced, air rushing through her lips in a hiss of pain.

He sighed and shook his head in exasperation, but withdrew his hand, subtly wiping his fingers on his clean blue robes. “Do you think you can talk to me?”

She eyed him like he was a carrion bird and she was a putrid corpse ripe for feasting, her eyes so tight, exhaustion making her eyelids drag lazily over the staring orbs. Her lips trembled but she didn’t speak. Hazy memories of his face came to her, the gloating smile as he had charmed the handcuffs about her wrists, Sebastian’s shouts of protest as she was dragged from his cottage in Feldcroft, the horror in his eyes as she was taken from him.

“Fuck you,” she spat, her voice hoarse and not much more than a rasp from lack of use.

He chuckled, low and cold. “Ah, so you do remember me,” he said, nodding. “Auror Harrington. You killed my old partner.”

No, she didn’t.

She stared at the Auror, her eyes dead pools of indifference as a memory curled out across her mind. The fire lit catacombs in Feldcroft, the blast of green that shot from Sebastian’s wand and ended the life of his uncle in a split second of enraged madness, and Anne’s bitter face as she glared at them both.

That memory would be forever locked tight in the walls of her mind. No matter the way this arrogant Auror looked at her, no matter how the days stretched into years in this cold stone fortress. She would never tell.

She couldn’t.

She clenched her hands tighter as she stared at Auror Harrington, her face a blank mask as she slowly blinked.

“You should have got life in here,” he said, his mouth twisting sourly. He shook his head and glanced around at the dim misery of her cell. “A reduced sentence because you were a minor, special treatment because they called you a fucking hero at school. But you’re not a hero, are you?”

His blue eyes were as cold as the Dementors' presence. “You’re a murderer.”

Had he come here to taunt her? Maybe he got a kick out of seeing the women in here, all filthy and boney, their eyes pitiful. It probably made him feel like a big, strong man, looming over her like this. Her lips twitched at the thought.

She had killed people. Lots of them. She had to live with that everyday, and she managed. Just. But she didn’t kill Solomon Sallow. Though, he would never know that.

That was their deepest, darkest secret.

She began to laugh. The sound was a broken wheeze, her throat cracking with the effort as her head rolled forward, the dull ache from where she had hit it against the wall not much of a bother as her withering frame shook with mirth. She hoped he was having his fun watching her crack open like this, but judging by the narrowing of his eyes, he was not amused.

“Stop it,” he hissed, his jaw clenching.

She looked at him, more laughter bubbling up to escape from her lips as she shook her head. “I hope…I hope Sallow…fucking burns…in hell,” she rasped around her giggles.

The blow knocked her sideways to the floor, her hand hitting the stone with a slap, her head colliding with dizzying force before jerking back up again as she blinked through the swimming haze of her vision. Her mouth flooded with the bitter warmth of blood where her teeth had sliced the flesh of her mouth at the contact of his fist. Her grunt of pain was followed by a large spit, her blood and saliva landing with a splat near her hand as she forced herself to get upright again. She was no longer laughing.

“Bastard,” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of a shaky hand as she glared at him. “You will burn right next to him.”

His face was hard fury as he glared back at her. “Filthy, little bitch,” he sneered. “Proud of your killing, are you? How many others did you snuff out before getting caught?”

MC shuffled back into a sitting position, lifting her chin slightly in a show of defiance despite the twisting fear in her guts. She was completely at his mercy here, alone, without a wand, and physically weak compared to his broad strength.

“Why are you here?” She asked, a dull throb at her temple mingling with the sting on her skin where it had smashed into the floor.

“Rookwood is alive,” he said, watching carefully for her reaction.

She stilled, refusing to dip her gaze as his words filtered through her head. That wasn’t possible. She had killed Rookwood. His body had disintegrated, exploding into ash and dust that had wafted on the breeze towards a star-lit sky. Ending him had rid the world of a dangerous man. All those she killed were bad, she never stole lives from the innocent.

“Why stand in front of the Wizengamot and admit to his murder if he wasn’t dead? You confessed to his killing, and yet you deny the murder of an Auror despite a witness putting you right at the scene. The Wizengamot are talking about reducing your sentence even further now that Rookwood is confirmed alive. It’s disgusting. This reeks of a conspiracy to me. You helped fake his death, didn't you? You and Sallow. Why?”

“You’re lying,” she said, lifting a hand to her temple, her fingers coming away sticky with blood. She stared at the crimson stain, rubbing her fingers together absently. Her voice was calm, flat, no emotion at all. “Rookwood is gone. I killed him.”

Auror Harrington shook his head. “Oh, Rookwood is alive alright. Alive and back to his scheming ways,” he said, rubbing his chin with his hand as he leaned in closer towards her, his lips curling in disgust. “And guess who has joined his little gang of thieving bastards? Your little sidekick from school, and lying son of a bitch, Sebastian Sallow.”

MC’s eyes flared at the mention of that name, her head beginning to shake her denial immediately. “No,” she breathed, hands clenched into fists. “Liar!”

“Young Sallow knows more than he ever tells, that's for sure. He whined for months after your sentencing to let you go, that you were innocent. A bit odd, don't you think?”

Harrington tilted his head to one side, eyes lit with calculating interest as he watched her tremble before him.

“You killed his uncle, his only guardian, and yet he defends you. What hold have you got on the Sallow lad, hmm? What keeps him loyal to you despite your evil ways? The lad was clearly soft on you. It was all rather cosy in that cottage when we came for you that day. Surely it's not just your pretty face, although this place is stripping that from you. I bet he will recoil in disgust if he saw you now, if he saw you for the wicked wretch you are. Look at you. You're fading away, losing your lovely softness. He won't want you now, will he? It's only what you deserve.”

MC drew air in through her nose and pursed her lips, spitting more blood and saliva onto his immaculate robes, her eyes slitted with her hate. He didn't even flinch, merely looked down at her filth, his mouth tightening subtly as he took out a handkerchief and calmly cleaned the mess away.

She didn't care if he struck her again. Let him. His words had scratched at the rawness she tried to hide from. The fear that Sebastian had forgotten about her in here, locked away from the world while he lived on in the sun, free to enjoy what the world had to offer while she faded into shadow.

There was no way Sebastian would team up with Rookwood. He wouldn’t. Not after what he did to Anne.

Hot, white rage coursed through her blood as the image of Sebastian’s twin flashed up behind her eyes, bile stinging her throat as she grimaced, her fingers curling like vicious claws as she imagined scratching them down that little bitch’s face. Her blood seemed to heat to the point of pain, needles of fire like lightning bolts shot through her limbs and crackled around her heart. A hoarse scream left her throat as her body bucked against the searing scorch of pain.

Anne Sallow needed to pay for what she did, the fierce and sweet desire for revenge was rich on MC's tongue despite the pain her thoughts inflicted on her.

Auror Harrington shuffled backwards, his brow creasing in confusion as she writhed, biting back moans of pain. Quickly, she shoved any thoughts of Anne Sallow aside. To picture her death was to hurt, the pain a reminder of her loyalty, her promise. The scorching pain subsided and she uncurled her left hand, wide eyes staring down at the thin red scar that sliced across her palm.

“What the fuck was that?” Auror Harrington asked, scowling.

Immediately, she clenched her hand over the scar and clamped her lips together. She had already risked too much. She needed to get a better grip on her wandering thoughts and deny the dark fantasy of bringing down Sebastian’s twin. To hurt one was to wound the other and the blood forbade it.

Just like with the Dementors, MC slammed down the barriers, closed off her thoughts and her stare was blank as she looked up at the Auror who was taking up far too much space in the confines of her cell.

“Don’t even think about pulling the madness stunt,” he warned. He reached to tap his finger against her forehead. “You’re in there, I know you are, and you’re going to talk. I don’t care how long it takes. We’re going to get everything you know about Rookwood and Sallow out of that head of yours, and we’ll do it by any means possible. Mark my words, sweetheart.”

“I’ve got nothing to say,” she said dully, her lips barely moving.

“It’s not like you’re going anywhere soon, there is no escape. You might as well just get it over with and talk.”

Water dripped down the wall in the corner, the damp chill had long since found its home in her bones after four years in this cell, but the ice that slid down her spine at his words was very real.

Any means possible.

The truth was locked behind her lips, and there was no way she could start spilling it. Under pain of death, she had to remain silent, and she owed this smug bastard nothing.

Her finger tips twitched with the urge to feel that glimmer of magic. Four years of trying to manifest it without a wand, and she had only managed a pathetic little spark. All that power in her blood and she was useless without her wand to channel it. The frustration of it was enough to threaten tears at the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them slowly back as she stared at Auror Harrington.

He had caught her out once, wrapped her in chains and brought her to Azkaban. He had said they were going to reduce her sentence. Rookwood was alive and therefore there were no charges to pin on her. She knew nothing about his gang that they couldn't find out for themselves.

He could be lying, though, tricking her to make her talk. Maybe she would never leave here, doomed to die from madness like countless others.

She wasn’t going to be caught out again. Not this time. She kept her mouth firmly closed, her face void of emotion.

What was the worst they could do? She was already in hell. If they killed her they would merely free her from the horror of being trapped in the dark.

Sebastian

The rhythmic roll of the waves was soothing, the tide washing in and out against the pebbled beach not far behind him as Sebastian lounged casually against the stone wall near the harbour’s boardwalk, eating an apple he had swiped from a wagon seller earlier. The breeze lifted the tumbled locks of his hair from his freckled forehead, and his brown eyes lifted to a gull as it soared across the blue sky, its loud cry joining the other birds gathering near the fishing boats. He breathed the fresh, sea air in deeply, the hand inside the pocket of his jacket fingering the letter he had received earlier that day from Ominis.

It had been the usual vitriol about making an effort to talk to Anne, to come to London and visit them in their home, no doubt to suffer under their pleas for him to give up his lifestyle and settle into a dull as fuck marriage with some woman he couldn’t care less about.

His brow furrowed until his eyes were dark with annoyance. There would be no marriages, or stiff upper lipped women on his arm this season, or any season for that matter. No, thank you.

He was grateful that Ominis took care of Anne, tending to her when the pain of her curse pulled her down, even marrying her after graduating from Hogwarts. Anne was his twin, the other half of him, and more than anything Sebastian wanted her to be safe and well.

But, he wasn’t about to forgive her. Absolutely not. Her betrayal had been too deep, no matter her reasons for what she did, even after four years it still had the power to tighten his chest and churn his guts whenever he thought of it.

Like the previous letter Ominis had sent, this one would go unanswered, too. He much preferred it when he got the chance to speak to Ominis alone, and he knew Anne would read any letter that he sent to his old friend, so there was no point in wasting perfectly good parchment and ink.

“Look lively, Sallow. The ship is docking.”

Fellow gang member, and his tent mate, Leo Rosier, nudged his arm with a grin. Dark blonde hair in a loose comb-over style and jovial, blue eyes made Rosier a right handsome bastard. He had admirers all over the place and made sure he reaped the benefits of them, always ready with a smile and a wink, his infectious laughter and charm unavoidably pleasing.

Sebastian quite liked him. He made some of the grittier tasks much more bearable with his light-hearted demeanour. It took a lot to bring his mood down, and that’s just what one needed when doing dirty work for the boss.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at the small steamer mooring up at the far end of the harbour, the crane and winch for the storage crates already prepped and ready to unload. Time to get to work.

“Why the frown, mate?” Rosier asked. “You look like someone pissed on your bonfire. Was it bad news in your letter?”

“Just the usual bullshit about me moving on,” Sebastian sighed.

Rosier lifted his eyebrows with interest. “Moving on from what?”

Dragging his gaze back from the docking steam ship, he eyed Rosier warily. He liked the bloke, but make no mistake, he wouldn’t share his secrets with him. Those Sebastian kept very close to his chest, especially in a gang that was cut throat, every member ready to use whatever information they could to edge a little closer into Rookwood’s favour.

The fact that Victor Rookwood was still alive was shocking enough, the slippery coil of hate curled in Sebastian’s guts twisted as he thought about the gang leader’s smug face. The thought of watching the light go out of his cruel eyes was one that Sebastian savoured often, a longing to avenge the misery that had been inflicted on his twin over the last 5 years. An act he had thought avenged when MC had taken Rookwood down 4 years ago, earning her another charge to her sentence for murder.

He forced his face into one of blank indifference, lifting his shoulders into a casual shrug as he grabbed a hold of Rosier’s shoulder. “My misspent youth,” he smirked. “Come on, let’s investigate these crates we need to loot. We’ve only got about 3 hours of daylight left, and then it’s show time.”

“If we hurry we can grab a beer afterwards while we wait for sundown,” Rosier said, his grin sly. “There was a particularly fetching wench in that pub over there that I’ve got my eye on, if you get me.”

“Oh, I get you,” Sebastian said with a grin of his own. “Crates first, then you can get your dick wet. As long as you’re all sated by sundown, we need to get the goods back across the Scottish border before morning.”

Rosier chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Maybe there will be a fine young wench for you, too, Sallow. I’ve not seen Lulu around our tent for a while.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Sebastian said with a grimace. “She was getting far too familiar for my liking.”

“Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen, eh? I like it,” Rosier laughed, shaking his head. “Lulu is not so bad. You could do a lot worse.”

“I could also do a lot better,” Sebastian muttered, wanting an end to this discussion.

Memories of bewitching eyes and soft lips filled his head, precious memories that were sadly so few, and the fear of them fading as every year passed was very real. His first real deep connection for a girl, and she had been torn from his life, currently sitting in a cell in Azkaban serving a sentence for a murder she didn’t even commit.

Guilt hung like a heavy stone around his neck, the late nights he had spent poring over tomes about wizarding law looking for any loopholes he could use to try and find a way to get MC out of there had been to no avail. His pleas to their professors and any Ministry aid he could get a moment with fell on deaf ears. As a boy of 16, nobody was willing to listen to him.

His sister’s cunning betrayal had cut deep, shaken the foundations of their bond to the point that he had almost abandoned her back then. But, then he would have been truly alone in the world, because Ominis would always choose Anne over him.

He had tried to put things right, he worked so hard to finish his education, to atone for his actions in the catacombs, but the darkness in his soul had festered. Despite her lingering pain from the curse, his bitterness towards Anne still clung to him, and it had been two years since he had set eyes on her. Both of them were far too stubborn to be the first to breach the chasm that had opened between them, their correspondence made through the determined attempts of Ominis.

Once out in the real world, the rumours that Rookwood was still alive made Sebastian’s hopes of curing Anne of her pain rise again. With the wicked gang leader not dead, it made sense why her curse lived on. With Rookwood dead, it would likely be lifted, a hope he stubbornly clung to. It was getting close to the bastard that was the problem. The only way in was to infiltrate Rookwood’s gang, become one of his lackeys and earn his way into the inner circle.

Ever since all the trouble had gone down with MC and Ranrok, Rookwood was craftier and more cunning. It had taken two years for Sebastian to get this close, and he was not in the inner circle just yet. He had to prove his loyalty for that, a bitter thing to swallow when you wanted to watch him die a slow and painful death.

His mouth tightened as he focused his mind on today’s task, striding confidently towards the harbour master with the aim of distraction while Rosier charmed symbols onto the crates they would be pilfering later this evening. He needed to pull off this job and get one step closer to being in Rookwood’s circle. The closer he got, the better his chances of bringing that fucker down.

The harbour master looked up as he approached and Sebastian’s lips curved upwards into his most charming smile. He'd always had a way with people.

“Good afternoon, good sir. Might I have a word?”

The harbour master nodded, lowering his clipboard as he returned Sebastian’s smile. Sebastian placed a friendly hand out in greeting, subtly turning so that the harbour master shifted his back towards where Rosier was inspecting the crates.

“What can I do for you?” He asked.

Sebastian’s smile was golden. “I'm glad you asked…”

…*...

The hour was late and most were in their tents sleeping, the camp quiet and subdued under the light of a quarter moon. The hulking peaks of the Highlands surrounded them, the air pleasantly chill against the skin and fresh in the lungs. Scotland would always be his home, Sebastian knew it deep in his bones, despite not returning to the cottage in Feldcroft in quite some time. The memories there were just too raw for his liking.

Home was wherever the gang set up camp, and he followed the gang, set on his course. Tonight, he lay on his pallet, his book discarded on the scratchy, wool blanket beside him, his fingers twirling the silver amulet that hung on a silver chain. He brushed a finger tip over the blood-red stone in the centre, the hum of its power thrumming under his fingertip, and felt the old, familiar squeeze in his chest.

Four years was a long time. He had been a boy the last time he had seen MC, clueless about matters of the heart, and discovering the joys of sharing a girl’s body. Kissing her had been his favourite thing, until she had let him touch her under her clothes that is. His blood burned just thinking about it. He’d taken a few girls to bed in the years since leaving school, but the sated lust was just that, there was never that connection, that need to go back for more. Not like it had been with her.

Missing her was an ache he’d had to learn to live with, and despite the familiar longing that still held him in a tight grip, he feared that his memories of her would fade as the time went on. Her smile, the sound of her laugh, the angry little tilt of her mouth when they bickered, the feel of her breath on his neck.

Closing his eyes, his hand clutching the amulet in a fist, he tried to conjure the image of her face, wishing he had a photograph of her to look at when loneliness called to him on nights like this. All he had was the amulet, and whilst powerful, it wasn’t enough.

How many times had he thought about going down to London and handing himself in? Countless. He could confess to his crime, the murder MC was serving time for, and then she could be free. But, then he would be in Azkaban instead, still separated from her and unable to complete his mission to destroy Rookwood.

Maybe that made him a coward. As much as he couldn’t stand being anywhere near Anne, he still needed to fix that blasted curse. Nobody else was going to do it, and he still couldn’t just sit back and just ‘make her comfortable’, even when angry with her. Anne was his blood, his other half, his twin. Putting himself in Azkaban wouldn’t help her, he was the only one who could.

Thinking of Anne made his mind drift to that night in Feldcroft, when Anne had come home after being missing for weeks to find MC in her bed, both of them in a state of undress that had revealed what they had been up to. Anne had been furious and the argument had spilled out into the yard. He had begged Anne to stop, but she wouldn’t listen, insisting that MC had been the root cause of everything bad that happened since her arrival.

Why couldn’t Anne see it? MC had tried to help, she had supported his desperate search for a cure, and had taken down the man responsible for her terrible curse. At least, they thought so at the time.

MC wasn’t a villain. He loved her.

Anne had Disapparated. She left. Again. Why did the people he cared most about find it so easy to always leave him?

Despite their bickering, and the dangerous situations they had found themselves in, MC hadn’t left him. She had stayed. Why would he push her away just because Anne was having a tantrum? He couldn’t.

So, Anne had made the decision for him, and he had ended up losing both of them.

Lost in his memories, it took a minute to realise that someone was calling him. He lifted his head from his lumpy pillow, tucking the amulet safely back into his pocket as Rosier appeared in the entrance to their tent.

“Nodded off, did you?” Rosier smiled, beckoning him up with a wave of his hand. “Get up and look lively, Sallow. The boss man wants to talk to you.”

“Gregor?” Sebastian frowned, fluffing his tumbled hair. He’d only spoken to him about an hour ago to pass on the details of their successful loot run earlier.

Rosier shook his head. “Nah, not Gregor. Rookwood. He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

Sebastian sat up immediately and rubbed his face. He needed a shave, there was two days worth of stubble on his chin and he needed a haircut. Grabbing his waistcoat, he shook it out to try and relieve some of the crinkles from where he had carelessly discarded it to one side.

“Did he say why?”

Rosier shook his head as he flopped down onto his own pallet. “Nope, but he didn’t look angry, so maybe you’re alright.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian said, his smile wry as he shrugged on his waistcoat and buttoned it up.

Gregor’s tent was the largest in camp, a faded scarlet with torn fringes, the entrance flap shifting in the cool breeze as Sebastian made his way past the camp fire. The flames were burning low, and he couldn’t resist a swift Incendio as he passed, the fire surging into life and casting hues of orange and gold around the vicinity.

On entering the tent, Gregor stood, nodding at Rookwood before passing Sebastian at the entrance with a pat on his shoulder. Rookwood was wearing a long dark coat, his waistcoat and shirt clean and neat, a solid gold chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket, no doubt holding a rather fine pocket watch.

“You wanted to see me?” Sebastian asked, stepping further into the tent.

Rookwood turned shrewd blue eyes on to him, his greying beard neatly trimmed, his fingers slowly stroking down his chin. “Yes, I did, Mr Sallow. Take a seat, would you?”.

Beside a table littered with goblets and maps, abandoned quills and bowls of fruit there was a wooden chair with curling arms. Sebastian moved to sit in it, keeping his eyes fixed on Rookwood as he did so. He sat back and casually leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair, assuming an air of relaxed confidence that was emphasised by the subtle tilt of his lips.

“What can I do for you?”

“Yes, what indeed?” Rookwood said dryly, his gaze assessing him. “I recognise you, you know. I’m pretty good with faces. In fact, I pride myself on it. You’re a man now, but I can tell you’re the same boy who was in The Three Broomsticks that day when Sirona threw me out. I’m sure you remember it. You took down a troll, didn’t you? You and your little ancient magic wielding friend.”

Years of practice kept Sebastian’s face in its calm, slightly smirking position as he stared at Rookwood. He remembered that day. Of course he did. MC had proved to be a much more interesting witch than he had first given her credit for, and he was fairly sure he’d started falling for her over their foaming mugs of Butterbeer. A moment this prick had interrupted.

“I do remember,” he said smoothly, nodding slightly. “Although the troll slaying was mostly MC.”

“Ah, yes, MC,” Rookwood said, his eyes narrowing slightly over a cold smile. “A powerful little thing, wasn’t she? Pretty, too. Rather adept at slipping through one’s fingers when trying to catch her, though. Until she was caught, of course.”

Sebastian stiffened slightly and Rookwood caught the movement, his smile widening as he stared up at a spot in the roof of the tent.

“Rather amusing when you think about it. My murder was one of the charges that got her sent down in the end,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself. “Obviously, I’m still alive, but your dear, little friend is still rotting away in Azkaban.”

“How did you manage that, by the way?” Sebastian asked, his fingers now clutching the ends of the chair arms. If Rookwood was trying to rile him up, it was working, and he was struggling to keep a rein on his temper. “MC seemed fairly convinced she had killed you, enough to testify in front of the Wizengamot that she had done you in.”

Rookwood’s chuckle was low and dark. “Polyjuice potion,” he said with a flash of a sly grin. “I sent one of my best duelling wizards to her in my place. It was a shame to lose him at the time, but a sacrifice worth making.”

Sebastian huffed air through his nose and shook his head. “Your best duelist? There really is no loyalty amongst thieves, is there?”

“Ah, and now we come to the point, Mr Sallow,” Rookwood said, aiming a long finger at him. “I’m so glad you brought it up. Loyalty. Where do you stand on that one? Considering how chummy you were with the little witch who supposedly killed me, now you are here, with my men. You can’t blame a man for wondering just what it is you are up to, Mr Sallow.”

Holding his hands out as though it was obvious, Sebastian shrugged. “Just trying to earn myself some coin, and this kind of work seems to come easily to me.”

“And MC?” Rookwood drawled, one eyebrow raised.

“What about her? She is in Azkaban, and the last I heard she will be there for at least another six years. She’s served four of ten.”

“Keeping count are we?”

Sebastian sighed and chose his next words carefully. “Considering she went down for killing my uncle, I think I’d know about her prison time.”

“Oh, but of course. How could I forget? Your uncle, the ex-Auror. Your guardian, too, wasn’t he? I remember reading about it in The Daily Prophet. That must have been rather awful for you. Your own uncle being taken down by your little friend.”

The words on paper might have looked to be sympathetic, but the oily, mocking tone in Rookwood's voice put them on a whole new level. Sebastian was not fooled by this cosy little chat, and it reminded him that he needed to tread carefully.

The heavy ball of guilt that lingered in Sebastian’s chest seemed to sink down into his stomach and he swallowed hard against the watery feeling in his mouth. He fought for control, all too aware of Rookwood’s crafty gaze on him. His words of sympathy had little impact when the gleam in his eyes suggested he was rather enjoying this.

“So awful, in fact, that I can’t imagine you would be too happy about MC getting out of that shithole?”

Sebastian stilled, staring at Rookwood. “What?”

Rookwood’s sly smile was all together too smug and Sebastian longed to delve for his wand and wipe it from his face, but he kept his hands still as his heart thudded behind his ribs.

“You see, that little witch is the most powerful little thing to walk the earth right now, if only she were out here to wield it,” Rookwood said, long fingers back to stroking his neat beard. “How would you feel if we were to recruit her into the gang? Would that bother you, Mr Sallow?”

“You want MC to work for you?” Sebastian’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. “Why would she?”

“Well, she hardly seems opposed to a little murder, on Aurors no less,” Rookwood smirked. “If we got her out of there, a little prison breaking perhaps, she could join our ranks here.”

“Nobody breaks out of Azkaban,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. All the reading he had done on that place, all the research into Wizarding Law, he had found no successful cases of escaping the fortress. It didn’t even have a plottable location on a map, just a generic mention that it was somewhere in the North Sea.

Rookwood seemed unconcerned, in fact his smugness intensified. “All it would take is a whisper into the right ears,” he said, holding Sebastian’s gaze. The man had too much power and influence. “The question is, can I expect your loyalty in the matter? You have a personal reason to hate her, and make no mistake about which one of you I would choose should things turn nasty. I hear you are a hard worker, you have impressed my men with your efforts, but as I have already proven. I care little about throwing my best men into the fire should the need arise. Piss me off, or try to ruin my plans for MC, and I won’t hesitate.”

If only Rookwood knew the truth. Sebastian couldn’t hate MC if he tried. If anything, Rookwood was handing him the equivalent of a gift. Get MC out of Azkaban, and a chance to prove his loyalty. If he was to get into his inner circle, he would have access to all the treasure, all the forbidden relics that were stashed away in various undisclosed locations. Sebastian’s mind swam with the possibilities of what could be discovered in such a collection, and he wanted to get his hands on it all before killing the smug prick opposite him. With MC at his side, it would be even easier.

“You have my word,” Sebastian said easily. “I won’t cause you any trouble regarding MC, and if you’ll let me, I’ll even help you break her out.”

“Now, why would you do that?” Rookwood asked, his head tilting with interest.

Sebastian grinned. “If you break her out and she decides not to join your crew, you’re going to need me there to convince her otherwise. Trust me.”

Rookwood’s eyes narrowed as he considered that last statement. “Alright, Mr Sallow. Consider me intrigued. Don’t make me regret it.”

Leander

The formidable fortress of Azkaban was huge, a dark stone monolith of a building that soared upwards from the raging North Sea. Leander had only seen the outside of it once during his training, when they brought the cadet Aurors for an exercise in suspect questioning, showing them the location so that when they graduated they could Apparate in at will.

The unforgiving cold of the place had lingered in his bones for ages afterwards, and he had no idea how anyone could stand to spend a considerable amount of time in such a place. The cells were full of criminals. Souls who had earned their place within these solid walls, and one would think it hard to feel even a little sympathy for them.

As he Apparated into the Auror chamber with his colleague this morning, Leander realised that he might feel slightly sorry for the long termers. The cold was bone deep, the dimly lit chamber making him blink as his eyes adjusted to the fire sconces on the black stone walls. He straightened his long, dark coat, his suit beneath impeccable, and his tie neatly knotted.

He had been paired with a very experienced Auror for this particular assignment, and he felt the need to impress even more strongly than usual. He was still relatively new to this job, and it didn’t hurt to make a good impression. He had even polished his Auror badge this morning, just in case he was required to show it.

Just ahead of them was a long desk, unmanned, the wall behind it covered in wooden boards that hung from large nails, each one with a prisoner number and their cell location. Leander scratched his finger against the tip of his nose as he watched Auror Harrington step towards the desk and slide the huge book that lay open there towards him. Using the quill and ink supplied, he signed his name into the book and then handed the quill to Leander.

“Here you go, son. Sign your name just here underneath mine,” he said, pointing to the available space. “I’ve already filled in the rest.”

Leander took the quill and moved to sign his name into the visitor roll, his eyes sliding along to see the number of the prisoner they were to question.

“Prisoner 2757,” he said, replacing the quill into the pot. “What are you hoping to get out of them today? I wasn’t given a briefing before meeting you this morning so I have no idea who this prisoner is.”

Auror Harrington levelled him with a serious look, rolling his lips between his teeth as he appeared to search right into Leander’s soul with his cool, blue eyes. Leander resisted the urge to fiddle with his collar, a flutter of nerves teasing at his ribs as he determined to maintain eye contact with the respected Auror.

“I’m going to be straight with you, Prewett. I deliberately kept you in the dark about who we were visiting this morning because I thought that if you knew, you might decline the visit given the time to think it over.”

Leander’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“You could still leave if you wanted to, I won’t hold it against you, but it would serve you well in the future if you take this on and handle it well,” Harrington continued, his face firm and controlled as he studied him. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I’ve heard good things about you, Prewett. You’re keen, you have an eye for detail, and that last case with the smugglers down on the south coast was a great bust. I wanted to give you an opportunity to get in on a really big case. It’s just a little unfortunate who we need to speak to.”

Flushing under such praise, his spine straightening a bit, Leander found his curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”

Harrington paused and Leander felt the silence of the chamber stretch between them as he waited. The distant roar and thunder of the crashing waves felt like they were a million miles away, the black stone of the solid prison unshaken by the tumultuous force of nature that raged around it.

“Prisoner 2757 is an old school chum of yours,” Harrington said, and there was almost a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “It’s MC we are going to question today.”

Leander could only stare, his mouth trying to form words, but nothing would come as his mind raced. MC. Images of her flooded his thoughts, everything from the very first time he saw her to the times spent laughing together at school. She had been captivating. She’d had him spellbound from day one, and he had always tried to impress her. Not only was she bright, she was charming, a habitual tease that had made him blush so many times, but he would always go back for more.

When he had heard she had been taken and sentenced for murder, her picture appearing in the Prophet along with the account of how she had murdered Sebastian Sallow’s uncle, the shock had been overwhelming for all the students, but Leander had been particularly crushed. His affection for the beautiful witch had blossomed into something maybe dangerously close to him fancying her, despite the fact that she was enamoured with Sebastian.

Falling for a girl who was capable of murder had ripped the rug from under his feet. It was one of the reasons he had signed up to become an Auror, determined to serve the British Auror Office in delivering justice to those who threatened their peace. He had sworn not to let himself be duped again, his strong belief in doing what was right became something to cling on to when he faced the difficult trials that he went through in order to earn the shiny badge that sat snug in his pocket.

Now, he was about to come face to face with a girl who had sent his moral compass spiralling, because even though the facts had been printed in black and white, and Sebastian’s face had been one of pale misery long after she had been sent to Azkaban; Leander’s soft heart had still tried to cling to the memory of MC’s warm smile and the hand of friendship she had extended towards him.

The two images were a struggle to marry up. His beautiful friend, and the cold hearted killer. How could you ever really know a person, or trust that they were who they portrayed themselves to be? She had fooled him. He had believed the pretty picture, and maybe a tiny part of him still hoped that he was right. A fool's hope.

The distant roar of the ocean seemed to fill his ears, thoughts spiralling and his heart racing. He put his hands to his face, trying to absorb the shock, reeling at the thought of seeing her again. It had been, what, three years? Four?

“Are you alright?” Harrington asked.

Leander nodded automatically, blowing air through his lips as his long fingers dragged down his cheeks, the skin there no longer flushed but pale under the smattering of freckles. “I’m fine, just…I need a minute to process.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to do this,” Harrington said, watching him carefully. “I know how difficult these kinds of cases can be when personal feelings are involved. Nobody expects you to jeopardise yourself, but sometimes we have to leave our personal lives at the door and get on with the job. Can you do that, Prewett?”

Leander’s heart raced as he considered leaving. That would be running away, though, and he didn’t want to even think about facing the other Aurors in his team knowing he had turned down an opportunity to work with Harrington.

Closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath, he nodded at his colleague, flexing his hands and eyeing the door that led out into the rest of the prison. MC was out there somewhere, inside these impenetrable walls.

“I’ll do it,” he said, his voice firm.

Harrington smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, his grip substantial, their eyes almost level with them being of similar height. “Good lad,” he said. “I knew you had it in you. I will warn you though, don’t expect her to be anything like you remember her. This place does things to a person.”

Leander felt the apprehension settling at the back of his neck as they walked towards the Wand Weigher, his teeth beginning to worry at his lower lip.

“I’ve already paid her a few visits and she isn’t very cooperative,” Harrington continued, placing his wand in the scale and waiting for his slip of paper. “All I need you to do is get her talking, Prewett. She really doesn’t like me, and I thought a friendlier face might make a difference.”

Leander hoped his hand wasn’t going to shake as he took his turn to place his wand on the scale. So, Harrington was going for the good Auror, bad Auror approach with MC, and he was to be the good guy. There was a worried crease on his brow as the machine pushed out the slip of paper for his wand. He took it and looked at Harrington.

“What is it you want me to get out of her?”

“Information about our newly resurrected friend, Rookwood, and another old school buddy of yours. Sebastian Sallow,” Harrington said, giving him a sideways glance.

“Sallow?” Leander frowned. “Why do you need information on him?”

“Because he has been seen with some of Rookwood’s henchmen, and we think he is in league with him,” Harrington scowled, leading Leander down a long corridor. “Your little friend here knows something, I know she does, and that is where you come in because she isn’t talking to me.”

“Do you think this has something to do with the murder of Sebastian’s uncle?” Leander asked, a cold feeling like dread beginning to spread over his skin as they entered a cell wing, the huge ceilings stretching upwards towards where black, wraith-like figures floated ominously in the shadows.

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Harrington said, ignoring the catcalls of pale faced prisoners leering against their bars. “All I know is that Solomon Sallow was my partner years ago, we solved many cases together, and that little bitch killed him. I don’t know how involved the nephew was, but something stinks there, Prewett. We still aren’t sure of her motive. All we have ever got out of her was that it was self defence. Now, Sallow is in league with one of the biggest dark wizards in Britain, a man who was supposed to be dead by the very same girl that killed Solomon, and yet Rookwood is alive and causing havoc in the Highlands. His gang members are spreading down as far as London, thieving, killing, illegal beast movement and underground duelling rings. I’m convinced they faked Rookwood’s murder to cover something up, and she knows something. Why else did she confess to killing him?”

Leander scratched his head, his mind reeling from all of this. MC’s crimes appeared to go much deeper than he had ever imagined, and now Sebastian was caught up in it all as well. He sighed and shook his head.

“I’ll do my best, Harrington,” he said. “Let’s hope she is willing to talk to me.”

Harrington paused and put a hand to Leander’s chest. He almost cracked a smile. “She should remember you. I'm hoping it gets a better reaction out of her than what I've experienced so far. Go with your gut, son. Do whatever you think feels best. I've got your back.”

Despite Harrington’s warning that MC might not be as Leander remembered her, nothing could have prepared him for what he found when they unlocked her cell door and entered the barren room that held her. The chilled damp of the walls and floor was evident, the air reeking of it along with the stench of unwashed humans and despair. Leander fought the urge to press his fingers to his mouth as his eyes scanned the room. There was a slop bucket and a bed that was just a ledge of stone along one wall with a filthy blanket, a pale stream of light coming through a slit high up in the wall to allow air to enter the stagnant space.

The misery of the place was compounded by the sight of the emaciated figure sat hunched on the stone ledge, her hair long and matted, slick with oily filth and clinging to her scalp before hanging in strings about her face and shoulders. Leander remembered a time when it had fallen like silk and begged for your hand to stroke through it.

The prison issued uniform hung on her boney frame, filthy and frayed at the edges, the collar open enough to reveal the skeletal jut of her collar bone. She looked so small, so withered. It was a shock and it no doubt showed on his face.

He almost whimpered at the pitiful sight of the girl he had once stared at with longing across a Hogwarts classroom, her skin now pale and waxy, drawn tight over the bones of her starved frame. The shadows that darkened the sockets of her eyes seemed to highlight the ghostly orbs that stared up at him as he paused in his step, his resistance failing as he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he met her gaze.

She looked…haunted, lost, a wisp of drained sadness, and it pulled sharply at the softness that he sheltered behind his ribs.

“Merlin,” he whispered, his heart breaking. He could almost hear the crack and tear of it as the backs of his eyes burned.

Surely, this wasn't the same girl. That couldn't be her. It was horrifying. His stomach twisted and his eyes glanced at the bucket in the corner, wondering if he needed to make a dash for it before the remains of breakfast forced its way up his throat.

“I've brought someone to see you, MC. You remember him, don't you?” Harrington said, leaning forward to peer at her.

She hadn't moved and her sunken eyes were fixed on him, unmoving and glassy in the low light. Her dry, chapped lips parted slightly, and a flicker of tongue darted out before she spoke.

“Lee,” she whispered.

Leander had to bite down on his lower lip to stop it from trembling. His nickname. She remembered him.

Harrington gave him a look that said it was over to him before taking a step back, offering him the floor. Swallowing uneasily, Leander took a step closer towards her, remembering that she was potentially dangerous before he pushed that thought away. Looking at the thinness of her arms, he figured he could handle her if she made a lunge for him.

“Hello, MC,” he said softly, taking another step so that he was right in front of her. Her head tilted back slightly so she could look up at him, the sharp angle of her jaw almost painful to look upon it was so harshly wasted away. “Do you mind if I talk to you? Just for a little bit.”

Her eyes slid towards Harrington, narrowing slightly, the glimmer of hate vivid and real before she returned her gaze to him. The hate faded a little, but she sure as Merlin didn't look like she trusted him.

“Here to do his dirty work, are you?”

Her voice was a dry rasp, a hoarse sound grated through her vocal chords that was nothing like the soft, melodic sound that he remembered. More rips rendered through his heart and he almost winced before he remembered his training.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said, keeping his voice calm and low. “You might be able to help me with the investigation. I have some questions, but we can get to those in a moment. Maybe you have a question you'd like me to answer first. I will try to answer as best as I can.”

She stared at him, the faintest wobble of her lips distracting him as her face seemed to shift with what could have passed for sadness. There was dried blood on her lips, and a smear of it on her arm too. His gaze wandered over what pale skin he could see trying to work out where the blood had come from.

“You're one of them, aren't you?” She rasped. A huff of what could have been a laugh wheezed from her throat and her head tilted back further to lean against the wall, her filthy hair slipping back to reveal a nasty scrape at her temple, and purple bruising near her ear. “You're a fucking Auror now.”

“Yes, I am,” he said, a frown creasing his brow. He leaned closer, assessing her injury and he pursed his lips. “You're hurt, MC. How did this happen?”

Her eyes widened slightly before the empty expression returned to her face. Her gaze swung towards Harrington with a sour twist of lips. “Your mate over there has an interesting way of trying to make people talk.”

Leander turned to Harrington, incredulous. “You struck her?”

Harrington merely shrugged. “Don't be fooled by her. She's no innocent victim. Remember that.”

Leander looked back at MC, the sight of the bruising and blood not sitting well with him at all, but Harrington was right. He needed to remember why she was in here.

She met his eyes again and he could have sworn there was a glimmer of something soft, a brief, fleeting look that pulled at his heart strings. Then she was gone, MC the girl was replaced by this haunted wraith-like creature, seemingly empty and drifting.

No. He couldn't do it. Harrington had told him to go with his gut, and she was not going to talk to him if she didn't trust him.

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a white, neatly pressed handkerchief. The cleanliness of it seemed almost grotesque in this cell as he held it up in front of her before moving closer, his hand trembling as he slowly lifted it up towards the wound on her head.

Her eyes stared, pupils enlarging as he carefully began to try and clean the blood from her skin. This close her skin looked almost transparent, the blue spidery veins at her temple vivid against the waxen white.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. He didn't care that she was dirty, that she was covered in filth. His fingers brushed back her hair, the strands clumped and unpleasant to the touch, but he ignored that, carefully wiping at the crusted blood as best as he could.

He paused when he saw a tear escape the corner of her eye. The droplet shimmered in the dim light as it tracked through the grime on her cheek. She didn't even attempt to wipe it away.

Very conscious of the stern-faced Auror who was watching all of this, Leander withdrew from her, folding the now dirty handkerchief and putting it back into his pocket before stepping back.

“That's the best I could do without clean water,” he murmured, shifting slightly on the spot. “Does it hurt?”

“Do you honestly really care if it does? Or are you just trying to make me warm up to you so I will talk?”

So cold. So indifferent. He fought back his disappointment, shoved it down so hard he clenched his hands into fists. She watched him and then her eyes dropped to her lap, but not before he saw that flicker of something soft in her face again.

“You know me, MC. Of course I care, and I know I am a fool for doing so,” he said, shaking his head. “You don't have to talk to me today. I'm not going to force you, but maybe one day you will be able to look at me and know I am not your enemy.”

She stiffened but didn't look up, her fingers gripping at the filthy fabric of her clothing.

He looked at Harrington who was watching him with narrowed eyes. Leander nodded towards the door and gave MC one last, long look before turning towards it.

“Goodbye, MC,” he said, his voice still calm and soft, but there was a note of sadness to it this time. “I hope your head feels better tomorrow.”

Harrington locked her door and they began to walk back down the wing, screeching and clanging coming from the cells as they passed. The cold, dreadful horrors that hovered above their heads made Leander shiver, but neither of them spoke until they were in the corridor leading towards the Auror Chambers.

“What was that in there?” Harrington asked as he opened the door.

Leander paused and gave him a hard look. “You asked me to follow my gut, so that's what I did,” he said firmly. He kept his face determined, but his pulse raced. “Don't lay another hand on her. Striking her is not going to make her talk. She is stubborn, but there is a softness in her. Trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

To his surprise, Harrington smiled. He nodded and gestured for Leander to enter the chamber so they could sign out.

“And that is why I chose you to come here today,” Harrington said, a satisfied gleam in his blue eyes. “You've got the case. I want you on my team. Come here again tomorrow. Alone this time. See what you can get out of her, if anything at all. She's all yours.”

Leander gaped at him. He had got nothing out of her, nothing at all. It was almost a wasted trip. “Are you joking?”

Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “I don't joke about stuff like this. I saw the way she looked at you. The cleaning of her wound? Genius. You almost broke her with that gentle touch of yours. I can't wait to see what you manage to achieve with this one, Prewett. Just keep on coming back here until you've cracked it. Meanwhile, I can start questioning the other damned soul in here.”

“And who might that be?” Leander asked, his eyes glancing over the many numbers hanging on the wall.

“Theophilus Harlow,” Harrington replied. “A cruel son of a bitch, and Rookwood’s old right hand man. He will definitely require a tougher approach.”

As Leander signed himself out in the ledger, he looked at the empty slot beneath on the parchment page. Tomorrow he will return. He would see her again.

Was he really a fool for hoping? He had come here today with the idea of making an impression, eager to please the battle-worn Auror, and yet he had fallen easily into his soft hearted manner, forgetting the gruelling training he had successfully completed. He hadn't earned his badge with soft touches and pity, and yet he had managed both on his prisoner today. Somehow it had earned him a place on Harrington's team. He was now working on the Rookwood case. The biggest case of his career so far.

He couldn't afford to fuck this up, and yet his flickering hope was already sealing up the cracks in his heart. Tomorrow he would see MC again, and maybe, just maybe he would get her to trust him.

To be continued...

This fic is dedicated to my Discord family, who keep me inspired by our shared delulu craziness, especially @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour who have spent AGES discussing this with me. 💗

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #leander prewett #leander prewett x mc #blueraineshadows

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 11

Horror Movie Crossover

A few years ago, I was reaaaally into the It movies so I decided to pay homage to that part of my life by making today's entry a crossover between Metalocalypse and It.

I thought the iconic scene where the Losers defeat Pennywise would fit perfectly for this 🤡 Enjoy some clown bullying!

The guys stared at each other with fear and concern, sweat and dirt dripping down their faces. They had always hated him, for pretty mundane reasons, like, you know, the way he spoke and everything he fucking represented. He fucking sucked. They wanted him to die. So the last thing they expected was for him to turn into a huge spider with fucking creepy-looking legs and everything. 

They had never expected that clown to turn into a real monster. But Toki, ignoring everything they said, had given him way too much cocaine and he shapeshifted into his final form or whatever. What kind of stupid movie was this? 

Why were they against that fucking clown?

“Dr. Rockzo wants k-k-k-cocaine!” That stupid asshole clown yelled, crawling closer to them with his disgusting white legs. “Give me cocaine or I’ll k-k-k-eat you alive!”

“We don’t have any more cocaine!” Nathan yelled back. “Toki gave you everything we had!”

“K-k-k-oh, no!” Rockzo feigned sadness before a grin spread across his face. “Guess you’ll have to k-k-k-do!” 

“What does wes does?” Skwisgaar asked, one arm wrapped protectively around an injured Toki. 

When Rockzo started losing control, Toki had tried to calm him down, only to be propelled backwards by one of the cocaine-stained legs of the clown. He was still conscious, but he needed medical attention and fast. 

Pickles shut his eyes, ignoring the piles of dead Klokateers around them. They were on their own now. “Dere’s…dere’s more then one wey to make som’one small.” He said, before opening his eyes again. 

“What?” Murderface grimaced in confusion.

Nathan’s gaze was on the ground, on the rubble at his feet. He frowned, trying to remember. “Make him believe that he is?” He stared at Pickles.

Nodding, Pickles let out a “Yeh” before returning his eyes to Rockzo, determination overcoming fear.

“I’m Rockzo, the rock and roll clown!” He announced sinisterly as he loomed closer. “And I do cocai-”

“Not to us, yer not.” Pickles said. “Yer just a clown.”

Rockzo stood still, taken aback by the response. Seconds after, he tried to go for Nathan, unclenching his jaws to eat him.

“You’re just an annoying clown.” Nathan glared at him.

“The-” Rockzo stammered, then glanced at Skwisgaar, trying to attack him next.

“A useless clowns whats no ones loves!” Skwisgaar exclaimed, his hand gripping Toki’s shoulder.

“Just a dumb whores…” Toki added, with the little strength he had left. 

“A feckin’ creep!” Pickles shouted.

“A good for nothing clown that can’t even make people laugh!” Nathan took a step forward.

“Your muschik fucking schucksch and scho doesch your outfit!” Murderface pointed an accusatory finger.

“K-K-K-No!!!” Rockzo covered his ears in pain, morphing into a bag of cocaine, then a razor, then back to himself. “I do cocaine!”

They briefly glanced at each other. It was working.

“Your voice makes me want to kill myself!”

“Yer a kid diddler!”

“You have no perschonality!”

“Everytime I looks ats you, I wants to frows up!”

“Freak!”

“Failure!”

“Aschole!”

“Uglies!”

“Bad friends!”

“K-K-K-Stop it!” Rockzo cried out, visibly shrinking in size.

“Holy shet, it’s worken’...” Pickles said in shock before shaking his head. “I mean, clown!”

“You’re just a fucking clown!” Nathan yelled.

“A-And we hates you!” Skwisgaar nervously peeked at Toki who seemed to be in and out.

“People are embarrassched to be scheen with you!” Murderface spat.

“Ahh!!” Rockzo shut his eyes, in denial. “Cocaine!”

“Clown!” Pickles gestured at the guys to keep going and, soon enough, they were all repeating it. “Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown!”

As they kept their chant, they witnessed thee transformation, amidst cries and pleas from Rockzo. The eight spider legs slowly turned smaller until they disappeared, his torso grew back, his head diminished in size and he acquired his regular limbs. He was human again, naked and covered in some translucid goo. 

“K-K-K-Cocaine…” He bleated pathetically.

“Fucking disgusting.” Nathan commented, grimacing over the sight.

“Kick his ass!” Pickles exclaimed, and it was like a warcry.

At once, they all started delivering kicks at the cokehead, even the wounded Toki. Hearing Rockzo whine in pain was so funny. Especially when he begged them to stop, because it only prompted them to kick him harder.

God, they fucking hated that clown. 

#kloktober2023 #kloktober #metalocalypse #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #dethklok #dr rockzo #it #clowns #no beta we die like men etc #my writing

[eyelessfog]

Shelby frowns at the still blackened and dead stone of Glimmergrove’s castle. “This blows,” she tells no one.

“Thar’ she blows!” Agrees a familiar voice, and Shelby hangs her head.

“Shut up, Joe,” Shelby tells him. There’s a quiet gasp, and Shelby turns, panicked. “Don’t shut up, Joe!” she corrects, glancing between Katherine and Pirate Joe.

Katherine’s brows are furrowed, and her mouth is downturned in a sad frown, but Joe seems entirely unfazed by the idea of Katherine realizing that they’re not nice to each other.

“I thought you guys were friends now?” Katherine says, voice wobbly.

“We are!” Shelby tells her. “Promise! I’m sorry!”

“It’s true, we are. And!” Joe winks at Shelby. “Apology accepted.”

As she usually does when in the general vicinity of both Katherine and Joe, Shelby stops herself from telling Joe that she wasn’t talking to him.

“Right,” Shelby says dryly. “Anyway, what’s the occasion? We don’t usually all show up here at the same time if there wasn’t a party planned.”

“Oh,” Joe says, raising a hand. “That’s my fault. I made Katherine show me how to work her boats. Dropped in unplanned and all that. You know how it goes!”

Shelby makes a face. “And you actually gave him the tour?”

Katherine shrugs. “I like my boats. Not gonna pass up the chance to show them off!”

“Yeah! It’s fine,” Joe says decisively. “It’s not as if I’d steal them.”

Realization dawns on Katherine’s face. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

Shelby turns her laugh into a cough, and Joe doesn’t even make the attempt. Katherine, good sport that she is, rolls her eyes. “I’ll be back with you in a minute, Shelby." As she walks past them both, into her castle, she calls over her shoulder, "Play nice, please!"

Shelby watches her until she literally can't anymore, and then turns to Joe. "Hey," she says.

Joe grabs her hands and spins her around, then places his head on her shoulder so that they're both staring at the palace walls. "Hi, Shelby! What are we looking at?"

"Curses, 'n stuff. I'm trying to figure it out without bringing Scott into the whole thing, 'cuz he keeps making these really weird faces at me when he thinks I'm not looking." She squints at the wall. "And I just... I'm pretty sure the problem is that no one knows where the source is. It's not just on the palace, or just on the land, or just on Katherine. I don't- I don't know where to find the source."

"Aw, Shels, that sucks. How are you gonna know the source if you find it?”

Shelby looks over the palace again. “Well, I assume it’s going to be like a skulk catalyst kinda thing, right? With skulk, it feeds off of souls of the dead, and all that-“

“It does?” Joe asks, voice high with fear.

Shelby looks over at him. “Uh, yeah? This is like… the first thing you learn about skulk.”

“When you’re a witch,” Joe reminds.

Shelby considers this. “Huh. I guess. But yeah, it feeds off of soul, then starts spreading.” She can feel the grin on his face from where he’s resting his chin on her shoulder. “If you say another word, I’ll kill you myself. Keep your jokes away from my ears. Anyway, the catalyst has a certain feel to it. It has a bit of magic and a bit of biology that makes it a little different from normal skulk, which lets it grow. I need to find the skulk catalyst equivalent in the kingdom.”

Joe leans back, taking his head off of Shelby’s shoulder. “Hm. So should we be looking over there?” He points to the right, towards the darker side of the kingdom. “Since it’s starting from there and all that.”

Shelby looks over. “Huh. I think you’re right.”

“I always am!” Joe hums.

“In no universe. You’re so lucky you have such a smart friend like me to tell you when you’re wrong.”

Joe looks her up and down, brows raised. The grin on his face lets her know he’s teasing when he says, “Riiiight. After all we’ve been through, I’m sure you’re the smart one.”

“Grades don’t count!”

“I’d sure hope not! I never went to school.”

“You’re breaking down your own case, Joe. I went to witch school.”

Joe squints at her, and then shoves the rim of her hat down over her eyes. “I win!” he decides.

Shelby pulls her hat off and adjusts where Tortoise sits on her hair. “You can’t just bully me and then decide you’ve won the argument.” She places the hat back squarely on her head.

“I just did!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did-“

“Um?” Katherine says, and Shelby schools the grin on her face into something less wild. Joe, as it usually goes, doesn’t even try.

“Hi,” Katherine says. “I got changed and stuff, so we can go explore the kingdom if you want to inspect the curse.” She looks between them. “If I’m not interrupting something.”

“Only the dumbest argument I think we’ve ever had,” Shelby says, waving her off.

“And you’re still friends?” Katherine asks, just to be sure.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Joe says. “It was funny. I’m curious about this magic stuff though, so keep working! I’ll just be here. Observing.” He stands to the side, blinking big innocent eyes at them.

---

Shelby takes the lead as they walk over to the cursed side of the kingdom. It's strange, because even the sky feels a little darker, just by being in this area.

Shelby turns to Katherine. "How does the whole thing work? Like, does it grow sometimes, or does it stay the same, or..?"

"It grows sometimes." Katherine scratches at the back of her neck. "Around my birthday."

She avoids eye contact, as if afraid that Shelby or Joey will berate her for her birthday.

"So it's a yearly curse. 'Cause you said it appeared first when you were born, right?"

"Um. Yes."

"And it's on your arm, right?"

Katherine tugs her long glove off her left arm and holds it out. Black-grey skin that fades back to Katherine's actual skin colour at the shoulder is revealed, and Joe sucks in a breath. "Grows every year, at about the same speed as the curse on the land," Katherine reports.

"Hm," Shelby says. She holds Katherine's hand, looking into her eyes. "Does it... hurt?"

"I can't actually feel it. At all. It's numb."

Shelby's eyes widen. "What?"

"What?" Joe echos.

"My arm is numb, up to where the grey stops. I don't know why."

Shelby considers this. "Do you remember that time, when you wore the other dress and your hair was up and you had..." Shelby points to the base of her neck. "The thing on your spine. That I said was probably connected to the curse?"

Katherine absently touches the back of her neck. "Oh, I do remember that. It's why I changed my usual dress to one with a high collar."

Joey frowns. "That was you? Shelby, come on now."

Shelby elbows him. "Not the time, Joe." Joe ducks his head in apology. "Spines have a lot of your nerves in it. If your curse is effecting your ability to feel things by corrupting your spine and the nerves inside - Katherine! Katherine, this is bad!"

Katherine laughs nervously. "I- uh- I have a bit of time before it gets really bad though, wouldn't you say? We just have to figure out where the problem lies."

Shelby looks around the cursed half of the kingdom. "I... I have to assume that if it's starting over here, then the core of it all is on this side, right? Either in the middle of the cursed area, or at the very edge and working it's way over there-" she points towards the docks, "-without spreading in the opposite direction. But I can't figure out why it would do that."

Katherine bites at her thumbnail. "My parents aren't a big fan of the night. But I- well." She gestures to herself. "I am. Dawn and GlimmerGrove have historically held similar opinions on nighttime, and I just have to wonder the reason."

Shelby tilts her head. "Katherine, you sound like you have a theory."

"I do." Katherine looks up at the sky, brows furrowed with worry. "So. You know how when the moon waxes, it gets darker?"

#[written in stone] #katherine elizabeth #shelby shubble #shubbletv #joey graceffa #empires smp #empires smp 2

[white-flwrs]

focus for the next 2 weeks

finishing orgo content

revising inorganic content

practising promo papers before SChO selections

practising kinematics (omg my phys sucks sm)

reading articles to prepare for gp

#studyblr #study motivation #studying #study aesthetic #school #study #high school #stem #study space #dark academia #light academia #chaotic academia #that girl #wonyoungism

[tonberry-yoda]

Pineapple Flip Flops - A One Piece Modern AU - Chapter 2

notes - Here's chapter 2!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one because Ace is my canon boyfriend and I get to brag about him through my writing tee hee. Also, Luffy is 19 in this AU :) word count - 818 summary - Luffy wakes up to his brother Ace and they make food together while considering college.

“Hey, doof-ass, wake up.” Ace smacked Luffy’s forehead with a rolled up magazine and Luffy woke right up, sucking in a line of drool.

“Huh?” Luffy looked around the apartment in confusion, but his face lit up when he saw his brother in front of him. “Yo! Ace, Ace, look!” He shoved his foot in Ace’s face and Ace just laughed, pushing his foot away.

“Nice foot, Luffy.” Ace rolled his eyes with a laugh and walked to the kitchen.

“No, no, look!” Luffy ran after him and slipped off his flip flops, which made him trip over his own feet and fall onto the floor. That didn't stop him though and he was able to show Ace the design on his new shoes.

Ace squinted and then laughed out loud. “Are those new?”

“Uh-huh! I lost my pineapple ones today.”

“Damn, bud, that sucks. Those were my favorite ones.”

“Me too.” Luffy pouted and sat at the dining room table, splaying his arms in front of him.

“Well, I dig the rubber ducks.” Ace stared in the freezer. “Want pizza?”

“PIZZA!” Luffy threw his arms in the air.

“Pizza it is.” He pulled out two frozen pizzas and laid them on the counter, preheating the oven. “Really sucks that Sabo isn't here. Neither of us can cook actual food.”

“Yeah,” Luffy chuckled. “You always almost burn the house down.”

“Shut up.” Ace laughed and sat across from Luffy.

The two sat in short silence for a little while just randomly scrolling on their phones. But Luffy got bored pretty quickly and started drumming on the table. He just wanted the pizza right then and there and was hoping to kill at least a little bit of time.

Ace looked up from his phone and smiled. “What did you do today, Luff?” he asked. “Other than lose your shoes.”

“Just rode my bike all day.” He laid his head down on the table and turned it over, making his cheek squish and voice muffle. “You?”

“Just work. I helped with some field trip for another school and then started doing after school activities again.”

“Where was the field trip?” Luffy asked hopefully.

“Just some little pool. It was crowded as hell.”

“Lame.”

“It was fun though. And no one drowned,” Ace chuckled. “So that was good.”

The oven was done preheating, so Ace got up and put the pizzas in there. He then leaned against the counter and stretched, doing some overdramatic yawn. “When are you planning on going to college, Luffy?” he asked mid-yawn.

Luffy looked at Ace in the kitchen with disgust. “Never.”

“You can't mow lawns forever.” Ace scoffed.

“I know. But I am not going to college. Shanks didn't, and he’s doing really good.”

“I know, buddy.” Ace sighed and walked back to the dining room. “But you’re Luffy, not Shanks.” He poked Luffy’s chest. “There’s still time to apply if you wanna. Plus, I think you’d like my major.”

“But I don't wanna have to take a math class!” Luffy groaned.

Ace laughed. “Neither do I.”

Ace majored in outdoor activities where he got the opportunity to learn a lot and travel a lot. The things he got to do were always fun: rock climbing, hiking, nutrition, etc. But – as said earlier – there were its boring parts, like having to take math in order to graduate, but that's what Sabo was for whenever he was around.

Ace had only been in college for a year, but he would always come home with a smile and a story. Luffy loved these stories – even getting jealous some of the time – so Ace figured that Luffy would love college. But he insisted he would rather explore the world on his own and figure the rest out himself.

Ace understood Luffy, but as his older brother, he couldn't help but worry a little also. The world wasn't built for people like them and that sucked big time. It was surprising they even made it out of high school.

The timer on Ace’s phone went off, signaling that the pizzas were ready, and Luffy jumped up with a smile.

The two brothers ran to the kitchen and collected their pizzas, sighing knowing that they had to wait for them to cool.

“Speaking of college,” Ace said, trying to cool down his pizza by fanning it with his hand. “I have to go get some financial aid stuff figured out tomorrow before classes start in the next couple weeks. Wanna come with?”

“Only if I get food.” Luffy said with a mouthful of pizza already.

“Yeah, we’ll go get some lunch.”

“Then sure, I'm not doin’ anything better.”

Ace smiled and ate his own pizza, just barely burning his tongue in the process.

It was getting lonely without Sabo, but it was nice to know that Ace was going to have a day out with his favorite little brother.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | one piece modern AU masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#pineapple flip flops #this is so fun tee hee #next chapters where it's gonna get GOOD #one piece #op #one piece modern au #monkey d luffy #luffy #strawhat #strawhats #strawhat pirates #portgas d ace #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #<3 #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #strawhats x reader

[rainparadefromhell]

Hi.

Okay so I haven't really said much about the trailer on here (I'm a bit more active on twitter so follow me there if you wanna talk more @ casualenjoyr) but I just can't explain this feeling that I have in my chest since watching it.

I'll start of by saying I am really really optimistic about season 4. I think it has the potential of being my favorite season (1,3,2 is my ranking rn). Most of you know I'm a benvi so let's start with the obvious.

Ben & Devi

I've seen some people say they are worried about Ben and Devi, with the whole Margot and Ethan situation and I have to admit that was so me... before the trailer. Yeah it sucks because it looks like they are just repeating storylines but I genuinely do believe Ben and Devi need that push to actually admit their feelings for each other. When you think about it, they haven't done that yet. The closest we got to it was Ben telling Devi he likes her personality and that he'd miss her and even though you can see an "I love you" written all over his face neither ever really verbalized the strong feelings they have for each other. The trailer shows us a lot of B&D conflicts but like I said I have a really good feeling about this. Mainly because of this one scene and you all know...

I want to frame this picture and put it on my fridge like they are my family. (bc they are)

Whatever conversation they have here, talking about their futures and leaving school, having sex for the first time - hell even if they just breathe next to each other for a few seconds, I am convinced it will be one of my favorite scenes of the show if not my favorite. The show has been building up to it and I am sure the writing will deliver as it always has with their romantic scenes.

The boink

HA! I totally knew they did it. I think it is the best decision for the season. The show always made a point to acknowledge the connection they have and now that connection is even stronger. I think it perfectly shows, now more than before, just how much more comfortable they are with each other vs. other people they've dated. I also can't wait for the awkwardness that will follow this whole thing. I hope Mr. Shapiro makes some clumsy monologue that ties into what happened (like when Devi was thinking about having sex with Paxton and freaked out in class).

Paxton & Devi

I really hope the writers don't cave in and have anything happen with them. My favorite scene of them is Devi telling Paxton that he was a dream to her last season. I know it's been hinted that Paxton still has feelings for Devi but I do not think she still has feelings for him. Hopefully there will maybe be a situation that happens but then they figure out they work better as friends. I think it will be interesting seeing Paxton technically in the adult world while working in the same high school he once went to. I think there is a lot to explore there with his character and that he matures even more.

Trent, Eleanor and Fabiola

I really like Trent and Eleanor together and I hope they don't break up but if they do I think I'd be okay with it as long as it makes sense with the characters. It seems like Eleanor might have some intense storyline of her own involving acting and I'm really excited. I can't say much about Fabiola because I think she got sidelined a bit again which frustrates me honestly.

(I will be talking about a leaked script spoiler here so please skip this part if you don't want to see that).

The only conflict involving Fabiola I remember happened in the leak we have and it involves Fabiola getting into Princeton and Devi getting waitlisted. Still it just ties her to Devi and not her own storyline but I wonder if it draws a wedge between them. I am also not one of these people that care too much if Devi eventually gets into Princeton. I just hope whatever happens she learns not to put so much pressure on herself and break down if things don't go exactly like she planned. Your life isn't ruined if you don't get into a particular school. In the end, it is what you make of it.

.

.

The rest of the Vishwakumars

We haven't seen much in the trailer involving them but I think their storylines will be really good. I always enjoy and appreciate the plotlines of the adults in the nhie universe so I am excited for that too. Who is getting married? Honestly, I don't even care who it is, I just really want to see a wedding happen. It's a great way for us to rest from all the chaos and the drama. I don't think anything major will happen with Nalini and Devi, I just hope we see even more mother daughter moments because for me that is the heart of the show.

Leaving and moving on

Okay so here's the part where I fall apart a little bit. One of the things that stood out to me in the trailer is Devi having that feeling of not wanting to let go and realizing she'll have to say goodbye to a lot of people. I am really proud of her here because for a nerdy girl dealing with grief that wanted so badly to be popular and have a hot boyfriend, seeing her love her friends, her family, her mom FIRST means so much to me. Devi made a lot of mistakes and put people and status in first place when she shouldn't have. Season 3 reminding her she already has everything she needs around her, that that is her support system means everything. We are all just trying to find a place in the world for us to fit in but never consider that that place isn't found, it's made. And boy oh boy, I think she finally made it, folks.

Saying goodbye to nhie & me being sappy

I am really excited to see these characters again but having to say goodbye will be really hard.

:(

Never Have I Ever is not a perfect show and if you know me you know I criticize it quite a lot but it is really near and dear to my heart as a viewer that has watched it from the day it came out in 2020. I've joined Tumblr first during season 2 and connected with a lot of people whose posts and opinions I appreciate and value SO much. I've never really been a proper part of a fandom like this before and I have to say that for the most part it has been such a wonderful experience. It gave me my first followers (also online friends) and a community. Thank you to everyone that has interacted with me in any way, I really did spent a lot of nights reading your metas and analyses like they were the most influential philosophy works of our time.

I hope this sweet little show stays with you in some part even if it's just John McEnroe crawling inside your ear on a random Tuesday. You tell him to stop but he is in there.

#oof my fingers HURT #damn #this is the most emo post i've ever made #thank you guys and ily all #the final chapter is here #never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #never have i ever season 4 #nhie #nhie season 4 #nhie s4 #devi vishwakumar #nalini vishwakumar #kamala nandiwadal #eleanor wong #fabiola torres #paxton hall yoshida #ben gross #aneesa qureshi #benvi #:')

[bloodrocution]

Reassurance - William Murderface + OC

Minors DNI, dicks and such ahead. Begging, reassurance, a sprinkling of praise kink and overstimulation.

“Pleasche–”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Rusalka nudged William’s chunky thighs apart with her knee and pinned him further against the wall.

“Pleasche–...” 

His voice sounds soft and small and it makes her so hungry. A smile breaks out on her face like a bleeding rash and she leans in close, mouth against his neck. “You’re so cute, Will.” She murmurs, pushing up against the bassist. She earns a breathy groan. Her fingers creep under the hem of his shirt and start pushing it up.

A hot rush of embarrassment leaves Murderface grimacing and bearing his face down against Rusalka shoulder. 

“Oh, what’s wrong?” She asks, practically drooling like a dog over the feeling of his soft gut deforming under her spindly, mean fingers. Her eyes loll weakly when she feels his cock twitch against the crook of her hip. Another groan from William, but no answer, yet. She ventures to tug his shirt up and off before moving to squat between his hefty boots.

But-... He’s not saying anything. 

She hesitates, dark brown eyes boring into his much lighter greens. His face is flushed and his hands are trembling. His heart beats wildly in places it shouldn’t. Rusalka pauses, brows raised curiously. Concern cools her fire very quickly. “Hm?”

It takes a long while for him to speak again.

“You schure you’re not-... Playing a joke on me or schomething? You’re grabbin’ all over the worscht partsch of me.” William manages to put his thoughts into words. He was always insecure, always waiting for the gotcha on the rare occasion that someone showed interest in him. He’d been with Rusalka for six months, half a year, and he still worried.

Rusalka tilted her head, brow furrowed. “Will… You know I’m batshit about you, right?” He sort of hesitates, looking down at her. A rough, broad hand combs through her mohawk and she leans into it quite readily. “I mean it.” 

A hint of a smile creeps onto his face, a wash of confidence bringing him back up to full mast. “Yeah… Why don’t you schow me, huh?”

She’s all too eager to get his pants around his ankles– all the tugging of zippers and frantic fumbling with buckles showed that. She sank William’s needy cock down her throat, swallowing greedily around bulging veins and angry flesh. The salt of his precum made her drool like a fucking dog. He threw his head back and clenched his teeth, twisting up a handful of her dyed hair in rough, calloused fingers. He pushed her further until a satisfying gag came from around his prick.

“That’sch it…” He huffs, bringing her down again, greedy for more. “You feel scho good around my cock...” His voice is getting lower, raspier, his throat dry from panting. Rusalka's eyes are watering, and her throat feels bruised, but she just can’t stop when he’s making those pretty sounds, when his voice gets keen like that. Saliva bubbles and strings messily where her mouth ends and his cock begins. It drips down her chin and leaves her neck sticky.

William’s voice loses its edge as he loses his nerve, only able to groan and suck in greedy, starved breaths as he fucks her mouth raw. Every thrust makes him twitch and clench, makes him tighten his grasp on her hair. Rusalka only pushes further, shoulders lurching forward every time he knocks the back of her throat. She revels in how his cock jumps against the roof of her mouth. 

With a gasp, he tugs her off of his cock. Trembling, he holds her back by the hair. Rusalka is left panting, blinking, open-mouthed and sore in the jaw. She runs her tongue over her lips, swiping up a mouthful of gluey spit. “I want more than that.” He rasps, tugging her head back so she has to meet his starved, vicious gaze. A lazy grin spreads over her face. “Yeah, Will? Then tell me what you want.” She encourages him all too coolly. It was hard to say whether she was calling his bluff or encouraging him. Even Rusalka wasn’t sure where those two lines met.

“I want, uh… I want-...” He sort of fumbles, eyes narrowed, sweat gathering on his forehead. “Fuck, you know what I want.” Is what he settles on. He wanted to wipe that smug look off of her face. He wanted to see her eyes roll back and her face go all red. So he manhandled her off the floor and over the side of his mattress. She landed on her back with a breathy grunt, and her mouth was quickly overtaken by his.

The way he kissed her wasn’t beautiful or soft– it was rough and needy and ugly and messy, and she loved it more than life itself. They were all gnashing teeth and bruised lips and drooling tongues, her hands buried in his hair and his working her shorts down her legs. They caught around her boots and he cursed under his breath, frustrated, and abandoned that task in favor of putting his fingers to good use– roughly stuffing them into her drooling cunt. He groaned with abject satisfaction when she stopped smirking and gasped, propped up on her elbows, grasping handfuls of his mattress. “That’sch it… That’sch what I want.” He growls lowly, the pads of his fingers raking against a spot that made her thrash like she’d been stabbed. He ran his tongue over his crooked teeth, grinning from ear to ear. “Ischn’t it what you want?” He asks. Rusalka can only nod, eyes squeezed shut, lanky body quivering.

The bassist pulled his calloused fingers out of her, earning a dissatisfied murmur. He loved how Rusalka looked up at him, now bereft of that stupid fucking smirk, red in the face, sweating like a hog. “God, you’re fucking pretty.” He chuckles, grabbing her by the hips and yanking her to the very edge of his bed. He sinks into her with a tight groan, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. He pulled her as close as he could, her knees hooked over his shoulders, her thighs and ass connecting with the front of his body with a meaty clap. “Fuck, William…” Is all she can manage, stuffed to capacity and legs trembling. Oh, he liked that– how she breathed his name like she was starved for air. He opted to keep her legs against him, one arm barred over her shins while the other snaked between their sweating, trembling bodies. His fingers searched greedily down her abdomen, over her pelvic bone, until they grazed over the right spot. He could always tell, even without looking, guided solely by the way she threw her head back and sighed his name.

“Fuck yeah.” He groans, hips bucking viciously against her backside, raking his cock against the walls of her cunt. “Schay it louder. I wanna hear it again.” He demands in a growl, eagerly grinding the pad of his thumb against her rosy clit. Rusalka can’t say anything for awhile, open-mouthed panting and grabbing at the bedsheets. “Schay it…” He demands again, lips drawn over his teeth in a snarl, brow furrowed almost angrily. It’s hard to be angry when she’s clenching around him like that, though. It’s hard to do anything but keep going. The tension in his throat loosens with a needy, soft moan.

“Will–” Rusalka whimpers, head canted back, shoulders arched up. Murderface’s needy, lurching thrusts and hushed moans get quicker and sloppier, the blunt edge of his nails biting her trembling calf muscle. “Fuck yeah, Rusalka, fuck–” 

He stiffens and cries out, throwing his head back as he pumps her full. The saliva strung between his teeth arches out in nasty strands as he keeps going, still eagerly rounding the firm head of her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. It doesn’t take long before Rusalka falls into the same abyss, his name spilling from her bruised, panting mouth, dry and raspy from panting and moaning. She quivers and jerks and thrashes as he bears down upon her, his pale green eyes greedily taking in the sight of his overstimulated lover. “You look better like thisch. Not scho fucking schmug now, huh?” He rasps, grinning dangerously, still grinding into her twitching, red flesh.

“Fuck, Will, have mercy–” She finally manages to groan, body arched and contorted every time her nerves light up under his too-hard touch. Murderface acquiesces, of course. He just had to indulge in a little begging, first. He withdraws from her with a raspy groan and moves to lie beside her. An arm splayed over the mattress comes across as an invitation; one that she takes readily. Snuggling up against his side, she sighs.

“I love you.” She whispers, pushing her face into his shoulder. William grabs her by the chin and pulls her into another kiss– much softer this time, much more merciful. “I love you too.” He whispers back.

#william murderface #murderface #dethklok #metalocalypse #fanfic #canon x oc #murderface x oc #am i going to keep writing about this goober and his nasty girlfriend? ofc bestie

[schofieldshelmet]

Even When We’re Gone

Ao3

A/N: Hellooo! This is my first 1917 fic so. Please be nice lol (Also, the fic title comes from one of my favorite songs, It Goes On by Sir Rosevelt and Zac Brown Band) Anyway, I started writing this fic to deal with the horror Scho must have gone through climbing out of the river and getting stuck briefly in the bodies, and then it spiraled from there. So enjoy :P

Bodies.

Damp and rubbery and rotting beneath his palms, rolling in the water, tangling between his legs. Tripping him as he stumbled desperately through the shallows, splashing and sinking and tumbling over the corpses of men and women and children, their skin swollen from the river. Their eyes stared up at him, empty and black, their faces stretched and gray and sagging, lips pale and torn like paper.

Get out, get out, he had to get out–

The overgrown riverbank seemed miles away, just out of reach of his desperately extending fingers. The bodies clung to his calves and ankles, gripping his skin with decaying flesh, pulling him down, down, down into the cold and crushing deep—

“Lad?”

Sunlight.

Grass. Sharp beneath his splayed fingers.

Blue sky stretching over his head, flecked in wispy clouds.

Cool air on his skin. Fresh, not bloody and rotted. Clean, not tinged with smoke and ash.

He is dimly aware of sucking in rapid breaths that don’t quite fill his lungs.

(In, out. In, out. In, out).

Breathe.

A hand on his shoulder.

He jumps, blinks, jerks backwards all at once, banging his elbow on the tree behind him. (The same tree under which he and Blake’s fate was sealed, less than a week ago).

“Sorry, corporal. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

A face swims into his vision. Schofield coughs, pushing himself out of his slumped position and fumbling with the laces of his boots. “No harm done, Sarge.”

His fingers shake as he knots the cords together. Sergeant Sanders’ hand is cold through the rough fabric of his tunic, a gentle pressure against his shoulder that grounds him to the earth. “Excited to go on leave soon?”

A choking sensation grips Schofield’s throat, constricting his air flow. “Yes, Sarge.” He sits back and picks at the bandage on his left hand, worn gray cloth concealing his injury from view. It’s healing, slowly but surely, even after a bloody carcass and muddy river water and rotting flesh beneath his palms.

(Some other things refuse to heal).

Sergeant Sanders sits cross-legged on the grass beside Schofield, following the corporal’s gaze to the spring-green field beyond. “Pretty, innit?” At Schofield’s belated nod, the sergeant continues, “Hard to think that all that beauty is out there, and then you go back in the trenches only a couple hundred yards away.” He pauses, gaze flicking to Schofield again. His words are stilted, awkward, tripping over each other. “I…know you’ve had a rough go of it. But it doesn’t do to think about it too long, do it? That’s the secret to survival out here.”

Schofield gives him a haggard look, remembering the Captain who had told him the same thing as he was about to depart for Écoust-Saint-Mein a week ago. He had tried not to think about it. That was something he had learned after the Somme, after the bombs and the blood and the decaying limbs plastered against the earth like broken branches.

It was easier to forget when thousands of others had the same experience as himself, when the men who fell screaming beside him were people he didn’t know firsthand.

(But when he knew them personally, and their blood was soaking into his hands with a metallic, heavy scent, and their voices were laced in terror that he could practically taste in the air, it was hard to forget).

(When the bodies were fresh and rotted beneath his palms, when the blood had congealed on the riverbank in a crusty stain, when their skin was loose and sagging from the water, it was hard to forget).

(When his hand plunged into the soft and meaty carcass of a soldier blown open by a bomb, when the intestines squished beneath his torn and bleeding fingers and the dead man’s face was pasty white, it was hard to forget).

(When it was just him, alone and desperate and frightened in a world of smoke and ashes, when the fire singed his skin and the yells dragged against his ears in the dark, it was hard to forget).

“Corporal?”

Schofield pulls himself out of the reverie he had tumbled into like a shell crater and glances at Sanders again. The sergeant is looking at him expectantly. “Did you ask me something, Sarge?” His voice is faint. He digs his fingers into the grass and reminds himself that he is not a corpse.

“You know not to think about it, don’t you, lad?”

Yes, he does. He’s known since the Somme, since the fields washed in blood that made the ground slick beneath his feet, since the bodies strewn across the grass like ash.

He tells himself every hour of the day not to think about it.

(He thought he had gotten used to death. It was just something he had learned to accept, because those who didn’t accept it never got very far).

But minds have a way of playing tricks on people.

So do hours of traveling alone, terrified and carrying the weight of the world on one’s shoulders. Bearing the burden of the dead, and the fate of the living, as he stumbled through the dark.

“Yes, sir. I know.”

Sanders’s lips twitch upwards in a half-smile, and he claps Schofield on the back. “Good lad.” He pauses, looking like he wants to say something else, but then shakes his head and gets to his feet, brushing dirt off his trousers. “Keep pushing forward, corp, one day at a time. That’s how you’ll make it through the war.”

“Yes, sir.”

Footsteps recede through the grass. Schofield rolls his lips together and sinks lower against the tree, eyes dropping to the position a foot or two away where Blake would have been lying had he been here, helmet tilted over his eyes and hands folded across his stomach, probably snoring a little in the afternoon sun.

Tell her I wasn’t scared…

Schofield draws a slow breath through his nose, flicking his gaze to the sky and focusing on the puffy clouds floating there. He lets his fingers lace through blades of grass, exhaling air again from his mouth.

(In, out. In, out. In, out).

Breathe.

He tilts his head back to rest against the tree trunk, eyes glazing over. He has yet to write the letter to Blake’s mother, explaining her son’s final wishes and reassuring her that he was not alone in his final moments. He can’t quite bring himself to compose it yet, to relive Blake’s anguished screams, the blood soaking through his tunic. Ever since he returned to the 8th Battalion, he’s blocked the memory from his mind, focusing instead on making it through each day, second by painful second.

(The other soldiers watch Lance Corporal Schofield with wary expressions, noticing the way he sits alone beneath that same crooked tree, barely deigning a nod or a smile to those who pass by. They think he’s snobbish, stuck-up, too good to fraternize with the other men. They know little about him, save for the fact that he is always quiet, always alone. Always looking out into the wild field beyond with a vacant countenance.

And they know he was one of the few among them who endured the Somme, who managed to make it through the bloody madness with his sanity, though fragile, still intact. They know he was one of the two men sent on the most recent hellbound mission, that he went out as part of a pair, stoic and somber with fear in his eyes, and returned alone, silent and haggard, with something akin to grief permanently etched on his features.

They claim to avoid him because he is haughty and aloof, but deep inside they are afraid of the haunted expression that clings to the corporal who sits eternally alone. They are terrified of the emptiness in his eyes).

Schofield swallows, digs his old blue tobacco tin from his pocket, fumbles with the faded pictures inside. Through all his years as a soldier, through the tears and the mud and the bombs and the barbed wire, these pictures have kept him sane, have kept his traumatized mind from slipping into a pit of insanity.

He brushes calloused fingertips over the faces in the pictures. Someday he’ll get to tell his two little girls about Blake, about cherry trees, about a gentle hand guiding him through tunnels he was unable to see. Someday he’ll get to tell his wife how Blake’s vivacity sometimes reminded him of her, his relentless optimism in the face of death. Someday, when the war is over and he’s with them again, not stuck in these dark and muddy trenches that have become frighteningly like home.

(He’ll see them soon, but not for long. And they’ll watch him go with tears in their eyes, not knowing if they’ll ever see him again).

Schofield tucks the pictures back in the tobacco tin with a reverent lump in his throat and refastens the lid, then sits with the tin’s light weight in his hands and looks out across the field.

The sun is setting, and the sky is pink and gold.

There’s a smell like cherry blossoms in the air. Schofield smiles and closes his eyes.

#1917 #1917 fic #william schofield #thomas blake #sergeant sanders #1917 schofield #schofield #will schofield #lance corporal schofield #my writing #1917 movie #1917 fanfic

[possibly-in-mordland]

Dethklok banding together to put the fitted sheet back on Nathan's bed 🧿

The One With The Fitted Sheet

Masterlist

Post Type: Headcanons

Warnings: Chaos

A/N: At this point, I don't even sleep with sheets (mostly bc i sleep on a bunk bed on the top bunk but also ew)

==========

Nathan has a problem with tossing and turning during night terrors at least once a month

And him thrashing around causes his sheets to move

But this time around? They fully came off

"THIS *guitar riff* SUCKS!"

Pickles heard the commotion

"Ah, please, leave it to the mahster!"

Pickles failed miserably

"Get the other side, I'll stay here."

They both got caught in the sheets

Murderface sees the commotion

"You guysch are idiotsch."

Now there's three dethmetal toddlers stuck in the fitted sheet

Cue Skwisgaar

"You threes holsk down the sheet, one at eachsk cornkers."

"Alrightsh, I think we got it."

FWOOP!

"GUYS! We gotta get this *guitar riff* on the bed. Where's Toki? TOKI!"

Contrary to popular belief, Toki DOESN'T know how to put a fitted sheet on a bed, but he knows how to fold them which is odd

No matter what they try, the sheets refuse to stay on the bed

"WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG BED, DOOD???"

"IT'S COMFORTABLE AND BRUTAL!"

"BUT ITSCH SCHO HARD TO GET THE SCHEETSCH ON!"

"JA, I MEANS WHAT THE HELLS?"

"I agrees with Skwisgaar. Whats the hells?!"

Charles opens the door, "I...uh...what are you all doing?"

Five voices chimed in at the same time

"WE CAN'T GET THE SHEET ON THE *guitar riff* BED!"

"I...see...gentlemen, please step aside."

Within a few minutes, the sheets were perfectly on the bed

==========

#metalocalypse #dethklok #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #toki wartooth #charles foster offdensen #🧿anon

[spookyceph]

Salt, Sugar, Heat Ch. 4: Overtime

Words: 1,741

Summary: Anywhere can be paradise when your home is hell.

Content Advisory: Sexual references through dialogue

It struck Touya as funny that someone who was basically a giant walking shadow could still have a normal one too. When Kurogiri’s fell over him, he looked up from the game on his phone.

“What’s happening, boss?”

“It is past noon, Todoroki Touya. By the looks of things, the lunch rush has died down. The others should have everything well in hand from here on.”

“Yeah, I already clocked out. Just thought I’d stick around for a bit. Admire the scenery since it’s such a beautiful day.”

Kurogiri surveyed the back lot. The buzzing cloud of flies hovering around the trash bins. A panting stray dog trotting by in the alley. The rickety patio furniture Touya lounged on.

“I see. How is your family doing?”

“Oh, you know. Still fucked up beyond all comprehension. Same old, same old.”

“Nothing immediately pressing, I hope?”

“Nah,” Touya lied.

The ghosts of a million sage but stern lectures haunted Kurogiri’s pause. “What do you make of our latest recruit?” was what he said instead.

“Looks like he hasn’t been outside his basement or eaten anything other than instant noodles for ten years. But…”

“But?”

A pale face pinched with worry that couldn’t quite snuff out the gleam in blood-red irises. Those same eyes watching his every move at the oven. A lanky frame scrambling to jump at orders the instant they were given.

Touya turned back to his phone. Just on the off chance a smile slipped out and ruined his reputation. “He threw himself into everything. Didn’t just stand around and wait for me to give him something to do. Helped clean up to the very end. Never complained once.”

“Ah, so you’re saying he performed admirably.”

“I’m saying he’d give his left nut for a scrap of approval from anyone. But under the desperation there might be the makings of a spine. If he doesn’t crack in the next month, he might turn into a decent baker.”

“You’re a harsh taskmaster, Todoroki Touya.”

“I’m also right.”

That earned a classic Kurogiri sigh. “I trust your instincts on this matter. However, please be mindful of how difficult it is to be a beginner. I feel it’s all too easy to forget past struggles in one’s current confidence.”

Touya twirled a hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll dispense a few head pats between lashings, okay?”

“My thanks. Do pass on my regards to your mother and siblings when you see them.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He waited until he heard the back door shut with a polite click before putting his phone away. The heat of the sun weighing down on him already rivaled the oven’s. He wanted to rinse off with a cool shower. Crank up the air conditioning. Snuggle into his futon for a well-earned rest. Luckily, he was used to denying his wants and needs. Touya stood, took a spine-popping stretch, then wandered inside to fuck with the others.

The rush of running water between the clatter of pots and pans drew him to the sink and his first target.

“Yo, Jin. How’s it going?” He draped an arm around the other man’s neck since getting one all the way across his shoulders was too much of a pain.

Jin turned his head enough to glance at him through the eyeholes of his red costume hoodie’s zip-up mask. Some super sentai thing by the looks of it. “Just finishing up this last round of dishes then I’m taking a lunch break. Look at the mess people left on these plates! Customers are fucking animals! What about you? Aren’t you dead on your feet yet?”

“Story of my life.”

“Let me take your scrawny ass to the gym sometime then! Your old man take leave off of work or something?”

He could probably see shit out of the silly hoodie, but Jin didn’t miss much else. “Shōto is about to start applying for schools. So Enji’s hanging around the house like a fly buzzing around shit.”

“Aw, that sucks. You get to live in a mansion, you prick!”

“Yumi’s a teacher, Natsuo’s almost a doctor, my kid brother’s all set to get into a prestigious school…” Touya heaved a sigh and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “Guess I truly am a failure. How will I ever bear the shame?”

“You could always write a tell-all memoir. Marry a scandalous celebrity! Or, I dunno, man. Just keep making kick ass bread. No, become a porn actor! If you can’t be a gold star, be a red flag!”

Touya let his arm down and slapped Jin on the back. Winced. The guy really was built like a pro. “I’ll take those into consideration.”

“Hey, are you headed out front? Would you mind asking Spinner to make me a coffee?”

“You got it.”

True to his word, Touya pushed his way through the swinging doors. Spinner was leaning against the counter by the espresso machine, a rag draped over his shoulder while he scrolled through his phone. The busy part of the day was well and truly dead. No one remained at the little café tables inside or outside.

“Hey, Turbo Nerd,” Touya said. “Make Jin some coffee.”

“Hey, Rich Boy. Eat my ass.”

“I’d say ‘you wish’, but you probably don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“I have the Internet, dummy.” Realizing what just came out of his mouth, Spinner flushed. Turning on his heel, he suddenly became very invested in whipping up that drink.

“You meet the new guy?” Touya asked once the growl of the coffee grinder died down.

“Yeah. He seems cool.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Touya leaned against the wall. “You got a crush on him already or what?”

“No, I’m just not dedicated to being an asshole to every person I meet, unlike you.”

Toga, Kurogiri, and now Spinner…this Tenko kid was really bringing out the protective instincts in everyone. Touya was so busy trying to wrap his brain around why that he forgot to give Spinner a hard time before accepting the coffee and returning to the back. He still hadn’t come up with any answers by the time he found Jin sitting on the shitty patio furniture, lower half of his hoodie mask unzipped, a cigarette stuck between his lips.

“Can I get a light?” Jin asked, making the cig waggle like a cartoon tongue. “Damn spirits ran away with my lighter again!”

“Sure.” A current of unease rippled beneath his calm surface. He kept his face from giving away how hard he was concentrating when he stuck his thumb beneath the cigarette’s tip. It was fine. It had always been fine since…he had it under fucking control. All he needed was a little spark for half a second. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He knew what he was doing.

A wisp of blue flame jumped up from the tip of his thumb and blackened the end of the cigarette. Jin jerked back, puffing until he got it to glow cherry-red. He coughed but was otherwise unharmed. Of course.

“Oh, hey,” Jin said, “Big Sis was asking about you. Told me to send you into the office if you were still hanging around. Go home already, you weirdo!”

Touya stuffed his tingling, shaking hands into his sweater pocket. “Cool. See you around, man.”

“Why? You been spying on me, huh?! Take it easy, Dabi.”

As usual, a wall of paperwork had cut off Magne from the rest of the world when he stuck his head into the office. She glanced up at him over the rim of her sunglasses.

“Oh, good. Take a seat, cutie pie. Got a question for you.”

He slipped inside and plopped into the chair across from her. “If it’s about another employee appreciation lunch, I still hate sushi.”

“Not quite. You know the old house next door?”

“Hard to miss when I pass it almost every day.”

“How’d you like to live there?”

His lapse into shocked silence brought a smile to Big Sis’s face.

“The current owner is getting ready to retire out in the country,” she continued. “He’s giving Kurogiri the first shot at buying the property.”

“Why? Doesn’t he have any kids or relatives who want it?”

“They’re not really interested since it is a bit of a fixer-upper. Anyway, it kind of helps that Kurogiri has been slipping him free food and coffee since we opened.”

Once again, the boss’s quiet ability to just make something happen gave Touya the sense of being a piece on a board in a game he couldn’t yet identify. “What’s the catch?”

She halved a couple of the stacks so she could sit back and still make eye contact. “Well, you’d be responsible for little projects that don’t require a contractor. You know, some painting, the maintaining the yard, maybe replacing the simpler woodwork. Things a capable young man such as yourself can tend to.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Kurogiri also has plans to eventually rent rooms to a few tenants. You’d be responsible for collecting rent and troubleshooting. Same goes for the bakery afterhours since you’ll be right here.”

“I assume I’ll be paying a portion too?”

“Oh, sure. At a reduced rate, of course, since you’re providing time and effort as well.”

The opportunity to wriggle out from old Enji’s thumb had him ready to leap at the offer. But the risk grabbed him by the back of the neck and held him in place. He could already feel the added weight hanging above him, ready to come crashing down onto his shoulders. First the bakery, now a whole ass house? Rooming with strangers? Strangers who’d look to him to fix things instead of burn them to the ground and never look back?

Magne, catching some twitch or frown line that betrayed him, sighed. “You don’t have to answer right this minute, hot lips. Talk it over with Kurogiri yourself—he just asked me to pass the message along, after all. Maybe, hmm, go home and sleep on it.”

The looming future receded a little, giving Touya room to breathe again. Sure. Yeah, he could ask Tall, Dark, and Spooky a few more questions tomorrow. Find out what his angle was. “Okay. Tell him I’m considering the idea if you see him later.” He stood, looking down while brushing some stray sesame seeds from the bottom hem of his jacket. “And…thanks. Or whatever.”

#bnha #shigadabi #fanfic #league of villains #bakery au

[cha0ticspacebi]

You're An Image Caught in Time: Chapter 26

You got your soulmark when you were very young. You knew who you hoped had left their mark but since they never said anything to you, you resigned yourself to a life of bitter unrequited love. As much as you wanted to meet your soulmate you knew after all these years they must not want to meet you. Though the mark never faded some days you wished it would. Especially after meeting Billy.

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link!

Childhood Friends! Eddie Munson X Reader

Tags: 18+ NSFW MDNI, slowish burn soulmate AU, reader is in an abusive relationship with Billy Hargrove, Dark! Billy, Eddie is a sweetheart but bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, eventual happy ending

Warnings: rape/non con elements, emotional and physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal thoughts

Chapter 26/28 Previous chapter → Next chapter

Walking towards the lunchroom today had special significance, you and Eddie hadn’t told the hellfire club yet that Eddie was officially going to graduate this year. The only other person who knew was Uncle Wayne and he had cried in front of you for the first time ever when you gave him the news. Eddie stopped with your hands linked together and twisted you into his arms before walking in. 

“I kinda want to mess with them,” he laughed into your ear.

You pressed your lips together with a smile, “What did you have in mind?” The two of you stood there scheming and plotting together. Once you had your cover story straight you found it difficult to hold back your laughter as you walked towards the table.

“Shh!” Eddie also had a big smile on his face, “If you laugh they won’t believe us!”

You took a deep breath and tried to flatten out your face. Putting on your best pout, really selling the fake disappointment. Eddie kissed your forehead, “Perfect!”

They were already deep in conversation when you walked up. Dustin and Mike were talking with Jeff and Gareth about the latest session they’d all had. Lucas and Max, who had officially announced that they were dating, were in their own little world. Heads all turned when you and Eddie sat down. It was quiet for a moment. You were still doing your best to not smile. This is supposed to be a sad time. Apparently it worked because their conversation shifted.

“Hey,” Dustin had a concerned look on his face, “What’s up man? How’d your final go?”

Eddie shrugged, “Don’t know yet, should know today though.”

“Why the long faces then?” Mike asked.

“We just came back from Principal Higgin’s office,” Eddie put on quite a show as you explained your fake story, “He got called in about some complaints. They aren’t going to allow Hellfire to continue as an official school club next year.”

As soon as you uttered the words the whole table erupted with a chorus of disapproval! Jeff and Gareth curse that it’s never been a problem before. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas agree, already about to get up and go fight for their found family.

“Unless…” Eddie speaks up.

“Unless what?” they all shout in unison

“Unless we can find a new leader,” he wasn’t able to hold the grin back anymore!

Your facade was also breaking as you tried to continue the ruse, “Clubs can’t be considered official without a leader so unless we can find a new one for next year, Hellfire is finished.”

At first they all just stared at one another but the implications slowly started to settle into their minds. It was quiet until Dustin spoke up, “Eddie? Does this mean?”

He couldn’t hold it in anymore! He ripped his graded final exam from his pocket and slammed it down on the table, “Hell yeah it does Henderson!”

The cheers that erupted from the table grabbed the attention of the entire lunchroom! All eyes were on the table of nerds and freaks. Eddie jumped up on his chair and flipped off the entire room with both hands as he shouted, “Suck it Hawkins High! ‘86 baby!”

After that there was a shift in your daily routine. The energy when you and Eddie walked into school the next few days was different. The teachers even seemed more relaxed and ready for these last days of school for the senior class to end. Until now you’d been just sort of floating along, going through the motions of homework, studying, and competing assignments. Those things were all but gone.  The majority of your school day was spent, quite frankly, doing nothing. Tonight you were going dress shopping with Robin and Steve so you found yourself daydreaming about what kind of dress Eddie might like. Which led your brain down a very interesting path of thinking about your future with Eddie and what your wedding might look like. 

Eddie is anything but conventional so it would definitely be a unique affair. It would be a small, intimate gathering of your closest friends. The music would be Eddie’s favorite part of planning, maybe his band would even perform. You’d ask Uncle Wayne to walk you down the aisle. Robin and Steve as your bridesmaids, they could wear matching suits since Robin isn’t the biggest fan of dresses. Dustin would absolutely be Eddie’s bestman. He’d probably want to have the wedding on Halloween. Instead of spoken vows he’d write you a song. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie wrapped his arms around you, interrupting your daydream as he met you in the hallway before history, “Everything alright? Your face is red.”

“Oh, yeah,” unable to shake the daydream you looked up at him with a lovesick smile, “What’s your favorite season?”

He eyed you with a curious smile, “I’d say winter because that was the season I got you back but I kinda hate the snow so I’ll say fall.”

You pictured an outdoor ceremony.  The sunset sky ablaze with reds, oranges, and purples. Colorful leaves falling, sprinkled in a neat line to create an aisle for you to walk down to where Eddie was waiting for you at the edge of the dock at Lover’s Lake.

Eddie’s fingers found their way to your waist as you walked, “Your heart is racing princess. What is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Oh nothing,” you leaned into him, “Just picturing you in a suit is all.” 

Later that day Steve and Robin pulled up in front of the trailer. You grabbed your bag and kissed Eddie goodbye. Steve didn’t pull away right away after you got into the back seat, “Isn’t tall, dark, and edgy coming with us?”

You laughed, “No. Actually he told me he wanted to be surprised and not influence my decision at all. I think he feels like he made me buy that swimsuit just because I caught him staring at it.”

“You looked killer in that thing!” Robin added, “Even if you did buy it for him. Maybe he actually has good taste in clothes because his taste in music definitely needs some work!”   

“His music is really good once you give it a chance ya’ know! I keep telling him he’s wrong. He may have liked it, but I bought it for myself. Enough about me though,” you leaned forward behind where Robin sat in the passenger seat, “What are you wearing that’s going to drive Vickie wild?”

Steve laughed, “Yeah Robin, don’t forget we’re all here for prom wear. Not just her!”

“Steve you’re coming too?”

“Of course!” he shouted, “Who else is going to make sure that she doesn’t chicken out?”

He picked up her hand and pressed the tally marks on both of their wrists together.

Dress shopping was much better in theory than in practice. You had already been in several stores and nothing was even close to being a maybe. Everything was either too poofy, too colorful, or just not right for you. Steve of course found what he needed right away. Even though he graduated last year, he seemed more excited for this year’s prom than he was for his own.

You had grabbed a few dresses to try on, but even on the hangers you knew they weren’t it. Tugging at the large bow that sat on your left shoulder you stepped out to show Steve and Robin. 

Robin, who had also been trying on a dress, stepped out and you both looked at each other. The understanding between yourself and your two best friends needed no words. Next!

Both you and Robin were feeling frustrated as you continued looking through the racks at your third store, “I give up! I’m just wearing a blazer and pants,” Robin announces.

You listened to them talk as you twisted the satin fabric between your fingers of the dress you were pretending to be looking at. A smile grew on your lips thinking about what Eddie would have to say about some of these, Sweetheart? Are you in there? There’s so much fabric I think I lost you! You wandered away from Robin and Steve unintentionally as you continued the search. In your mind you could picture what you wanted. You wanted to feel like a princess, something delicate and long, but not something that would necessarily draw too much attention. No, the only person I want looking at me is Eddie.  

You rounded the corner, about to inspect the next section of the department store when you stopped in your tracks. The mannequin at the center of the display was wearing a flowy dress with subtle off the shoulder sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and it was your favorite color. You hurried over to the rack and immediately touched the shimmery fabric. It was soft and smooth. It reminded you of something but at first you couldn’t put your finger on it. Consider us your fairy godmothers Cinderella, Eddie’s words from that night played in your mind. This is it.  

You grabbed your size and headed to the fitting room. Before the dress was even on your body you knew this was it. You finished adjusting the skirt and stared at yourself in the mirror. Warmth spread in your gut as you pictured stepping out and showing Eddie. You put your arms around yourself in an embrace, imagining it was Eddie’s strong arms. Twirling and laughing to yourself in the dressing room you heard Robin and Steve looking for you. Without a second thought, you ran out to show them, startling them when you spoke from behind where they stood.

“Well? What’d you think?”

Steve’s eyes popped as he rubbed his jawline, “I think you’re going to break your boyfriend.”

“In the best way possible though!” Robin fussed with the dress and gave you a hug, “I can’t believe we are really going to prom! And we both have dates! It seems like just yesterday we were baby freshmen running into doors because we had our noses down in our schedule.”

The three of you laughed, “Speak for yourself” you and Steve joked in unison.

“Haha, very funny!” Robin lifted your hair and examined the back, “If you wear your hair up like this, it’ll show off your soulmark. I think this is definitely the one. It’ll drive Eddie crazy.”

“So I found my dress, now we just have to find one for you!”

“Nuh-uh! I told you, I’m wearing a blazer and pants!” she repeated.

“Well we at least need to get you a new blazer and pants right?” you clung to her arm, “You’re not having your first date with Vickie in old clothes! You said it yourself, this is our senior prom!”

It took a while but finally, just minutes before the store was closing, all three of you found what you were looking for. You even had enough money left over to buy a new pair of shoes that matched. The clerk wrapped your dress up in a plastic bag and you hugged it tightly just in case come midnight it would vanish and return to rags. Steve offered to carry it inside for you when he dropped you off. 

“Why don’t you two come in and stay for a bit?” you offered, “Eddie can show you that his taste in music isn’t actually that bad.”

“Sure! Sounds like fun,” Robin ran inside surprising Eddie who was sitting in the living room playing guitar, “Close your eyes Munson! No peeking!”

He obeyed and spoke with his eyes covered, “I take it the shopping trip was a success?”

You had snuck in and headed right over to him while Steve hung the dress up in your closet, “It sure was my handsome prince.” You felt his face flush as you kissed his cheek, “I also convinced them to give metal music a chance.”

He kept his eyes covered, “Damn, maybe we need to have you play the sorceress next time because you obviously put them under some sort of spell.”

“We get to make you listen to some of our favorites too though,” Steve rejoined you, “You can uncover your eyes now buddy.”

“Thanks big boy!” 

Getting sleepy has a way of making you nostalgic. Listening to the sounds of various cassette tapes being played, removed, and quickly changed again, your friends' voices laughing and playfully teasing one another had you lost in thought.

Billy always hated your friends. He even accused you once of having feelings for Steve. Yet here Eddie was encouraging you to go shopping without him, already having become fast friends with both of them. Eddie and Robin bantering back and forth about who’s taste in music is better as you and Steve just sat back shaking your heads. Excitement for prom just increased tenfold. 

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait too long. The weekend was here before you knew it. That day you and Eddie slept in, spent some time with Wayne who took a day off work for the occasion, and then finally as evening approached it was time to get ready. Starting with your makeup you met Eddie in the hallway after finishing up in the bathroom.

“Call me when you’re done sweetheart, I have something I want to give you.” Eddie closed the door behind you and went to change himself. 

You couldn’t get the plastic off of the dress fast enough. Not wanting to waste another second you pulled it from the hanger and began dressing, fashioning your hair into a bun like Robin had suggested with some loose pieces framing your face. You didn’t look at yourself in the mirror until you had slipped the small heels on. A part of your brain thought briefly about your mom and stepdad, as much as you wanted them here to share this moment with you, they had made their choices when they decided to choose alcohol over you. There was a quiet tap on the door.

“Sweetheart? Can I come in?”

You took a deep breath and stepped back a bit, “Yes Eddie. I’m all done.”

He stepped through the door and all your daydreams about him in a suit came true. He wore a classic black jacket and pants with a white dress shirt that had tiny gray stripes underneath. His hair was tied back in a bun, much like yours. He had one hand on the door handle and the other held a small brown box. 

The expression on his face melted your heart, Steve was right, you broke him. He was speechless. Giving him a little twirl of the long skirt you spoke, “How’s it look?”

He didn’t say anything, you looked up into those gorgeous brown eyes, “Eddie?”

He set the box down and put his hands on your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, whispering your name, “You are so beautiful. Christ I love you so much!”

Your cheeks warmed, “Me? It’s you! Have you seen yourself?”

“I am nothing compared to you fair maiden,” he pulled away from you and grabbed the box, “This is for you. I thought since you know, it was a project about flowers that brought us back together, it was fitting.”

You carefully opened the box and inside sat a fresh daffodil stem with a pin meant to be secured into your hair. You could only look up at him, forcing the tears of joy to slide right back inside your tear ducts so as not to soil your makeup.

The weather was warm for this time of year. You heard your mom and step dad fighting right outside your door so instead of sneaking through the house you crawled out your window and hurried across the street to Eddie’s house. Uncle Wayne informed you he wasn’t home but that wasn’t unusual. You knew all his hiding spots. Eventually you found him in the clearing just a short distance from where you first met. Wildflowers had begun popping up all over the field.

“Flowers!” you yelled, gaining his attention.

He watched as you went around picking flowers. You handed the bundle to him when you were finished. He smelled them with a smile, “Which one is your favorite?”

You held up the white and yellow one that reminded you of a bell, “This one!”

He picked up the box again and pulled out the flower, “Turn around for me.” He adjusted your hair as needed and tucked the pin inside your bun securing the flower to your hair. “Does that feel ok? Is it too tight or too loose?”

“It’s perfect Eddie, thank you.” You turned around and hugged him, “I love you.”

His still ring clad fingers lifted your chin, “You’re welcome.” He kissed your lips, "I love you too."

Wayne pulled out a camera and took a few pictures of the two of you in the living room. He gave both of you hugs and showered you with compliments before sending you on your way. Eddie lifted your skirt as you stepped up into the van, before getting in himself, “Ready?”

“So ready! Let’s go.”

You met Steve, Robin, and Vickie outside the gym after arriving. Every surface seemed to have been decorated. White lights were strung up around the beams,  green streamers artfully twisted between them creating a cascading arch obscuring the ceiling. It felt like a secluded garden. There was a large class of 1986 banner hung behind the stage that had been set up. Music was already playing. People filed into the gym. Your group was stopped a few times, Steve’s former teammates catching up, a few people even stopped to congratulate Eddie as the news of his impending graduation spread like wildfire through the social network. Eddie got both of you a drink as Principal Higgins got up on the microphone crowning, to no one’s surprise, Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham as prom king and queen. 

Soon the dance was well underway. You had managed to get Eddie out on the dance floor even though the current track list definitely wouldn’t have been something he’d have chosen. The first slow dance of the night left only the couples out. You looked around seeing Robin and Vickie dancing just a few feet from you. Eddie’s hands loved gliding up and down your body as you danced. Memories of that first dance in the snow fleeting through your mind. You made sure to pay attention to the song currently playing and mentally added it to the soundtrack of your relationship with Eddie. He turned you around a few times and whispered in your ear as he pulled you in closer, “You look like an angel sweetheart. I could stare at you all night.”

“All for you Eddie, you're the only one I want staring at me ever again.”     

“Can I ask you something?” his hand on your waist squeezed as he lifted you up and around, “Would it freak you out if I told you that as soon as I saw you tonight I pictured you in a wedding dress?”

His feelings flooded your veins, “Are you proposing to me sir?”

He laughed, “Trust me, when I do you’ll know.”

When . That word lingered in your mind, you hugged him as the song came to an end, “To answer your question, no it doesn’t freak me out at all. It makes me excited for our future together Eddie.” He stepped up, slightly less than usual thanks to the small heels, to kiss him.

The peaceful, serene atmosphere was disturbed by Steve cheering from the sidelines. You looked over to see a very embarrassed Robin as Vickie kissed her cheek.

You spent the rest of the night lost in Eddie’s eyes, dancing, and forgetting every care or worry you’d ever had. As things began to wind down, your group sat talking at one of the large tables. Everyone turned to look at you when you got up suddenly.

“I’ll be right back Eddie,” you kissed his head, “I’m just running to the bathroom.” 

You headed out of the gym and into the hallway towards the closest ladies room. The student committee in charge of prom had really gone all out, you were impressed. Admiring that the string lights and streamers decorating the gym continued into the hallway. You listened to the click of your heels down the tiled path.  Voices could be heard coming from the bathroom as you approached. You pushed the door open and your face dropped. Every stall was filled and there was a cluster of cheerleaders gathered by the sinks, gossiping and fixing their hair in the mirrors. You didn’t linger long before closing the door and opting for a different bathroom. 

Back in the hallway you notice that the decorations stopped the further you got away from the gym. The distant sound of the music playing became even more faint as you headed towards the other bathroom closer to the parking lot. No one was over here considering that the celebration was in full swing already. There shouldn’t be any wait in this bathroom. The echoing click clack sounds of your heels was almost unnerving the further you walked in the dim emergency lighting, away from everyone else. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass display case that held the school's many sports accolades before pushing the door open.

The light wasn’t even on when you opened the door. Your pulse quickened and you decided it was time to pick up the pace and get back to Eddie as soon as possible.

You weren’t sure why but your heartbeat accelerated and your movements quickened as you finished in the stall, rushing over to the sink to wash your hands. You were just about finished when you heard the door open. 

“Well, well, well,” a low, eerie voice from behind you sent chills through your ears and down your spine. The water from the faucet continued to flow loudly as you stood frozen. Your skin shivered, goosebumps raising all across your exposed shoulders and down your back. Every delicate hair on your neck stands on end. Your heart shattered as you looked up in the mirror’s reflection, “Long time no see sugar.” 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #soulmate au #soulmate identifying marks #childhood friend eddie munson #high school sweethearts #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content

[twigg96]

Can we get Murderface's first time in bed with his s/o, please? 🥺👉👈

Hi @amazonboatchurch yes you absolutely may get some H/Cs of Murderface’s first time with his S/O. These will get kind of ✨spicy✨ so be prepared my lovelies

Murderface bought condoms the minute he met his partner’s eyes. He wanted to plow them into the sheets and make them scream his name from the moment they first got together. But when his partner made him wait. He just placed them in his wallet and sort of forgot about them until now. Realizing that they were kind of old, might be full of holes from whatever he shoved in his wallet and the one he for sure stabbed holes in. He wasn’t so sure the two of them should keep going, even going as far as to tell his partner to stop and apologize for not picking up any newer condoms earlier. Luckily for him, his S/O came prepared, pulling a condom out of their pocket with a devilish smirk it seemed like they might have been planning this for a while.

Clothes flew through the air faster than Murderface could comprehend. And before he knew it he was ass naked on the bed with his Partner straddling his thighs looking down at him. At first Murderface had assumed the gleam in their eyes was that of disgust but before a single word could exist his mouth, his partner must have read the worry on his face. “William.” They whispered. “You’re so beautiful.” Before leaning down and taking his lips in a deep and lasting kiss. One that was passionate but showed just how truly they loved him. William wasn’t a crier. He didn’t cry. But as his S/O kissed him and touched his body so lovingly. He felt one tear roll down his cheek.

Kissing down his body William watched in awe as his S/O took his cock in their lips with the permission of a nod only. Throwing his head back against the pillow he moaned as they started to bob their head and run their tongue along his calluses and tip. His hand found their hair entangling with it fast enough and guiding them on his dick. But before he could finish he gentled them off leading them up to his lips to kiss them and taste himself on their tongue. Laying them flat on their back William went down on them using all the skills he had to pleasure them. Throwing their legs over his shoulders he used his tongue and mustache to his advantage getting the best noises he’s ever heard from his partner, fingering them and sucking them off or whatever they needed until they came in his mouth.

It wasn’t long before hips were rolling and sweat was building. William could do nothing but curse throwing his head back so his partner could latch onto his throat. “Fuck baby you’re so good.” He’d moan. Bucking frantically. Giving or reviving honestly William didn’t care at this point what he was doing as long as his entire body continued to light up like this. It wasn’t long before he and his partner both came. Making a mess out of both the bed and themselves. Taking a small moment to revel in their post orgasm glow Murderface smirked at his partner. “Scho… want to go again?”

#please follow them #please check them out #metalocalypse #Dethklok #metalocalypse headcanon #william murderface #sexy times with the bois: Murderface Edition #sex Headcanon