#she will LOATHE it and im looking forward to the mess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pesterloglog · 5 months

Text

Karkat Vantas, Jade Harley

Act 5, page 3250-3253

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling gardenGnostic [GG] --

CG: ATTENTION HARLEY.

CG: PLEASE STOP WEEPING WITH AND OR BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR SELF PROTOTYPED LUSUSPRITE

CG: STOP DOING ONE OF THOSE THINGS AT LEAST

CG: LONG ENOUGH TO ANSWER ME.

CG: PLEASE.

CG: PRETTY POLITE EARTH PLEASE.

CG: WHO AM I KIDDING

CG: I'M WASTING MY TIME AGAIN

GG: karkat!!!!!

CG: WHOA FUCK

CG: YOU ANSWERED ME, I DONT BELIEVE IT

GG: yes

GG: im going crazy here

GG: i never thought id say this, but im actually almost relieved to talk to you

CG: WHAT

CG: YOU ARE

GG: or really ANYBODY besides that lunatic

GG: SHE IS DRIVING ME NUTS!!!!!!!

CG: OH YEAH?

CG: HOW SO, EVERYTHING HERE APPEARS TO BE PROCEEDING RATIONALLY.

CG: WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM

GG: are you joking??? look at this mess!

CG: MESS? JADE, NOW IT SOUNDS TO ME LIKE *YOU'RE* THE ONE WHO'S JOKING.

CG: YOUR HIVE BALL ROLLED DOWN A BEAUTIFUL WINTER HILL, AND YOU ARE SPENDING SOME QUALITY TIME WITH FAMILY.

CG: YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO FILL ME IN ON THE NATURE OF THE PROBLEM.

GG: okay...

GG: i made the mistake of prototyping my dream self who has been dead for years

GG: and shes completely crazy and theres no talking any sense into her

CG: HMM.

GG: hmm?

CG: YES. "HMM."

GG: hmm what

CG: HMM AS IN HMM INTERESTING.

CG: AS IN HMM HOW VERY, VERY FUCKING INTERESTING INDEED.

GG: :\

GG: what are you getting at???

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I GETTING AT.

CG: I'M GETTING AT WHATEVER HMM INTERESTING GETS AT.

CG: PLEASE GO ON, I'M LISTENING TO YOUR PROBLEM.

GG: well...

GG: i mean, i understand why she is upset

GG: but she is completely inconsolable, and wont listen to reason about anything!

GG: and i guess i could deal with that but...

GG: the frustrating thing is that shes actually me :(

GG: i really dont think i would act like that

CG: HMMMMM.

GG: will you stop saying hmm!!!!!!

CG: OK, FINE.

CG: WHAT OTHER SEQUENCE OF LETTERS WOULD YOU HAVE ME USE TO REGISTER MY PROFOUND FASCINATION.

GG: fascination?

GG: what do you find so fascinating?

CG: I'M JUST TRYING TO UNDERSTAND.

CG: I AM BEING SENSITIVE ABOUT IT INSTEAD OF A RAGING FUCKASS, ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU WANT.

CG: YES, IT IS, IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME JUST ASK FUTURE YOU, ASSUMING THAT CONVERSATION DOESN'T MAKE YOU CRY AS WELL.

CG: NOW TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS.

GG: my feelings?

CG: YES, HOW DID THIS MAKE YOU FEEL.

GG: well...

GG: at first i was sad

GG: because she made me remember all the sad things that just happened

GG: but im trying to be strong about all that so we can keep moving forward

GG: and if i can then why cant she?

GG: but she just went on and on

GG: and i started getting angry...

GG: ugh i have never been so angry in my LIFE!!!

CG: HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

GG: I SAID STOP SAYING FUCKING HMM

CG: o:B

GG: what does THAT mean?????

GG: is that supposed to be someone with a halo and goofy teeth?

GG: ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME?

CG: NO, NO

CG: YOU'RE LOOKING AT IT BACKWARDS

CG: THOSE ARE MY HORNS

GG: oh

GG: haha oops

CG: OK SO IF I'M UNDERSTANDING YOU

CG: YOU'RE ANGRY AT A VERSION OF YOURSELF FROM A DIFFERENT POINT IN TIME

CG: BECAUSE SHE'S BEING AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL SHITHEAD WHO IS BASICALLY THE MOST REVOLTING SELF LOATHING PIECE OF FILTH YOU HAVE EVER MET

CG: AM I FOLLOWING

GG: yeah, pretty much

CG: I'M NOT GOING TO SAY HMM AGAIN

CG: BUT COME ON

CG: DON'T YOU FIND THE SITUATION TO BE JUST THE SLIGHTEST BIT INTERESTING?

CG: I MEAN, CONSIDERING

GG: considering what??

CG: IF I RECALL, IT WASN'T THAT LONG AGO FROM EITHER OF OUR PERSPECTIVES THAT YOU WERE RIPPING ON ME AND MY SMUG WINDBAG FUTURE SELF FOR ARGUING WITH EACH OTHER

GG: oh come on...

GG: this is NOTHING like that!

CG: HOW IS THIS NOT LIKE THAT

GG: because she's...

GG: well

GG: she's ACTUALLY INSANE

CG: OH I SEE, AND ALL THOSE IDIOT PAST AND FUTURE KARKATS WEREN'T???

GG: but

GG: those are you

GG: im not her!

CG: OH AREN'T YOU

CG: YOU JUST SAID YOU WERE, I JUST HEARD YOU SAY THAT

CG: SO TELL ME

CG: HOW IS THIS EVEN THE SLIGHTEST FUCKING BIT DIFFERENT?

GG: i dont know

GG: it just...

CG: YES, GO ON

CG: I'M REALLY CURIOUS

CG: HOW

GG: ...

GG: oh my god

GG: youre right :(

GG: so then i guess

GG: im a hypocrite :(

CG: NOT REALLY

CG: IT JUST MEANS YOU'RE A SANE RATIONAL PERSON, AND THERE JUST MIGHT BE HOPE FOR YOU YET

GG: wait...

GG: so me arguing with my dead dream self

GG: and smacking her around while screaming at her

GG: makes me SANE???

CG: YES, ABSOLUTELY.

CG: IT MEANS ALL OF YOUR HIDEOUS FLAWS DISGUST YOU.

CG: YOU ARE RIGHT TO BE DISGUSTED, IT'S MORE THAN MOST PEOPLE CAN SAY FOR THEMSELVES.

CG: REALLY, CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER.

GG: hahaha, wow

GG: you are so weird

CG: CONGRATULATIONS, IN ADDITION TO, JUST MAYBE, AN APOLOGY.

CG: DON'T YOU THINK?

GG: you want me to apologize?!

GG: for what, calling you crazy for arguing with yourself???

CG: WOULD IT REALLY KILL YOU TO CONSIDER IT?

GG: after taking so much crap from you for all those years?

GG: no forget it, im not apologizing that is BULLSHIT

CG: DEAD DREAM DOG JADE, IS THAT YOU??? YOU'RE SOUNDING A BIT HYSTERICAL, MAYBE YOU SHOULD CALM DOWN.

GG: shut uuuup!!!

CG: WELL IF YOU CAN MANAGE TO GET YOUR ANEURYSM UNDER CONTROL

CG: MAYBE YOU WILL REALIZE I DIDN'T ACTUALLY SPECIFY TO WHOM AN APOLOGY WAS IN ORDER.

CG: IDIOT.

GG: what

GG: are you saying you want to apologize

CG: I GUESS

CG: THIS APOLOGY WAS GOING TO GO DOWN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, SO THIS MIGHT AS WELL BE THE TIME.

CG: AND LET'S FACE IT, I WAS REALLY BEING THE WORST KIND OF PHLEGM BUBBLE BLOWN OUT A NOISY GLISTENING ASS.

CG: SO I'M SORRY.

CG: BUT TO BE FAIR, IT WAS MY PAST SELF WHO WAS GIVING YOU SUCH A HARD TIME, AND HE'S COMPLETELY DERANGED.

GG: ok, i appreciate the THOUGHT of an apology, but i dont know if it really counts if you are just going to pawn off responsibility on your "past self" again!

GG: maybe your "present self" should own up to it!

CG: YEAH THAT'S WHAT HE'S DOING.

CG: HE, BEING ME, RIGHT NOW, IS OWNING UP TO WHAT A FUCKING RETARD PAST ME WAS, AND CONTINUES TO BE.

GG: laaaaame

CG: YES, I KNOW IT'S LAME.

CG: OR I KNOW THAT YOU THINK IT'S LAME WHEN I SAY SHIT LIKE THAT.

CG: BECAUSE REMEMBER

CG: I HAVE BEEN TALKING TO YOU FROM THE FUTURE, AND I KNOW YOU DON'T COTTON TO MY PCG/FCG STUPIDITY.

CG: BUT SEE, YOU DON'T KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT YET.

CG: OR MORE SPECIFICALLY, YOU DON'T KNOW THAT I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT YET.

CG: SO I'M KIND OF PULLING A FAST ONE HERE.

GG: hahahaha, that is so ridiculous

GG: why dont you stop it with all this nonsense and own up to being terrible unequivocally?

CG: YEAH I'M GOING TO.

CG: THE THING IS, I KIND OF MISREPRESENTED MYSELF.

CG: I'M NOT AS MUCH OF A SCUMBAG AS I WAS SO DETERMINED TO MAKE OUT WITH MYSELF TO BE.

CG: FUCK I MEAN

CG: MAKE MYSELF OUT TO BE

GG: :o

CG: I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHY I TROLLED YOU LIKE THAT SO PERSISTENTLY

CG: FOR SOME REASON DEEP DOWN I JUST KNEW THAT I HAD TO

CG: EVEN IF IT MEANT DIGGING MYSELF INTO A HUGE HOLE WITH YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT WOULD BE HARD TO CLIMB OUT OF

CG: AND LIKE PRACTICALLY EVERYTHING I SAID WAS COMPLETELY BASELESS BECAUSE I DIDN'T ACTUALLY KNOW YOU

CG: JUST LIKE YOU DIDN'T AND STILL DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW ME

CG: SO I GUESS I AM APOLOGIZING FOR IT, LIKE REALLY SERIOUSLY NOW.

CG: I, PRESENT KARKAT, IN THE CURRENT MOMENT, APOLOGIZE ON BEHALF OF MY STUPID PAST SELF, *WHO IS ACTUALLY ME*.

CG: THE GUY TALKING RIGHT NOW.

CG: LIKE, THERE'S NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THOSE GUYS, OK?

GG: hmmmm...

CG: HMMMM???????

GG: yes, hm

CG: HM WHAT

GG: ok karkat, that sounds pretty sincere to me

GG: and youre right, i dont actually know you

GG: i just know the part of you who acted like a bully

GG: i understand there can be more to a person than just the stuff they say when theyre angry

GG: so i will accept your apology and give you another chance

CG: OK, GREAT.

GG: and i will apologize for calling you crazy

GG: obviously i am not in much position to judge :|

CG: NO BUT

CG: YOU WERE RIGHT, I AM CRAZY

CG: BUT THANKS ANYWAY

GG: so you say you have been talking to me from the future?

CG: YEAH

CG: MAKING PLANS AND WHATNOT

CG: TO PRY OURSELVES MUTUALLY OUT OF THIS MASSIVE MOBIUS DOUBLE CLUSTERFUCK.

GG: ok, so what is the plan?

GG: i mean, why did you want me to contact you at this moment so badly?

CG: OK WELL THE MOST IMMEDIATE POINT OF BUSINESS IS

CG: YOU SEE THAT GLOWING BLUE SCREEN BEHIND YOU?

GG: yes

CG: YOU NEED TO TURN THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT OFF.

GG: ok, i can do that

GG: but why, what does it do?

GG: its been here my whole life and i could never figure it out

CG: I'M NOT GOING TO SAY MUCH ABOUT IT.

CG: BUT SUFFICE TO SAY THERE ARE JUST SOME THINGS YOU DON'T WANT TO SCREW WITH.

CG: THERE ARE OUTCOMES THAT ARE EVEN WORSE THAN THE COMPLETE ANNIHILATION OF EXISTENCE ITSELF

CG: FORCES MORE DAMAGING TO THE INTEGRITY OF REALITY THAN THOSE CAPABLE OF TURNING IMAGINATION INTO PURE VOID

CG: THEY ARE FORCES WHICH IF HANDLED RECKLESSLY WILL NULLIFY THE BASIC ABILITY OF INTELLIGENT BEINGS IN ALL REAL AND HYPOTHETICAL PLANES OF EXISTENCE TO GIVE A SHIT.

GG: i dont think im following...

CG: YOU DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW

CG: ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS TURN THE THING OFF

CG: AND THEN DO THE NEXT THING I WAS TOLD TO TELL YOU TO DO.

GG: you were told?

GG: by who?

CG: BY YOU.

GG: oh...

GG: future me?

CG: YES.

CG: YOU COULD BE TELLING YOURSELF THIS RIGHT NOW, BUT WE'RE SORT OF WORKING ON A STRICT NO MEMO POLICY.

CG: WHICH IS YOUR IDEA OF COURSE.

CG: DID I MENTION HOW YOU DON'T LIKE IT WHEN WE ARGUE WITH OUR PAST/FUTURE SELVES? YES, PRETTY SURE I DID.

CG: SO I'M GOING ALONG WITH THE POLICY AS BEST I CAN.

CG: I AM BEING PLEASANT AND AGREEABLE, AND I WILL GENTLY LOWER A MAGNIFICENT, CORUSCATING COLUMN OF HOT FUCK YOU DOWN THE PROTEIN CHUTE OF ANYONE WHO SAYS OTHERWISE.

GG: uh... ok

GG: well it sounds like a pretty good policy to me!

CG: YOU DON'T SAY.

CG: SO ANYWAY, BECAUSE OF THAT, MY ROLE AT THE MOMENT IS TO ACT AS A SORT OF GO BETWEEN FOR YOU AND YOUR FUTURE SELF

CG: TO HELP ALONG THE PROCESS OF MAKING THESE PLANS

CG: WHILE YOUR FUTURE SELF IS DELIBERATELY VAGUE ABOUT SOME STUFF SO AS NOT TO "JINX" THE CONCEPTION OF THE IDEAS IN THE FIRST PLACE I GUESS?

CG: ALL WHILE YOUR CURRENT SELF IS NECESSARILY KIND OF DUMB ABOUT EVERYTHING.

GG: hey!!!

CG: SORRY, OK, JUST KIND OF IGNORANT

CG: BECAUSE STUFF HASN'T HAPPENED YET

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

CG: IT'S NOT ALL THAT STRAIGHTFORWARD FOR ME EITHER, BUT I'M USED TO THIS SORT OF IDIOCY BY NOW.

CG: IT'S A LOT BETTER THAN THE MORONIC REVERSE CONVERSATION WITH EGBERT I TRAPPED MYSELF INTO.

CG: MEANWHILE TIME IS KIND OF RUNNING OUT HERE, WHERE I AM

CG: WE'RE COUNTING DOWN TO SOMETHING

CG: SOMETHING LOOMING ON THE TROLLIAN TIMELINE AND NO ONE KNOWS WHAT IT IS

CG: AND MY TEAM IS KIND OF FALLING APART

CG: I'M COMPLETELY LOSING TRACK OF EVERYONE AND WHAT THEY'RE DOING.

CG: SO AT THIS POINT I'M JUST GOING ALONG WITH WHATEVER THERE IS TO GO ALONG WITH.

CG: AND THAT IS YOU AND YOUR CRAZY FUTURE PLANS.

CG: AND THE SCRATCH.

GG: oh yeah! dave told me about that.

GG: what is it?

CG: I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!

CG: AT ONE POINT I THOUGHT I DID, I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST WHATEVER SENT JACK HERE.

CG: BUT CLEARLY IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE.

CG: ARADIA KNEW BUT SHE DIDN'T SAY, AND THEN SHE WENT AND GODDAMN EXPLODED.

CG: YOU HAVEN'T TOLD ME EITHER, BECAUSE I'M NOT "SUPPOSED TO KNOW" YET.

CG: WHATEVER, I DON'T EVEN CARE, LET'S JUST DO IT.

GG: ok then...

GG: what was the thing i told you to tell me to do?

GG: right now, i mean

CG: OK, DON'T ASK ME WHY, BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW THAT EITHER.

CG: BUT THAT BLUE SCREEN THERE

CG: FIRST, LIKE I SAID, SHUT IT OFF

GG: ok

GG: then what

CG: THEN YOU NEED TO DRAW IT.

GG: draw it?

CG: YES

GG: and then?

CG: THEN NOTHING

CG: THAT'S IT.

#homestuck #karkat vantas #jade harley #homestuck act 5 #page 3250 #page 3251 #page 3252 #page 3253 #homestuck act 5 act 2

2 notes · View notes

larentsaloud · 2 years

Text

thyme being unhinged

thyme’s most savage moments

preamble:

so this post is for those who are able to distinguish between a fictional character and real life. we don’t condone violence here. we don’t accept thyme x ren x gorya hate. this compilation is to commemorate the most savage thyme moments we love to hate.

in no particular order:

thyme beating the **** out of his classmate. but what was really chilling was his explanation behind it. he offers his “followers” opportunity to destroy others at no cost. no repercussions. this deranged moment has it all. animal print. thick gangsta neck chain, messy bed hair, scrumptious lips. disdain. contempt. brutal.

(side bar this shot, the first introduction to f4 is spectacular. to the far left, ren adjusting his blazer, the slightly opened white shirt. everyone in uniforms. they are not. thyme being the ring leader you can just tell since th coat he is wearing literally compares to king’s robe. pure hell. now look at mj and kavin: on top. cropped out here. kavin staring elsewhere sort of detached, his hands in pockets, glasses indicating some kind of smartness I dare say if we are allowed to assume glasses equal bookworms. are we? is it discrimination? I wear glasses too. dunno. but still part of it. but kind of not. mj about to sit down and get on the tech. his drowsy eyed look. deceitful, since he is the only one with half brain here.)

everything about is chef’s kiss. the smirk. the pompous walk. he owns the jerk™️, I could not take my eyes off him. I loathe him. it’s visceral.

thyme basically laughing that the poor guy has lost all his evidence. chills.

he is enjoying himself. you can just tell.

I see no regrets. all I am getting is someone who is mentally ill. sociopath. absolute barbarian.

when punched he cherishes the moment revenge calls.

someone is looking forward to a blood bath. can't relate.

aaaaanddd scene. that would've hurt.

anyone said violence? these f*ckers seems to be j*zzing their pants with excitement. honestly how do these kids study?

deranged is understatement at this point. maniacs. the lot of them.

yes. he is into it.

the king and his unhinged kingdom. bunch of crackers.

they want this. the plebs are also into it.

see what I mean? the fact gory decided to stand up to THIS thyme? ufff. she was literally putting her whole life out there. this boi LOCO.

thyme going ape shit when he sees ren hugging gorya. the menacing look, his demeanour from the stern brow to the execution of finer details like kicking the bins in the aftermath to let off steam. the way he plans to beat the crap out of the guy because he triggers the ‘cheating’ wound he has just freshly developed (albeit that there’s no cheating per se, but he caught his crush in a lie to be precise. terminology matters.) it’s the way he cottons on to the guy and his radar goes off. a hone wrecker. player. annihilation mode activated. and we know hurt people hurt people. but wow. that was something. on one had i sort of rejoiced he smashed the guy who hurt gorya (the s/a happened with this particular individual) and on the other im like trembling. is he gonna end him??? mj and kavin are out of sorts. what a scene. he screams at ren and calls him a shit friend like the whole thing is one hot big mess until gorya drags him away.

ultimate menace. betrayed.

oops about to be obliterated.

he spots his target. someone who just happens to be cheating.

did you call me girlfriend?

cos I'm busy. busy being angry. sad. hurt.

sight of ren and girlfriend procure a glitching eye.

thymeeeeee!

one bad bad tiger

idk how she does it. I would've checked out about two episodes ago...

the eyes though.

thyme being an absolute savage king when tesla misspoke. buttons were pressed and our impulse control trouble maker is back in the zone.

thyme flipping out at random person after a car chase? first episode. what was thaaaaaaaat. we moved on from that tooo quick.

thyme high key abducting and stalking gorya in order to bribe her into an official apology. just— what goes on in that boys head???

thyme very much requesting that hana LICKS his shoe.

this doesn't look like it could have a positive outcome. I mean in how many languages do I have say that this menacing look scares the Jesus out of me. you just know you are about to be destroyed and the devil will relish in it.

I can hear him calculate the punishment. hmm. a girl. what to do?

the trademark lemme demolish any semblance of sanity in your life look.

the: you should have known better look.

to be honest he is not wrong? thyme for once you used that brain cell correctly. albeit very briefly.

the disgust. lord he pulls these faces like it is a given.

the: you can looketh but cannot touch move. we understand thyme. I hate it when ppl randomly touch me too. shame you sort of like to beat people up, cos otherwise we could really have something special like idk. a pen pal would be nice.

no, because what was he thinking? it was not dirty that much I know. more like. what can you do? I don't need you. I don't want you peasant. you feel me?

and the idea is conceived.

lick it he says.

his satisfied face. he knows what he has done. cruelty at it best. worst. bonkers. bonkers bloke.

high alert thyme. a new player has emerged.

the first time he laid eye son her. critically inspects. intrigued. who dis?

NO BUT WHAT IS THAT FACE???

must.inspect. up. close.

I can hear his con-fury-sion. can you?

someone is having a hard time time hearing no.

SHOOKETH.

the mad eyes are back...

aaaaand he has a plan. we are all screwed.

shit.

I am intimated from over here. like mother like son.

thyme insisting red card stands and fighting ren at a party. god i can’t believe the universe rewarded him with a KISS from the prettiest girl? huh?

thyme literally fighting and punching the ONLY friends he has…

to be continued. too many pics my sluts.

#to be continued #thyme #thyme the menace #thyme being his worst self (Taylor's version)#sad autumn girl #please go to therapy #F4 Thailand #let’s talk about F4 #f4 thailand boys over flowers #bright vachirawit #gorya #f4 #tu tontawan #its a little bit on the essay side #but pics so enjoy #reblog maybe #it took me hours and hours #f4 thai #thai drama

91 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Searing Starlight (chapter one)

SERIES SUMMARY: the most powerful inferni alive, raised to see herself as a god-in-the-making, the bastard of the barrel and his team, and a shadow summoner with a common goal. What could go wrong? The giant mass of darkness known as the shadow fold and y/n’s sense of humor.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/n is sent to hustle the Crow Club. Technically it’s not cheating, but Kaz Brekker isn’t the type to let people off on technicalities alone. Especially when the one that committed the offense could help him earn 1 million kruge.

a/n just a little something based on the show bc IM OBSESSED :)) --I’m planning on making this a series so if you want to be tagged let me know :)

The candles flicker as Kenya's palm makes contact with my face. I used to cry after he hit me; I used to run to Anya’s room for comfort and my energy would became so irritated I snuffed out all the candles in the church. Now, I just stand there. You get punished worse for showing fear. Gods fear nothing, and that’s what he wants from us--to turn into Gods so that the heavens will owe him.

“You risk us again and again!”

The yelling is worse than the stinging of the slap. I make a point of keeping my palms flat; the candles of the room flicker as if feeling my restraint. “Watch yourself or the tidemaker you’re so fond of will feel my wrath instead of you. At least when I bruise his face it doesn’t cost me a night of revenue.”

I want to point out that the men I trick in the pleasure district don’t care about bruises, but the reminder of Jace has me frozen in place. Jace is good. He doesn’t deserve this treatment. “It won’t happen again, Father Kenya.”

He nods once, unsatisfied but growing bored. “Disappear from my sight before my flesh wins and I forget to show you mercy.” Kenya turns sharply, watching Anya’s stoic expression. “Anya--we’re in need of funding, take these coins and triple it by morning.”

Anya’s lips part; I shake my head once, a subtle plea for her silence. “Father Kenya, y/n’s the most talented card player we have--if she comes with us we can bring five times what you’re going to give us.”

The promise Anya makes is that of a fool, but I know I’m capable of it. People are easy to read when they’re drunk, they’re easy to trick and lie to. And drunk people exude the clearest energy, something about their bluffing is as tangible as fog to me.

Kenya squeezes the drawstring bag between his violent fingers. He loathes me more than the others. He expects more from me. He’d lock me in the cellar if he could afford to. But he can’t--he knows what I’m capable of.

“Go somewhere in the Barrel--somewhere that doesn’t ask questions if the money is good.” Kenya looks at me, the bruises on my arms and cheeks. “Clean yourself up beforehand.”

I nod once, stomach rolling at the thought of going out and knotting at the thought of staying here. I keep my steps even as I approach Anya, grateful for the excuse to disappear behind the chapel’s doors.

----

This club is louder than most, boisterous men drinking constantly, slurring their words and leaning over bars. I only smile when someone’s looking, tugging on the dress Anya picked for me subconsciously.

“Relax, y/n,” Anya hums, “Men don’t understand they’re being hustled when someone pretty is the one swindling them, and you look hot.”

A particularly drunk man walks by slowly, eyes reflecting no shame as he blatantly rakes his gaze down my form. I shift uneasily. “That might be the problem.”

She tilts her head back, gaze focusing on the crow marking etched into the back wall of the club. A very strange and consistent crow theme in here. “Maybe you should keep the dress on until you run into Jace.”

The mention of Jace in that context leaves my face warm. “Wha--what?” Great. I’m sputtering. “Shut up!”

She laughs easily, “I’m only teasing--he’d probably ta--”

“Anya!”

Again, her laugh is loud and bright. “Kidding!” Before I can scorch her, she nods her head towards a gambling table. “An open seat--go, you know Kenya’ll have our heads if we don’t multiply this,” she tosses me the drawstring bag, I catch it awkwardly, “By five.”

There are a lot of things I’ve ruined--but I never mess up when it comes to gambling. We’re all entitled to our talents and mine are destruction and trickery. “I’ll have six times this amount before midnight.”

A little cocky, but it’s well deserved. I stroll up to the table easily, comforted by the fact that Anya’s only a few feet away.

“You’re playing this round?”

I smile politely, used to this kind of hesitance. “I think I’d like to try it.” The mock-hesitance in my voice burns coming up, but the dumber I seem the faster I make up my money. The rest of the participants snicker. Expected. I’m going to enjoy taking their money. “I can pay if that’s the issue.”

The sound of me fishing through the small bag of golden coins silences the men at a table. The man closest to me, the one with smooth brown skin and a smile I imagine has convinced many people to play into sins for him, leans forward slightly. I let him peek at the coins, the more they want my money the more they’ll believe my lies.

“How much to enter?”

A tall man snorts. I fight back the urge to glare.

“Three of those coins should do.” The boy next to me is decent enough to answer. I’ll steal from him least. “I’m Jesper.”

I’ve been to enough clubs to know when a man is attempting to find company for the night. I hope the playful niceness I see in him is real. “Kamil.” My sister’s name is salt water on my tongue.

The first game is easy enough to throw. The second, I have to work at a little more--their smugness is killing me. I pretend to be ready to step away from the table.

“Where are you going?”

I shrug at the stranger. “I shouldn’t lose any more money, my father won’t be happy with me as it is.”

The stranger leans forward, glancing at his chips. “We don’t want a girl like you in trouble at home--why don’t we up the stakes? You win this next hand, and you’ll win double what I did.” He pauses, eyeing my drawstring bag, “Of course--you’ll have to be willing to risk a matching sum.”

Awful odds. “Deep odds,” Jesper mumbles, “Consider cutting your losses.”

Jesper is a better person than the other men here. I almost feel bad he’s going to be losing any money. “One more game won’t kill me,” I smile as politely as I can manage, “Besides--my luck could be about to change and I’d never know.”

I hand the coins over to the dealer. I watch as the money is shuffled onto the center of the table, suppressing the grin of someone about to release her killshot. Ten minutes later, I’ve doubled what I’ve lost. The man who upped the bet is gaping, Jesper’s expression has shifted entirely, and everyone’s staring at me like I’ve shifted into another person entirely.

“Wow--luck really does change quickly here.” I’ve hooked them. They’ll want to play again, to prove that my victory was a fluke. “Do you guys want to play again? It only seems fair I give you a chance to win back everything you just lost since you did the same for me.”

Everyone’s quick to agree, but I’m quicker to win the second round. Some men look murderous, some look ready to play again, their egos incapable of handling defeat at my hands.

“You came in with a surprising amount of coins,” Jesper muses, reaching over to pick up a piece of gold that rolled towards him, “I hate to accuse you of counterfeiting, but one has to wonder.”

Typical. “I swear my money’s real.”

“Real money can take a bullet…” Is he going to shoot it...in doors? Jesper tosses the coin easily, letting it flip in the air before taking out a pistol and shooting it dead center in a movement so casually fluid and deadly I’m taken back.

The coin clatters onto the table, the bullet embedded into the precious metal. I eye it cautiously, beyond relieved that Kenya at least doesn’t lie. “T-told you.”

His eyebrows narrow as he reholsters his pistol. “About that, I guess you did.”

Jesper’s skepticism is a red flag. I need to get out of here before my winnings are taken from me and Kenya kills me or Jace for my failure. “I didn’t take you for such a sore loser.”

Before Jesper can respond, something black raps against the table once. “What did I tell you about loud noises at the table?”

Jesper’s gaze leaves mine immediately. “Sorry boss, just checking a swindler.”

He--he knows. I blink twice, forcing surprise to color my features. “Swindler?” I look between him and the man he called his boss. “N--no, it was just--luck. I played a hand, I lost some money, I played again and I won some money. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“You only started winning after the stakes were raised--I’ve seen that tactic before and it’s not appreciated here.”

I swallow once, a pinch of dread making its way through my stomach. He had shot that coin with no hesitation--I didn’t even see him click off the safety. How dangerous is the man at my table? How dangerous is his boss? Everyone seemed to straighten at the sight of the stranger with the cane.

“There was no tactic--it was a game.”

The man I don’t know tears his gaze away from Jesper. “Someone like you shouldn’t even be here.”

He has a point--my demeanor doesn’t exactly scream someone who frequents establishments at the Barrel during the night. “I’m only here to keep my friend out of trouble.” A fair enough response. “And I played a game and someone can’t handle a loss.”

“You should have seen her bluff, I’ve met professional thieves that lie less fluently than her.”

At Jesper’s words, the stranger’s grip around his cane tightens. I imagine that beneath his gloves, the color of marred souls, his knuckles are white. “Who do you work for? Who sent a girl to invade my business?”

Who do I work for? No one that has any business with him. “What?” How self absorbed can one man be?

“If playing the fool didn’t get you through a card game--don’t think it will get you through this.”

What? Before I can question him, Anya grabs my shoulder, pulling me so that there’s a safer distance between me and the man.

“You’re an idiot,” her whisper is pointed, directed solely at me. “Of course you’d find trouble with Dirtyhands.” Did I hear that correctly? Dirtyhands--as in the Dirtyhands? I stare at her, eyes wide. How had I been so stupid? I should have recognized him from his gloves alone. Anya turns her head towards them. “We don’t want any trouble--forgive my friend, she’s not a spy she’s just an oblivious idiot.”

“Rude.”

She throws me a glare. “But she did win.” The money isn’t worth the trouble we’ll find trying to keep it but Kenya’s words follow us wherever we go. “We’ll take what we earned and never come back.”

“I don’t concede often.”

I reach for Anya’s arm, brushing her forearm in hopes of telling her things will be okay. Kaz Brekker may be feared, but we’re gods in the making. “Neither do we.”

He seems to want to play at an odd, power-filled standstill, but Anya and I are more desperate than him. Anya leans forward, ready to take the money from the table, but the unidentified man who upped the stakes earlier is quick to grab her forearm.

“I don’t take losses, little girl.”

Anya. I can only imagine the horror she feels when a strange man touches her. Screw precaution. “Is that money worth burning for?”

“Y/n.” Anya’s warning comes out low; Jesper raises an eyebrow. I guess being Kamil was short lived.

“Excuse me?”

The man will not intimidate me. Fear is a crutch men use to keep women in check. “You heard my question.” I hold up my hand, releasing enough energy to develop a flame in my palm. “And if your answer is ‘no’, I suggest you release my friend before your body is nothing more than a pile of ash your own mother wouldn’t even be able to identify.”

The stranger blinks, touches the gun on his hip, and then releases Anya’s arm.

“You can’t come into my club, hustle money away from my men, and walk away unscathed because you’re a grisha.”

Words cannot express how badly I do not want to speak to Kaz Brekker at any point in my life. His grip on his cane is a silent warning--a threat. But what is a man’s threat to a girl that’s meant to be a god? “You can kill me but I’ll use my dying breath to burn this entire building.” I’ve publicly backed him into a corner--I’m insane.

Dirtyhands opens his mouth to reply, anyone within earshot holding on for his next words. Anya yanks me back as the sound of something explosive interrupts the room. A bullet flies past directly where I was standing and strikes the wall behind me. Anya just saved my life. Someone just shot at me.

“Y/n, do you think it’s--”

“No.” It can’t be. There’s no way a soldier found me again. “It can’t be--we were--we’ve been careful--and Kenya said they wouldn’t look for me--that he purchased me fully.”

A man is moving through the crowd. A blue kefta. No. No.

Not here. Not now.

And why are they shooting at me? “Anya,” I breathe out as cautiously as possible, “Run and no matter what don’t turn around.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Anya. Always the older sister. “They don’t want you--they want me.”

“You’re not a real Sun Summoner--it’s suicide for you.”

I don’t have the heart to tell Anya I don’t particularly care about my life. It’s never truly been mine anyway. “I’ll make it out.”

“You’re an inferni, not a miracle worker.”

My lips pull into an odd sort of grimace. The gentle kind one hopes is mistaken for a smile. “I thought we were meant to be gods.”

“A god can’t do what they want from you.” She mumbles. “So you’re capable of producing more fire than most--it’s not the same as creating light. It doesn’t matter how many drugs they pump into you it’s--”

I shake my head once, “Anya--go.”

“They want you to play Sun Summoner.” Dirtyhand’s tone is too smooth to trust. I know when someone’s trying to sell dreams that don’t exist. “The way they’ll have you do it will cost you, but the way I’ll have you do it will be practically painless.”

Is he always this confusing? “What?”

The question is an irritation, that’s apparent in the cold tint that takes over his practically blank expression. “I need a Sun Summoner for a business deal--and lucky for you I’m out of time.”

“You don’t want to work with me.”

“No,” his voice is dismissive, he didn’t understand I meant that as a warning, “But I need to have some form of mass light before sunrise.”

“The man I’m indentured to will never go for it.” Proposing such an idea would leave me with a broken rib again.

Dirtyhands nods once, a vague acknowledgement. “That’s not your problem.” I keep my jaw set, scanning at the crowd for a flash of that blue kefta. “After all, it wasn’t his problem when he hurt you.”

I had been careful to hide the bruises. The reminders of my humanity. My weaknesses, my failures, written onto my skin in purple and blue ink. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t until I got that reaction.” I’ve never so quickly felt the need to loathe someone. “It was easy enough to assume--young girl, desperate for money, a grisha powerful enough to be hunted down.”

Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation? “My freedom would never come so easily.”

“It wouldn’t be freedom--you’d owe me more than you already do for the kruge scam.”

I swallow before I can make the mistake of telling him I’d consider any escape from Kenya freedom. “Close enough.”

The grisha’s closer now, the light blue kefta so easy to spot amongst a sea of darkness. “You’re running out of time.”

“Can you get my friend out?”

��Y/n.” She can be mad for the rest of her life if she wants.

He nods his head once. “She’ll be out the back before anyone knows she was even here.”

“And she can take the money I won.” Maybe the income will be enough to spare her from Kenya’s wrath. “That’s a dealbreaker.”

Kaz Brekker hesitates. It’s such a normal pause I almost think it’s a trap. “If she takes it there will be no way out for you--you will do what I ask even if it endangers your life.”

“Y/n, it’s not worth it.”

I don’t look at Anya. “You have my word.”

“Y/n, I’m not taking anything and I’m not leaving you.”

I finally turn. “Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot--it’s not in your nature and frankly it doesn’t suit you.” Acts of goodness towards me have always left me feeling raw. Too raw. Like I’m bleeding out. “Sorry, I just…” Anya’s eyes are soft. She knows. She always knows. “I’ll get through whatever it is he’s planning and I’ll come back.” I swallow once, nerve draining from my body slowly. “Take the money--Kenya will be angry enough as is.”

Anya drops her gaze as she collects from the table. It takes me a moment longer than it should to recognize this is shameful for her. I consider telling her that she’s doing the right thing, but that would burn her heart more.

“You’re my sister,” Anya’s voice is lower than it’s ever been, “I should have stopped him.”

Her guilt hurts more than the bruises. “You were as hurt as me--you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

This is already more emotion than we’re used to expressing when alone let alone around others. Anya stretches out an arm, squeezes my shoulder once, and then takes a step back. “I’ll see you again.”

“Yes,” I nod once.

“Jesper, take the girl out the back.” Turning forward blankly, Kaz begins to speak to me, “Hide behind the bar--my wraith will find you and take you somewhere else.”

“Y--you have a wraith?” And I thought Kenya was weird. He lets out a sigh. “Sorry. Not the time.”

“Desperation leads to bad decisions.”

Dramatic. “I agree.”

His gaze falls on me, taking in my narrow-eyed glare. There’s a moment in which I think the left corner of his mouth twitches upwards, but then he turns his head again. A trick of the light. “Go before you’re found and I’m out the money I let your friend take.”

Yes. I’m not exactly safe right now, but Kaz Brekker needs me for something. That means I will not be leaving this building. By force or willingly.

Silently, I turn, melting into those in the crowd that are either oblivious or don’t care enough to react to the cat and mouse game I’m currently in. When I reach the bar, I’m quick to duck behind it, pressing my back against shelves of alcohol.

383 notes · View notes

adorerdraco · 3 years

Text

Bugs and Hisses ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Halloween with Draco <3 Friends into BOO’s (teehee)

Warnings: mild drinking nothing tooo crazy but not encouraging it !

Words: 5.2K

A/N: this is my first one shot in like a month and i ofc had to do something for halloween even tho im a tad late but its still a halloweekend KIND OF !!!!!!! </3 I HOPE ITS GOOOD

“No, it’s a stupid holiday.”

Draco crossed his arms in a stubborn child-like way, a scowl on his face as he stared forward towards the front of the class where Snape was giving a lecture on the small but vicious Erkling creatures.

“Come on, please,” you pleaded quietly. Your gaze kept flickering between your easily-irked professor and the pouting blond beside you, hoping that in a few short seconds you would get the answer you were hoping for that way you could get back into your notes instead of possibly getting a detention or losing house points.

In all the years you’ve been friends with the Prince of Slytherin, you learned that he loathed the holiday and any festivities that came with it. Every year, you beg him to go out to one of the many parties that are thrown ranging from small gatherings to full-on blowouts or just do something halloween related with you, but he always refuses. His reasoning, as he put it, was that he was simply ‘too mature to be dressing up as a foul creature.’

You knew he mostly spent the holiday either asleep in his dorm or walking around aimlessly with Crabbe and Goyle to target unsuspecting first-years after the big feast but this year, you finally had enough of his anti-halloween agenda. You wanted to spend the evening and hopefully night with him laughing by your side and showing him how fun everything could be, but most of all - you wanted to see him in a costume.

“Please, if you go I will never ask you for anything ever again,” you tried again once Snape had turned his back to the class.

Draco pursed his lips as though he was genuinely considering it, his eyes still locked on the back of the greasy-haired professor before he turned slightly to you with a deep sigh. “Fine, but don’t expect this to be an annual thing.”

You gave him a bright smile, holding yourself back from jumping around in your seat and completely pushing aside the desire to throw your arms around him in excitement.

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

He hid the small smile that grew on his face from seeing how happy his answer made you, turning his head down towards his parchment filled with notes that all of a sudden seemed interesting as he avoided your gaze. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was the smallest bit of excited at the thought of spending the holiday with you because he knew that wherever you went or whatever you did, he would be perfectly content with you by his side because for the first time in all your years as friends; he realized only a month ago that the weird fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach when he was around you or the weird overwhelming warmth that spread throughout his entire body like an ocean of water breaking through a dam - was a crush. He hated it at first, noticing and begrudgingly acknowledging it. He thought it was cliche that he somehow fell for one of his closest friends and mostly, he thought that he was going to ruin the friendship entirely. He wanted to wreck it himself, trying to distance himself from you and being extra mean - but he couldn’t.

He adored your company too much and everything that came with you. He adores your laugh, your smile, your hugs when you greet him and how you somehow give him one each time he needs it the most. He adores the study-buddy system you guys have almost every other week before a quiz or an exam. He adores your bad jokes and clumsy accidents even though those qualities annoy him with anyone else. He adores the way you want him to join you in everything fun you and he especially adores the times when he overhears you talking about him as if he’s your favorite person in the world.

Bottom line, he’s all about you.

So when this season of spookiness came, he was expecting your pleading for him to spend the day with you. Only this time, it only took you a couple times before he ultimately agreed to give in to you.

You were ready to explode with thrill at the thought of what the night held in store for you and you didn’t hide it one bit. When the big Hogwarts Hallowe’en feast was over and every one began spilling out from the Great Hall and into the main foyer, you were searching restlessly for a clean mop of silver hair that almost always stuck out in the mass of students. You weren’t sure if you were able to spot him anywhere in under a few seconds because he was unimaginably important to you, or because his hair was so uniquely bright, or maybe it was how boisterous and loud Crabbe and Goyle always were when they were by him, especially if he was with other Slytherins - but you found him, every single time with ease.

After standing on your tippy-toes several times to overlook the stampede of everyone, you finally spotted Draco leaning across a pillar with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face while he stood in a circle of his House friends that included his two goons and his quidditch teammates. You watched him thoughtfully as you approached, taking slow steps towards the group to admire him from afar and also because they were all slightly intimidating. He looked lost in the conversation, laughs escaping from his upturned lips as he listened to whatever was being said, large pale hands running through his hair every so often when the front pieces of his hair would flop down to his forehead.

He looked ridiculously good and effortlessly at that.

You weren’t sure if you should interrupt, hesitating a few feet away from them to where they couldn’t sense your presence but you were close enough to see and hear them clearly.

“We’ll see you later tonight then, Malfoy?” One of the boys nodded towards Draco.

“I’ll show up for a bit, I suppose,” he shrugs.

You see him look around the circle of boys, eyes landing on you momentarily and then back to his friends before doing a double-take towards you again in surprise. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach when his smile widens slightly into a short-lived toothy grin while he said a quick goodbye to his friends causing them all to disband and him to start approaching you.

“Are you ready for the halloween of a lifetime?” You ask as he neared.

He rolled his eyes, laughing faintly. “Where am I meeting you, darling?”

The nick name he used so rarely for you made your knees feel weak, a warm blush rushing up your neck and inching onto your cheeks that you knew was going to be very apparent on your face in a few seconds.

“I’ll meet you right here in an hour,” you say quickly.

You didn’t give him time to answer before you turned quickly in the direction of your common room and began rushing away before he could see the effect he had on you that was so clearly appearing on your face.

You didn’t know what the night held for you and Draco or where it would lead you. Unknowing to you, you were both hoping something more could come out of the evening between the two of you. But he wasn’t one to express himself in that department of feelings and you weren’t feeling bold enough to say anything about yours. It was a gray area of hoping that fate could somehow intervene and throw the two of you into what you both wanted without either of you really saying anything - but it was impossible. There was no outcome or situation you had in mind that could lead you into that, so you were stuck desperately hoping that one day things might end up differently.

It was beginning to feel ironic how in your world full of real tangible magic, there wasn’t a magical solution to your problem. You were trapped feeling like a muggle who had to figure things out by themselves, no magic included. The thought of giving him a love potion did cross your mind as a joke, but it wasn’t a genuine or fair option but little did you know, you don’t need a potion for him to feel the same way - because he already did.

Walking into your dorm felt like an exuberant disaster of everyone running around and sitting in front of mirrors with their makeup or dressing into their costumes. It was noisy and filled with chatter and you were in shock from how much clutter everyone was able to make in such a short period of time from when the feast ended to now. A simple spell would clean everything up so you and everybody else didn’t really pay it any mind.

You maneuvered around the mess of your housemates and towards your bed where your costume was kept in the trunk underneath it, plopping down onto the floor to pull it from the underskirt of your House colored bedding.

“Did he finally say yes?” Your closest roomie friend jumped onto your bed, propping herself up on her elbows and resting her chin on her hands as she watched you dig through your bottomless trunk.

“Surprisingly, yes,” you answered, hiding the smile on your face.

She drawled out a teasing ‘ooh,’ poking your arm lightly with her index finger as you shied away and leaned deeper into your trunk. She was the only one who you willingly admitted your crush to as she was the only person you really trusted to not blather it off to someone.

“Will I be seeing you two in the Slytherin common room?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “The boys are throwing a party and I luckily got an invite, you know how they are. So picky with who shows up.”

“You mean they’re pretentious?” You laugh. “But I don’t know if we’ll be going to it. I know Draco obviously got invited but I was thinking we could do other things.”

“Like what?” She questions as if she knew it was going to be something dirty. “I know a few secret spots around the castle-”

“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” you smack her arm lightly. “I honestly have no clue what to do. I didn’t think he’d actually agree because he never does.”

She runs her hands over her face, stifling her laughs of disbelief before she sighed loudly. “I still suggest some broom closets, hidden out of sight.”

You sit up, pushing her from where she was lying while she laughed amusingly at your false horrified reaction that you put on to hide the fact from her that what she was suggestion really was what you wanted.

“I’ll leave you alone so you can get your costume on,” she smiles, jumping up from your bed and tossing one of your pillows at you as she walked away. You let out a huff, tossing it back onto your duvet before setting your costume down on the spot your friend was lying in.

You stared at it hesitantly, all of a sudden feeling nauseous at the thought of going out later with Draco as if it was some sort of date even though you knew it wasn’t. It was just two friends, hanging out, doing some spooky and fun Halloween activities together and nothing more; so why were you feeling so nervous? You weren’t sure if it was your instincts warning you of something major that was approaching or the fear that what you didn’t have planned was going to bite you in the arse when you continuously told Draco he was going to enjoy himself when you didn’t even know if that was going to be true. You didn’t want to disappoint him and mess it up for you in the future when the holiday came again and you didn’t want this to be the first and last time you experienced it with him.

The pressure was raining down on you like thick, hard pieces of hail with no end in sight.

As you were getting dressed and doing your makeup for your costume as you liked, (i’m trying to be vague for your own imagination teehee) all you could think about was what in the hell you were going to do once you met up with the Prince of Slytherin. Your train of thought was then derailed into wondering what he was going to be dressed up as or if he was going to be dressed up at all considering the way he is. He was the type to make fun of people who dressed up, that you knew when you ran into him last year as you were walking back to your common room with your friend, both of you in costume and victims of his gentle bullying. He obviously went easier on the two of you since you were there, telling you he was just messing around afterwards and saying he liked yours but once you were out of his sight but still in ear-shot, you heard him and his two minions berating a small group of people that unfortunately passed by them.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor mirror, letting out a long shaky exhale with your hands clasped together before you started towards the way out of your dorm, through the common room, and ultimately towards the foyer outside the Great Hall where Draco was most likely waiting for you. An hour had gone by since you last saw him, an hour of stress and panic that hadn’t slowed down or stopped.

Your shoes dragged against the stone floors, hugging yourself tightly as you walked nearer towards the spot where you were supposed to meet and as you lifted your gaze - you saw him there, staring right at you with a small grin and just like you expected, no costume.

“Nice costume,” he compliments when you reach him.

“Where’s yours?” You frown.

“I’m not dressing up. That’s embarrassing,” he shakes his head.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re the only one not dressed up, that’s embarrassing.”

You don’t know why it was irritating to you that he wasn’t in costume, even if you knew he wasn’t. You figured it was because you were trying to overpower your nervousness with different more consuming feelings, and much to your and Draco’s dismay, it worked.

You weren’t nervous anymore, just irked.

“I’m staying like this, take it or leave it.”

You rolled your eyes, staring him down and hoping that he would change his mind but he wouldn’t. He was ridiculously stubborn.

In the heat of the moment of a fleeting thought, you decided that if he wasn’t going to be in costume, you would put him in one or at least a hint of one. You pulled your wand out, pointing it onto his striking white hair and with one easy spell, his hair was now a flaming vibrant red.

“Y/N!” He growled, running towards the closest thing that would show off his reflection where he let out a string of frantic curse words. “I look like a bloody Weasley.”

Your laughter caught him off guard, the sound ringing in his ears like music that spread warmth throughout him. You were clutching at your stomach with one hand and pointing at him with the other, giggling wildly at the sight of him with hair that did not suit him at all. He smiled to himself, your glee rubbing off on him abruptly that ate away quickly at his anger.

“You should’ve given me some ratty old hand-me-down robes and I’d look just like Ron,” he notes.

“That’s rude, Draco,” you say still laughing. He smirks, leaving the shiny statue of a knight in armor where he was checking his reflection and back over to you where you were still stuck in between doubling over in laughter and watching him.

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he muses. He begins digging into the pocket of his dress pants, taking your vulnerability as a chance for him to tap his wand to the top of your head and before you could react, your whole hair had turned a deep green.

Your laughter immediately ended as you ran towards the suit of armor, your grimacing reflection staring back at you with deep Slytherin green hair and a distorted Draco behind you doubling over just like you were moments ago.

“This looks,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the scowl on your face saying enough for you as you turned bitterly towards Draco.

“Great?” He suggested, his guffawing subsiding into airy chuckles as you stood in front of him. Yours picked up again as you stared up at him, his striking bright red hair looking terribly unfamiliar on him. He was looking down at you, his heart jumping at the sight of you holding back your laughter. “You really do look dashing by the way.”

You swallowed thickly, thankful for the darkness that had settled around the castle and easily hid the scarlet brush appearing on your face. “But my hair is green.”

“Green is my favorite color.”

You opened your mouth to speak, your stomach and heart dropping simultaneously as your mind went completely blank. You pretended to not notice how he took a step closer to you to where he was almost fully against you and he pretended not to notice the way your lips were parted and how your chest was rising and falling a little too heavily as if you were nervous. It was game over for you when his gaze flickered down towards your lips and then back to your eyes, his head leaning down just the slightest like if he were waiting for you to meet him halfway. You were about to get closer to him, about to let your eyes close and give in to what you believed was him wanting to kiss you - but the world had other plans.

“Malfoy! There you are!” Someone boomed, clambering up the steps from the direction of the dungeons. You both jumped away from each other, your attention diverted to the Slytherin boy that interrupted the moment. “Malfoy come on, the party! And you can bring her too.”

You frowned when the boy came up to the two of you, clearly tipsy, dressed as a stereotypical vampire, and over-excited with the fact that Draco was out and willing to participate in Halloween festivities. It seemed like it bothered the now red-head when he looked to you and then back to the Slytherin boy with an apprehensive expression.

The boy, sensing the pause in the air, grabbed onto both you and Draco’s arms and started dragging the two of you towards the Slytherin common room where although the stone walls were thick, the sound of people celebrating inside were easily slipping past the stone slabs. He spoke the password out quickly and as soon as the entrance was open, you were both shoved inside into what looked like the largest party you had ever witnessed in all your years at Hogwarts. It was packed and filled with what looked like half of the school, or at least a huge majority of fifth-years and up. It was loud with music booming from a brand new wizarding-world radio in the middle of the room currently playing a song from the Weird Sisters. It smelled like a mixture of everyone’s perfumes and colognes and like firewhisky. The boy that pushed you two inside quickly passed you two cups of the very potent firewhisky before downing the third one he had in his hand and disappeared into the crowd while screaming for you to enjoy yourselves.

You both stood awkwardly away from the big and rowdy crowd, your drink clenched tightly in your hand against your chest and Draco swishing his around while it was still in the cup.

He wanted to up and run, thinking that someone was going to make a comment about his hair or about him being there, but no one seemed to pay attention to him or that he was there and in a way, he felt relieved by it and less tense by the second.

“How in the bloody hell did we end up here?” You yelled over the music, putting a hand over his arm that was holding his drink up. You didn’t mean to, but you were glad you did because he glanced down at the contact with a small smile before looking back up to you.

“We got dragged here, remember!” He yelled back.

“What?”

“We got dragged here!”

“I can’t hear you!”

He rolled his eyes, bending down towards your ear to repeat himself one last time before you finally heard him over the mayhem around you.

“This is crazy!” You looked around the room, the sight of all the bodies and recklessness being too much as they were all more than likely drunk and oblivious to how stuffy and suffocating the room was becoming.

You looked down at the golden brown liquid sloshing around in your cup, wondering whether or not you should take it, but with the nervousness you felt coming back, it didn’t take you much longer to decide to down your cup and allow the liquid courage to seep into your veins. Draco watched you with amusement, chuckling to himself when you scrunched up your face in disgust from the burn he knew it caused as it went down your throat. He shook his head, deciding to drink his too and it was only minutes that passed before the drink was quickly becoming apparent in your systems. There was something about Firewhisky that always made its mark promptly and it really was courage in a bottle that you were glad was available to you in that moment because you were sure that in just a few minutes you were close to fainting.

You were beginning to sway faintly to the music, the rhythm sounding more loud but distant and more invigorating. You didn’t care anymore if anyone was watching or that Draco was observing you curiously just as he was beginning to lose all sense of holding himself back. He was inching closer to you, his head moving slightly to beat of the song and pure joy etched onto his features when your eyes met his.

“I keep forgetting I turned your hair red!” You yelled up to him, laughing loudly when he ran his hand through it. In your moment of confidence, you reached up and lightly ran your fingers over one of the front pieces hanging over his forehead. He didn’t stop you, his heart hammering against his chest from the drink and his overwhelming crush that was clouding all his senses. “Your hair is so soft!”

He wanted to pin you up against the wall right then and there. You were peering up at him, just as you were before you were dragged inside by one of his Housemates and as soon as he was about to kiss you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He knew to bend down this time for you to hear him to which you responded with a fervent nod. You took his hand in yours, pulling him towards the exit of the common room and he let you lead him into the coldness of the dungeons that bit at his cheeks. It was a stark difference from the warmth inside, the crisp October air being more chilled than what either of you were expecting. It felt nice against your flushed skin and easier to breathe, especially once after the common room closed again and you could hear was muffled talking and music.

Neither of you were drunk and were still aware of pretty much everything, mostly the feelings stirring inside you both that was begging either of you to make a move towards the other. You were just a tad tipsy, and so was he, but it was enough for you to still enjoy the night without the initial awkwardness that oddly settled in between you. It was weird, considering how open and talkative you usually were with each other but there was something about the evening that made it feel like if you didn’t know each other.

“What now?” He asked you with a raised brow, his hand slipping into his pocket.

You smiled, an idea coming to your head that you knew he would love and you didn’t mind doing in the name of Halloween. “Do you want to go mess with people?”

He stared at you with widened eyes, “bloody hell, I love you.”

There was nothing that could have prepared you for his response, your own eyes widening in shock as you stared at him. He felt his face get hot in embarrassment, Merlin, he felt so stupid. He was mentally smacking himself in the head, desperately wishing he could bury himself seven feet under the Earth and staying there until the end of time.

He was about to play off what he said in a joking way, but for the second time that night he was interrupted by a couple that stumbled out of the common room drunkenly snogging each other’s faces off and wholly oblivious to you and Draco standing there in lingering panic. You jumped back into his arms when the couple staggered past you, almost knocking you over in the process of their makeout session and it annoyed you beyond belief. It annoyed you that they were in your way, annoyed that they interrupted you, annoyed that it wasn’t you in their position with the one you wanted.

You dug your wand out of your pocket, flicking it their way as they rolled onto the wall, still in each other’s hold until the hex that flew from your wand hit the boy causing him to stagger back from the girl and holding his nose in pain. You heard Draco laugh from behind you when bats began to fly out from the boy’s nostrils while the girl screamed and ran away from one of the bats that swept down onto her head. The bats flew out of the dungeon and up the stairs with the boy struggling loudly the whole way up until his panicked screams were no longer heard.

“That was a perfect bat-bogey,” he looks at you proudly. “I feel bad for that poor bloke’s nose.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed jokingly.

When the sound of the door opened again, you both ran to hide behind a long drape against the wall that didn’t hide your shoes very well and pressed up against your bodies that’s shapes were no doubt visible from the opposite side.

You heard footsteps trail haphazardly down the corridor, their back seemingly facing you and as you both peeked your heads out from behind the drape, Draco nodded towards the boy and pointed his wand towards him.

“Slugulus Eructo,” you heard him whisper and a stream of green light from his wand hit the back of the boy’s head and as he turned around in surprise while doubling over in pain, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth as slugs began to slip past the spaces between his fingers. When he stood up to run away, you noticed it was the same boy from earlier that stopped you two from the almost kiss and dragged you to the party. You let out a string of giggles as he ran away just like your last victims.

“This is so mean,” you chortle, leaning into him from behind the drape in an attempt to get closer to him. You were feeling bolder when he beamed down at you, feeling happy knowing that although the night was still young, he was having fun. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, I know you don’t like Halloween.” You say quietly.

“You finally convinced me, it’s not that bad,” he grins.

“Why’d you hate it in the first place?”

The question seemed to strike a nerve but the Firewhisky still flowing freely in his veins tore away easily at his defenses so instead of avoiding your question entirely like he usually would, he frowned and let his guard down.

“I don’t hate it,” he answers apprehensively. “My father never let me celebrate it. He never let me dress up. He told me respectable wizards don’t partake in holidays like these.”

His pout made your gut twist in sympathy, your hand instinctively going into his as you squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s never too late to start celebrating. Besides, I don’t see him here stopping you.”

He smiled for what felt like the hundredth time that night, his stained-red hair falling over his eyes as he looked down to his shoes.

“You have a point, darling.”

The door of the common room opened again and what you suspected to be another snogging couple to stumble out from the sound of heavy breathing and multiple shoes scuffling about was something completely different.

“Glad Malfoy stayed with someone else today.” It was Crabbe.

“Yeah, he never lets us go to these parties,” Goyle responds. “Go ahead and thank Y/L/N for freeing us, he fancies her like a fool.”

“Reckon we should go look for them?”

You figured Goyle nodded to him like the blathering idiot he was because in a few short seconds they were running away up the same steps everyone else had.

You peered up slowly at Draco who was already gaping at you like a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The gears in your brain were spinning wildly with happiness, the gossip hopefully being proven true when he didn’t try to deny it. You didn’t realize how close his face was to yours, cheeks tinged with pink from both the firewhisky and sudden shyness and his warm cinnamon breath fanning your face as he looked down at you.

“I can explain,” he finally said.

He didn’t need to; you placed your hands gently on his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you and pressing your lips against his, catching him completely by surprise. His eyes were wide at first, his body rigid and his lips unmoving, but once it finally clicked that this was real and no longer a fantasy that played like a broken record in his head, his lips moved fervently against yours with the rest of his body following. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers squeezing at the hem of your bottoms and his body pushing even further into yours.

Your bottom lip caught lightly in between his teeth as you reluctantly pulled away from him, the both of you breathing raggedly as you searched each other’s eyes.

“I feel the same,” you said softly. “Happy Halloween.”

He smashes his lips hungrily against yours again, his ego growing with each gasp of a delight that escapes your mouth as your hands roamed and tangled themselves into his magically colored strands.

“Very...happy...halloween,” he mutters against your lips in between kisses, a dazy smile adorning your face while he tightened his arms around you.

You just couldn’t wait until next year.

1K notes · View notes

mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

32 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better.

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home:

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town.

He’d know how to be better—to do better.

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.

‘And it’s your fault.’

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all.

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road.

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain.

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?”

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.”

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum.

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked.

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice.

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.”

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service.

Yet another something that hasn’t changed.

“How… How are things?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.”

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut.

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself.

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?”

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.”

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,”

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…”

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.”

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head.

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.”

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach.

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.”

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear.

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul.

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form.

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.”

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!”

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.”

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.”

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds.

“Changbin. Don’t.”

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits.

“Changbin! You asshole—”

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…”

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck.

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out.

“No one else is going to die.”

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself.

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“You have my word.”

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio.

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror.

“How much longer?”

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.”

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung.

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic.

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature.

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines.

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action.

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway.

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive. With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building.

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?”

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.”

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home.

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear.

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation.

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all.

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking…

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?”

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like.

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?”

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.

Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear.

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.”

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?”

“I told you. I need to speak with him.”

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?”

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime.

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark.

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t.

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...”

“What?”

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet.

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?”

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises.

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.”

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?”

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.”

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?”

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…”

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again.

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.”

“I’m going to… what now?”

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo.

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?”

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.”

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head.

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.”

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...”

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?”

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt.

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?”

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget.

Especially when it comes to those you love.

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world.

Where did those times go…?

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features.

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?”

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.”

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.”

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?”

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.”

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…”

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.”

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.”

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction.

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?”

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.”

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?”

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.”

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true.

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.”

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description.

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.”

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude.

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung.

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—”

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth.

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—”

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity.

Mark gapes. “Minho…?”

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain.

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form.

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?”

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!”

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!”

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder:

“They knew it was a trap…”

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges.

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!”

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest.

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch.

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?”

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark.

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow.

“Mark! Get down!”

“Jinyoung—!?”

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth…

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein.

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him.

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?”

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile.

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.”

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?”

“Yes and no,” He hums.

“So you chose to become monsters?”

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?”

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.”

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.”

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.”

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?”

Your response is a look of pure disgust.

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms.

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful.

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.”

“Cruel…?”

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.”

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear:

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins.

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…”

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession.

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?”

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?”

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue.

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.”

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?”

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.”

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?”

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.”

“Are fledglings immortal too?”

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.”

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?”

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.”

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.”

“And if you choose not to complete it?”

“Then you die for real.”

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself:

“You never told me why.”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?”

“Why you left me in that alleyway.”

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own.

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—”

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway.

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?”

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest.

Jinyoung winces, “It��s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well.

“Gyeom?”

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate.

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression.

“How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now.

Terrified.

“What should we do with the body?”

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.”

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.”

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door.

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.”

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel.

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

You nod, “Sure.”

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.”

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.”

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.”

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother.

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—”

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?”

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet.

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch.

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?”

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?”

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag.

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?”

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.”

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?”

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.”

“So you’ll heal him?”

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish…

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him.

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath.

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer:

“No.”

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

59 notes · View notes

qfantasydragon · 3 years

Text

So its the end of the semester and I have been writing Too Many Essays of academic bs and am probably over-analyzing this but its been bouncing around in my head all day so now y’all get to look at it so I can think of other things

Last night I was watching critical role’s narrative telephone and got to Widogast’s Web of Words and after about five minutes of laughing as the other cast members retold the story I had a lightbulb moment spawned, as I said, by too many goddamn essays

“Hey wait a minute. This seems suspiciously Caleb-as-a-volstrucker related.” And the more that thought bounced around my head, the more connections I found, so hear me out:

First off right at the beginning the story, he says “most think of it as a fairy tale to frighten children, but the wise know better.” We know from previous in-game discussion that the voltstrucker are mostly regarded as a spooky story or urban legend within the empire. Exactly the kind of thing you would use to entertain kids. But the smart and the higher up would know that the voltstrucker exist.

So my theory: the three children are Caleb, Astrid, and whats-his-face, Eadwulf, and boy does it mushroom out from there.

The parents told the children to “say their prayers, serve their king, and always walk in the light of the sun” (Liam). We don’t know a ton about Caleb’s parents, but we do know that they were very patriotic. There’s also a lot of talk about the Dawnfather, Pelor, in the first bit, who is neutral good according to the critical role wiki (thanks guys) and one of whose commandments is “deliver the light of the Dawnfather...with kindness, compassion, and mercy” (the wiki). He is also the god of agriculture and a popular focus of worship of the common folk (the wiki). So this is Caleb and classmates before Ikithon, living small town, commoner lives, still full of empathy/kindness/etc.

Then comes the leaving their prayers and going into the dark woods bit, which to me sounds like leaving home, and the way of doing things there, to go to Rexxentrum. Stepping away from the Dawnfather, away from the empathy/kindness thing and the common folk way of life. But at the moment it is still possible for them to return home, unharmed, unchanged. The line describing the woods, “so vast and full of mystery...the desire for knowledge beckoned them. They no longer walked in the light of the sun” sounds like Caleb wanting to learn more about magic and diving headfirst into Soltryce Academy, starting to lose sight of what morality his parents taught him.

Now the children are linking hands as they go through the woods, i.e., Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf becoming friends at the Academy. The counting-their-steps-as-they-go thing..well. I couldn’t find any information, but I personally would be very curious how many years the average student spends at the Academy and at what year Ikithon started training them.

Now the children meet the hag, who is described as being the land and is hungry. The being the land bit would mean the hag is representative of the empire, and the fact that she is hungry could represent the Empire’s hunger for power. She says she must eat in order for the land to thrive, i.e., the Empire must gain power in order for it to thrive. This can be done through straightforward battle (eating one of the children whole), but that would eventually cause unrest throughout the empire (our parents would surely despair). That leaves espionage, which is the route the hag symbolically takes.

(Campaign 2 spoilers and interesting side note: who have the might nein recently met who strikes harsh, terrible deals in exchange for double-edged results? a hag. who does Caleb choose to represent what’s going on with the volstruckers? a hag)

The children are frozen in fear (?) (i don’t speak german and the word used sounds like angst and it makes sense so im rolling with it), or the children are restrained as the hag steps forward with her “stone knife.” Hello Caleb being pressured by someone more powerful than him, strapped to a table, and crystals shoved in his arms, how you doing today?

Now the children start losing bits of themselves-- the first his brain, and his thoughts “were no longer his own.” This is Ikithon breaking one of them, im going to say Eadwulf for drama reasons, so that they where were nothing more than a tool, a weapon to be used as Ikithon saw fit.

The second child, and Liam uses female pronouns here and it makes sense so this is Astrid, loses one of her eyes and she “never saw true again.” This is fun because (campaign 2 spoilers) at this point Caleb has already spoken to Astrid and found her viewpoint completely in line with Ikithon’s, with ambitions to take his place one day. Loosing an eye messes with depth perception, or perspective, so Astrid’s perspective is wrong, but her thoughts are still her own as she still has plans outside of what Ikithon wants from her.

The last child looses his heart and “he never knew love again.” Liam uses those exact words and that is important. Its not ‘he could never love again’ which is what would make sense with the loss of a heart, its “he never knew love again”. It is Caleb’s own self-loathing talking. The lost heart is Caleb’s deceased family and all the trauma that came with that loss. Caleb, of the three of them, sees Ikithon clearly and his thoughts are still his own, but he no longer believes himself worthy of love and is a terrified to form relationships, to love, because of how badly that burned him (haha puns) last time.

Another interesting note: This scene occurred in a forest. The Vergesson Sanatorium, where Caleb and crew trained and where Caleb was imprisoned/held was in a forest. (Coincidence? I think not)

The hag says now the land will flourish and the wheat will grow. In other words, thanks to the sacrifice of the children, the empire will flourish and the common folk, the wheat, (see: connections to Pelor, god of the common folk, agriculture, light and goodness) will grow. She releases the children on the condition that they send her their children, and their children’s children and on down the line. Or, more children join the volstruckers, more children are warped and twisted and maimed so that the land, the kingdom, the empire will continue to grow. So that the common folk and the people of the light can continue, unaware that it lies on a foundation of blood and bone.

Throughout the story there is a recurring emphasis that these are children. That they are young and foolish, and yes they messed up but they did not deserve to meet the monster they did. They did not deserve what happened to them. Again, that is Caleb, at his core angry about what was done to him and his friends, and willing to do whatever it takes to set it right.

....

Like I said! Too many goddamn essays. I don’t know if other people have already made this connection or whether Liam O’Brien has confirmed it but I wanted to yell about it for a bit.

If it was intentional, that’s a lot of symbolism in two-ish minutes, and its amazing and incredible.

If it was unintentional, that was an amazing grim-brothers-esque fairytale and I loved it.

If any of y’all have actual social media and know the answer let me know please.

#long post #critical role #narrative telephone #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign two spoilers #caleb widogast #okay i have yelled into the void #and feel much better now lol #volstruckers #narrative telephone spoilers #widogasts web of words #widogasts web of words spoilers #this is the most fun writing ive had in weeks

22 notes · View notes

alias-b · 4 years

Text

Talk Dirty To Me

~Billy/Camille + Tommy Too

The Smut Extravaganza for Billy and Camille I got requests for. They make the mistake of teasing each other the entire day while they plan for a memorable Halloween. Tommy H just has great timing. Fun Smutty AU for my fic, Without The Lights, combination of smut requests I was sent for Billy and Camille. This got way out of hand and it's just filth. Literally, this is fun garbage filth. Enjoy! 🍒

A/N: Inevitable Threesome. Bi!Billy. Overstimulation. Light roleplay. Drinking/pot use. Gross teens and sexual fantasies come to life. Sorta follow up to the one shot about Tommy’s dirty letter. :))) It’s long, sorry!

“Billy, come see this one!” The damn sing song.

A groan erupted. He tried to hide behind a row of latex Halloween masks. Rubber scent filled his nostrils.

“Just a few more.” Camille beckoned with a hurried wave. Genuine and excited, he’d be an asshole to mess with that.

“You said that a million costumes and two stores ago.” Billy came around to see her. Greek goddess. Probably Venus by the tight fit.

“Well?” Camille spun for him. Little gold pieces wrapped around her caught the light.

“You look amazing.” Repetition. “So fucking hot.”

“You say that about them all.” Fists went to her hips. Chest puffing. Red alert.

“Am I wrong?” He attempted to recover.

“No, but still. Marie Antoinette. Barbie. Fives different witches. A cat. Bride of Frankenstein. And so on. And you haven’t tried on any.” Lips formed a pout.

The look. Boyfriend’s worst nightmare.

“I go as the same thing every single year. A drunk asshole.” Billy flashed a crooked grin. Scarred brow lifting. Creepy Halloween sounds played over the cheery tune of the Monster Mash. A speaker above the dressing rooms echoed louder.

“But, Halloween is about being something you’re not, babe.” The quip caused him to laugh, head turning because he waltzed into that one. “You best help me out here because your pretty ass is dressing as the other half of my costume.”

“Couples costumes? We did not agree to that.” Billy tugged on the curl of a huge synthetic wig, watched it bounce.

“Girlfriend gets the holidays, it’s the rules.” Camille pulled her curtain over and unzipped herself as he dicked around outside. Itching to go.

“What do I get in return?” Billy’s casual tone was anything but innocent.

“Rewarded for making the girlfriend happy on such campy, beloved occasions.” She fussed about, making the curtain jostle. Billy only shook his head with another smile. A compelling argument.

“So,” he poked his face in, startling her. Camille braced to cover her underwear and instead tossed jeans at him. “I put on a costume, I get laid. We fuck all the time.”

“Maybe a happy girlfriend will be...a little more giving. A little weirder for your unique tastes.” She pecked his lips and pushed him out.

“I do like how that sounds.” Billy hummed to himself. “You know, when I was sick. You made me a promise that...hasn’t been delivered on. Something involving your mouth and a little roleplay.”

“Uh, how about the events of literally this morning?”

“Yeah, well, we wanted the entire illusion with it, Doctor Harper.” He explained and she rolled her eyes.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. I’m forbidden to speak of it further.” Came the retort.

Billy groaned to himself outside. Few shoppers eyed him messing with accessories. He stopped to fix his hair in a nearby mirror, flicked a curl aside before Camille peered out to see him tonguing one of his canines.

“Consider another fairy tale. Red Riding Hood?” Camille braced her hands on either side of the room, hip cocked. Divine. A nearby mother shielded her son’s eyes and ushered him off. Billy was snickering, plucking up a wolf mask with realistic grey fur. He dangled it before her. “C’mon, get into the spirit, beach boy.”

“Consider the werewolf only eats sweet, sweet pu-” Billy’s vulgar remark was muffled when her hand covered his lips. Bright eyes flickered. He was too much.

“I loathe you.” Camille only puffed at him, turning. “Uh, I’m not feeling anything and I’m starving. Let’s give up and grab a cheesesteak from the food court.”

“Extra onions and green peppers. Now, we’re talking.” Billy gave a sigh of relief. Still messing around just outside with masks and fake weapons. Camille heard the curtain swish once her dress was back on the hanger.

“Billy, I’m not dressed.” She turned to see him in a plastic hockey back. Silent and unblinking. Curls framed his face. “Jesus!” Instinct made her jerk before she pushed him. “You’re not funny. Asshole.”

No words. Just stared.

“You creep.” Camille turned to pick up her jeans as they crammed together in the tiny room. Earning a smack on her ass. “Hey!” She waved him off, eyeing his right hand. A fake replica of Freddy Krueger’s glove with blades skimmed her bare thigh. Huffing, she turned to face him, hands on her hips. “You got your horror bad boys mixed up.”

“Does that really turn you off?”

“Little bit. The actual Freddy mask with the burn scars was just outside.”

“You think I’d put that ugly ass rubber shit over my head?” Billy pulled up the hockey mask, face scrunching.

“I’m just saying you lose points for it.” She laughed at him, halting when he pressed her back into the corner of the box they squeezed into. “Ugh. You’re impossible.”

“You’re hot.” Billy settled one plastic blade on her lower lip, inching it over the curve. “I put on a costume, Halloween came earlier. I don’t.” A wink caused her to lick her lips when he shook the glove off.

“Please, Mister Nightmare the 13th, don’t hurt me. I wanna be in the sequel.” Camille faked an amused, coy shiver before Billy turned her around. “Billy.” The whine signaled her voice lowering. Camille braced her hands on the wall, let him palm her ass and hips until his groin pushed into her bottom. Hair was swept over and a well placed kiss sent chills down her spine. The hockey mask fell aside so Billy could view them in the mirror to his left.

“Look at you, all alone.” He’d uttered, pressed into her back. Idle fingers slipped into her underwear, one tug stretched them.

“Fucking asshole, you’re buying me another pair.” Camille turned to hiss. Noting that he stuffed them into his back pocket. “Like I said, creep.”

“You love it. Perfect version of me for Halloween, I thought.” One snap undid her bra. Palms cupped her breasts, earning a soft sigh. Music buried their voices just enough. Billy was enjoying himself maybe more than he should have. Lips on her shoulder blade while he twisted her nipples. One hand went up onto locks of brown hair, tugging at silken roots to pull her head back.

“Fingers,” came an order he was thrilled to fulfill. Mouths opened and Billy pushed his tongue against hers, muffling a moan so his free hand cupped between her legs.

“Best costume yet.” He joked, eyes on the mirror while she nuzzled and whined back into him. Lips agape to breathe steady and eyes closed. Thighs quivered when two fingers plunged in, thumb rubbing idle circles into her clit. "You're soaked." Camille felt back to open his belt and slip her hand under denim, a growl hitched.

“My, my, what big...teeth…you have.” Breathless, she pumped him a few times. Squirmed against his muscled frame.

“Better to eat you with, Harpy.” He hushed into her jawline. Felt her moving into his fingers and tugged her hand away. The Monster Mash wasn’t the sexiest tune to get weird to. Billy felt her moving into his touch. Putty in his palm. Hazel eyes closed again when Camille’s lips parted. “But, you know what I really want?” A hot mouth skimmed her neck.

“More.” She sighed into his body. Billy hitched a breath. Pulled his fingers from her thighs to lick them clean.

“I want...a fucking...cheesesteak.” The heat of him pulled away, left Camille shuddering. Rubbing her thighs together.

“H-Hey...wait a second.” Camille perked up. Skin fizzling. Billy had that insufferable smile on his face.

“Maybe, I’ll finish you later. Give it another few costumes.” He winked. Slid out.

“Billy.” Camille reared forward hissing. Her head popped out. “My panties.”

“I consider it a tease toll.” He licked his thumb and came forward her kiss her brow. “Cute when you’re all worked up and frustrated. Blushing so hard.”

“I hate you so much right now.” Camille gruffed, tearing back to jerk her clothing on. Billy was all snickers as she adjusted her jeans. “Fucking hell. How can you do this as much as you do? No underwear?”

“Look at you squirm, Harpy.”

“I’ll get you for this.” She snatched her purse, stuffed a few singles into his pocket. “Go buy us food, asshole. I gotta put my shit back. I’m not leaving all these for a poor employee to put away.”

“What if I promise to make this up to you later?”

“Oh Billy,” Camille teased, pressing her body into his, “you have...no idea the game you just started.”

She peered around. Slipped her hand over his shaft until he grunted. Went off all too proud.

Gulp.

Camille waited until he had gone before she plucked up a costume. Smiled. Purchased it with devilish eyes. Tied the bag shut so Billy couldn’t glimpse it.

“Are you really mad about it?”

“Mad, Billy?” Camille said coolly. “I could never be mad at you.” She plucked up a fry. Chomped. "I don't get mad. I just remember." Billy snickered and went to town on his sandwich. “And to think, you could have put all that enthusiasm to better use between my thighs.”

He choked laughing. Wiped grease away on his hand. Camille broke too. Reached over to hand him a stack of napkins. Her entire sandwich gone as well.

“I want to get home. The whole commando in jeans is not a thing for me.”

“Let me see what you bought.” Billy whined as they tossed their trash out.

“No, it’s bad luck.”

“I think that’s a wedding thing.” Idly, he let her lace their hands, weaving through crowds to get out and to the car. Something about it made him smile to himself. "I could say please?"

“It’s a surprise for later.”

“I’m in for it, aren’t I?”

“Maybe.” Camille buckled. The ignition fired up. Billy whizzed out of the parking lot. Immediately a hand was on this thigh.

“Camille...” He warned, legs opening. She just hummed. Stared outside at the bright autumn day. Dainty fingers grazed down, rubbing him until his cock twitched again. “Hard enough to calm down after the dressing room.”

“Poor baby.” She felt him strain. Watched his knuckles pale against the wheel. They got to a red light and he reeled to kiss her all tongue and teeth. Camille had a hand on the zipper. “Billy.”

“Hmmm?” He moaned into her mouth.

“Green light.” She licked her lips and came out. Took her hand away. He stomped the pedal.

“Fucking shit.” He glanced down. Arousal wet his jeans. Bitch.

Camille giggled all the way home. Empty house. Jim working late and El with her little friends. Billy practically chased her to the door. It wasn’t closed and locked again before he was on her. More laughter burst as stubble scratched her neck with wandering lips.

He took in her perfume and lotions. A floral, citrus sort of scent like paradise. Nipped. Camille pushed playfully.

“Oh no, you don’t.” She flicked hair aside and went around him with her bags. Slipping off some flats. “I’m putting my stuff away. Shoes.”

“C’mon, do it later. I could convince you.” Billy kicked his boots aside and tugged as they went upstairs. Pressed her into the door of her bedroom. Camille evaded him. “You’re kidding me.” He whined, falling into the bed with an annoyed huff.

“You started it in that dressing room. Dug the grave, sweet face, now lie in it.”

“We’ve ruined plenty of dressing rooms. I was just kidding around.” He settled his hands behind his head. Aching. Camille took her sweet time, stashing the Halloween bag in the bathroom while she pulled tags off clothing to hang pieces away. “You tortured me with sexy costumes all day.”

“Big baby.” She snickered, waiting until his eyes closed to pounce on him. Billy let out a grunt as she laughed, pecking his cheeks to be a pest. “Maybe I found us something fun.”

“That so?” Billy pushed brown locks back, cupping her face to bring it down for more kisses. She fell beside him and laid there for a beat of staring. “What?”

“You’re just pretty.”

Billy whined and cloaked his face with one arm, twisting over as if he was bashful.

“Stuff it, Harpy.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Camille nestled against him. Forced him to be little spoon. “Would the gift make you feel better?”

“...Depends.”

“Give me five minutes.” She sprang up, grazing his lips while he pulled at her before flitting off.

Camille took twenty minutes. Billy complained the entire time.

“Close your eyes!” She called.

“Absolutely not.” He resisted, pressed against the bed with his hands in his lap.

“C’mon, Billy.”

“Fine.” He made a thing of it to roll his eyes, shutting them. Heard the door open.

“Well?” Camille draped herself along the door frame.

“Be still my fucking heart.” Billy’s entire body fizzled with electricity. Camille in a sexy nurse get up, so short you could see the garters clipping white tights up. Little hat with a cross pined up into her messy hair. “Dr. Harper.”

“That’s right.” She took one step. Heels clicking.

“Is this you fulfilling a forgotten promise?” Billy was pulling her into his lap the second she crawled over him. Heels falling over the side of the bed. Camille settled her hands on the frame behind his head, leaning in for a heated kiss. “This isn’t right, you’re the one about to get the injection.”

“You’re so gross.” Camille’s guise broke when laughter roused, head tipping to his collar. Billy’s hands cupped her bottom, bringing her to grind into him. Lips trailing her neck to bring out a moan.

“Tell me what I need, Dr. Harper.” Billy had started unbuttoning her little dress, trailing his digits over the lace bra. Another kiss upon her chest. Fingers tugged at his curls.

“Don’t stop.” She uttered instead, his face pushed between her breasts. Tugging the lace down so he could leave marks on tender skin. One nipple pressed against his tongue and Camille’s head tipped back. “I think we both need a... ah, thorough observation.”

“Just tell me where to put my-”

The doorbell rang.

The fucking doorbell.

Billy groaned when Camille perked up, his shirt was half open. Mouths bright and swelled from kisses.

“No, stay here. Probably some salesman, ignore it.” Billy nipped at her again, earning a shudder. Hands everywhere to just keep her in his lap. Hushing and sultry. “Ignore it. Let me fuck you.”

“But...” It tolled once more. “Just...ugh, fuck-” Camille pushed his hands down as he pawed, scrambled to fix her dress before she was up. Both of them vibrating with frustrated nerves. Crackling with fire.

“Camille, c’mon.” Billy followed, pressing her into the door frame. Pushing his tongue into her mouth. “Stay.”

“Just one...second,” she tugged for a robe and tossed her hat aside, “I'm coming!”

“Was supposed to be me saying that.” Billy followed, fully intent on punching whoever dared to ring that bell. Camille opened it and gasped softer, tried to come down from the heat.

“Tommy?” He was halfway off the porch, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh. Hey, Cam...”

“What are you-?”

“I didn’t know where to...my bad. This is stupid.”

Billy was going to murder him in broad daylight.

“Hey, wait, what’s wrong?” Camille had him by the arm, pulling. Tommy eyed Billy’s blazing eyes behind her.

“...Did I interrupt something, you two?”

“No.” Camille began.

“Yes!” Billy puffed, bursting at the seams with an ache. “Empty house. No kids. No Chief. What does this look like, a fucking tea party?”

“Look who hasn’t changed, Keg King. You crazy kids.” Tommy’s smile was crooked, the sun caught his hair to bring more auburn color out. He passed the couple and fell into the couch like he owned it with the news that he’d barged in on them about to tear into each other.

“Billy, chill.” Camille shut the door, eyes rolling. “You’re sad.”

“I’m not sad.” Tommy shrugged and she crossed her arms, eyebrow lifting.

“Why’d you come over, you started to say you didn’t know where to go?”

“It’s stupid.” Tommy rubbed the back of his head. Billy huffed and went into the kitchen. Appeared with some whiskey from Jim's stash.

“What? He’s sad, I’m going to be sad too.” Billy plopped into a chair, drinking.

“So, um, Carol and I have been talking and whatever like you said we should. Things are good for her up there in Chicago, you know?”

“Yeah,” Camille sat down next to him. Billy gulped across from them. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I thought we’d...find our way back. We’re friends.” He frowned. Another slouchy shrug. “She’s seeing someone else. It’s stupid. I’m happy for her, but I...” Tommy tapped his fingers on his knee. “I thought...”

“Oh.” Camille leaned forward. “Sorry.”

“Girls, right?” Billy drank and Camille swiped the bottle from him, crossed to offer it to Tommy.

“Thanks.” Tommy smirked a little. Drank. Camille followed, wiping her mouth. “Uhhh...What are you wearing, Cam?”

“Oh.” She looked down at her open robe. “This.”

“Dr. Harper, huh. Hot. Classic too, you can’t go wrong. Think you got a winner.” Tommy chuckled, eyes scanning and Billy shot him a look.

“Thanks, Tom, that’s all I needed to pick my costume and...some people were not helping. I don't know though, little dated look. Bought it mostly for sex.” Camille side-eyed her boyfriend when he looked indignant.

“She dragged me to every Halloween store. Tried on every single costume. And we’re finally able to-”

“You’re dating Camille fucking Harper, man, suck it up.” Tommy scrunched his face. “Your smoking hot girlfriend played dress up all day for you and you complain about it? I should kick your ass, idiot.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Camille pushed at his shoulder, giggling. “He understands.”

“Tease.” Billy puffed, leaning to take the bottle. “When you put it that way, I sound like the asshole.”

“You are.” Tommy winked as Camille’s arms wrapped around his neck.

“My heroic sweetie.” A kiss on his cheek. He melted into her, freckles glowing pink. That lingering friendship they’d had growing up fluttered in pieces. So much had changed.

Billy blew air out his lips, gave the bottle back to Camille when he stood.

“Break it up.” Billy squirmed between them. Sniffed the air. “Tommy...what are you hiding in that jacket?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scooted back.

“Fess up, Hagan.” Billy, no boundaries, stuffed his hands into the jacket.

“Hey! Fucking thief!”

Camille cackled as the boys wrestled around before Billy pinned Tommy down with muscled thighs and plucked a plastic bag up. Few rolled joints waiting. Tommy was out of his jacket and wiggling under him pathetically at this point. Billy fucking Hargrove was straddling him and the guy was huge. His own stomach sparked low and stillness overcame him.

“You holding out on us?” Billy’s tongue swept over teeth.

“I was gonna share, asshole.” Tommy bucked up at the same time Camille snatched the baggie. Taking the prize and liquor with her.

“Sorry boys.” She tripped, scrambling off.

“Hey!” Billy forced a grunt from Tommy jumping off him. Hot on her tail as she went up the stairs giggling. The other boy followed. All laughing and buzzed. Billy tackled his girlfriend into the bed, sat on her legs as they fought. Tommy had one of Camille’s wrists, tickled her side until she released the bag.

Hearts thudding.

“Okay! Okay! I give.” She bloomed bright pink, head tossed back over the side of the bed laughing.

“Worst nurse ever.” Billy mused, falling beside her as Tommy dug into his pocket for a lighter.

“If Jim smells this, we’re dead.” Camille rose to open the bedroom window and lit a couple scented candles.

“Way to be romantic,” Tommy sucked, sitting in the bay window to blow out. Billy snorted and snatched the joint to follow.

“Shit. Not bad.” He blew it into Camille’s face, earning a swat.

“Jerk.” She tried it properly next, slipping next to Tommy. He took it back and inhaled, face scrunching as he coughed.

“Fucking lightweight.” Billy poked at him, stealing it.

“Quick, Camille, I need mouth to mouth.”

“I hate you guys.” She put her legs up, stretching. Tommy shifted back near the window’s edge, peering out and Billy plopped next to him. More whiskey passed. Camille eyed them in the sun and felt her heart flutter. An obscene sort of flutter that glittered. Tommy peered at Billy and brought Camille’s legs into his lap. She hummed when he massaged her ankles.

“Still my girlfriend.” Billy’s eyebrow cocked in question.

“My friend first.” Tommy grinned, pulling Camille by the legs toward him until his arm was under her knees. “I found her.”

“You were a dick in high school.”

“Hey, I get some growth points. You’re still a dick, bud.”

“True.” Billy scoffed and traded the bottle for the joint. “Like the whole dry cleaner business gig?”

“Aunt’s taking me under her wing,” Tommy shrugged, “good money. Family side business. I don’t hate Hawkins, you know. Worse places I could be...”

Billy felt that hit deep.

“...Stepping up in the world and all. Learning. Couple big cities are an hour drive away. I could get used to things. Carol moved on. Guess I should too.”

“How mature,” Camille leaned over him for a new smoke Billy was lighting, blowing it out the window into the warm breeze.

“I’m all grown up, Cam.” He winked. “You guys jetting for Cali after all this?”

“How’d you guess that?” Billy relaxed, pulling Camille’s ankles into his lap so she was draped over them in her messy nurse get up. Robe tossing aside. She sighed back into the pillows. One arm behind her head.

Tommy’s hand on her knee drawing circles into the tights.

“Pretty much the moment you got here, I knew you’d be taking our pretty Queen Bee away.” He chuckled, slipping the joint from Camille’s fingers. “She didn’t belong here. Always too good for this place.”

“Don’t say that. We all had some fun here. No denying it now.” She tapped her ankles together. “There’s no place like home.” Tommy laughed again, drank some alcohol down. Camille looked up at trees moving outside. Warm colored leaves illuminated by the high sun. More flutters. Fingernails idly tapped the window ledge.

“Any secrets about Camille I should know?” Billy elbowed Tommy’s side, earning a smirk.

“Nothing I’ll tell you, man, my loyalty is to her.”

“I’m the Keg King, as you hollered that entire Halloween party last year.”

“King’s lost without the Queen and so is the court.” Tommy winked at Camille. “Even the fool. Me.”

“No, Tommy, you were worthy Duke, at the least.” Camille pushed at his arm, fingers brushed down.

“Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“Weed talking,” Billy added which earned him a shove. Camille heaved herself up, glazed eyes sliding over them both.

“I am not just saying that.” She mused. “I mean it. You’ll hit the ground running after today, I promise. You have a lot to offer.” Her hand pushed his hair back, ruffling it. “Right, Billy?”

Tommy was too busy purring with Camille’s touch. Delving fingers over the grown out, soft locks.

“Keep your pot supplier.” He shrugged simply, stretching behind Tommy to put the smoke out on the roof.

“That was almost genuine.”

“He’ll get there,” Camille said, “won’t you Billy?” She tugged him into her for a quick peck over Tommy’s lap.

“Hey, cool it.” Two hands pushed them apart. Giggles followed.

“You made your Duke feel left out.” Billy had winked at her. Camille tapped a fingernail to her lips. “You’re just worked up because we were.” Are.

“Miss the part where my girl ain’t coming back, Hargrove?”

It dawned in those ocean eyes.

“...No, shit, you waited?”

“Fuck you.” Tommy shifted like he might get up, unable to move Camille’s legs off him.

“No, Tommy, it’s cool. He’s just being blunt.” Camille shot Billy a look. Hands on Tommy’s chest to push him back into place. “Don’t be an ass about it.”

“Shit...Sorry, man.”

“Did you just apologize to me?” Tommy blinked.

“I’m just saying it fucking sucks, alright? Not trying to make you feel like shit.” Billy snatched the whiskey up to drink. Offered it to Tommy like it was a further apology. The freckled boy warmed some and took it. Bottoms up. Finished the rest. Dunked it into the trash a few feet away. An arm went around Camille’s back, bringing her into his chest.

“You heard him say sorry, right, Cam?” Lips touched her temple when that raspy voice lowered.

“I did.” She snickered.

“Screw you guys.” Billy roused further amusement. His own cheeks were tinting from the warmth and alcohol. Too cute.

“You better cherish this girl when you two run off into the sunset, I swear to god, man.”

“He does now, Tommy dear, I promise.” Camille bit her lip, head lifting to see him. “We take care of each other.”

“We tried to before you rang that doorbell.” Billy grumbled.

“Ignore him.”

“It is a nice costume.” Tommy tugged for the collar. Camille hitched a breath at that.

“Little too tight.” Camille braced back on her hands, legs still across them both. Comfortable. “Don’t you think so?” Both boys shook their heads in tune as if they choreographed it. She blew hair out of her face. “Men .”

Tommy playfully snapped a garter when the skirt rode up.

“Hey!” She smacked his hand.

“Couldn’t help that.”

Billy snapped the other. Another slap.

“Shits.” She scooted back and got tugged by Billy over Tommy’s lap. Amusement fizzled when she decided to tease. “You know. The tights are kinda uncomfortable. You boys mind? Help a nurse out.” Both pushed at each other to unclip them.

“My girlfriend.”

“My queen.” Tommy shot back. “You get one, I’ll get the other.”

“Deal.” They stared. A beat.

Still fought trying to slip white tights off her. Camille watched in mild fascination and amusement. Let them sweat it and fuss over her. Billy scooted up to her side, tugged her into his chest with long legs still draped over Tommy’s own.

“You two are so ridiculous.” Camille nuzzled into Billy’s chest. A breeze pulled in to sweep her hair around.

“Probably my cue to scram before Hargrove introduces me to concrete, huh.” Tommy shifted.

“No, we’re having fun,” Camille clung to Billy and grabbed for Tommy’s sleeve. “Stay here. Plus, you’re stoned and buzzed, we can’t leave poor Tommy to fend for himself. Can we?”

“I mean...we can.” Billy laughed at her expression. “Just fucking stay man. Camille will lose her mind if you try driving.”

“Pssh, I could run a marathon.” He stretched and slumped back, half out the window.

“Tommy, stop that!” Camille pulled him in laughing. Torso landing on her. Squished between the two boys, her heart picked up. Thudded in her ears. That same obscene flutter so she stilled and swallowed it down. Billy adjusted some, peered at them. Camille’s fingers in Tommy’s shirt. His hands on her hips. Resting comfortably.

“So, before I moved here...you guys ever…?” Billy cocked his head.

“No!” They both protested.

“Not for lack of trying, I wrote...that letter during one of my many breaks with Carol.”

“Yeah, we read that.” Billy blurted. Tommy’s mouth fell open.

“And you didn’t beat the shit out of me?”

“I mean,” Billy’s eyes darted. Camille grew bright red, hidden into his shirt. “Wanted to at first, but…it was sorta hot.”

“…You guys got off to it, no shit!” Tommy jumped up on his knees.

“We did not!”

“You fucked to my dirty fantasy. Admit it, huh. Why can’t you look at me, Keg King?”

“I can still pound you.” Billy hissed. Camille was giggling into his chest.

“I made you guys all hot ‘n bothered.” Tommy bit his lip. “I riled up the King and Queen. Fuck being the fool or Duke, I’m a fucking King too. I’m the fucking Pope, Church of the Horny. Bless me.”

“In your fantasy.” Billy shot.

“Yeah, my fantasy, which you got off to. You’re welcome. You both owe me one.” Tommy shifted to lie down. “Fuck, that weed man.” He rubbed his temple and laughed, arm propped up to hold his head so he could peer at them. “So...tell me about it. What got you? I was detailed.”

“Nothing- ”

“Definitely the tongue stuff.” Camille offered and Billy’s head snapped down at her. “He asked, I can’t lie to that little face.”

“Right on...” Tommy wiggled his brow, sucked his bottom lip into teeth. “So you like that stuff, Camille?”

“If it’s done right.” Camille shrugged. Billy just groaned behind her. This was not happening. Tommy’s fingers tapped her knee in sync.

“It really is an art. Hargrove a giver?”

“He does alright.”

“Just alright?” Billy scrunched his face. “Okay, Miss Pull My Hair Out And Scream .”

“I so don’t scream.” Camille bickered with him.

"Oh, but you do."

For a moment, they forgot Tommy was reeled into this conversation.

“You’re such a liar. Fine, Billy is great at it. Just shut up.”

“Hard to make the Bee blush like that.” Tommy prodded. “Turns her into a little kitten.”

“I have the science down.”

“Share your secrets with me.”

“Both of you, shut it.” Camille pushed them off her in a huff.

“Make us.” Tommy came up. Inches from her. “Look at you, playing hot and teasing. But you’re just too damn cute like this and you know that, Cam. On the receiving end. Already admitted you like that end.”

“Isn’t she?” Billy got his bicep back around her.

“You two are friends now that you’re ganging up on me?” Camille mocked, arms crossing. Billy tucking her hair aside while Tommy was still inches from her face with his big, wandering eyes.

“I think the Bee just has a thing for guys with freckles.” Tommy winked. “Isn’t that right?”

“You’re getting close there, man.” Billy eyed him. Tommy didn’t move.

“Bothering either of you?” He said. No reply. “Been a little curious since the letter, I bet. I got you guys off, don’t deny it. I was there in spirit. And I’m here now.” Camille slid her eyes to Billy like she was asking a question.

He blinked at her. Head cocked without faltering. An, if you must , sort of wordless expression.

A palm pressed Camille’s back, urging her into Tommy’s mouth. Impact.

That thudding in her chest could have bloomed to a red glow. Neon hearts.

She moaned. Opened her lips for a drunken kiss that somehow sobered. Too many sensations at once. Billy’s hands sliding around her waist. Tommy’s on her hips. His tongue. Being pressed back into the wall. Fingers coaxed her chin to kiss Billy next with the same fervor.

Tommy’s mouth fell down her neck. All encouragement. Camille’s arm was up, hand catching Billy’s curls to urge his kiss on. She broke to push forward into Tommy, straddling him.

“Fuck.” Billy watched her bottom press out against the tight costume. Enthralled by her moving into the other boy. Camille came up for air, pushed herself back into the other wall.

“What the fuck?” She caught her breath. “What the actual fuck?”

“Doctors are allowed more than one patient.” Tommy joked, touching his mouth. “Shit, Cam, I’ve thought about that. Nothing prepared me for the real thing.” He sobered again, looked to Billy expecting anger.

“Do it again.” He whispered instead. Wavering slightly.

“You do it.” She retorted. “You’ve done this before, I can tell, Billy.”

“So have you. Heard all about that summer.”

“Oh, you told him about that summer?” Tommy flashed another signature crooked smile. “We all got around. No overlap. I wish.”

“I was a mess, can’t blame me.” She shrugged. “Other schools are fair game. Few threesomes. Some...it was just me and some guy from another school but...there were other couples in the room.”

“You guys are both way ahead of me.” Tommy groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Had a threesome back in Cali.” Billy admitted.

“Guy and girl?” Tommy watch him nod. “Shit man, I had you so wrong. Did...Did you?”

“Not really, I...a little.” Billy bit his lip in a way that was unlike him.

“Kiss Tommy and I’ll kiss him again.” Camille teased because it would only work if they all were in. Tommy perked up.

“Do me a fucking solid, man.” Tommy begged. One hand curled into Billy’s shirt. A tug. Billy just flickered his eyes over him.

“You talk a lot of big game.”

“I deliver. You read the letter.”

“Anyone can think about fucking.” Billy scoffed like he was the expert.

“Yeah, and some of us think about it twenty four, seven. Believe me, it helps. You got the guys who think about sports and money, whatever...and the guys who think about perfecting their tongue game. I don’t think about sex to just get off, I like making a girl feel so good. Pride thing.”

“Carol did have a lot to say when we had our sleepovers with Heather.”

“She did?” Tommy’s eyes got huge. Pride swelled. “You see, Billy?”

“I’m not yanking your chain to make you feel better.” Camille cut in before either could go on. Eyes on the fist curled into Billy’s sleeve.

“You ever kiss a guy before?”

Billy didn’t answer that. Just blinked his pretty eyes.

Tommy cupped the back of his head. Brought him in. Camille crawled forward to see their lips touch. A soft kiss that she didn’t expect. Fists clenched in Billy’s lap. He pulled out, eyes opening before Camille offered herself. Tommy had his fingers into long curls. All too pleased.

“Mmm.” Camille pushed him back again. Billy just sat there looking starry eyed. Broad palm cupping her bottom to squeeze. She straddled Tommy’s hips and kissed her boyfriend again. Hands all over her. A way of worship. Camille shuddered because it was unreal. How good they both felt. Thighs quivering when Tommy’s hips pushed into her. A curse lifted as she scrambled off them. “Boys, please, I... fuck I...”

“My thought exactly.” Tommy rasped. “Still blushing, Bee.”

“So are you, Tom.” Hazel eyes rolled. He came up, eyed Billy.

“Him, most of all.”

“Dick.” Billy shoved him to crawl toward Camille. Looking all worked up and sparkling with her lips swollen pink. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her again. Pushed his tongue in.

“Can I...” Tommy’s hand was on her knee, sliding, “touch you?” Camille broke the kiss. Bit her lip again before a nod followed. Billy watched too. Curious.

“You want this?” Billy said with his thumbs smoothing. “Us.”

“Yes.” Camille swallowed. “You?”

“We sure he’s any good?”

“You keep doubting me, just because I was a shit in high school.” Tommy touched his chest. “Let me prove it. We could play a game.”

“We could play truth or dare.” Camille had joked.

“And how do you want to do that?” Billy ghosted a smirk of disbelief. This was really their evening.

“Easy. I get Camille off with my mouth.” He shrugged, massaging her inner thigh. “Bonus points, she screams.”

“I don’t scream.” She cut in.

“Seven minutes. For luck. If you can’t do it, I finish her and you watch helplessly.” Billy replied then.

“Still here, boys.”

“I do it in under seven, you both treat me to some mouth action. I get to be king for a while. Deal?” Tommy’s grin made Billy shake his head. Blase about it.

“Deal. Camille?”

“I win either way.” She yelped as Tommy’s hands hooked under her knees. Jerked forth on her back. Head in Billy’s lap.

“Time says 6:27.” He’d remarked, lighting up another joint. Sucking, he put it to Camille’s lips until she puffed. Tommy pushed her dress up and cursed. Thanked all his lucky stars.

“Fuck, Camille, you know how many wet dreams started this way?”

“Charmed.”

“You’re wasting time.” Billy noted Tommy seemed unworried. Pushing her thighs apart. Thumbing her though those lacy panties. Camille’s eyes clouded over.

“Already wet, man, you should be shaking.”

“Whatever, keep talking.” Billy chuckled. Tommy pulled fabric aside. “Leaving them on?”

“Find it kinda hot.” Tommy peppered his lips up her thighs. Savored this. “Not to sound sappy, but this is fucking breathtaking. You’re pretty, kitten.” Billy snorted, not worried himself with Tommy’s chatter.

And then he went silent.

Camille gasped in surprise. Eyes lifting.

“Oh, my...” She felt that stab of hunger from this whole day swell. Tommy’s lips against her clit. Kissing deeply. Lapping. Fingers stretched her panties aside. Ate her like he was starved, eyes turned to Billy when his tongue plunged inside her. A wink. Billy felt hot again with Camille squirming in his lap.

“Camille?” The amusement fell. He fucked up this time.

She puffed, arching up. Fist pushed toward her mouth. Teeth digging to bite on something. Anything. Tommy moaned and ate her. Put on a fucking show of it. Billy eyed the clock. 6:28. Fuck, why was time so damn slow? Camille twisted. Almost like it was too much already.

“Holy shit,” she moaned loudly, “Tommy.” His tongue swirled before he sucked. One hand curled around her thigh and the other pushing her pelvis down. “Oh, fuck. Billy?”

“You’ve got to me kidding me.” He leaned down. “What the fuck, man?” Tommy ignored him, kept up. Tormenting her clit with no end in sight. Camille’s breathing picked up. She couldn’t help palming her breasts when the heat shot forth. When her nerves caught pure fire. “Hey.” Billy grabbed her wrists.

“Fuck, I’m...oh shit, I’m already...almost.” She whined, biting her lip and looking like she might be in heaven. “Holding my wrists is making it w-worse.”

“Hold it together, don’t you fucking cum.” He threatened.

“Cam, you want my fingers too?” Tommy mumbled.

“Yes!”

“No!” Billy let her wrists go.

“Please,” Camille licked her lips and felt aimlessly for fabric to hold, “please, let him.”

“He’s fucking cheating.”

“She asked nicely, man. Told you I only obey the queen.” Tommy plunged two digits in. Felt her clench like a vice. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” Pumping elicited a further gasp. Fingers twisted into cushion.

“Camille, do not blow this for us.” Billy warned.

“Ooh!” She spread her legs. Another curve to her spine. Gasping. Eyes rolling because Tommy H was playing her like a fucking fiddle. “Fuck! Babe...you’re going to...ah...be the one blowing this.”

Fuck.

He should have screwed her in that dressing room. Camille rocked into him without even trying. Tommy closed his eyes. Made it worth his while. Worked his tongue all over her until she covered her mouth to stop what might have been an almost scream.

“What do you say, Cam?” He teased, licking his lips. Thumbing her bud lightly.

“Don’t stop! Fuck! Just...oh, god.” She writhed there and Billy’s mouth fell open.

“You’re fucking me.” He watched his girlfriend cry out. “No, no. Camille, don’t you dare cum. Don’t do it.”

“I can’t...help it. Oh, fuck!” A tear squeezed out one eye.

“Atta, girl.” Tommy fucked her on his tongue and fingers with vigor. Watched Billy squirm because of it. Orgasm locked her up and Tommy didn’t stop until she was grasping up desperately at her boyfriend. Vibrating. A few softer kisses brought her down.

The bastard did it in four and a half minutes.

Tommy’s amusement didn’t halt when he grabbed Billy’s face to kiss him. Camille all over his lips. Mouths opened that time. Billy grew slack when it ended, huge blue eyes.

“I love to say this, but I told you so.”

“You fucking prick.” Billy shoved him.

“Yeah,” Tommy hovered to see Camille, “you hanging in there, princess? You’re pretty like this.” She puffed aimlessly, wobbled trying to stand and fix her skirts.

“You were supposed to hold that back, what the fuck?” Billy tossed a hand out.

“As if you could have lasted for that. He’s a fucking hurricane. Holy shit. Shit. I’m still...” She was trying to catch her breath. “Tommy... I take back every time I didn't believe Carol.”

“I know.” He pecked her lips. Eyes alight. “My turn. And then...I gotta fuck you.”

“Figure we should punish her for that. Christ, Camille. You couldn’t hold out three more minutes?” Billy hissed.

“He’s good.” She shoved him back. “You got yourself into that deal. I want to...keep having fun. But, nothing goes in my ass.”

“Not a problem.” Tommy cupped her jaw. Kissed her lips. “Can I get my reward first? Billy?”

“Not any good at it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Keg King. And Camille will offer some help, I’m bet. Look at her. Eager.”

She chuckled when Tommy fell back, her head on his shoulder.

“Billy, come here to us.” She reached out. “I want to play.” He fell into her. They just drowned here like nothing was beyond the window. Mouths touching. Palms all over. Billy buried himself in Camille’s neck when she craned to kiss Tommy. Obscene kisses with a whiskey spice.

“Love the costume, but...” Tommy opened a few buttons while Billy followed the trail. Nipping. “Let me see her.” Camille hummed as Billy pulled her dress open. A cherry red plastic zipper sounded. Tommy’s hand snaked down to stretch the lacy bra. Billy was cupping her tits, already teasing nipples with his mouth and fingers while she watched Tommy rub himself to the sight. “You’re fucking beautiful, Cam.”

Camille swayed, lost in the fire. She came up all plush and pink. Swallowed Tommy’s shaft down as Billy yanked her costume off. Wind cooled her skin. The sky painted all different colors. Billy watched his girlfriend bob her head like she needed it. Wiggling her hips before underwear was pulled. Swollen and sensitive. Dripping.

“Camille, fuck,” Tommy’s face twisted with pleasure. Fingers tugged at her hair. “You’re not sharing with Billy. Greedy girl.” He pulled her up for a kiss. She only smiled with a lax expression.

“Billy, kiss me.” She said. Lips wet from Tommy’s arousal. Billy’s tongue dipped into her mouth for a taste while hands slipped her bra off. Nude and exposed before her friends. “Truth or dare?”

“Now?” Billy scoffed as her arms went around him. “Truth.”

“Want to help me?” Another kiss, pulling him down against her body. Billy made a sound low in his throat. Eyed Tommy there again biting his lip. A glint. Camille crawled up him. “We lost the bet. All’s fair.” Fingers latched into Tommy’s shirt. Kissing all over the fabric.

“Fuck, Harper, I really might not leave this place.”

“Until the police chief drags you out by your intestines.” Billy joked, shifting up on his front.

“Better not waste anymore time, then.” Came the quip. A moan when Camille licked up his leaking shaft. Pulled Billy in for another dirty kiss, inches away.

“Truth or dare?”

Billy smirked.

“Dare.”

“Do to him what he did to me.” Lips curled. Stroking Tommy until Billy sank down. One hand curled into Camille’s, the other in Tommy’s. He moaned and the other boy about vibrated there, thrusting up. A gag.

“Fuck, man, sorry. Shit.” The words slurred. Digits tugged for curls and Billy jerked back, lips rosy and slick.

“Don’t pull it, asshole.”

“You’ve so done this before.”

Billy’s face disappeared in response.

He closed his eyes amid the moans. Camille sweeping those blond locks aside to stroke his jaw and cheek. Her breaking the motion to kiss him until they took turns. Tongues sliding together obscenely. Wet kisses down the girth. Camille cupped Tommy’s face next, buried her mouth into his neck until he was bucking.

“I’m gonna...cum.” He tried to warn. Hands gripping Camille’s arm. Billy holding his hips was answer enough. Another strangled choke before blue eyes lifted. Release down those pink lips. Camille opened her mouth for some and Tommy came next. Shoving Billy into the cushions as they pulled up their shirts. “Fucking pretty Cali boys.”

He just marveled at the couple. Worked up and gorgeous. All his for a night. He prayed he’d remember this dream when he woke. Tommy made quick work of Billy’s belt. Saw this vulnerability that was rarely displayed in bright eyes while Billy’s gaze lowered. Hands smoothing to tug for the jeans to come off fully. Camille helped them undress. Playfully tugging and tossing fabric.

The sun had gone down so they just looked at each other in the candlelight while the curtains blew in.

“Truth of dare?” Tommy asked with a knowing smile Billy matched.

“Truth?”

“How many times you think we can make our girl cum?”

Our girl.

Camille liked that. She giggled and curled down into the cushions. Free and shameless.

“I’d like to find out.” Billy swept her up at that. Dropping her nude frame into the bed. Camille playfully got under the covers. "No, no. You think I forgot earlier? I told you in that dressing room I'd finish you later and you decided to let Tommy finish the job."

"It's why I'm here." Tommy rounded the bed as Billy tugged covers aside. Camille stretched out, head on her hand there.

"Billy's very cross with me." She traced the sheet lazily. Tommy slipped in behind her, one arm snatched her into his soft body. Lips tracing the line of her shoulder up her neck. "Come, get in bed with us." She sighed back into hot flesh. Aimlessly felt for Billy as the bed caved. The hard lines of his body fell against her, lips opening for a kiss she then craned to share with Tommy. Hard as can be again, his cock pushed up between her thighs.

"Again?" Camille puffed, moaning when Billy's hand snaked down. Helped Tommy rub himself along her slit. "Fuck." Camille muffled herself into Billy's collar. Relentless rubbing made her arch for more of it. Tip pushed up just inside her. "Please?"

"What was that?" Billy's slick thumb trailed over her lips.

"Please." A whine when she was filled. Tommy groaned and pushed her over on her knees. Billy lifted for a kiss, held her arms until she sank down into his lap. Mouth open to take him as Tommy began to rut. Fingers pressing hips and tangling hair to pull. Three bodies joining together in fire.

It was strange to have another boy deep inside her. While Billy moaned and pumped up into her mouth. Uttered filthy things about how she was still being punished. A naughty thrill rushed. Camille lifted up to playfully nip at Billy's skin. Lip. Collarbone. Pec. He hissed, cupping her face as they moved together.

"Told you not to cum earlier and what did you do?"

"Tommy's fault." Camille hitched when a chuckle gave behind her. "You had to pay for the dressing room."

"Camille, don't take this the wrong way." Tommy slowed and Camille had started to turn when a smack landed across her bottom. A yelp erupted with widening eyes. "Fuck, I had to do that just once."

"Do it again." Billy let Camille sputter into his neck when second slap landed. Hands dug for his biceps. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

Thwack!

"Ah!" Camille arched up. "I get it." Fingers yanked Billy by the hair for another long kiss. A hand pushed up between her thighs. Caused her legs to quake until she slipped down Billy. Face puffing into sheets with an arm draped over his hot skin. Her boyfriend worked her back up. Didn't stop. Camille bunched fabric into her teeth, groaned a muffled sound. Eyes rolling to squeeze shut.

Everything went black then green then white then black again. Dots fluttered in circles. Tommy had fallen next to her. Sandwiched between them, she purred and moaned distantly. Felt hands massaging awareness back into her body. Billy nudged her on her back for his turn. Swore. Began to thrust while Tommy played with her tits, kissed from her neck to mouth. His fingers slipped down the lines of her, ghosting her raw bud to feel her tense.

Billy cursed again, hands cupped under her knees. Hips slapping for a sound that was wet and filthy. Tommy kept her in a state. Locked up tight while he rubbed light circles. Camille held his shoulders to kiss him again until spit trails left as they parted. He didn't stop beckoning her to another cliff. Mouth by her ear until she realized he was whispering.

"C'mon, Camille, give us another. You're so pretty, kitten. One more."

Lips almost drew blood. Spine drawing to an arch which made Billy about lose it.

"Oh, fuck you both." Camille whined aloud. A cry hitched.

"Yeah, that's the game you're losing right now." Billy felt his own end tip and pumped through it. Spattered cum between her thighs to fall upon her empty side. He realized she was still crying out. "Insatiable, Tommy?"

"She's got another in her." He attacked her neck and Billy curled in to assist. Camille wasn't sure who ended where and what fingers belonged to which hands. Billy and Tommy kissing her and each other. Holding her writhing, squirming body into the mattress. A mouth licking her clean and fingers pushing cum back into her like it was the hottest thing.

"Again, babe?" Billy teased. Fingers in Tommy's hair while he lapped. No words came, only broken chanting syllables. Thighs quivering. "You wanted to cum so bad. You know what we want?"

"Ah! Can I?" She swatted at Billy and jerked him closer. Felt his hands on her breasts again. "Can I?"

"Can you, what?"

"Can I fuck...fucking..." She covered her mouth. Rasped a cry between fingers.

"Close enough, just cause we love you. I assume any guy that eats pussy like that does it with love, right, Tommy?"

"Mmm." The moan vibrated Camille's body. "Ah!" Billy felt her locking for another small climax. Finally letting up, Camille sagged to catch her lost breath. Felt Tommy slink up to collapse upon her chest. Ear pressed to hear her heart thump. Made for a soft scene with her breathing and petting him there.

"Assholes..." She wheezed, smoothing her fingers into Tommy's hair. Billy leaned to kiss her gently, let one arm curl up around his head to guide him down for more. Switching off between him and Tommy, she melted down into the sheets. "There's no way I'm getting up." Skin pressed together, thighs sliding over each other.

"Is this an invite to the royal bedchamber?"

"Shut up." Billy mumbled into Camille's hair, thick lashes fluttering while he ran his nose up her skull. "We won't boot you. Yet."

"Admit you guys like me already." Tommy pulled covers up and settled in. Bit his grin back. Camille hummed and nuzzled into his side. "Hey?"

Billy snored. Face burrowed into Camille's hair.

"Figures." He nestled in. Limbs thrown all over. A haze of flesh and heat. "Lightweights." One arm shifted behind his head, eyes on the ceiling with a curling smile because this was the greatest night before sleep crept.

*** ** **

Tommy woke to a mess of curls on his shoulder. Blond curls. The shower ran in the other room.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Billy's head lifted with a scrunching expression to take this in.

"You're not my girlfriend." He shoved the smaller boy off, rolling over with a groan to take the sheets with him. "Asshole."

"You're way prissier than Camille, Hargrove, you realize that?"

Billy mumbled something about punching him.

"Cuties, rise and shine." Camille came out in a towel. Bright eyed. "Jim's home so no funny business." Billy's bed head lifted again. "Yes, you especially." She kissed Tommy on the nose and went over to kiss Billy awake. Pecking him obnoxiously until he tugged for her towel. "Hey!" Hands were smacked. "Showers, both of you. This room smells like sin." She lit another candle on her dresser.

"Is this like a one time thing? Cause I felt a connection." Tommy was up to pull his underwear on, eyes on Camille when she tossed her towel aside to dress.

"Wish in one hand, piss in the other. See which one fills first." Billy lit a cigarette. Scratched his nose with one thumb and got up, nude and groaning. "You sore?"

"Delightfully so." Camille pulled a dress over her body. "Shower. Dress. Breakfast. Don't wake the bear."

"You guys will still call me after this right?" Tommy pouted, getting up finally. "I can hit you up in Cali?"

"Stage five clinger already." Billy winked, blowing smoke. "You write us a few more letters, we might work something out. Camille?"

"You know," she shrugged, "I never did find an actual costume, we trashed the nurse getup. We could take a trip into the city. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

Tommy's face lit up and Billy groaned.

"He's so ungrateful."

"Maybe we can convince him it's fun." Camille slid her arms around Billy's shoulders. A smile before she kissed her whiny boyfriend. "Please Billy?" Lips on his jaw made him immediately weak.

"Fine, Tommy stays in the car."

"Hey!

"We'll crack the window for you, man." Billy shrugged, dodged a pillow before he stole the bathroom.

"You feel better, Tom?" Camille set her hands on her hips, beaming some.

"Frankly, I forgot my own name last night," Tommy only laughed, "so I'm peachy. I won't make this weird at all." He rocked upon his feet, shrugging and she smirked at him.

"No, not one bit." Camille kissed his cheek. "Behave in here. I'll start pancakes." She slid out, peering around before creeping to the steps.

"You think you can get anything past me, Camille?" A throat cleared. Shit. Mayday.

"Uh...?" She brought her shoulders up, turning. "Jim? No..."

"You think I wouldn't find out, kid?" He stood there, arms crossed at his bedroom.

"It...just happened, I'm sorry. Tommy came over and we-"

"You guys got into my whiskey. I know."

Teeth pressed, hazel eyes flicking. Oof.

"Oh. Yeah. Right...that." She touched her head. Heavens above, thank you. "Sorry, we stayed in my room. Finished it. It won't happen again."

"Just ask next time, I might surprise you." Jim passed her in uniform, ruffling her hair on the way. "I'd rather you drink here than do it anywhere else. I was a teen once."

"Oh, Jim, you're so right," Camille was all giggles, bounding into the kitchen to turn with pink cheeks, "nothing gets past you, Chief."

A shiny smile flashed.

"Camille, you have anymore towels? Billy stole all of them up here." Tommy waltzed to the top of the steps in his underwear, spotting Jim there. "Ugh! Morning, Chief, great uniform. Pressed." He covered himself even still. Both the dumbfounded Chief and Camille pointed to the closet. The teen snatched a towel and raced away.

"...Camille, why was he-?"

"Breakfast, Jim?" Camille tossed a green apple he struggled to catch awkwardly. Hurried up to kiss his cheek before she was pushing. "Have a great day at work. Catch the bad guys for me. Love you!"

Jim Hopper decided it was better to just leave the teens alone this morning.

"Assholes!" Camille called, earning two matching hyena cackles in response. "See if you can get me to play dress up now."

She sucked in her cheeks, hid clear amusement, and went into the kitchen to get it started because curiosity was just too good.

It was going to be a long day with these boys.

#billy hargrove #Tommy H #Billy Hargrove smut #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #SMUT #iconic filth #writing #Mine #request

89 notes · View notes

whereshiphappens · 4 years

Note

91 + lashton !!! 😏

anonymous asked:

Can you do 12 with Lashton? It's been too long since I read one about them 😭

Lashton (5sos) + 91. “You look beautiful in the moonlight.” + 12. “I think you’re forgetting something…”

Canon Universe, set somewhere in 2017, while working on the album Youngblood.

~1,642 words

A/N: Hi guys!! Ok, i literally gasped when i read number 91 and you both asked for lashton just one after the other and oh god the memories!! I hope you dont mind i put these two together, i had so much fun writing this thank you so much! honestly!!! i love you both thank you so so so much for this! i didnt proof read, so im very sorry for mistakes.

i hope you like it! let me know xx

“What are you doing?”

With a sudden jolt, Luke’s fingers slip from the strings of the guitar he’s holding, and there’s a gasped ‘Jesus!’ that escapes his lips as Ashton’s voice breaks the silence.

The older boy makes an amused sound as he steps out onto the balcony anyway, “sorry didn’t mean to startle you or anything.”

Luke shakes his head “‘S alright, I thought everyone was asleep already,” he justifies.

“Is that why you’re out here in the dark?” Ashton asks as he steps out to the large balcony out of the living room. It’s a temporary place they’re staying at - someone’s holiday house or some shit, for the couple of days they’re supposed to hang around for work.

It’s nice though, and although away from the confusion of the city this particular spot has a great view over its lights.

Luke looks up at Ashton from where he’s sitting on the floor, against the wall. “Didn’t want to wake anyone up,” Luke says.

Ashton turns to him, smiles a little “you’re lucky I didn’t lock you out by mistake.”

Luke lets out a chuckle, “eh, it’s not that cold out here and there’s a lot of floor to sleep on.” Ashton scoffs, as he moves to sit down next to Luke on the floor.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Liz would still absolutely kick my ass if I was the reason you caught a cold,” Ashton says, and it makes Luke laugh with his whole body, guitar to the side as the doubles over a little. And Ashton smiles.

Luke’s laugh, the genuine kind is so rare these days that Ashton feels his chest fill up with something warm anytime he hears it. It’s such a welcome change from the quiet, frustrated, sulking, hurt version of Luke he’s been living around these last weeks.

His laughs dies down slowly and Ashton leans into him, bumping him with his shoulder a little, asks “are you okay?” in a quiet, careful tone. He needs to ask.

Ashton knows that’s a dumb question because, no, Luke isn’t okay, Luke hasn’t been okay for the longest time after that girl entered his life, made a mess of it, and then left leaving everything burning in her wake. Ashton has been living with him for some time now, and he knows, he sees that Luke isn’t okay and that’s why he needs to ask.

Luke sighs, takes the guitar and leans his head back against the wall. Takes his time to answer, “Yeah, I just had this melody in my head…” he trails off, bites his lip as he stares into the horizon, “was trying to find more words for it.”

Ashton looks over at him “more?” incites him to share.

Luke gives him a smile, it’s soft and it’s sad. He looks down at his lap, “‘wish we had never met, wish I knew how to erase you’”

Ashton’s feels his heart sink. His eyes don’t leave Luke’s face, look all over his profile and this angers creeps up on him, this frustration and most of all this helplessness. It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair that he sees Luke like this everyday, that he’s right here next to him and somehow can’t help him, no matter what he does.

“Luke,” he whispers, his hand falls on Luke’s leg, squeezes a little in reassurance just above his knee, because obviously he knows who this is about. He wishes he could pluck her from Luke’s memory with his own hands.

Luke hums, scrunches up his face and shakes his head ever so slightly, telling Ashton to let it be, that he doesn’t really need to say anything, instead continues, “It doesn’t fit right into the melody, though,” Luke says instead, forcing this light tone that doesn’t match the tension in the air at all, “the metric of it isn’t right.”

Ashton turns back to look at Luke, and his chest is still aching and his hands are still itching to take all that pain away from his brain.

And then he figures Luke is already trying to do that - with mismatched words to a melody in his head and a guitar in his lap.

He swallows and takes a breath, says “what’s it sounding like?”

Luke shakes his head again, “I can’t make the words fit.”

“Just the melody then,” Ashton replies, voice soft and his hand lost still on Luke’s leg, “I’ll help you fit them.”

In silence, Luke turns his head searches Ashton’s face with his brow furrowed and he knows just then that this is about more than just this one song. He feels this wave of appreciation filling him up, a sudden rush of affection and gratitude and even guilt as he looks at Ashton and thinks about how he’s been keeping him from falling apart like the broken mess he feels for the longest time.

He starts humming the melody in his head softly, works out the chords to it and after a while of repeating it, Ashton hums with him as he looks up at the sky instead.

“Wish we’d never met…” Luke sings softly, fitting it to the melody after a little, trails off, and Ashton perks up a little, asks him to repeat it and he does.

“...wish I knew how to forget,” Ashton sings, and it fits. They look at each other and Luke smiles a little, again that soft but sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and he sings again.

“Now I wish we’d never met, cause you’re too hard to forget,” his fingers stop moving over the strings, Ashton’s eyes shoot up searching his face again and Luke bites his lip, closes his eyes as his breathing comes out ragged and unsteady.

“Luke,” Ashton starts, doesn’t really know what to say, turns his body towards Luke just as he other boy takes the guitar and puts it to the side with a mumbled fuck under his breath that Ashton catches anyway.

Luke brings his hands to his face, elbows supported on his bent knees and rubs at it for a second as if chasing his thoughts away and Ashton’s hand comes up to his arm this time around. “Hey man, it’s alright,” he whispers, trying to reassure him.

After a second, Luke takes his face off his hands to look up at the sky instead - Ashton can see, with a brow furrowed in worry, how shiny his eyes look.

Once again, that helplessness crawls under his skin and he wants to hold him.

“Why is everything so much more fucked at night?” Luke says instead, in this quiet, thoughtful tone of voice, still looking up at the stars, “why does everything ugly come out when it’s dark?”

The hand that Ashton had on his arm slides down to his hands instead, “I don’t think it’s ugly. It’s raw and that makes it scary,” he says in the same quiet voice, gives Luke’s hand another reassuring squeeze. Luke catches it just as he’s letting go.

“It’s still messy.” There’s something in Luke’s eyes as he turns his head to look at Ashton. The older boy holds his gaze and feels his heart crack a little bit more as he sees the hurt and heartbreak and anger in his eyes. “I’m messy and so fucked up.”

And that, right there, is the reason why the frustration and anger creeps up on Ashton from time to time from seeing Luke like this. How can someone deliberately do this to another person? Fuck their trust up so bad, throw them into this never ending cycle of heartbreak and anger and self loathing and insecurities and somehow never leave their mind?

How is it fair?

How come she gets to break Luke’s heart into a million pieces, get away with it, and still she’s all he can think about?

Ashton hates it. She’s the one putting these thoughts in his mind, she’s the reason he thinks he’s broken now, that all that’s left after her are the ugly incomplete parts. Ashton hates it so much.

“It’s real, Luke.” he says, instead, pulls at Luke’s hand and makes him turn his body a little bit as he perks up himself, detaching from the wall to face Luke completely. “It’s real, it means that you’re trying to heal. It’s not going to be dark forever. You’re not irreparably broken, you’re not messed up, and I still think you look beautiful, in the moonlight.”

They fall quiet. Luke is staring at Ashton, his mouth slightly open, like he wants to say something. Their hands are still clasped together and neither one is moving for a second, before Ashton with a pink colour rising to his cheeks breaks eye contact first and pulls to take his hands back. Luke holds on to them.

“No, wait,” he says suddenly. He can’t get hold of his thoughts, not really, but his body is moving forward, “wait,” he whispers again, soft, watching Ashton watch him come closer his chest rising and falling faster than before. That wave of affection washes over Luke once again and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, feels it overflowing and he can’t think properly.

“Luke,” Ashton whispers back, like a warning, so soft. It has no heat, not really, and Luke repeats “wait,” begging him to keep that thought on hold, to hold it for a few seconds to just… wait.

His lips touch Ashton’s slowly first. The tiniest of touches and Ashton’s eyes flutter shut as he exhales like he’s been holding a gasp in.

Then, in a sudden move, Ashton’s hands come to Luke’s neck and both boys move to crash against each other in a heated kiss, holding on to each other.

And it’s raw, it’s scary, it’s messy.

But it feels real.

#lashton #~drabble #fuck i love lashton so much .____.#Anonymous

11 notes · View notes

sagittariusboyfriend · 5 years

Text

im gonna do a "how i see the signs" as well!!

traditionally masculine aries: a force of creativity. oftentimes politically correct. very friendly and easy to talk to, but will shift in temper and energy depending on whether or not he is in focus. musically inclined.

traditionally feminine aries: also a force of creativity. a kind of jittery energy that cant really be contained. might go up and down in volume a lot depending on social context but is always bursting to have a conversation. very awake and with fire in her eyes. openminded and wouldnt hurt a fly. artistically inclined.

trad. masc taurus: ugh horrible. forcefully straight forward, blunt in an unsensitive way, not that good at picking up on social cues because he is convinced of his reality. might be pompous and pretentious, even bitter. the flip side of venusian traits - pretty uncharming. snarky. way better at group/professional relationships than personal relationships. assertive in the workplace and is doing his job better than anyone else could.

trad. fem taurus: intelligent and an intellectual. sensual, assertive, has such a presence that people are in awe most of the time. might be pretentious but its actually genuine and doesnt come off as a negative trait. powerful.

trad. masc gemini: ahh gemini. witty, quick, reactive. genuine, but in short bursts. his intuition is based upon HOW he feels at any given moment, however he has no clue WHAT he feels. scared of emotions. might have a tendency to gaslight. obviously prone to communication and loves learning from history, but has a hard time seeing the bigger picture over the details. small things make or break him... for a week or so. then its forgotten, until something stirs it up 6 months later, and his emotions are all over the place; its like they get tossed up in the air and love might stick to the ceiling and pride to the wall and fear to that person over there and he has no idea where to start to assemble. charmingly childish, prone to grumpyness. social artisan regardless of controversial values or not. needs constant intellectual stimuli.

trad. fem gemini: does not need romantic relationships to feel like a complete person! prefers friendships over love relationships, and can usually pick and choose between lovers if on a romantic whim. not always even interested in shacking up with anyone, makes a happy independent single household. that "fun" friend. self-confident, quick, witty, might have a sharp tongue. absolutely excels in social situations and knows everyone in one way or another, and everyone knows of her in one way or another. prone to ghosting people for weeks because she simply forgets to respond. loses focus easily. probably works in sales. might come across as not so complex to other people.

trad. masc cancer: sweet, charming in a wholesome way. in tune with himself. intuitive and embraces and encourages talking about feelings. oftentimes very politically correct. might live somewhat of a fake life in the sense that he IS a family man, but cant help himself from wanting dirty, promiscuous sex for many hours with many random people. giving and generous - in every sense. probably does a lot of philantrophy or volonteers.

trad. fem cancer: reserved. exudes feminine energy, almost to a point that she is not comfortable with herself. very very sweet, just wants everyone to be okay. will disappear and reappear in social circles and no one will know where she has been, but theres an air of mystery to it and no one dares to ask. might be some kind of red preistess lol.

trad. masc leo: loyal, as long as he doesnt feel in the slightest that he has been made a fool of. very strong integrity, but an integrity that is based on image. easily approached, the nicest person in the room and will include and respect everyone. generous and genuinely loves anyone who does not come off as harmful, and will give you his last money if he feels you need it more. works hard to feel safe. creative in what he thinks is a funky way, but its actually pretty mainstream.

trad. fem leo: also honest, hard-working and loyal. integrity is also important. creative in traditionally artistic ways, like photography or drawing. has a natural authority but is the sweetest person and will NOT abuse it. very passionate about peoples equal value, doesnt really have a flare for drama at all, just wants to be stimulated. when she loves she loves with every fiber of her being and being affirmed by her partner is imperative to self-worth.

trad. masc virgo: retains information like a motherfucker! man, what a chattery bloke. an earth sign ruled by mercury makes the most, i think, well-rounded PR personality. gemini can frick off when it comes to arguments because trad. masc virgo WILL shut you down. he serves facts and will probably be a tad manipulative about it, but will also admit to it. doesnt really wait to run you over or quip back, and then just stares at you blankly as if he is waiting for a response. witty and warm like a sun to his closest, will make jabs and is cold like granite to people he doesnt like. might however have some ego issues.

trad. fem virgo: pretty much exactly like trad. masc virgo, only retains a certain jovial energy and a strong sense of nurturing and dicipline. very funny! authoritarian.

trad. masc libra: might come across as very calm and even meek at times. everyone likes him, no one dislikes him, but he isnt a big personality. nice and sweet and always positive. comfortable in the background as the glue that keeps groups together. not very verbally communicative, but ingenious when he channels his communication through music or art. wants to be appreciated and very much is. pretty private, but everyones friend.

trad. fem libra: full of the good venusian traits. loves love, loves good food, loves yoga, loves pampering herself and others. the best hostess you have ever met. has a hard time deciding on things and will make herself suffer through qualms and trials for days for something that, for anyone else, could have been decided within a couple of minutes. somewhat of a perfectionist. spiritual. gets along with everyone. very into female impowerment.

trad. masc scorpio: kind of rude, but smart. he doesnt know where it comes from, but his subconscious intuition oftentimes leads him to hidden truths, whether they are pleasant or not. might be the jealous type. can just trust his gut and will know exactly what is going on behind closed doors. intelligent in a very abstract way. might come across as always ready to strike just in case someone thinks they are better than him in any way.

trad. fem scorpio: does not show emotion easily. is very intelligent and knows how to lead a conversation where she wants it. inquisitive, literally opens her entire mind for you when you sit down one-on-one. not for anyone to enter, but for her to use ON you, and will analyze your behaviors to the core and dig around in there. make you see things from perspectives youve never even thought about. this could be used for bad, but usually its used for your own good because insight and truth, darkness into light is what she is after. intense. low key passionate. a great person to brainstorm with. excudes sultryness, but almost like a perfume, an illusion, mostly because people become so mesmerized with her psychological skill that they immediately figure she is coming on to them. powerful socially. doesnt want nor need drama, the quest for truth just gets ruthless sometimes. loyal if you dont mess with her integrity. unlike leo, her integrity is based on conscious and subconscious intuition. not into practical things in general. does not care for high morals.

trad. masc sagittarius: good at everything on the first try but gets bored easily, even depressed when forced into routine. diplomacy is important, so is personal freedom. a charismatic positive personality that shines bright and has an almost gravitational pull because of it. wants to be valued for his brain and generosity of free, non-traditional love and insight. learning is everything. the bigger picture is everything; abstract concepts that you can translate and cross-reference to different doctrines and schools and philosophies. on an eternal quest for knowledge in all situations, be it emotional or practical. "why do things work like this?" he asks and is genuinely excited to hear your and everyone elses reasoning. his goal in life is to get to know himself through others and to find firey partners to come along for the ride and share the fun. loathes drama, wants everyone to be accepting. optimistic. might be the guy many fall in love with but who is completely oblivious to it because he has his mind set on other things.

trad. fem sagittarius: very much like trad. masc sagittarius. also fierce, takes no shit, the life of the party, everyones instant friend and a BIG personality. equality is very important!

trad. masc capricorn: attractive, cold, sexual. on the grind, because everything works against him either way so he might as well work hard and overcome. dry humor and a smug smile, vicious eyes. but tender and fragile once you get to know him. so used to being the underdog in his own head that he hasnt realized everyone sees him as the leader. doesnt realize people follow him. doesnt care. is just and stern. is not afraid of delivering harsh truths, can shut you down with a look.

trad. fem capricorn: leads with silence. not because of shyness at all, its just a demeanor that comes naturally. although may have been shy when young, simply because of society. exudes power, unknowingly or knowlingly. intimidating and stylish as fuck. eloquent. uniformity is a keyword for everything. has learnt the hard way. hilarious dark humor. prefers respect to spectacle. is a force to be reckoned with and gains pretty much everyones respect.

trad. masc aquarius: might have a hard time deciding about personal freedom, what is and what isnt. contemplative, insightful, the least traditional of traditional men. high EQ, might prefer polyamorous relationships, almost lacks jealousy. tall and slender. very much capable of seeing through all points of view and will speak rationally. rarely gets heated in discussion because he just doesnt see the point in being reactive.

trad. fem aquarius: a higher being. high octave intuition; the person with the highest EQ youve ever met in your life. new insights with every breath. does NOT care for tradition, usually only indulges in the bare minimum of tradition to move about unnoticed in society as the penultimate alien being they are. she has an entirely different kind of mind that seems so complex and effortless at the same time, and her knowledge and ingenuity could change the world - if it was only ready for it. finds solutions to everything. altruistic. optimistic. so wise and so rebelliously young at the same time. manages to care for everyone and everything all the time. truly wondrous.

trad. masc pisces: an academic. a sensitive guy. highly philosophical, in its scholastic form. makes a good teacher of abstract concepts. always searching within himself first before speaking. interested in history and the human mind. constantly battles with feelings of not being good enough but always comes out as more and better than expected. probably very introvert.

trad. fem pisces: witchy. dreamy. some kind of seer. needs quite some time to process emotional impacts. has a tendency to mimick peoples traits and quirks without knowing it. very emotional, highly sensitive. very impressionable. open to and thirsty for new ways to make sense of all these emotional impacts, but might change ideologies and/or trim her sails to the current wind. conflicting subconscious emotional forces at play all the time which leads to a lot of self-doubt. not necessarily introvert, but introspective.

#astrology #how i see the signs #zodiac signs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #obviously from my perspective and i actually know very few female geminis i realized????

303 notes · View notes