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rowdyluv · 9 months ago

Text

“He's been a bit of a jerk”

Summary: quinn suddenly ditches his childhood best friend on new years eve when they have spent every NYE together since they were 6. luke saves the night

Warnings: use of y/n and I think one or two uses of y/n/n, only brief mentions of quinn not actually active in fic but substantial to the plot, like has internal dialogue via italics, if I missed anything please let me know

Word Count: 1.8k

requested: yes - “luke pining after Quinn’s best friends and he finally gets the girl.”

Authors Note: edited as may 31, 2024 - if you read before May 31 the word count is now 800 more than it is was previously 🫣

part 2

On the frost-tipped grass, (Y/N) sat beneath a canopy of stars, her back propped against the rough bark of an old oak tree. A light dusting of snow had settled over the ground, transforming the world into a perfect winter wonderland. She shivered, not necessarily from the cold evening, but from the heart wrenching realization that tonight was supposed to go different. It was New Year's Eve, and every year since they were six, she and her childhood best friend, Quinn had celebrated together. But this year, he had up and ditched her last minute. Just like that. He gave her zero explanation and no apology. He had just vanished into the night with his middle brother, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. Which when he left for the NHL was pretty hard to top, yet he somehow managed to do it when he was only somewhere in the same town. The two barely get to see each other anymore as it is. He lives in Vancouver and she lives in Michigan. Quinn flies her out to a few games a season and of course she attends any Canucks vs Redwings games as well as Canucks vs Devils games. However the time the two have available with one another is so restricted at that time, she may as well be just another fan in the arena.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching through the frosted snow. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate was pressed into her hands. She looked up, her eyes falling on her best friend’s youngest brother, Luke, as he joined her. She briefly looked over his features, his cheeks were already flushed from the growing colder night, but the smile he gave her was warm and genuine.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he whispered as if they were amongst a huge crowd of people and not alone in an empty yard. His voice still highly audible over the silence of the night. "I came out here for a few reasons but one being because I…” Luke’s words ran out into the night. His right hand pulling off his beanie then he was slipping his fingers through his messy curls. A tell tale sign he was nervous about whatever he was about to say. “I wanted to apologize for what Quinn did to you tonight. He had no right to leave you like that. I don’t know what is going on with him and what would make him decide to leave behind the one person who has been consistent for him that isn’t family. The one person in his life that still sees him as Quinn and not as big shot Quinn..” Luke shoved his beanie back on and sighed. He had been looking up at the night sky watching the night clouds move uncovering the stars. “He has been a bit of a jerk here lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop him."

(Y/N) smiled weakly at the rambling boy next to her. Her gaze slowly drifting back up to the now clear sky and where the stars were twinkling like Christmas lights. "It's fine, really. I mean, it stung a lot at first, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged halfheartedly. "I'm just glad you were here tonight." The butterflies in Luke’s stomach flapped back to life and were going insane at her last statement. “Who knows Lukey. Maybe we can start our own tradition together this New Year’s.” Luke was watching her body languagefor any signs of a joke before speaking up. “I wouldn’t mind. It would teach Quinn to ditch someone as special as you.” (Y/N) slightly smiled, still looking up at the stars. “Special? No. Just me Luke.” (Y/N) argued, Luke didn’t want to have the silly argument back and forth. He knew just how special she is. Given the chance he would show her too. After all, a girl like her deserves to be treated, loved, and respected the way she treats, loves, and respects everyone else. (Y/N) was the girl has sought after ever since Luke stopped thinking he was supposed to marry his mom when he was older. Luke shook his head and groaned at her words. “One day (Y/N/N). Just you wait, one day you’ll know just how special you truly are.” He tells her before they fell into another comfortable silent state. His words confidently spilled out. (Y/N) turned her head opposite from Luke so he couldn’t see the true smile she was wearing across her face because of him. She also hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat as a result of his words.

The silence stretched between them, as she snuggled further into the blanket, (y/n) suddenly became aware that Luke was only wearing a thin jacket as he shivered. She glanced over at him, her eyes meeting his. "Here," she said, pulling the blanket off from around her shoulders. "You can have this. It's getting kind of cold out here." Luke hesitated for a moment, debating on offering to share the blanket. "No, really. It's fine. I'm warm enough." She shot him a glare. “Luke Warren Hughes. I just saw you shiver.” Her tone, at best, was barely strict. He held eye contact waiting for her to continue, he could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “If you won’t take it for yourself, we will share it.” She says wrapping it around him and snuggling into his side. Luke was trying his best to calm the butterflies and his racing heart. While also fighting the mental battle on if he should shoot his shot at midnight.

(Y/N) is the girl I have wanted for years now. She is right here. Cuddling into my side, a couple moves and I could easily be her new year’s kiss. If she hates it? I just play it off as a friendly new year’s kiss. Her and Quinn have been each other’s midnight kiss before, I can play it off as if I’m filling his shoes if she questions me and she’s angry. I can do this. I can do this. I think I can do this?

As midnight was quickly approaching the air was thick with anticipation between the both of them and more people were gathering outside.

The countdowns echoed throughout the night, each one louder than the last.

Fireworks lit up the sky, casting a multitude of colors over everyone. The fireworks also casting iridescent colors across the blanket of snow on the ground. Making a beautiful picturesque scene.

Luke decided it was definitely now or never. He may not have done it 12am but right now under the colorful display of the many fireworks was perfect. He smiled down at (Y/N), feeling a warmth spread through his chest, for the first time the butterflies in his stomach calmed. He leaned in, his breath fanning her cheek. "Happy New Year, (Y/n)." She felt his lips brush against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. That is when he froze up. Her reaction to his lips barely touching her sent his heart racing. He was scared she was going to send him flying into the snow. Her best friend’s baby brother’s lips just touched her. But she didn’t move. She was waiting? Luke quickly finished his well wishes to her before she snapped out of it, "I hope this year brings you everything you wish for." Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled back, their gazes locked.

“Do it Luke. Her eyes are basically screaming, begging for you to.” why do you have to be in my head now jack dear god please shut up.

In a seconds time he was leaning back in, his left hand making its way softly to the back of her head. His fingers interlacing in her hair. (Y/N)’s breaths were slow and deep awaiting Luke’s next move. “Tell me if this isn’t something you want.” Luke swallows down the anxiety he was feeling. Mentally silencing the jack he hears in his head telling him to go for it. “Because once I do this once.. I’m going to want to do this again and again. Everyday for the next foreseeable future.” Luke’s voice was trembling in want, desire, need. All of his feelings rushing to the forefront of his mind. “Shut up and kiss me Luke.” (Y/N) sighed grasping his face pulling him to her.

As their lips touched, the grand finale of the fireworks show was set off. The energy of the grand finale matching the energy sparking off the two of them. Luke and (y/n)’s kiss was hot enough to melt the snow underneath them. The way their mouths moved in perfect harmony. The small nips Luke made against her bottom lip as he pulled away. It left them both wanting more, needing more.

“Remind me to thank my brother for being an ass.” Luke mumbles against her lips before getting lost in another languid kiss. “Lukey let’s go home. It’s the new year, I’m cold and I also want to thank Quinn, because now I know who the better kisser is...well I’ve not kissed Jack.” She pauses and makes a playful gagging noise. “And because it finally got you to make a move.” Luke’s face went more red than it already was where it was tinged from the cold. “That..what?” He was baffled by her admittance . “I had my assumptions. I’m just happy I wasn’t wrong. Now let’s goooo. I wanna go get in bed and get warm.” (Y/N) sent a wink his way.

She was hinting towards cuddling. But with how fast Luke was grabbing up the blankets that they had been sitting on and were wrapped up in, before grabbing her hand and heading to the car…She is pretty sure his mind went a different direction.

“Quinn now owes me $10, he said you didn’t like me.” (Y/N) says once they were in the car and headed down the road. “You two had a bet on if I had a crush on you or not?” Luke laughed while asking. “No we had a bet on if you even liked me as a person. Because you avoided me. He’s going to be so shocked to know that you like-like me.” She clarifies with a giggle when she says ‘like-like’. Luke rolls his eyes at the thought of his older brother being naive enough to believe he didn’t like his best friend. “So back to what you said earlier tonight…Same thing and same place next new year’s?” Luke asks her. She nods with a smile. “New tradition, with you. Starting this year.” (Y/N) confirms with a nod. “Only maybe we hang out inside until right before midnight.” She adds grabbing for Luke’s hand to wrap both of her freezing ones around. The two sat in a comfortable silence stealing quick glances, with smiles plastered across their faces, and glimmers in their eyes the rest of the way to the Hughes home.

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metaphorfordeath · 1 month ago

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Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again.

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it.

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon.

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I?

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand.

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood.

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong.

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition.

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?”

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.”

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?”

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.”

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me.

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.”

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script.

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling?

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.”

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world.

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby.

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says.

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it.

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say.

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X.

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

#writing #original fiction #writeblr #short story #mine #the magazine that originally published this story has gone dark but since this is no longer under exclusivity i am pleased to share it here #i'm still pretty proud of this one

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thevalkyriesshadow · 4 months ago

Text

@azrielappreciationweek

Day Seven: Free Day

Knot Just Friends

"Azriel had never rushed over to a female’s house faster. When his shadow, who had taken a liking to staying at Gwyn's, dropped a note on his lap, he was out the door in mere seconds. Are you in Velaris? I need your help. With what? He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but he’d drop anything to go see Gwyn." A little omegaverse written for Azriel Appreciation Week 2024 Day Seven: Free Day!

Read it here on ao3 or under the cut!

NSFW/Words: 3,804

Azriel had never rushed over to a female’s house faster. When his shadow, who had taken a liking to staying at Gwyn's, dropped a note on his lap, he was out the door in mere seconds.

Are you in Velaris? I need your help.

With what? He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but he’d drop anything to go see Gwyn. She was his best friend. His confidante. He’d even brace the snow storm they were expecting that night. It was predicted to be a brutal one with high winds and at least three feet of snow. Still, he’d fly around the mountain to see her.

Not able to winnow through the shadows due to the protective shield of magic Rhys put up, Azriel took to the skies. Wishing for a brief moment he would’ve thought to at least grab a jacket, but no time to turn back, not when Gwyn needed him. Instead he braced the frigid cold in nothing but cotton pants and a sweater.

It was a quick flight, less than ten minutes, but the air was arctic and he was nearly frozen to the bones by the time he landed on her front porch.

Her scent hit him like a ton of bricks warming him against the cold. Sweet willow and a cozy musk dancing in the winter air. He clenched his fists and knocked on her door.

It opened only a moment later. Gwyn's bright copper hair fell in curtains framing her freckled face, which at the moment looked a bit pale and tired. Her bright teal eyes were harried as she greeted him.

“Az! Hey – huge favor to ask you.” She didn’t open the door fully for him, blocking most of her body, but he could see the light blue of her cotton loungewear.

“It’s why I’m here,” he replied, coolly. “What do you need?”

“My heat is due –”

Azriel stilled. Was she about to ask him to…help her…with her heat?

His stomach and chest did all sorts of somersaults and twists but then she said, “-- And I was so busy I didn’t get groceries and I only just got back from a mission and don’t have time to go out and get any. I really don’t want to go into heat in public, you know?” She huffed a breathy laugh and tucked her hair behind her pointed ear.

Azriel should expect to feel relieved that she wasn’t asking him to help her during her heat, but…

“Oh – yeah of course. What do you need?” He schooled his features, trying not to show the twang of disappointment he felt.

Gwyn produced a list containing pretty standard heat needs such as food and medicinal teas.

“Thanks, Az. I, um –” Her lips parted as she held his gaze and she said, “-- I appreciate it.” She swallowed hard and pressed her lips together, her nose scrunching. Like she was trying not to take in too much of his scent.

“Anytime,” He said with a smile. Then he was off.

When he returned, Gwyn was much the same, but when she opened the door this time it was with determination. “Az – I normally wouldn't do this, but –” She paused, looking him up and down. Her fingers brushed his as she took the bag from his hand and asked, “Would you help me – with one other thing?”

Az swallowed, “What's that?”

“Usually I'd just use a – uh-toy-but –”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, her brow scrunching as she blurted out, “You just smell so nice and I was wondering if you'd help me…with my heat?” Her voice cracked on the word ‘heat’.

Azriel blinked. He heard her, but he had to be sure…“What?” He asked.

Gwyn took a breath, “Will you help me through my heat?”

“Are – are you sure?” Gwyn has surprised Azriel many times before, but this? Helping an omega through their heat was a big task. Huge task. Gwyn would be wholly dependent on Az for much of it. He’d be bringing her food and water, both simple tasks, but he’d also be cleaning her up, intimately. Mopping sweat from her brow and slick from between her legs. Then of course there was the knotting…how she ever did it alone in the first place was beyond him.

She nodded, “More sure than I've ever been. I was going to ask when you first came, but I admit…my nerves got the best of me, but – I need this…I need you.”

The door opened wider as she stepped aside, inviting him in.

He didn't hesitate. He knew when Gwyn was sure of something. As sure as the day she signed up for Valkyrie training, asked for dagger lessons, left the library to see Emerie and Nesta. Sure as all the decisions she made to get her and her sisters to the top of Ramiel. And every other decision since.

Inside her cottage smelled even more like her. It overwhelmed all his senses and settled deep in his bones as he gazed around her living space. Gwyn liked a modge podge of colors, not necessarily sticking to one color theme, but in a way that they didn’t clash. The pops of color offset the deep mahogany of her towering bookshelves. There were little bits of Gwyn everywhere he looked as Gwyn showed him around. Little stacks of books were scattered across tables and counters. He spied a couple spools of white ribbon on one shelf and a basket of bracelet making supplies.

It was all so Gwyn – and he was about to spend the next few days here with her helping her through her heat. Something that was an intimate, private thing for an omega.

He'd never helped an omega through their heart before and feeling unsure of what to do next he turned to Gwyn who's cheeks were flushed and her eyes roaming over him with…desire?

He cleared his throat and asked, “What do you need from me first?”

Gwyn’s gaze quickly flicked up to his as if she was a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

She wiped her brow and said, “Um…well I never finished my nest and –” she took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes as she rested her hand against her stomach, “And once we do that, I just need to curl up and be tended to…”

Curl up and tend to Gwyn?

His insides did flip flops in the best way possible.

He followed Gwyn to her nest in a spare room with low lighting and white, billowy curtains. This room was small and simple compared to the rest of the house. There was a small bookshelf and a bedside table next to a large circular bed that even he could fit in, wings and all. The mattress sat cupped in the gently swooping shape of the bed.

Gwyn turned and handed him a pile of blankets, “This is my nesting room. I like to keep it separate because it’s just easier to clean afterwards –” she blushed as Azriel took the blankets from her, their fingers brushing together.

“I can help you clean afterwards too,” Az said, approaching this like it was a normal everyday occurrence.

Gwyn only blushed deeper and thanked him. “Fair warning, it can get pretty messy.”

It was Azriel’s turn for his face to heat. His cock twitched as he imagined the amount of slick she’d produce. How he’d be tending to it…covered in it himself…

He chuckled and said, “Noted. What else do I need to know?” If he was going to do this for Gwyn, he was going to be thorough and thoughtful and respectful. He needed to know everything. She smiled up at him and told him everything he needed to know.

And Gwyn did not hold back.

As they continued setting up her nest she explained, “Well, I sleep a lot and when I’m not sleeping I’m rubbing up against everything. I don’t like to eat meat during my heat, just eggs – that bacon in the ice box is for after so don’t even think about cooking it –” Azriel held his hands up. He wouldn’t dream of it. Gwyn continued by adding, “You can certainly help yourself to the food too, of course. You’ll probably have more of an appetite than me anyway. Oh and I’m drinking the tea so you won’t have to worry about, you know – cuming in me…”

Gwyn went on, describing what her normal heat day looks like when she’s tending to herself. It was a lot of sleeping or knotting herself with a toy, and by the way she would describe it, it would be quite the process. For one, omegas are so out of it when they’re truly into their heat that doing anything, even lifting a finger, was an arduous task. Imagining Gwyn struggling to be comfortable during hers made him bristle.

She consented to being knotted, an electric currant of excitement shot through him as she described what she usually liked, showing him her toys. Az was on a whole other level of pure bliss. What surprised him most was how open and honest Gwyn was being. How detailed she was being. When he woke up this morning, he didn’t think he’d learn how Gwyn liked her clit to be touched while she was knotted.

Despite the subject of their conversation for the better half of an hour, Azriel and Gwyn worked around one another as if they were talking about the weather in the training ring. It was easy – sexy, but easy.

“I think you need one more blanket,” Az joked as he added the tenth blanket to the pile.

Gwyn tilted her head, “You think? I might have one or two more somewhere…” she trailed off, wiping her brow again and leaning on the bed post for support.

Azriel was at her side instantly. “Why don't you lay down. I'll fetch you more pillows,” he offered. Gwyn leaned into him, nuzzling her face into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders in response and she melted into him. “I'm glad you're here, Shadowsinger. Thank you.”

Az smiled and said, “I'm glad I could be here for you.” He stroked her hair, the silkiness of it like cool spring water against his scarred hands.

He really should force her to lie down, but having her in his arms…having her scent envelop him, mixing with his…her glands right there where he could lick and bite and –

Wait. This is Gwyn. His friend…he couldn't – shouldn't –

But…

Gods he wanted to…

Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him down to her, keeping them locked together. Azriel tried not to inhale as the heavy scent of her slick drifted up to meet him.

Gods she smelled incredible. Intoxicating.

“Az…” She breathed. A small moan escaped her lips, her hips rocked into his. “I need you.”

He tightened his grip, “I'm here.” Gently, he lifted her in his arms and cradled her to his chest, savoring the feel of her in his arms before placing her in her nest. He had every intention of grabbing more pillows, but her fingers curled into his shirt, keeping him in her orbit.

“Stay,” she said with a whimper. Her voice strained as she shivered and curled in on herself.

Az reached for a towel Gwyn had set up on a table next to her nest and patted her forehead and neck. Her scent was everywhere, driving him mad.

He knew when he agreed to help her, that there was a possibility of him succumbing to the pull of her scent. It did, after all, drive him crazy outside of her heat. But now?

Now it felt like fate. Like there was nowhere else he was supposed to be, than with her.

Brushing back her hair and patting the sweat from her skin, Azriel hummed to her, soothing her through the hormonal fever that raged through her. She squirmed and moved in her blankets, cuddling in closer and closer to him until she was practically in his lap. Her arms around his middle, her flowing copper hair fanned around his legs as her head rested in his lap. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the cramps.

She didn't speak much. The room was filled with her whining and groans as she moved into him. Eventually, she started pawing and pulling at her clothes in her heat-induced haze until Azriel couldn't watch her struggle anymore.

He stopped her from trying to pull her shirt down rather than up. “I'm going to help you, okay?” She let out a long, low moan and lifted her arms, allowing him to slide her shirt off. Her pants came off next, then her socks and undergarments until she was lying in a panting tangle of naked limbs in his arms. Her skin was flushed pink from the heat.

Azriel recalled her instructions from earlier. She liked to be stroked, soothed. So he did just that. With one flat hand against her back he slid down then up in big swooping circles. His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking against her brow. It was the most intimate he’d ever been with Gwyn, and it all happened so fast, so suddenly he didn’t have enough time to process that sudden change in him.

A primal urge to bite to mark surged in him. He took a deep breath in, thinking it would quell the urge, but it only fuelled it as he breathed in the scent of her pungent slick, unmasked by clothing.

Gwyn rose up on her knees, the abrupt movement causing Az to jump slightly. Her glazed teal eyes found his gaze and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn't stop his gaze from sliding down down down…

Gwyn didn't speak as she crawled into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. Her hands slid across the soft fabric of his shirt, caressing his abs and chest, until her fingers were curling in the hair at the base of his neck. His scent permeated the air and Gwyn purred in response.

She stared at his mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick her own pink lips before her gaze flicked up to his, “Can you…” She sighed, her body rolling against his, “Can you knot me? I need it, Az…I need you.”

Az's heart raced. His cock, already hard and straining against his pants, throbbed. His knot already swelling.

“I know you consented before, but are you sure?” He asked. She nodded, her lips brushing dangerously close to his. His breath hitched. “Things might not be the same between us…if I do. Gwyn –” his hands roamed across her bare back, coaxing a low moan from her, “I don't know if I can stay away – resist you – if we, if I knot you.”

Gwyn pressed closer. Her breath tickled his cheek as she whispered against his skin, “I want you, Az. I always have. Please –” her hips rolled against his, her nails dug into his skin. “Please.”

She was desperate, panting. Her eyes were wild with want. With need. A growl issued deep in his throat, his stomach clenched, and his cock throbbed as his hands roamed lower.

“I can touch you?”

“Please do – Everywhere,” She mewled.

His hands slid down to cupped her ass, “Can I kiss you?”

She whined and brought her lips to his, “Az, I want you to knot me. Of course you can kiss me.”

He huffed a laugh and tipped his chin up. For so long he wanted to do this. Wanted to touch her, caress her…kiss her.

For so long he wanted to show her how he could love her, beyond their friendship.

He savored the still moment before their lips touched – sensed the shift between them.

And when they kissed, everything aligned. Every out of place sensation, every feeling of incompleteness, was replaced with an all encompassing warmth.

Their lips moved together, slowly. Exploring. Tasting. Learning. Even as Gwyn’s hands touched every inch of him they could, teasing him. Even as he hummed deep in his chest with contentment. Even though they were hungry for each other. They took their time.

Fire burned through him as he let Gwyn set the pace. Let her decide when she would run her tongue along his lips, begging for access. He let her decide when their tongues would dance. When she'd bite his lip and suck on it.

And when she pawed at his shirt, pulling it off, he let her. He let her explore his pecks, her fingers causing a cascade of goosebumps to form across his skin.

When she bowed her head, nuzzling her neck to his. He let her. Allowing their scent glands to rub and mingle together. Azriel hugged her close as she writhed against him, needing her touch. Her scent. He moaned her name and she his, their bodies and voices begging for each other.

Gwyn let out a rolling growl. “Now Az…I need your knot now.”

He pressed his lips to her neck and kissed her freckled skin as he heeded her command.

With a tight embrace he rolled them over, his hips settled against her dripping, bare cunt. Her slick coated her thighs and soaked through his pants before he pushed them off and tossed them to the side.

He knelt before her as her legs fell open for him. Her scent hit him fully, both of them bare and needy for each other.

“Az…” she breathed.

As if his name on her lips was a command, he bent down and without hesitation dragged his tongue up her thigh, lapping up her slick.

Her taste was more divine than her smell and when his mouth came to kiss her slick folds, her sounds were his downfall. Moans and whimpers. Sighs and gasps. All of them mixed together in a lewd cacophony as he teased and licked, sucked and devoured. She had told him she liked to be thoroughly seen to. To Az that meant licking her dripping cunt until she was pushing her sex into his face, forcing his tongue to lap further inside her. To him, thoroughly seeing to Gwyn would mean circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, over and over and over and…

He stopped, moments before he brought her over the edge and came to hover over her, his lips wet with her, his tongue tingling with her taste as he reached down and lined the tip of his pulsing cock to her entrance. Her legs spread further as her hips reached for him.

Gods he didn’t realize how much he wanted her. How his need for her was more overwhelming than anything he’d ever felt before.

Azriel savored the moment. Committed every part of his body that touched hers to memory. He never wanted to forget the way her teal eyes glowed with desire, the way her body moved for him. The way she touched him.

He never wanted to forget the way she fit around him as he sank into her.

Oh gods.

Gwyn arched into him, angling her hips to take more as her mouth fell open in a silent cry.

He pushed in further as an animalistic urge to claim came over him.

“Look at you,” he said, the words and their tone taking him by surprise. His voice was not his own. It was gruff, and darker. Deeper. Filled with primal desire. “How much of me can you take, Priestess?”

Gwyn groaned and pushed her hips into him with determination, proving she could take more. “All of you,” she replied. Her heels dug into his lower back pulling his hips into hers until his knot was pushing against her cunt that pooled with slick.

His fingers curled into the blankets beneath them. Her nails scratched at his back.

Gwyn let out a shuttering gasp as he rolled his hips, pushing the slight swell of him into her, rutting against her until she was completely filled.

Then he pulled out slowly, feeling every sensation of her around him as he did so.

In and out. Slowly. Coaxing. Savoring.

Fuck every sensation was perfect. Every sound she made. Every nail mark she left behind. Perfect.

Heat coiled hotter and stronger with every stroke of his cock, and whimper that fell from her lips.

“Harder,” she moaned.

And he obliged her. Immediately. His hips snapping faster and quicker into her and her hips started moving, rocking into him. Her face quickly fell into a twist of pleasure and pain, her whines long and low.

“Yes Gwyn…so beautiful,” he whispered before placing kisses along her neck. He breathed in her scent, nuzzling his face into the silky freckled skin of her neck. Then his mouth was on her, bruising – his tongue soothing and tasting as their bodies slapped together, slick dripping down Gwyn’s thighs as he filled her with his growing knot over and over –

Her walls tightened just as he rocked into her one more time, his knot swelling to its fullest. It pressed against her squeezing walls as it popped into place inside her, drawing guttural roars from both of them. Their orgasms cresting and exploding together as he knotted her. Tied to her forever. Bonded in a split, cosmic explosion of a second.

His body quaked as his seed spilled into her.

Gwyn gasped out loudly, her cries echoing around the room, “Azriel…Azriel…unngghh,” she stuttered against him, her walls tugging at his knot. “Fuck…Az…” Her orgasms rolled, one after the other. And he felt every sweet swell and push of her against his cock…his knot, until finally she stilled, hugging him close, their bodies sticky with sweat.

Gwyn was a song, a beautiful melody he could listen to for hours. And he never wanted this music to end.

Az settled against her, his elbows on either side of her head. He caressed her cheeks and temples with his fingers and kissed her gently on the mouth as they waited for the swelling in his knot to go down.

He rested his forehead on hers and listened to the sound of her breathing. From its quick rising and falling, her chest pressing against his, to the slow rhythmic sounds of her falling asleep. After he was able to pull his cock out, he wrapped his body around hers, covering them in her blankets.

Azriel fell asleep too with his chest to Gwyn’s back, their fingers entwined together. His face buried in her hair, breathing her scent.

He spent her whole heat with her. Tending to her, feeding her. Knotting her.

As expected, it changed some things between them. No longer were they just friends. They were now bonded by forces greater than themselves.

A mated pair that started out as just friends.

#azriel #azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel smut #azriel fanfiction #gwynriel #gwynriel smut #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar omegaverse #az x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyneth berdara

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sirenpearldust · 3 months ago

Text

Cherry

Pair: Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 2.443

Warnings: suggestive, reader is a dancer, stage name is cherry

The warm air enveloped him the moment he stepped inside, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside.

He brushed the snow from his white hair with a quick motion, then shrugged off his black jacket, letting it hang heavily in his big hands.

The bar was sparsely occupied, the low murmur of business chatter filling the air.

In a shadowed corner sat Sukuna with Choso. The two were deep in conversation, their heads inclined toward each other as they shared a drink and pointed on some papers.

The establishment exuded an air of exclusivity and lavishness, clearly designed for the elite, like him.

Black and gold accents dominated the space, from the sleek, polished surfaces to the intricate embellishments on the walls, radiating a sense of power and wealth.

He approached the bartender and ordered a Cherry Coke on ice, specifying exactly two ice cubes.

The order carried a hidden message. It was his way of asking for her, Cherry, alone, for the next two hours.

The bartender acknowledged the request with a subtle nod.

Gojo was utterly infatuated with Cherry, he could not be with any other women sin ce he had met her.His infatuation with her was undeniable, an obsession that had consumed him.

It was like she had enchanted him.

The bartender handed him his drink without a word, their silent understanding as familiar as the routine itself.

Drink in hand, he followed the same path he took every Thursday, winding through the dimly lit corridors to see her - the one he couldn’t stay away from.

He took a slow sip of the coke, its sweetness a perfect mirror of her essence, a taste so familiar it felt like she lingered on his lips.

Night after night, she haunted his dreams, she was someone he could never claim as his own. It wasn’t for lack of trying - he had pursued her relentlessly, but she remained just out of reach, a bittersweet longing.

He didn’t know her real name, nor had he ever seen her face. It was always concealed beneath a soft face cloth she used to keep her features hidden. The mystery only deepened his infatuation.

Her anonymity was intoxicating.

The distance between them was unconquerable, and he knew, deep down, that she was never meant to be his. Yet, that knowledge did nothing to quell the fire in his heart - it only lit a flame with hopeless yearning.

In front of her door, dark red velvet curtains hung, their rich color contrasting against the gold pearl strings that framed the entrance.

Upon entering the room, sultry music washed over him, its soft rhythm tugging at his senses.

The room was dim, bathed in soft, muted red light, with the familiar scent of her prada paradoxe perfume lingering in the air.

His eyes immediately found her, hanging on her pole. She hung there like a vision, her figure shrouded in a flowing black cloth.

He watched her for a while, the way she twisted and turned, the way her body moved so elegantly, fluid like water, she made it all seem so effortlessly.

After another graceful spin, her eyes met his - icy blue and piercing ones.

She held his gaze as she slid down the pole, the intensity between them palpable.

Sweat glistened on her glitter shimmering skin, a single bead trailing down her neck before she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Her eyes smiled at him, teasing and knowing.

His eyes followed her like a predator, ready to pounce, his desire radiating from him like heat.

He settled himself on the plush velvet sofa, its softness enveloping him as he leaned back, swirling the drink lazily in his hand, before he took another sip.

Just like the room, her body was adorned with lavishness.

Gold jewelry draped elegantly from her neck, down her chest around her waist, cascading down to accentuate her figure.

Her shoes shimmered and the delicate bracelets on her wrists chimed softly with each step she took, their sound a hypnotic rhythm.

Everything about this moment was expensive, the hours he had to pay for just to be near her. But to him, she was worth it - every second, every cost.

She walked towards him slowly before settling onto his lap, her body pressed against his with a warmth that sent a shiver through him.

She slung her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tracing down his hard chest.

He inhaled deeply, her scent intoxicating, and with a subtle nudge, his lips brushed against her neck as she shuddered.

She whispered softly against his lips, “Hello, love”.

“Hi.”

He leaned back further, pulling her gently into his body, his hands finding her round hips as he caressed the soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Her hands drifted from his chest, gliding up to his shoulders, where she began to massage them with a slow, deliberate pressure. As her fingers worked their magic, he couldn’t help but groan in relief, the tension melting away under her touch.

He tensed slightly, as if a thought had just crossed his mind. Then, with a soft whine, he murmured, “Why do you only work on Thursdays?”

The question had been nagging at him for a while.

“Work and University,” she replied simply.

“You know I can take care of you.”

“Satoru, we’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone soft but firm.

“Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to like sexually, but please, just let me see you more than once a week.”

“Satoru,” she whispered, her fingers gently playing with his hair.

“I can’t,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. Silence followed for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“Are you actually allowed to keep the tips I give you?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent as his hands wandered down her back. She looked away, her body slightly tensed, as if the question had struck a nerve.

Her silence spoke volumes.

“Look at me, please,” he murmured, his hand gently cupping her chin, guiding her face to meet his. As their eyes locked, there was a silent intensity between them, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“I’m not allowed to keep everything,” she sighed in frustration, her eyes lowering as she spoke. “I still have to give them a cut.”

His lip darted out, licking his lips as his jaw clenched.

Then, a smile twisted on his face - one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His baby blue eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something more intense, a silent promise that hinted at something far more dangerous beneath the surface.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice low and steady.

“I gave you my number for a reason, text me when something like this happens again,” his tone left no room for argument.

“Satoru, they’ll fire me if you complain,” she said, her voice tinged with slight anger.

“I might make them money, but I’m not one of their most precious dancers.”

He grinned, the edge in his smile sharp and confident as he spoke. “So, you do have a reason to let me take care of you, then.”

His words both a statement and a challenge, his gaze intense as he leaned in, making it clear he wasn’t just offering help - he was taking control of the situation.

He liked seeing her in need of help, his damsel in distress.

She tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her hips tightened, pressing her firmly against him. His hold was gentle yet firm, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine.

“I need this job and the money. I like you, but don’t make me regret that now.”

Her eyes held his, steady and resolute.

He liked the way she looked when she was angry at him - a different expression than he was used to. Even though her face was mostly hidden by the face cloth, he could see it in her eyes, the fiery defiance that stood in stark contrast to her usual sensual or kind demeanor.

It was a side of her he rarely saw, and it intrigued him, he wanted more.

“How much do you need?” he asked, his tone calm but direct.

“What?” she replied, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“I asked,” he repeated, his baby-blue eyes fixed on hers, “ how much do you need.”

“None of your business, Gojo,” she bit out, her tone sharp and laced with frustration. She was already fed up with the entire situation, her patience wearing thin.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing.

“So, it’s Gojo now?” he asked, his hands wandered down her body, gripping her with a firm possessiveness before he pushed her gently, guiding her movements with a mix of control and desire.

She stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, pushing lightly as she met his gaze.

“Stop,” she said, her voice steady and strong.

He released his grip, letting his hands fall next to their bodies.

“Do you hate me, or is it just this?”

“Both,” she replied, her voice steady but laced with frustration.

“You don’t respect me, and you use me.” Her words were sharp, cutting through the tension between them as she made her feelings clear, her gaze unwavering as she stood her ground.

“I’m not a toy, Gojo,” she said firmly, her voice cold but filled with conviction. She looked at him, her eyes not backing down, making it clear that she would not be treated as something less than human.

“While it is my job to entertain you, you’ve crossed multiple lines,” she continued, her voice steady but sharp. The weight of her words lingered in the air, a clear boundary being set as she faced him, unflinching.

“Why do you not accept my help?” he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and frustration.

She closed her eyes in frustration, letting out a soft sigh. She needed to take control of the situation.

“Satoru,” she whispered, leaning forward while.

“It’s not about that. I just like dancing.” She softly placed her hand over his eyes, closing them.

He trusted her completely, his breath steady as he heard the soft rustling around them.

Then, he felt her lips against his cheek, warm and gentle, followed by the delicate tickle of her hair against his skin.

His breath hitched as her kisses slowly drifted downward, pressing softly against his neck. Each gentle touch sent a shiver through him, the warmth of her lips against his skin making his pulse quicken.

His hands rose next to her body, hovering but not touching. He whimpered, his voice shaky, “Can I please hold you?”

She nodded, giving him permission. His hands stayed gently on her waist, hesitant, as if afraid he might do something wrong again.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I swear I respect you, I just want to help you and get to know you for real.”

His voice filled with genuine remorse, as if the weight of his actions was finally sinking in.

He was afraid, worried that he had pushed her too far when she got angry. While he liked the way she ordered him around, there was a part of him that still wanted her to talk to him, to open up.

He feared she might not want to see him again. All he wanted was to make things right between them.

”Shh,” she whispered against his lips, her breath warm. He hesitated for a moment before he chased her lips, their kiss deepening as they moved together.

She moaned softly, and in an instant, he took her, laying her down on the couch. His body positioned between her legs, the weight of him just enough to keep her close, as her hand rested lightly on his eyes, a gesture of both his trust and surrender.

”Cherry, please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. He didn’t know exactly what he was begging for, but the need for her was too much.

She stopped kissing him, her left hand gently resting on his chest as she pulled away slightly.

“Satoru, we can’t go any further, I also need to cover my face before they might notice.” There was a sense of urgency in her voice, mixed with regret, as she reminded him and herself of the boundaries they had to maintain. She liked his lips on hers, the way he begged and yearned for her. It made her feel special, wanted.

He nodded, breathless, his voice low. “I’ll close my eyes. I won’t look, I promise.”

She laughed softly, knowing full well that he definitely would. He chuckled along with her, his flush red lips stretched into a smile.

There was a soft rustle before she removed her hand from his eyes. He opened them slowly, his gaze meeting hers. Her face was covered again, but even so, she looked so beautiful beneath him.

He plopped onto her, and she let out a frustrated huff before smacking him upside the head. “I told you to stop doing that!” she scolded, her voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

He winced, rubbing his head as he whined, “Ow, that hurt!” He couldn’t help the pout that formed on his lips as he glanced up at her, hoping for a little sympathy. But he knew they’ve had the same argument every time he did that, there was no use.

“Don’t look at me like it ain’t your fault,” she said, pulling a blanket over them both. “You’re huge and heavy.”

As he tried to protest, she reached up and tugged his ear, scolding him lightly.

“I told you to stop.”

“Cherry,” he said, feigning offense, “that’s abuse!”

“You act like you don’t like it, you masochist.”

She smirked, gently playing with his hair again, knowing it would lull him to sleep.

His eyes fluttered slightly, a contented sigh escaping him as he relaxed under her touch.

“Sleep, Satoru, you’ve had a long day,” she murmured softly.

Before she knew it, he was lightly snoring, his arms holding her body tight, afraid she would disappear.

The steady rhythm of his heart against her was calming, and she couldn’t help but smile, feeling the his warm body against hers as he drifted off to sleep.

Kissing his head she also closed her eyes.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @lilah-asteria

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n

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wizzdot · 7 months ago

Text

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch7

Description: PROGRESS IS MADE!!! Whoop!!! Anyway, Gaz and Soap are briefly sad, little bit more Cap in this one - he is starting to warm up and,as the pack alpha, this is important!! Laika is still very hard on herself, but I think Laswell gives her some words of wisdom. And guess who the pilot is that John stands and chats to the entire heli ride. No other than big Nikolai 🫶🏼 he will feature properly soon but enjoy his little peep into the story in this chapter.

*Laika's POV*

We load up into the jeep. I am quick to claim the same spot that I sat in for the ride here, keen not to have much interaction with the 141 pack. They hadn't really said much since I went and opened my stupid mouth. I feel Gaz shuffle into the seat next to me, too busy distracting myself by looking out of the window. There looks to be nothing for miles. Just trees and snow. You'd die out there in the wilderness my brain laughs. Not that I was thinking of running... I start to wonder where exactly it is we are. I don't even know the location of my cell.. just that we are in Russia. It's cold. I try not to take comfort from Gaz's hoodie. But I'll appreciate it while I still have it.

The jeep lurches forward. I glance up and see that Ghost is at the wheel this time. He bumps it off of the curb and accelerates onto the road, wheels spinning slightly due to the snow. I try to relax. The tension in the car could have been cut by a blunt knife. Even Soap was quietly staring ahead. My eyes betray me, filling with un-shed tears. I watch the scenery pass from the window, trying to blink away the threatening onslaught of tears. It starts to itch. I just know my eyes are red and my face is puffy. Pathetic.

The car ride seems to pass by in a blur, or maybe I passed out, I can't really tell. The next thing I see is a large concrete clearing with a helicopter and a few - three - jeeps, all identical to the one we are in. The snow had been pushed to one side, leaving a huge mound. I stare at it. Ghost hits the brakes and the car slows to a halt. The captain steps from the car and walks toward the first car in the queue of three.

He taps the window and the door slowly opens, revealing a woman. It must be Laswell. The woman who has read my file.I stare at my knees, trying to just dissociate. Johnny jumps from the car, Gaz sliding out after him. It leaves just me in the back - and Ghost behind the wheel. I know that he is staring at me from the rear view mirror, I refuse to move. I hear a tap on my window. I don't react. The door opens slowly. It's the woman.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" she queries. I turn into a statue. My eyes blinking rapidly, trying not to break down. "I'd like you to follow me" she instructs. I resist the urge to whimper in fear. Instead opting to obey. Disobedience will get you punished - my brain helpfully adds. I reach for my seat belt and press the button, releasing it. I turn and step from the car - she holds the door open for me. She leads me to the helicopter and up the ramp. I trail after her with my head down, dejected, as if I was on a tight leash. It's all so loud. The blades of the helicopter spinning, the pounding of my heart and the voice screaming at my inside my brain. It's almost unbearable.

As I make it to the top of the ramp, I see Price talking to the pilot. Gaz and Soap are sitting quietly beside each other. Soap has his head rested on Gaz's shoulder. He looks.. sad? I hear heavy footsteps from behind me. Ghost. He walks past me and sits down beside Soap, leaving a small gap between them. He looks tense. He stares at me, the eye-black around his eyes making him look even scarier to me. I stare back with big, nervous eyes and a trembling lip.

"Y/N, I'm Station Chief Kate Laswell - CIA." She seems to pause, possibly waiting for me to respond. What was I supposed to say? It's nice to meet you? - a few seconds of silence pass before she continues - "Task-force 141 were sent to Siberia with the objective to recover intel from the Russian terrorist group that, as far as I understand, you were an operative asset for, yes?"

Silence

She sighs. "I am a firm believer in justice, Laika" the use of that name snaps me out from my stubborn depressive state but I don't let it show, I remain stoic. Justice. Justice would be death. Me being killed for my crimes. "You cannot go back and change what has happened - but - I strongly suggest that you start here - with me, right now - and you can help change how this ends. What do you think?" My brow furrows. What does she mean? She must notice my confusion because she speaks up again. "I've spoken, at length, with the Captain, and we both believe you are not at fault in all of this. We want to help you Laika. But we cannot help without your cooperation".

I meet her blue eyes for the first time. She smiles at me gently, "what do you say? Will you help me? Help us..?" She gestures over my shoulder. Gaz and Soap are looking over, clearly spectating but as soon as I turn to glance in the direction Laswell had pointed, they snap their heads away and act casual, as if they weren't listening in on the conversation. Ghost looks wholly disinterested, verging on pissed off. The Captain is leant against the wall of the helicopter with his arms crossed. As I meet his eyes, he gives a quick, strangely boyish for a mature Alpha, smile and a sharp nod.

I turn back to Laswell and meet her eyes for only the second time. "What do you need me to do?" I ask quietly, voice cracking slightly. I decide if they want my help, and if they're truly the good guys this time, that I will be there obedient little hell-hound. I will do whatever they ask of me until I die or not needed any longer. This way, I would atone for my sins.

"I need you to help us, you have skills we could use, and I need you to tell me everything that they have done to you. I believe they've been dabbling in war crimes. We need to burn them to the ground. Who better to help us than their own creation? You, Y/N - you were never truly bad, were you? I can tell by your file. There was so many things you did 'wrong' - you were constantly disappointing them, weren't you?"

Wow! I thought I was making progress, now she is just slating me for how useless I am.. What the fuck?

"Disappointing them with your good nature and persistent resistance to orders - even when drugged. Disappointing them by somehow surviving every single one of the suicide missions they sent you on. You were never their asset. Never willing to comply. I know what they did to you. I'm not sure if you will remember more once the drugs have left your system - but you are strong. Stronger than you think."

Oh.. OH - It was a compliment. I feel lighter. My heart warms me from the inside. I realise that this is the first time I have felt my own warmth. Independent warmth. It's coming from me. I feel real again. Probably only fleetingly, but it's nice while it lasts, huh?

The captain suddenly appears beside me. I nervously side-eye him. "You in?" he grumbles, his raspy voice cutting through me like a knife. I nod hesitantly. "Words please. Need you to say it." He smiles again. "I'm in" ... "Captain" I add afterwords. He pats my shoulder twice, gently. "Kate will fill in your paperwork, answer her questions, it won't take long. Go and sit with the boys. We are about to take off". I nod and move to where I'd been told to sit. I step around Ghost, and sit a seat's space away from Gaz and Soap. I buckle my seat belt and rest my head back against the wall, breathing deeply.

*Gaz's POV*

I'd walked back into the safe-house just as Laika was trauma dumping details of some sort of mission to Johnny. Cap and Simon were already listening in. Nosy fuckers! Cap lifts a finger to his mouth, as if to say 'shhh' and then nods his head to the side toward Laika and Johnny. I'm not sure how this had happened. I'd left her waiting at the door just five minutes ago. What the fuck?

But jesus, her memory of that mission was bad. I'd been through lots of shit during my time, but it sounds as if she has just been through trauma after trauma. I want to step into the room and wrap her in a hug and keep her away from the rest of the world. I would never hurt her like that. Somehow, Johnny seemed to be doing an alright job of keeping her from fully losing it.

When she finishes and looks up at us, I have nothing to say. My heart aches for her. I was literally rooted to the spot. Everything happens quickly after that. Cap tells us to load up and get on the road. I feel a small flame of hope when Laika moves to my side of the car thinking she wanted to sit next to me, but instead she was avoiding me for the entire drive. She didn't look at me once. She didn't even move when Soap and I slid out of the car once we had arrived. We must have broken her trust by listening in when she was venting to Soap. Or she just didn't want us near her. I felt ashamed of myself.

I can tell Soap feels the same way. We go to the heli and sit down, stewing in each others' moods. We'd fucked up. Big time.

*Soap's POV*

She was pissed at me. I shouldn't have pushed her to spill her secrets. Stupit' bastard that I am. And to make it worse, they'd all listened. I was too caught up in her, to even realise that my pack had collected at the doorway. Poor lass was heartbroken. She ignored us and went back into her bubble, refused to even look at us.. We'd well and truly fucked it.

Gaz and I had discussed it and decided to not push her again until she approached us first. Gaz said it was something along the lines of letting her 'take back control'. I'm not a patient man, but I will try my best to behave.

*John's POV*

I'd sat up all night reading the parts of her file that Kate had sent over. Simon disappeared for twenty, or so, minutes saying he thought he had heard something. Wasn't until we'd practically surrounded the poor lass in the living room this morning that Ghost accused her of looking for something that wasn't hers. Turns out it was a fucking hanky. She had nothing left but a hanky and she had left it in Gaz's jacket. I needed to speak to Kate about her. She was no terrorist. Not in my book.

When I came downstairs with my bag, ready to leave, I heard her weeping to Johnny. My grip on the door frame had started to splinter, drawing blood from my hand. I was angry. Not at her. Never at her. But at what they'd put her through. The file didn't go into this sort of detail. I had an idea. I asked Simon to drive - deciding that my time was better spent messaging Kate. I had had an idea.

When we arrived, I made sure that I was the first to greet Kate, away from the others. "Go easy on her, Kate. She's sensitive. Needs fixed up.. she's been put through the mill with those bastards". Kate nodded and promised to go steady on her and agreed to my plan. I'd asked Kate if Laika could temporarily join us at our base to help us learn about the Russian's - their habits and weaknesses. Kate agreed that she could be valuable. I nod, but behind the 'Captain' persona, there was different reason - I want to keep her safe. She needs a bit of help right now. And the boys seem to like her.

*Simon's POV*

I had listened to the asset's little chat that she had with Johnny. Sure, she'd been through some shit, but haven't we all?

I could see the cogs turning in Cap's brain. The Captain has a habit of finding strays. Hopefully this one doesn't stay for long. Let's just hope they are right about her and she doesn't turn out to be a rat.

I was pissed off that Johnny clearly liked her. I wanted to get back to base, have a cuppa and read a book. Switch off for a few hours. But this - this was a disaster waiting to happen.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Laswell stands across from me as the heli lifts into the sky, she holds one of the straps that hang from the ceiling. Gaz and Soap are looking excitedly between the two of us. Laswell waves a clipboard. "Few questions, then I'll leave you alone. Promise" she jokes. I nod, "You can leave some of these out if you don't know the answers - we will run tests when you settle in at base, but answer what you can please". I nod again, but this time mutter "ok".

"Name?" - "Y/N Y/L/N or Laika"

"Address? - we'll leave that blank for now, Birthplace? -" I intterupt, telling Laswell my place of birth before she left that section blank too.

"Presentation" - "Don't know.. but probably Beta" She nods at my answer.

She continues asking similar questions, like date of birth, blood type, medical conditions and so on and so forth.

She then flips to the other side of the paper, which concentrates more on military training and active duty history. "I think that will do for now. John will test your fitness once you've settled in. It'll be tests like a five kilometer run, target practice and hand to hand combat - just so he can decide how best to use your skills. Does that sound ok to you?" - "Yes ma'am" I reply.

"Just Kate is fine - and Laika, or Y/N I should say.. Welcome! Any issues, you know where to reach me" she smiles and extends her hand for a handshake. I shake it nervously, breaking eye contact. She then offers me a padded envelope. I take the envelope and she immediately turns away and walks towards where the Captain is standing, behind the pilot.

I slump back into my seat and open the envelope. It's a phone! I switch it on, using the pass code Laswell had included inside the envelope to unlock it. It has the SAS symbol on the lock screen, and a few contacts already entered. Captain John Price, Sgt Kyle Garrick, Sgt John MacTavish and L.T Ghost. Shit, was that his real name?!.

I can practically feel the desperation of the two Sergeants sitting next to me. Since when did they get shy? I think to myself. I decide to be brave, now that we were to work together. I look at them both and they immediately smile, hopefully. What are they hopeful for?! I am confused.

"uhm.. sorry if" - "WE'RE SORRY" they both near enough shout in unison, cutting me off. "Wh-what?" I ask, completely confused.

"We upset you, we didn't mean it.. forgive us?"

"You didn't upse- what??" I shake my head, trying to collect my thoughts "I thought you hated me after hearing how I'd killed the young bo-" - "NO!! That's not... no.. we shouldn't have listened in.." Gaz explains. "And I shouldn't have kept pushin' ya to tell me everything.. Sorry Lass.." Soap apologises.

"Can we stop with all this bullshit and shut the fuck up." Ghost huffs, halting the back and forth conversation about who was the most sorry. Helpful as ever.

Gaz and Soap smile at me and Soap taps the seat that remains unoccupied beside them. I shuffle over from my seat to sit next to them. Soap immediately puts his arm around me and pulls me closer.

"Mmm, still smell of Tobacco, lass.. You'll be driving Cap crazy walking about like that ya' ken?"

WAIT WHAT???!

#abo dynamics #john mctavish x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick x reader #omega reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #task force x reader

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prettyuglydrug · 5 months ago

Note

request: i've seen the post, i came from ao3 and instagram

i've send the details of the female lead appearance and her interest + personality etc, but i like for you to label her as y/n because i want it to be for other girls as well (that are similar to the female lead because i request/wrote her for being feminine and not the fighting in a gang type). a childhood crush or/to highschool crush would be nice, as for the trope, anything that work with these above.

if it isn't too much, i like for her to be not the popular or cool or mysterious type, please just a normal girl that just start highschool.

maybe a little bit common and not too much of a main-character vibe (but don't get rid of all, she still needs it in her -mc energy). i think it be interesting to see a stand-by (npc) type of girl but in a pov of a readers with plot but not as a side story.

thank you very much for taking request, i'm looking forward to it thankkyuuuu <33

Taking request, from Anonymous

Title: Porcelain Heart, Part 1

"Mrs Kurokawa,.. Kurokawa y/n, sounds nice..."

A little bit of introduction, L/n Y/n is a girl standing X'X in one sock and has a big doll eyes and a small frame. A petite girl with an extremely feminine features, she was and has always been quite popular but because of her shy demeanor, she was only known for her face rather than her personality. Her circle is small and its all really just her appearance, she wasn't the 'cool' type of popular, but still, known. But that changes when she enters highschool, she was just another face and nothing really special about her because at this age, a natural and more mature-looking woman look is more desired among teenage(highschool) boys. Though the adults seems to like the opposite, which y/n find quite...strange, or rather disturbing. All the other girls are beautiful, she supposed it was puberty and the glow up trend, there's a lot that are more shockingly beautiful than her. So many girls and she's no longer one of a kind. At least that is what she thought.

She had the same interest just as when she was a little girl, still like dolls and tea party, but of course, now that she's a bit older, she still plays with dolls but it leans more towards collecting and baking and have a nice evening. She pick up a new interest that every girls would when they turn the age, that is makeup and fashion. But out of all that, one thing she hasn't experienced yet is love. Teenage love, True love, Platonic love or anything that has to do with that. She was never interested in any boys, yet she has so much love to give and many that are willing to receive as well but they're just not....'him'. And by 'him', y/n meant whoever that God has destined for her. She knew fate will bring him to her, because she is, and has always been religious. But even though she never experience a romantic relationship, she believes in love at first sight, because that was the only time she ever felt something for a boy. She couldn't differentiate what, or whether if she's feeling love or a genuine like, or maybe a connection to him. That, we took it back from the beginning.

7 years old Little Y/n is heading to the store to buy a milk, but the store she usually goes to was unfortunately close for a week due to a personal reason. She has to go to another store that was just a bit far from her home and the store she usually went to. That is when she saw the most beautiful boy. It was in the mid of winter and she was passing by an orphanage, she saw a uniquely beautiful boy there. His hair was white and his eyes are the color of lilac, his eyelashes are heavy like the snow. His tan complexion glow even through winter. The boy were playing with his friend, and why, she never thought he looked back at her. And his gaze, his eyes remind her of a sorrowful angel. Though he was smiling, maybe that's just the way his eyes look. But even so its beautiful. He just looked at her, and she couldn't keep her gaze anymore. Y/n turn around and ran, her heart is beating in an unusual pace from running like its the last day on earth, it felt almost like its coming out of her mouth or her chest. After that, she stopped coming to the usual store even after a week, she took the long road just to look at him but he never notices her after that. She was too shy to greet him and so. But one day, he disappeared. After a month of consistent effort, she never get his name nor does she know if he was still alive. And that was the first and the last time their eyes ever met.

Until today, here in the present, Y/n L/n, 16 years old girl and highschool has just begun. It was at the entrance, she was changing her shoes and happen to turn when someone open a shoe locker few boxes away from her. That, was again, a love at first sight. She knew, she just knew that was him. 9 years has passed and he popped out of nowhere, nothing romantic about the way she found him again, not like in the romantic books at all. But it was enough, she was grateful and almost break into tears. But he walk pass her like she was nothing, because she is, nothing. A few period has passed and she couldn't concentrate, all she had in mind is the questions regarding his personal information. 'the same school?' 'what year?' 'which class?' It goes on until recess. She went out to search for the boy, to see him again and more closer this time. She wanted to see his face and the excitement she felt in her chest, her heart beats but in a good way that is no longer like throwing up, but it felt like its dancing to its own beat. At the hallway, y/n stop her track as she came closer to the window and spotted him on the other side of the hallway. It was him, she couldn't see his face yet still, it was just the back of his head. He was talking with 2 of his friends, one was tall with a braid on while the other one was slightly shorter and has a round-frame glasses on. The boy that y/n searched for a long time is now back, even though he never knew her existence she thought it was better. There was nothing between them therefore she could make a good impression when she finally had the chance.

Present:

Y/n saw him, just the back of his head but even just that is sending thrills down her spine. What is this good feeling? it feels like excitement and fear all together. How she wanted to look into his eyes again, she wanted to see his face but she doesn't want him to turn around and saw her.. looking at him from here. 'That be embarassing', she thought.

Little did she know that is what about to happen because the braid guy, just because the braid guy tilt his head. And saw y/n presence.

Read for Request:

Hi, this is prettydrug, your hello-kitty drugstore manager. I have not had much time to finish this so this is just part 1, i will continue and post it, but i am super busy so it might take a little while. I decided to make it a bit longer since i find it very intriguing, thank you for sending me details, it help to make it easier to write it down since i do not have to filled in the details myself under a request.

For the people who read this, if you're interested, please send me a request as well. I like taking short story as a form of practice, maybe someday i like to make a living by writing, it would help a lot if you request.

However please noted, preferably i like to take request from tokyo revengers fandom, since i watch it, its easier to write their character unlike for example, if i write down a levi aot story, i only know he's cool and somewhat nonchalant? from edits but i won't be able to write his character accurately because i didn't know him and that would be disappointing for requester.

Looking forward to gather and interact with Tokrev Fandom again :) (i broke my phone, my edit, writing and twitter account died since 2022 december)

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ichijager13 · 1 year ago

Text

A Trip To the Bookstore

Fandom: Attack on titan (Shingeki no Kyojin)

Rating: General Audience.

CW: really none, just me getting my Dad!Eren scenarios and exploiting my baby fever.

Family fluff, Fater-daughter moment

Word Count: 770 words.

Summary:

For her fifth birthday, Eren takes his daughter Nina to the bookstore.

Standing in front of the bookstore’s door, Eren looked down at his daughter and asked, “Are you ready for this adventure, little one?” Unable to contain her excitement, Nina nodded vigorously. “Then let’s go,” the young father cheered, pushing the door open.

For her fifth birthday, Eren promised the young girl to take her to a bookstore nearby after work. The previous night, before going to bed, the two of them made a deal. They agreed that she could choose up to four books and that they would stop by the neighborhood’s bakery to buy a birthday cake.

Nina’s big, jade green eyes, which she inherited from her father, wandered around the place. Taken aback by how big the store was, she scanned the multiple floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books of all sizes and colors. A few minutes later, she glanced at her father, silently asking with her round, emerald-colored eye for permission to let go of his hand and go explore every corner of that magical place. An encouraging smile brightened Eren’s features as he slowly released the small and delicate hand he had been holding since they left home.

The little girl’s steps were hesitant at first, but when she noticed there were other kids around, exploring the store, her attitude slowly changed. She started picking up books and flipping the pages.

From time to time, she would turn to check whether her father was tagging along. Each time their eyes met, she would flash him a wide smile with her tongue poking from behind the missing tooth she had lost a week ago.

“Daddy,” Nina called for her father minutes later and pointed out one of the shelves out of her reach. “Can I have dis one, pwease?”

“Which one, darling?” he asked, studying the books lined on that shelf.

“Da one with snow.”

“Nice choice. I’ve read those when I was your age,” he commented, picking up the first book of the Tomten series. “How about we check if they have the whole collection before we leave?” The little brunette hummed in response, visibly happy. “Wanna look for more books?”

Nina nodded as her father pushed the strands of brown-colored hair that escaped from under her hat and partially covered her eyes. He then watched her go back to her book quest.

“Did you find anything?” he asked when he noticed she had been staring at the same shelf for several minutes.

She nodded before bending to grab a copy of The Giving Tree and handing it to him.

“Another nice pick. That’s my girl,” he approved, going through the pages of one of his childhood reads.

Eren knew that this experience was going to be unique. However, he didn’t expect it to unlock so many memories from his childhood.

“Thewe’s anotha’ one too. It has a gween dwagon with blue hownes hiding in a pocket.” She tugged at the hem of his dark gray duffle coat.

“Whatever my princess wants,” he said, gently squishing her rosy cheeks. “Where did you see it?”

“Thewe.” She designated a shelf behind him.

He grabbed the book and showed it to her. “This one?”

“Mhm!” Nina responded, giddily smiling.

“That’s all?”

She nodded once again before asking, “Can we stay a little longa’, pwease Daddy, pwease?” She looked up at him with big, round, and pleading eyes.

“Of course, my dear. I love this place so much. I have so many lovely memories here.” Noticing her puzzled expression, he explained dreamily, “Oma and I used to come here a lot with Uncle Armin. It was our favorite place,” he voiced, embracing the whole place with his loving gaze. He could’ve sworn he could hear his mother’s voice chatting with the owner as Armin and he were looking for their next reads. “And I wanted my little princess to discover it as well. Do you like it?”

“I love it, Daddy! Can we come back soon?”

“Of course, we can visit whenever you want.”

“Thank you.”

Nina spent the next thirty minutes happily wandering around and inspecting every nook and cranny of the store.

Once they asked for the remaining books from the series, they headed to the cashier.

“Is it your birthday, sweety?" the checkout girl inquired when Eren asked for a birthday card. She offered Nina a bunny shaped balloon when Nina bobbed her head.

Later that day, both dressed in their pajamas, Eren and Nina ate their cake slices while going through the pages of the books they bought that day.

Nina listened to her father tell her funny stories about the place and the old owner.

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the-forests-blessing · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 15

It’s the strangest thing.

He could have sworn he was going in the right direction towards the BeacInn. Lukas turns around, his foot kicking a rock, causing it to bounce over the ground with not an ounce of sound. Confusion etched across his features as he notices sudden and significant changes to BeaconTown’s appearance rather than the perpetual silence that encompasses him. While the same stars and constellations still shine high in the sky, he can tell the building’s around him have taken different forms. They’re much newer, and far more eye-catching than the BeaconTown he’s used to walking through.

Curiosity gets the better of him, so he sets out to take in these new builds. So many colors and so much diversity in each building. He can easily see the love and passion that went into each of these projects, whether they be sculpture designs, little shops, or basic housing. These structures certainly flex the creativity that the town was previously known for.

It looks so much like the postcard he’d given Radar.

The jungle trees look lively and the bridge built between them isn’t blown to bits. Walking down the mainstreet, Lukas can see so many more buildings he thinks he may recognize, but can only recall them being in that shambled and broken state. Here, it's brand new. Lukas looks around, realizing that yes , everything looks like it’s in order. Everything looks put back into place.

Lukas recalls just one crucial detail. Turning around and looking up, he doesn’t see that monolithic eyesore blocking out the sky and the moon that ascends it. He can see the Order Hall, as well as the glowing beacon. Whatever this BeaconTown he’s walking through is, it feels right . Much better than the twisted BeaconTown he currently knows.

A cold flake lands on the man’s nose, causing Lukas to flinch, then reaches up and wipe where it landed. There’s a cold wet residue that remains on his thumb and index finger, using both of the pads to feel the strange sensation. This is… This is just like… Lukas’ attention is caught by another flake descending close by. Confusion strengthens the focus on the human’s features, furrowing his eyebrows and glancing up, only to gasp and take in the impossible weather formulating above.

Snow? Lukas watches as snowfall increases around him. He lifts both of his hands in front of him, watching the way the flakes gently rest upon his warm skin, quick to melt away until another lands in the same spot. But this is impossible. BeaconTown isn’t in, or near any snow biome. Lukas looks out past the Order Hall, just barely seeing the shadows of the mountains many many chunks away.

Knock knock knock

Lukas wakes from his sleep with a jolt. He stares up at the ceiling, waiting to see if the knocking repeats, or if it had all just been another part of his strange dream.

…Knock… knock…

“...Maybe he isn’t in there?”

“Can you imagine we’ve just been knocking on some rando’s door.”

Lukas sits up, recognizing the voices instantly to be Radar and Nell’s. How on earth did they find my room? Annoyance pries at his mind, finding the circumstances of this to be quite irritating; he’d been quiet about giving up his room number for a reason. Getting up and out of bed, he quickly attempts to style his messy hair the best he can before grabbing his coat off the wall rack, slipping into it as he then approaches the door. Opening the door, the two BeaconTowner’s immediately perk up in surprise, then smile excitedly once they see who’s on the other side.

“Lukas, it’s you!” Radar says, relieved. “Thank goodness, I was worried the front desk lady had given us the wrong room number.”

Lukas, who stands mostly behind the door, very much not in the mood or appearance to be conversing, just groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She seriously just… gave you guys my room number?”

“Yes dude. This is like, a big time emergency.” Nell says, which only makes the situation a lot more confusing to the blond. He squints, tilting his head.

“Emergency? Emergency for what?”

“Oh great! You’re interested in talking,” Radar brightens up and quickly moves, pushing through the door, “there’s no time to waste. This must be discussed ASAP.” Absolutely baffling the disheveled author who now reluctantly holds the pushed door open, watching with hopelessness as the two barge into his room with no permission. Lukas frantically looks back towards his work desk, seeing the mess of what remained of his studies last night. There may or may not totally be some incriminating things on the open pages of his journal.

Hiding his panic, Lukas uses a stern and controlled tone. “Wha-? You can’t just barge in here!”

“I’m sorry Lukas!” Radar instantly turns and grabs the door, closing it shut behind the three. “But the most totally insanely unexpected absolutely unreal thing of all things just happened.”

Lukas, mildly irritated, walks across the room, instantly tidying up his work environment by shutting the journal and tucking it away in his inventory, leaving many other books he’s ‘checked out’ from the library all over the desk. “Gee, way to warn a guy, huh? My place is a mess.” The blond grumbles, then turns with a sigh, glancing at Dewey who lay on the bed, his emerald eyes wide and watching the two BeaconTowner’s every move.

“Uh, what is this thing?” Lukas and Radar both look towards Nell eyeing Lukas’ bike, which rests up against the hallway wall by the door, with a strange look.

“What? It’s my bike.” Lukas replies, approaching her and gesturing with a waving hand motion to ‘back up’. “You’ve never seen a bike before?”

“Ohh I think I’ve heard of those!” Radar chimes in, closing in on the bike and kneeling, inspecting its wheels with great focus. “The inventor came from Redstonia. Someone who wanted to invent a new method of travel without the means of using a minecart system or a horse. You know, minecarts make me feel all kinds of queasy, and horses are big and so hard to hold onto. I should totally look into getting one of these.”

“Hah, uh yeah, that’s kind of the reason I got it.” Lukas walks over, grabbing one of the handles, lifting the bike to stand straight up. “Well, except the minecarts making me sick part. I can handle them just fine, I’d even say they’re fun, but they’re built on extremely strict routes, and most of them tend to run underground. I wanted something that I could get around with up above ground, but I didn’t want to use a horse. They’re living creatures, and I don’t like the idea of dragging one around just for me to leave it behind most of the time. I think I would prefer to just admire them from a distance.”

Nell closes in, reaching out to run her hand over the strange feeling material which makes the tires. “So weird…”

Lukas just rolls his eyes. The author turns back to Radar, finding some amusement in how perplexed both of the BeaconTowner’s are with the existence of the bike in their presence. He’d ask why neither of them have ever seen one before, but given the fact that these methods of transportation are somewhat new, and given BeaconTown’s latest track record in world trading… Well, he thinks he can come up with a few reasons why no one else has brought these things around. He’ll never forget how many strange looks he got when he first entered town with it.

But enough is enough.

“Alright, back to business,” the author interrupts the two’s bike assessment by crossing his arms and asserting a stern look. “Why did you both break into my room? And what emergency are you talking about?”

“Oh!” Radar stands quickly, Nell following suit. “Sorry for barging in, but we absolutely could not talk about this anywhere where someone could hear us.” Radar takes a deep breath- “Okay so remember how we've been giving you small updates on that build we were planning to try? Well we built it! And it’s been coming along nicely. We decided to build it in the Bad Luck Alley part of BeaconTown because that’s where Jack lives and Jack is really amazing. He’s agreed to keep our build a secret while we used his old emporium to plan it out, then start building it out back behind it!”

Lukas quirks a blond brow. Jack? Like the hunter? Bad Luck Alley? The author stays silent as Radar goes on and on.

“Well just earlier this morning, Nell and I were doing the finishing touches and you’ll never believe who showed up!” Radar slapped his hands on each side of his head, looking absolutely gobsmacked as he utters her name. “Petra.”

The name causes Lukas to tense, an overwhelming wave of anxiety flowing through him. He chooses to stay quiet though, allowing Radar to continue.

“Apparently she’d made a totally unexpected visit on Jack’s behalf, then she heard our voices coming from the back, and Jack tried to stop her, but she pushed through the back door and aaah! When I saw her I totally fainted!”

“But here’s, like, the craziest part dude.” Nell steps in, offering her side of the story. “Radar turned white as a ghost and passed out. After that, Petra looked over the build, stepped over Radar’s body, totally inspecting our hard work and you wanna know what she said?”

Lukas is absolutely unsure of what she could have possibly said. By the sounds of both Radar’s and Nell’s tones, he can tell for the most part that whatever Petra’s reaction was, wasn’t bad . Or else he believes these two would be here for a completely different, much more concerning reason.

“She…said…‘whatever’.” Nell utters the words like she’s getting to the climax of a spooky story. “And then…she totally turned around and like, just left and stuff. She didn’t rage or anything!”

“Jack and Nell told me everything after I woke back up. I almost passed out again! Can you believe it, Lukas? She didn’t tell us to take it down or destroy it. I’m soooo happy!” Radar is absolutely giddy with excitement, incapable of sitting still while he shimmies in his spot in the small, narrow hallway.

Lukas’ jaw drops, as does his gaze while he remembers everything from last night. I didn’t actually change her mind, did I? There’s…there’s no way. “I…can’t believe it. I didn’t think that would actually work.” Lukas says, completely baffled.

Radar stills, and Nell gives Lukas a curious look. “ What actually worked?” She asks.

Lukas lays his hands on his hips, keeping his gaze glued to the carpeted floor below. There were so many emotions that fueled his drive to confront the mayor about…about everything! From the misery draining the colors out of BeaconTown, to the scorched parts of the forest, all the way to the man who now seems to endlessly wander his mind. The Admin…

In all of Lukas’ years of living, he’s never had so many confrontational experiences in one place until now. He’d never meant to frustrate or annoy the Admin with his persistence in wanting to know more about him and his forest. He was just blindly driven by his will to explore and learn more. With Aiden, Lukas didn’t have a choice but to confront the man who spewed venom in his words. Even if he was right about Lukas seeing the Admin, it’s not like Aiden actually knows. The wannabe hero is riding on false accusations alone, and without any real evidence, he’ll be getting nowhere.

Petra though. She seems to be the source of many of BeaconTown’s problems. Lukas has no interest in developing any kind of relationship with the woman, even if it meant they were just acquaintances. She’s the one leading these people into the woods, tracking down the Admin, tearing down the most beautiful aspects of the town and the forest surrounding it. Whatever darkness has filled Petra’s mind is clearly corrupting the world around her. And… she doesn’t seem to care. This bothers Lukas to no end. He had no reason to hesitate in speaking his mind. Shoot, he’ll do it again if he has to.

With those thoughts aside, Lukas sighs and takes his time explaining the events of the prior night. The two BeaconTowner’s look so shocked to learn of Lukas’ and Petra’s argument, that Lukas has absolutely no time to react when Radar closes the distance and wraps the man in a tight hug. Lukas’ hands shoot up like he’s been caught by the police, stunned by the gesture, and definitely unsure of what to do.

“Oh thank you, thank you! Lukas, I don’t know what kind of magic you used to change her mind, but it may have seriously worked!” Radar squeezes tighter, earning a very uncomfortable grunt from the blond. Lukas is unsure of what to do, so he just gently pats Radar’s back, feeling horribly awkward as he does so.

“Uhhuh! Uhh yeah– yeah nooo…” Lukas now puts his hand on the man's shoulder, easing him off with an awkward smile. “No problem…” Thankfully, Radar doesn’t seem to be affected by Lukas not returning the gesture. The man looks happier than Lukas has ever seen on him. That bright white smile is endless and could fuel the smiles of many others. Lukas stays null to the excitement, though he does feel very accomplished with this new information.

“Hah.. That felt good. It’s not often I get to hug any of my other friends other than Nell.” Radar raises his hand up to grasp the blonde's shoulder. She smiles back at him, and to many others, some would find this best friend duo to be cute and inspiring. Lukas is unfazed by the wholesomeness, instead, focused on one of the words Radar mentioned.

“...Friend?” Lukas asks, squinting at the other male skeptically. “You… You think I’m your friend?”

“What?” Radar looks dumbfounded by the question. “Of course. I don’t just go around hugging people I don’t consider my friends. Jeez, that would be weird.”

Lukas turns away a bit, scratching the back of his head. “Yeahh…” This feeling is very strange. He isn’t sure he likes being friends with these people. But then again, this is supposed to be normal right? Making friends with normal people. And…and hugging friends is…normal. Hugging is supposed to be an expression of affection. That gentle feeling of fondness one feels towards the people they care about. It’s supposed to feel good… right?

Lukas ponders on that. If the Admin and I are friends, would he want to be hugged? Would he like that sort of thing? The blonds cheeks warm at the thought. How would that feel? To approach the forest deity, wrap his own small, muscular by normal human standard, arms around the Admin’s wide form. To feel that thick flannel shirt. It always looked so soft to him. If he hugged him, would the Admin hug him back? Would he put his arms around him? How would that feel?

Hmm… Lukas looks back at Radar and Nell, the two talking to each other excitedly about the rest of their build and what sounds to be the possibly bright future of BeaconTown. If…these two want to be friends, then maybe I can learn something from them. I absolutely cannot screw up my friendship with the Admin.

Lukas clears his throat, awkwardly regaining the attention of the two. “So uh… friends. Yeah. Do you guys think maybe you could show me this…build you’ve been working on?”

Radar lights up like a firework. “Ohmygosh YES! I was worried you wouldn’t ask or that it would be me having to ask and then I was worried that when I DID ask that you would say no but then I worried if you said yes and we took you to it that you wouldn’t like it and that–”

“Radar?”

“Yeah?”

“Just take me to it…”

“Ah, yes! Aye aye sir!” Radar rushes towards the door, grabbing the handle and opens it, exiting the room and Lukas and Nell both stand there, listening to the very quick and excited footsteps run down the hall. They stop…hesitating before the distant call, “you guys coming!?”

Lukas just shakes his head, turning to Nell. “Can you two just wait for me outside the BeacInn? I’ve got to get..” He glances down, looking at the slightly embarrassing state of attire he’s in. Very clearly just woken up and had no time to get out of his pajamas. “...Get ready.”

“No prob, Lukas-dude. We’ll be chillin’ outside.”

Oof! Chillin’ outside indeed. It's a good thing Dewey decided to stay indoors. Lukas tugs his coat inward, holding it as close to himself as he can, trying to hide his bare hands in its warm confines. This world's seasons do not mess around. Once summer goes, autumn is not one to ease in slowly, instead instilling its cold temperatures into the hearts of many with haste, keeping most people bundled up in warm clothing, protected from the chilling elements. So cold… no wonder I dreamt of snow, the author determines. I’ll have to break out my heavy coat from now on.

Descending the steps, Radar and Nell greet Lukas. The small group don’t linger in front of the BeacInn for long, not when Radar is as determined as he is to show Lukas this build he’s been chattering about ever since he brought it up that one day at the bakery. To Lukas’ surprise, he seems to be getting led towards the other side of BeaconTown, the side of which he’s been actively avoiding because of its disheveled state. Seriously, it looks like a tornado swung by, then everything exploded, caught fire, and exploded again.

Bad Luck Alley , Lukas recalls the name, finding the name fitting for which side of town it's on. Seriously, the town seems very divided with the best parts of it still standing and, well, somewhat thriving on the west side, while on the east side, everything looks like it’s been left to rot. The two massive jungle trees in the middle are the dividers that keep Lukas safe on one side, the trees standing tall and eye-catching so he doesn’t find himself wandering to the other side of town in a misfortunate case of misdirection.

“Why is this side of town so…depressing?” Lukas asks, feeling a bit uneasy as Radar and Nell both guide him past the beacon monument, over towards the eastern side of town.

“This is where Aiden and his gang mostly reside,” Radar acknowledges begrudgingly. “Before he showed up, everything over here was fine, but then along came Aiden and his followers. He always said that all the pretty colors and inviting environments were a problem. That those sorts of things were the reasons so many bad people kept showing up in BeaconTown. Well, he and his gang destroyed a lot of the buildings people created. Burning them, blowing them up, chasing people out…” Radar frowns deeply, recalling the events with genuine reluctance. “He’s the reason so many people left.”

“And let me guess, Petra liked his ideas and decided that that was the direction BeaconTown needed to start heading in.” Lukas asks, recalling the mayor’s harsh words from his argument with her in the Order Hall.

“Yeah…” Nell sighs, stuffing her hands in her denim short pockets. “No more building. We gotta put the town on lockdown. Blah blah..bunch’a useless junk.”

Lukas looks around, keeping his ears perked for anyone close by for any possible eavesdropping. Thankfully, as they enter the darker part of town, the amount of civilians dwindles. In a hushed voice just above a whisper, “she’s out of her mind. Anyone with eyes can tell that Aiden and his gang are nothing but a bunch of griefers. It’s no wonder no one wants to go to this part of town anymore; no one wants to get hurt!”

That, and when Lukas casts his gaze up, remarkably enough, the tower is placed in a spot where when the sun passes over at just the right angle, the tower itself imposes a massive shadow over the landscape, one that lays dreadfully right along the heart of the eastern side of town. It’s no wonder the shady people have taken to this side. Anyone with that kind of darkness in their hearts will find solace in the shadows itself. Anywhere where they can get away with breaking things or hurting someone without the chance of being caught.

Lukas’ heart aches when he thinks of the Admin and his connection to the darkness he resides in. The man in the woods is wildly misunderstood for reasons Lukas cannot comprehend. He wishes he could just ask people, but just the thought of asking about the Admin, let alone mentioning his name, makes the author feel terribly anxious. He gave the deity his word that he wouldn’t speak to anyone about him. If he ever slipped up and even just slightly implied he knows more than he’s letting on to the wrong person, who knows what would happen to him or the Admin.

He cannot risk putting his friend in danger.

He doesn’t trust Petra or anyone else here in BeaconTown. Radar and Nell are certainly the most trustworthy, but he knows he must never share any details of his friendship with the Admin.

“I’m so glad you understand, Lukas. You’re the first person in years to come to town and express genuine concern for us. I used to think all was hopeless and we’d be stuck like this forever but now..” The ex-intern enters the shadows of a barely lit alleyway, Nell following behind with no hesitation when entering the darkness. “Now we have you!”

Lukas feels a little spark of hope flare inside him. Radar speaks so positively of him, and the words truly resonate deep within the author’s own troubled heart. It’s a wonderful feeling being able to inspire someone as much as he has for these two BeaconTowner’s. Broken spirits seem to be lifting more and more as the days go by, and the two wear smiles more often.

This… is exactly the feeling Lukas wants to give people.

He is absolutely no hero, but being able to help people through other means like this… Inspiring people to embrace their inner selves and to not be afraid of what others are going to think. It’s the torment that has long lasted inside the author, knowing he’s not the only one suffering from these feelings that has motivated him to push for this. Radar and Nell seemed so lost, that all it took was Lukas entering their lives and giving them his postcard, reminding them of who they once were, igniting the snuffed out flames to once again flow bright and colorful with creative thinking.

Admin really was right… I think I can actually do this , Lukas thinks joyfully. I can’t wait to tell him.

The dark alleyway Radar guides them through is dimly lit with torch light. The area is eerily quiet, with many unoccupied structures crumbling around them. Lukas isn’t sure why Radar and Nell would choose this of all places to attempt a new building project when it looks like the build wouldn’t survive a day around these parts.

“Sooo…why exactly are we here? I’m no professional, but this seems like the worst place to build, if I’m being honest.” Lukas voices his concerns in a hushed whisper, earning a shrug from Radar.

“It’s a lot safer here when it’s daylight. Most of the bad people hang out inside the tower or out in the forest until it reaches nightfall. Then they all come back over here and uh…do whatever it is those creeps like to do.”

That’s right… Lukas remembers with a chilling recollection to his first day… and night out in the woods. It’s very strange that he hasn’t been seeing the hunters out in the woods lately, if ever. He’s certainly seen their tracks in the dirt from time to time, but aside from that, their presence is minimal. Hunters… Why do they even call themselves that if they aren’t actively hunting? Lukas reaches up to caress his chin in thought.

Aiden did say the traps in the woods were only…distractions. But why? It would make sense considering that the traps are clearly useless in trapping the Admin. And he said the traps are being tampered with or disappearing for the first time in years. Is the Admin finally doing something about them?

Lukas stiffens, eyes widening as he realizes. He…must be destroying them to keep me safe. Come to think of it, he hasn’t come across any traps in weeks. That must have been what set Aiden off entirely. Lukas frowns deeply, glaring down at the ground as he walks. Everything is so… frustrating. I hate not being able to just ask anyone about this. None of it makes sense! It all seems like a huge waste of time.

…Hmm… Waste of time… Lukas looks deeper into his memories, recalling another crucial detail from his run in with Aiden and his gang.

There was the mention of other plans. What could those possibly be? And… how long until they act out on them?

“Lukas?”

He seems to want nothing to do with them, and he isn’t the monster all those signs outside the forest warn him to be. Why can’t they just leave him alone? What did he do? What has he done to deserve this? He’s just…

“Luuukas?”

Another person…

“LUKAS!”

“Ah-!” The blond jolts out of his internal monologue, darting his attention to the ex-intern beside him. “What??”

“Oh I was just trying to tell you we’re here.”

‘Here’, being a rundown looking shack of all places. Lukas’ looks up at the sign that has clearly seen better days. “Jack and Nurm’s Adventure Emporium…” He draws out with a questioning look at the other two. “Jack is that… hunter… right?”

“Yes, but trust me, he’s a really, really nice guy. He can be a bit cranky, so just try and stay on his good side.”

“Noted.” Lukas says as the doors are opened and he’s led into the emporium.

Inside the building, Lukas takes in the scents of dusty shelves and old wooden paneling. The place is quiet, just as the rest of this side of town is. Looking around, he can see shelves and empty pedestals. The word ‘adventure’ and ‘emporium’ in the shop's name leads Lukas to believe this must have been some sort of curio shop back in the day. Adventures can lead to rare loot, and to have a shop surrounding the aspect, you must have something pretty interesting to keep it up and running.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the case for the emporium anymore. The shop lacks the novelties it once had, and instead the most that lingers around the place is… well… dust. Lukas approaches one of the shelves, reaching out to run his finger along the old wood, leaving quite an impressive trail through the thick dust build up. “Uh…you said you guys came here to… build something?” The author asks as he shakes the dust off his hand.

“That’s right.”

Lukas turns to the heavy footsteps that approach from a back door. The owner of the gruff voice appears, and in the dim torch light, Lukas instantly recognizes Jack. The hunter who’d helped retrieve him from the forest, and the man who’d been stationed by Petra’s side up in The Tower. Lukas narrows his eyes cautiously on the man as he enters the room further.

“Considering this is their only safe place to do so,” Jack says as he comes to a stand in front of them. Lukas takes in the man's appearance, acknowledging a notable change from the dark trademark of the hunter attire. Instead he wears some worn out vest. His tan shorts are as dirty as the rest of his outfit. The man looks exhausted, his light brunette hair unkempt, dark bags under his dark right eye and the glassy scarred left eye.

“Indeed.” Jack takes the author’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “But you may also call me… The Stab-Walker. Or Fearless Dagger. Or…ah whatever.” He lets go. “It doesn’t hit like it used to.” Jack sighs with a dismissive wave then turns away, heading back towards the door he came from.

“Uh… Jack, right? I don't believe we've properly met.” Well, at least not casually. He certainly recognizes him. Lukas reaches out, a bit hesitant to initiate a handshake.

Lukas isn’t even sure what to make of any of that. Instead of dwelling on the awkward interaction, he follows Radar and Nell into the room with Jack, finding it leads the three back outside, but in a vacant and open space just beside the massive wall surrounding town. There’s buildings built beside the space, leaving the area more or less private. In the middle of the space though is a strange looking build.

Knowing Radar and Nell, he was expecting something kind of exuberant and colorful. However, this structure looks far more regal, and very pretty. There’s the use of quartz blocks and prismarine, quite the expensive building material, he notes. There’s what looks to be a doorway for entry, while on the sides of the build are tall blue stained glass windows. The build is gorgeous. Definitely a refreshing addition to BeaconTown, even if it is tucked in all the way back here.

“Oh, oh! Hold on, it’s almost finished!” Radar scurries over to the build and pulls something from his inventory. Lukas steps up behind him, watching the ex-intern hang what seems to be some kind of banner on the outside wall of it. The banner has… a pig on it.

“Uhh… who’s the pig?” Lukas asks.

“That’s Reuben! He’s the hero that assisted Jesse in taking out the Witherstorm.” Radar states excitedly.

“A…pig?” Lukas reiterates, still very confused.

“Yeah. I remember being confused at first too, but he was Jesse’s best friend! He helped Jesse during the final fight inside the Witherstorm. From what Jesse told us, Reuben was the one to retrieve the enchanted diamond sword that Jesse used to take down the command block powering the monster.”

“Oh woah, didn’t know that part of the story. So where is he now?” Lukas asks.

“Well…he passed away right after the Witherstorm was defeated. He turned into a porkchop right before Jesse’s eyes… Oh I can’t imagine the pain,” Radar says a bit dramatically while still clearly emotional. Then he sighs, taking off his glasses to give the lens a rub as he continues. “His old memorial that Jesse built is deteriorating, so we figured we could build a new one inspired by the original! To keep his memory intact, you know? That and…” Radar puts his glasses back on and turns to the monument, words stricken with sadness. “His little porkchop portrait used to be in the Order Hall, but it went missing a long, long time ago. Because of that, we don’t have much left to remember him with.”

“Went missing? That’s terrible… And kind of strange? Can’t imagine anyone who’d want to steal a porkchop...” Lukas is puzzled on the matter, wondering if maybe Petra removed him from the Order Hall, or if one of the other hunters played a role in Reuben’s disappearance.

“Well, I do know one thing,” Jack says as he approaches from behind, “is that this build would make Jesse and Reuben both very happy.” The old adventurer comes between the two BeaconTowner’s, giving them both proud pats on the back. “If Nurm were here, he’d probably be tearing up in its presence.”

“Nurm?” Lukas asks gently. “Who’s that?" He asks, recalling the name being mentioned in the name of the shop.

Jack sighs, letting go of his friends. “Ah, Nurm's my partner. He’s... not here anymore.”

“Oh…” Lukas’ voice softens sympathetically. “Has he passed on too?”

“What?” Jack turns, giving the author a surprisingly hearty laugh. “Aether’s above, no! I sent him back to his hometown to live with his parents. BeaconTown isn’t safe for villagers anymore.”

Lukas blinks, shocked to learn this information about Jack. “Your partner? Your partner is a villager?” The blond lights up instantly, pulling a journal from his inventory and opening it up. “From which village? I’ve been to dozens! They’re all so different in such fascinating ways. I can’t get enough of their cozy ways of life.”

“Ah.. Nurm is from Pur’gan-Gah. His village is located in an expansive valley. Gorgeous place. Flower farms as far as the eye can see.”

“Yes! I've been there! That was the only village I could find within the span of over three thousand chunks that had a villager who knew how to teach villagerese. It's incredible that your partner is from there. What’s his profession?” Lukas asks with a bright smile, holding his quill up in anticipation.

Jack smirks, very amused by the author’s experience and enthusiasm. “Nurm’s a cartographer.”

“Oh shoot. ” Lukas grumbles while he writes. “I wish he were here. I could really use some lessons in cartographing. It would make it a heck of a lot easier to map out the— uh… all the places I travel.”

The experienced adventurer chuckles. “I’ll be sure to make note of that in my next letter to him. He’ll be tickled to hear about another individual who knows villagerese is wandering around BeaconTown.”

Lukas smiles and nods. “That’d be fantastic.”

On the way back out of the emporium, Radar and Nell go ahead, but Lukas lingers back to see if he can catch Jack in a short conversation one last time before heading out. The author approaches him just as the front doors close, leaving it to be just the two of them in the old forgotten shop.

“Jack, I was hoping to ask something.” Lukas requests.

“What’s up, blondie?”

“Well, I kind of wanted to ask what your deal is? Why you stayed back to become a hunter here in BeaconTown instead of going to live with Nurm…” Lukas gives the man an innocent and genuinely curious look. He truly does wonder why, but he’s also hoping for some additional information regarding the hunters motives.

“Ah…” Jack crosses his scarred arms and leans up against one of the counters. The man’s bushy eyebrows furrow in deep thought, thinking for a few moments before speaking up again. “Well, let’s just say I have unfinished business here in town.” Lukas’ expression loosens to something of disappointment. Jack quirks a brow, eyeing him curiously. “Did you by chance expect a different answer?”

“I mean, the entire town just looks so defeated. People look like they’ve lost hope and it’s a wonder that they even stay here. And, well, I think you can agree that BeaconTown doesn’t look the same as it once did.” Lukas recalls his postcard, wondering if Jack had ever even seen the town when it was in that state of prosperity. “I guess I can’t help but wonder why so many people stay when everything seems kind of… hopeless? Don’t you miss Nurm?”

Jack’s head tilts downward, facing the dark floorboards that have been walked upon by one lonely person for ages. He emits a deep sigh, taking his time to consider Lukas’ words.

“It’s complicated, Lukas.” Jack admits with a frown. “I would give anything to be by Nurmie’s side again. I dream of getting to spend my life with him, but… there’s a reason why we all stay here. Why we do the things we do, and it's because BeaconTown is worth fighting for.”

“Worth fighting for?” Lukas seems puzzled with the wording. “So… is that… Admin thing… the thing you’re fighting?” He asks cautiously.

“Fighting? More or less pursuing.” Jack shrugs and shakes his head.

Pursuing. Lukas makes mental note of that.

“You look tired, Jack…” Lukas says softly. “Why doesn’t BeaconTown just… move past that Admin thing and move on?”

“If only it were that simple.” The hunter's expression darkens, as does his tone.

Lukas attempts to get comfortable to hide the nervousness that keeps his hands shaking. Leaning against a wooden post, he crosses his arms. “I’m just kind of confused, is all… I mean I’ve been staying here for almost a month and a half, and with how people around here talk of the Admin, I’m on edge feeling like we’re going to be attacked by whatever it is.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to worry about that." The hunter gestures with a shake of his hand. "The Admin hasn’t left the shelter of the woods in a very long time. He stays in hiding, and for good reason.” Jack emits another sigh. “I never thought the chase would last this long. Guess you could say I am pretty tired after all.”

“Man…” Lukas runs his hand up along the back of his hair, taking mental note of every single thing Jack tells him. “So he just… stays out there? In the woods? I wonder why..”

“Because he knows once we catch him, then his life is over.” Jack states gravely.

Lukas tenses at the words. His heart lurches and he’s forced to shove down the need to defend Admin. Why? Why would they want to end his life? The thought of the Admin dying a horrible and painful death brought on by the hunter's sharp weapons and purpose to kill. The author’s stomach churns uneasily, and for the first time ever, he’s scared to ask more.

He doesn’t understand why these people want to hurt him so bad. Admin has done nothing but defend himself and his territory, all while going out of his way to protect Lukas. The man who trespassed endlessly, got himself trapped, and constantly annoyed him. Yet the Admin still gave him chances… He still accepted Lukas’ apologies and gifts, and even brought himself to Lukas’ side to spend time with him. To ease the tension and to… get to know each other.

Admin doesn’t deserve to die. Lukas knows this much.

For someone who’s being pursued by belligerent hunters, he certainly knows how to keep himself hidden and out of their way. He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with them, and it's the hunters who are forcing themselves into his territory and threatening him for what… existing?

Lukas nods quietly.

“I’ll do my best to stay out of your guys’ way then.”

“Thanks, Lukas.” Jack nods. “I appreciate it.”

Radar and Nell were just approaching the beacon monument when Lukas finally caught up with them. The way their expressions shifted, one would think they weren't expecting Lukas to come after them. They were both happy to see him. The blond stops in front of them both, having worked up a sweat from that run. He pants softly as he speaks.

“Sorry, I stayed back to talk to Jack for a bit.” Lukas apologizes.

“Aw, that's okay Lukas. We were just debating on what to get to eat. Maybe you can help us decide?” Radar says in a chipper tone.

“Uhh…” Honestly, there aren't a lot of food options here in town. From what Radar and Nell have previously stated in the past, the best restaurants closed after everyone started leaving BeaconTown. Only a few dedicated souls lingered. “I'm not great at deciding food.”

“Then we shall let fate decide for us!” Radar turns on his heel just before stopping and looking back at Lukas. “...Would you like to join us?”

Lukas isn’t sure why he still finds himself surprised whenever Radar or Nell asks if he’d like to tag along with them. It’s become a weekly thing, where the three inevitably find one another and Lukas is then persuaded into hanging out with them for part of the day. This whole friend thing is still so new and weird. But… It feels nice. Lukas smiles softly and nods, following the two to whatever ‘fate’ leads them.

When the day comes to a close, the author finds himself feeling a lot better about being friends with these people. It’s awfully nice to sit down somewhere to eat with others. He’s so used to eating alone, that there’s a bit of anxiety hanging onto every bite he takes while Radar and Nell chatter in their seats across from him. He’s so nervous about his eating habits, or rather just looking weird while he eats, that in the moment he ended up ordering just a fry basket.

Nell decided on a burger joint that has appealed to Lukas in the past, but the thought of a big hefty meal was a bit nerve wracking, so he occasionally just settled with the food vendors scattered around town. The man who owns the diner is a butcher, big and tough looking. Must be how he gets by, dealing with the unruly griefers hanging around BeaconTown. The place is overall well maintained for one of the last remaining restaurants in town.

Full and satisfied, Radar proposed that they walk Lukas back to the BeacInn. Once they get there, Lukas is stunned and thoroughly embarrassed by the random hugs he receives from them both.

“Is that normal?” Lukas blurts out without really thinking, feeling tense and uncertain of how to respond to the gestures.

“Is what normal? A hug?” Nell raises a brow, looking at Lukas’ like he’d just asked the dumbest question she’s ever heard.

“Of course they’re normal,” Radar pipes in. “BeaconTown was built off of the foundation of community and friendship. And I learned from the best about what it takes to be a good friend,” the ex-intern points proudly at himself. “Jesse loved giving his friends hugs. Whether it be after a job well done, or simply saying goodbye, he’d always bring it in.” Radar sighs now, thinking back on the memories with a longing smile. “He always gave the best hugs.”

“So then… it is normal? To hug your friends?” Lukas asks sheepishly.

Radar squints at the man, staring Lukas down for a few moments before his eyes snap wide open, pointing accusingly at the blond. “You’ve never hugged your friends?!” The man gasps.

Lukas’ face immediately twists with irritation, all while a blush of embarrassment betrays his pale features. “I didn’t say that!” The author retorts sharply, then shakes his head as he waves it off. “Aaah never mind.”

“I’d say yeah, it’s pretty normal.” Nell says nonchalantly with a shrug. Lukas had just been about to walk into the BeacInn, but he stops and turns his head slightly to look back at her. “I mean, from where I came from, hugging was, like, totally unheard of. Nobody felt good enough to share them, but when I came to BeaconTown, everyone was friendly towards one another. It’s what Jesse wanted after all that world ending stuff. It’s a good thing to hug your friends. It can make them feel better during rough patches, or just to remind them that hey…we’re here for you.”

Wow… that’s probably the most words Lukas has ever heard come out of her mouth.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.” Lukas nods. “Thanks guys.”

The knowledge learned from the day out in BeaconTown keeps Lukas up into the late hours of the night. He sits at his desk, cheek resting in his hand while his other hand is put to work doodling on one of the pages in his journal. This has got to be the seventh or eighth doodle of the Admin within the past two weeks.

Pursuing… Lukas remembers. Why are they pursuing him?

Lukas’ frown deepens, troubled within his own thoughts.

What has he done so wrong to deserve this? To deserve to be hunted down and killed? It’s no wonder he seemed so grumpy and distant when I first started showing up. Those people are trying to kill him. Lukas sighs deeply, pausing his sketch and sets his quill down in its ink well. Crossing his arms, he stares down at the doodle on the page, then closes his eyes.

That short lived smile returns to him vividly. He recalls the eagerness in his nods when Lukas asked if he wanted to be friends. The response was so... Ahh Lukas can't define it. But it's certainly something he thinks about multiple times a day.

Does the Admin have friends besides the Allay? Is there…anyone out there who gives him their time of day or…or is he entirely alone?

That thought squeezes his heart, finding himself glassy eyed with emotions thinking about it. He knows what it's like to be alone. To feel like an outcast. To have absolutely no one there for him. If Admin is the same, then does that mean he was just as eager to be Lukas’ friend as Lukas was for him? Of course there was hesitation on both sides, but Lukas has found a connection in the lonely deity that he’s never found with anyone else.

He already thinks the Admin cares for him just enough to have kept him protected, fed, and to help him feel better. Lukas… would love to return the favor. He already does his best to keep the dark blue man well fed with lots of treats, but as for protection? Lukas glances down at his hands, then the rest of his normal human-sized form. Not only is he small, but he doesn’t have god powers either. So in what ways can he possibly protect him?

This will be something he’ll need to take some time to think about. As for now, Lukas moves onto that third and final detail. Helping him feel better, just as he did for the disheartened author during his time of need.

It’s a good thing to hug your friends. It can make them feel better during rough patches, or just to remind them that hey…we’re here for you. Nell’s words echo in his mind.

Lukas sighs, glancing up from the doodle towards the lantern sitting on the end of the desk. The lantern has remained unlit ever since Lukas was teleported out of the forest, and he cannot for the life of him get it to light back up, no matter what tool he tries. He wonders if it's broken, or if he just isn’t using it right. As for now, it lay dormant and lifeless, but inspiring enough for the author to draw to a final decision.

He wants to do everything in his power to make the Admin happy. To make him smile again. To be the best friend he can be.

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saintsir4n · 2 years ago

Text

PROLOGUE

where tommy shelby decides to take a leap of faith

___

1913

"COME on 'Saiah, maths ain't that hard, even I could do it and I didn't know my dividing from my multiplying,"

"What's that?" he groaned, dropping his pencil and pouting his lips, which Eden thought was adorable, but she couldn't say it aloud otherwise he would whine and cry about being treated like a child. Brat. "Those ain't real words."

"They are, trust me and you'll learn 'em soon. Don't worry kid, just remember we have to get this homework sheet done, I don't want your teacher actin' up."

"'Cause she's a... what d'you call it, a b-bitch?"

Her eyes widened at the curse, "Isaiah."

"You say it and so does Finn," he quickly explained, patting the table.

"Neither of you lot are supposed to say it. You're kids!"

"I'm almost six," he said cheekily as if it meant anything.

She pinched his cheeks, "Still a baby to me."

"I am not a baby, Dad said I'm a big boy," he spoke grumpily, "I can count to fifty y'know?"

Knocking at the front door caught their attention.

Eden frowned because she knew her parents had a key, same with her uncle Jeremiah and he didn't stop preaching until he 'put the fear of god into small heath', even though she couldn't tell if he believed the words he spoke. Whoever was rapidly knocking slightly worried her.

"How about, you stay here and count to fifty like a big boy and then we can stop for a bit," she hushed him before he could clap excitedly, "I'll throw in some sweets if you can keep quiet and finish one of these sums alright?"

Isaiah nodded happily and started counting, holding his hands up to help him, not wanting to ruin his chances of getting some sweets along with his Friday night chips that his dad brought home with him.

Eden cautiously approached the front door, all while wishing she brought a knife from the kitchen or a nursing needle from the nursing course she was taking (following in her mother's footsteps she was).

If she had a religious bone in her body she would've prayed, but there was no God in Small Heath, only devils existed 'round here.

And that was who was on the other side of the door.

Thomas bloody Shelby.

Stood there leant against the archway of the door without uttering a single word.

Tilting her head upwards, Eden met his impenetrable gaze.

During their school years, not one word was exchanged between them, well being in different years groups would do that and the fact he never seemed to stray far from his two best friends Greta and Freddie, just like Lorenzo and Dorris never strayed from her. Not one word and yet she usually talked to his brother John, with him being in the same year as her.

Eden didn't know what to do other than glance behind her, hoping not to see Isaiah making his way around the corner but luckily all she could faintly hear was him struggling to count. When she turned back she gulped at the sight of Tommy. Eyes as piercing as snow, not even the peaky hat could protect her from his stare. With his fairly chapped lips and a jaw that could slice its way through the thickest bread one could buy at the local bakery, she took a step back, swiftly raking her gaze down his slightly worn suit and dress shoes that must've been polished this morning.

Tommy was frustratingly handsome and to him, she was infuriatingly beautiful.

He was there for a reason, though he'd never uttered a word to the girl he'd grown up with he knew there was more than what met the eye. He knew her closest friends, which sibling of his she spoke to, her parents' profession and what she might do with her future. He knew she would come to the door cautiously considering the rough street they lived on. He knew her short hair would be styled back in a bun which unintentionally insinuated her flawless features. And he knew she would be wearing an ankle-length skirt and a loose-fitting blouse similar to his aunt. Why? He just knew.

They never spoke a word to each other.

Not one word until now.

"You lost?" she asked, leaning forward and glancing around the noisy street.

And what he was about to say next, she could never have predicted.

"Come to my uncle's yard, John told me you know where it is," he replied shortly, taking her back.

She blinked at him, ignoring how his gruff voice made her feel, "Hello Tommy, nice to see you too."

He continued, unaffected by her sarcasm, "Just come."

Her grip on the door tighten, "And why would I listen to you?"

He shrugged, "Well, As your future husband, I want to show you things that no one else will."

A laugh of disbelief escaped her lips and yet she didn't smile, much to his chagrin.

"And what things are they Mr Shelby?" her grip on the door loosened slightly, which he took note of.

"Anything you ask, meet me at my uncle's yard and don't be late."

"And what if I am?" she dared to ask, rolling her shoulders back and insinuating her neck. A bear neck, like always. He assumed that a cross would cover it, but even when they were all forced to go to church as kids she never wore one. "What will you do huh?"

His tongue swiped over his teeth before answering, "Then I'll just have to wait for you then eh?"

She wanted to smile at his answers, they were all so...charming, but why would she believe the ladykiller of small heath? Just as she went to reply, she was interrupted.

"Edie!" Isaiah's little voice boomed through the little space, making her sigh and Tommy raise a brow and cocked his head to the side, letting his eyes dart around the small foyer of the narrow home. Cleaner than my house that's for fucking sure. It looked cosy and warm, filled with pictures, hanging from the walls and cluttered on the small table near where shoes laid, "Counted to a fifty, I did."

"Then finish the sum!" her voice pulled him from his thoughts and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Hearing Isaiah's huff and groan, Eden exhaled and turned back to a rather amused Tommy.

"What?" she questioned, finally dropping her hand from the door.

"Nothing," he paused, "I don't remember you being so good at maths at school."

Her brows pinched together, "You didn't speak to me at school so how would you know that?"

"Finn tells me things," he recalled all the times his littlest brother would run home after being babysat by Eden and gush over every little thing she did, "You help him with readin' and writin' like Isaiah back there."

"Two little shits that drive me off the bend," she blurted out, then went to correct herself remembering who she was speaking to, "shit- I mean-" he swiftly cut her off.

"Thick as thieves those two," he said, amused by her cursing, "Our Finn is head-case and despite Jeremiah stalking through town and trying to fill it with hope and all the godly advice in the bloody world, Isaiah is just like my brother."

She hummed and then changed the conversation.

"Am I even your type? Because the women I've seen you with are the same colour as my palm if that."

"So you watch me," he noted rather smugly, though his face didn't show it, his eyes beamed slightly.

"Easy, I notice things."

"As do I," he retorted, "You're wrong, about the women you see me with," she raised a questioning brow, urging him to go on, "I don't have a type, you can say there's a pattern —"

"And you wanna break it with me? No chance."

She didn't want to be the first black woman he bedded, even though she highly doubted she would be. Well, that and she didn't want to give in to the small-town gangster.

"Haven't you heard? Life is full of chances," he jested.

"Cute."

"And you should take one on me."

Rolling her eyes, "Since I watch you..." her tone turned mocking, "I could've sworn you have a woman, at least that's what the streets are saying."

"The streets of Small Heath are full of lies," he spoke, pulling out a cigarette tin, growing slightly irritated from all her assumptions and questions. He didn't think it would be easy to get someone like Eden Dawkins, he liked a challenge, but she was fucking stubborn. Like trying to force the wrong bullet into a barrel, it won't fucking go. "And fuckin' smoke," he added, pulling out a lighter.

Not being able to help herself her gaze dropped to his lips just as the cigarette swiped against them before he lit it. He took a drag and turned his head as the smoke escaped.

A sly smirk appeared on his face after noting her stare.

"What?"

"Nothing," she quickly cleared her throat and ignored the beam in his icy eyes, "it's just that you contribute to the latter well enough," she uttered, quickly nodding to his cigarette. Fuck I need one.

"Yeah, the factories help me out a bit."

She almost smiled.

"I suppose, but I'm just remembering what I was told... you know about you being taken."

"By who?"

"Whom," she corrected.

"Fine, whom?"

"The eyes of small Heath." Her eyes, but she wouldn't admit that.

"Alright. You think if I had a woman I would look at you, be on your doorstep?" he asked after taking another drag, even offering her a hit, but she refused, despite needing a release of her own.

"I hope not. Or I would let her know that her man's a dog," she said, holding back a smile.

He made a noise, "A horse is more fitting."

"Ah yes, your family loves to ride," she quickly added, "John's on four feet more than he's on two."

"It's in the blood. Gypsy blood," he informed, waiting to see how she would react to his background.

It wasn't a secret where his family came from, most people were disgusted by them, many hid it well, whilst the others got a beating if they opened their gobs.

He was glad when he didn't catch any indifference in her demeanour. She didn't care or didn't see any faults in it. He supposed that she couldn't, being black and all, but if you weren't pure-blooded you would get put into the same boat as everyone else or the bottom of the barrel. And that's where one would find people like them; Watery Lane.

"I'm scared of horses," she admitted.

He squinted, "What has a horse ever done to you, Eh?"

"Mum doesn't like 'em, so I guess she passed that on to me."

"Suppose I have to change that," I will change that.

"Not without asking that girl of yours," she finally smiled at her own joke and so did he.

He playfully rolled his eyes, "I'm available, not with anyone and those who say they're with me are lying alright."

"Alright. Because I don't like cheaters. I despise the lot of 'em, just like those toffs despise us."

"It's a good thing I'm not one then ain't it?"

Finally giving in, she shrugged, "I guess you're right."

"And what about you," he turned it on her, "I heard I weren't the only lad in knockin' at your door."

She hummed, folding her arms, "There's a long list."

Narrowing his eyes, he didn't know whether or not she was playing with him, "How long?"

"No need to bawl and shout. According to the eyes of Small Heath, it goes from here to bloody Black Country. But all you need to know is that you could be at the end..." she trailed off.

"Last darlin', last."

"Oh really?"

"Changretta won't storm your mind when you next see me I promise you that."

She laughed, "Changretta, which one? Just like you Shelbys, there's many."

"You know which one, I don't have to spell it out for you," he took his last drag and let the cigarette drop before stomping it out.

"You might, I'm a woman y'see, I don't always get things straight away, have to get a man to dumb things down f'me."

He almost smiled again at her teasing, but all joy faded as he spoke.

"Luca," he pronounced as clear as day, with his jaw tightening ever so slightly. That bloody jawline. He knew she was heavily involved with the Changrettas, her closest friend was Lorenzo for Christ's sake and she even talked to the Angel also. But Luca... he and Luca never got along. not during school or out of it. Shelby's and Changretta's... like water and oil. Them being Italian meant they were also the bottom of the barrel, but that didn't mean they had to get along. "That Changretta."

She began to grin and even though he wanted to enjoy her expression, he took a mental picture and decided to save it for later.

"Ah, so the eyes of Small Heath have told you about me and him is that right?"

"Yeah, these bloody eyes seem to know all."

She hummed, "Bloody nosey."

"Too right," he agreed.

"So confident, where has this man been for the last couple of years? Pestering other doorsteps and desecrating other homes," she motioned to the used cigarette, which made him quickly kick it away.

"Making sure he was the right man for you," he spoke not taking his eyes off of her which made her cave and look away, much to his amusement because he caught the light blush kissing her caramel skin.

"You've got the charm," she annoyedly admitted, "it's all in the eyes."

He huffed out a chuckle, "Don't stare for too long, yours will get stuck."

Feigning offence, "And then I won't take you up on that offer, oh no."

Checking his watch, he tsked and ignored her quip. He shot her one last look and then spun on his heel, before shouting, "I'll see you at Charlie's yard Eden!"

"No, you won't!"

"Don't dress up for me!"

"Wasn't gonna!"

And with that, she slammed the door shut with the biggest smile on her face.

"Edie!" Isaiah yelled, "I'm done!"

"Sure you are little man!"

"Can we get sweets now?" he eagerly asked after she entered the kitchen and saw the biggest drawings all over his homework, making her curse.

"You ain't done. Your dad will be on my arse if he sees this."

"He won't. Just like I won't tell him about Tommy comin' over."

His cheeky grin widened at the glare he received.

"Fine," she gave in, "but don't tell your dad."

"Promise."

"Alright get your coat," she huffed as he ran away, "little shit."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

dorathy dandridge is eden’s face claim. this story is also on my wattpad account, but I know that many people cannot access the app/website so I’ll try and post on both.

#wattpad #fanfic #black girl #black reader #edendawkins #tommy shelby x reader #Tommyshelbyxblackreader #until we meet again fanfic #1913 #1914

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the-fever-dream-highs · 2 years ago

Text

your electric touch- j. champion

"And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch, mmm"

part 1 / part 2

ship- Jack Champion x fem!reader

background- It had been almost a year since that very first kiss. Times had changed, situations changed, relationships changed. Y/n took a much-needed break from acting and began working on herself mentally. Of course, it's still a work in progress. She moved to New York and got a beautiful apartment in the heart of the city, just like she wanted to as a child. Though, she didn't do all this alone.

content warnings- use of she/her pronouns / use of y/n / description of heights / acrophobia / mention of death / (sorta) Scream 6 spoilers / (Please tell me if I missed any!)

word count- 1401

a/n: going through intense editing tomorrow!

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Snow was falling all around New York giving the city an extra sense of magic. It was both of theirs first winter in New York and they were living and thriving in it. They spent every waking hour together with much enjoyment. Tonight was no different except it would be even more intimate, if that's even possible. Jack had the whole night planned. He had kept it a secret for the past few days and ended up springing it on Y/n sort of last minute which was not appreciated. He found it hilarious though..

They had just had a ramen dinner at a Y/n's favorite ramen place. He knew he needed to get her in the best mood before they went to the next location. It was going to take a bit of coaxing from him to get her there.

"Are you almost ready?" Jack yelled impatiently. He was dying to get the date night started as he had waited all day. Everything was ready to go and the whole night planned, now he just needed to get his girlfriend out the door.

Y/n rolled her eyes at his childish antics. He had asked that same question at least four times in the last ten minutes. It was like when you're in a car and a child asks, "Are we there yet?" every other second. Annoying but with Jack it was cute and tolerable. One more fix to her lipstick and she slipped out the bathroom door and ran down the stairs. She stopped at the very last step, getting to see Jack for the first time since he had gotten ready.

He looked good. Really good.

As she took in him, he took in her. She was wearing a maroon sweater with a little black skirt; black tights layered over her legs, and she had on black chunky Doc Marten boots. Little white socks with red hearts could ever so slightly be seen over the boots. ((You can imagine whatever outfit you would like and the makeup how you like it. This is just my personal style.)) Her make-up was subtle but it accentuated her natural features. The features that made him fall in love with her. (Well, everything about her made him fall in love but that's another thing.)

To Jack she looked like heaven, but she would never believe it if he told her.

He began to mindlessly walk over to her, still starstruck by her appearance. He couldn't even get himself to blink. Stopping directly in front of her, he grabbed her hand gently and allowed her to step down. "You look gorgeous," he whispered, smiling down at her. "Now I've been waiting forever. Let's goooooo." He eagerly pulled on her arm. She laughed at his antics. This would be a night to remember, and she couldn't wait.

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Jack's hand was holding hers, as she looked at every corner of the city. The snow made everything even more enchanting. As she admired the city landscape around her, he admired her.

They walked down the snow-covered street which was filled with people. Though it felt like they were the only ones in the world. Two little people in a big old city that was just their own. Sadly, that wasn't the case, but the moment though, was at least their own.

"So where are we going anyway?" she said smiling looking at him happily. Just being in his presence made her feel ten times happier. He just had that effect on people.

"You'll see. Jeez your so impatient, he joked, sarcastically. Both of them knew she was definitely not the impatient one in the relationship. He giggled softly at her stunned face from his previous statement. "We're almost there."

Finally, he stopped right in front of the building. It was the building Y/n never thought she'd go in. "No no no. Not happening. I am not going up there."

It was the Empire State Building.

"We are going to the top together." Jack stated.

"Look Jack I care about you, I would do anything for you, except this. I've seen the Final Destinations movies way too many times, not also adding my already horrible fear of heights. I can't do this." she said. Fear was starting to course through her. But she knew something scarier than being up that high. She knew a few sincere words from him, and she would follow him. That was horrifying. Her feelings were becoming even stronger for him, and she didn't know what to do.

"I will be with you. We will do it together. Nothing will happen to you as long as I'm breathing." He made sure every word was assuring and honest, because they were.

"Last time you said something remotely like that I ended up dead on a movie theater floor," she smirked.

"Okay, that was part of a film, not real life, and I didn't particularly want to." he said laughing. "Though you do look hot dead." Wanting to get a rise out of her.

"Why thank you." she said, rolling her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Now let's go face your fears and go see the best view of the city," he stated.

The real fear at the moment wasn't even the heights. Of course, she was still terrified of being up that high. The real fear is when all her feelings for Jack were becoming apparent. The electric sparks had become a raging fire, and that raging fire was generating an immense heat. A heat that was burning the inside of her skin to ash, threatening to let all her feelings out and into the world. This wasn't just an intense liking anymore. This was much, much more.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

The elevator ride was mediocre at best. Now it was becoming reality for Y/n that she would be standing 1,250 feet in the air. Not what she expected on what started off as an amazing day. Jack held Y/n against him letting her listen to his heartbeat to hopefully keep her calm and grounded.

After what seemed like forever, finally, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. "Fuck you..." she mumbled repeatedly as she walked through the doors. Her grip on his hand was deathly but he didn't mind. They arrived at the door to the outer deck. Her breathing was heavy, but Jack's touch helped. He knew that and planned on mocking her about it later.

Stepping on that deck was like the first time she kissed Jack. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and her head felt dizzy.

They walked around and found a spot for themselves. Y/n wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and looked at the scene in front of them. She had to admit it was beautiful. It was peaceful but also haunting.

Slowly, she turned her head to look at Jack. He flashed a beautiful smile at her. The damn smile. It made all her fears melt away. She was safe as long as she was with him. Nothing could happen with them being together.

A surge of confidence flowed through her. The moment was right. This one time the stars had aligned for her and brought her the best human to her. He was all hers and she was his.

"I love you..." she whispered, smiling at him. His eyes widened and an even bigger smile painted his face. His arms wrapped around her waist spinning her around. Giggles and pure laughter erupted from the two before he set her back down.

"I love you too. Holy shit, I've been wanting to say that to you since we kissed in your trailer. Oh my god!" He grabbed her face and pulled her into a deep kiss as if this was there last. (It will definitely not be.)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

The two sat cuddled up in their bed, holding each other incredibly tight. "Love, Actually" played on the tv but both were preoccupied with each other's company. The bit of adrenaline they got from earlier still filled them with utmost joy. Though they were really beginning to doze off.

"I'm so in love with you Y/n Y/Ln." he whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead so gently, as if she was glass.

"And I'm in love with you Jack Champion.." She finally dozed off into the most comfortable sleep of her life. Nothing could beat this night. Not anything.

a/n: Hi! I'm so incredibly sorry for taking so long to finish writing this and I'm sorry if it's not as good. I will be editing this thoroughly tomorrow, but I really wanted to get this up. I hope you enjoy it! <3

Please send any other requests you have! I would love to wite them!

Hope you're having an incredible day/night!

Bye!

#ethan landry #jack champion x reader #jack champion #taylor swift #jack champion fluff #jack champion x y/n #scream 6 #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x reader #i love jack champion

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freezegirl · 3 months ago

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khione meets tim at the silver lotus, a chinese restaurant riding on the coattails of jean grey, ororo munroe, colleen wing and misty knight. it's no paper lantern, of course, but it'll do for now.

aisling has been lying.

four words that cause her to, briefly, close her eyes. she breathes in through the nose, holds it for four seconds, and breathes out through her mouth, mentally counting to six. then she opens her eyes again. neither pain nor surprise crosses her features. just some sort of weary resignedness.

it's yet another jagged puzzle piece that she has to slot in somewhere.

she remembers the nine cards that aisling tucked away. remembers the time aisling told her that, sometimes, she has to play a game that benefits nobody.

remembers fiachra stirring up trouble shortly after her arrival. remembers edgar babysitting them for some reason when aisling was out of town.

she remembers, though. files the things she sees and hears and experiences away for future reference in neat little mental cabinets. she remembers. that's the long and short of it.

there is so much she knows, now, and so much she doesn't.

tim has found something, she knows. a file on how to erase someone's powers. permanently. how that works? she doesn't know. doesn't want to know, even though knowledge is power.

"you have powers," he says, "so maybe you can help me understand what happened?"

khione's heart breaks because he's so young, because he doesn't know what happened to stanley. doesn't know his part in it. her heart breaks and breaks again, mostly for tim, but also for herself because she's going to have to be the one to tell him.

make it fast. it's like ripping off a band-aid. it's like wiping out on the ice; it's imperative you get up as quickly as you can.

they meet again at a later date. this time they sit down in a restaurant called pradeepan's indian cuisine and it grieves khione that she can't just pull tim in for a hug. it wouldn't magically fix everything, but it wouldn't make things worse, either.

apparently the company of v is still whispering in tim's ears because the minute he sits down, he brings out the big guns.

"how do you know it wasn't aisling who killed him? huh? she can revive anyone, save any life she chooses. how come she didn't save him? maybe she isn't as perfect as you think. nobody is. but at least these people aren't lying to me."

she takes a moment to scoop most of the raita out of the little container and onto her biryani. she mixes it together as best she can and then she takes a big bite, savoring the rich flavors.

"most powers manifest during periods of high stress and intensity, you know, elevated cortisol levels and all that jazz. will stronghold's abilities made themselves known during a fight in the cafetaria with warren peace, but only after warren had threatened will's friends. yours made themselves known during your argument with aisling about the file."

khione hums and takes a sip of her chai: "i never claimed she was perfect. you're right, nobody is. and i understand your... grief and frustration, i do. but one) everything comes at a cost and two) maybe they are not lying but not lying and being truthful are two very different things. they are witholding information from you, i'm sure. tell me, if all the cards were on the table and if you knew everything, would you still be here? would this be the choice you would have made time and time again? would this be the path you would have gone down? the road you would have taken?"

from the corner of her eyes, she sees someone who looks surprisingly like edgar tear into a roti roll and wonders how many eyes the company has on them. wonders if she has to give said eyes temporary snow blindness.

"because you've allied yourself with the people who almost killed me, and now you would have your siblings do the same? you're smarter than this, tim. you always have been. do you really think that's what's best for all of you in the long run?" khione arches an eyebrow. "you and whomever else you'd manage to recruit would have to work with people like katie baxter. people who had no qualms whatsoever about torturing me and killing me if it meant reaching her objective."

the only reason she's not going into the harrowing details is because she's sure it'd ruin his appetite. instead, she takes another bite of her food, if only to prolong the inevitable.

"i don't think i'll ever get back to being the person i was before all of that happened. i mean, sure, i can still hold my own but..." khione shrugs. "...we can't go back. can't wind back the clock. we only have now." which means that, at the end of the day, tim has a difficult choice to make.

(it also means that at the end of the day, khione is evander's daughter, is saraswati's daughter. knows that there is power not only in words but in being seen, too, in being listened to. in mining information. giving a little to get a lot. permafrost and ganga may be retired but they did teach her. the fact that she quoted aisling's voice mail? not an accident. not at all.)

as she finishes up her meal and drains her cup of tea, khione adds: "you don't have to face aisling just yet if you don't feel up to it but just know that everyone would love to see you come home, me included." a beat and then: "don't worry about the bill, by the way. i got you."

@clochanam / @bailesona

#clochanam #bailesona #freeze girl / drabbles.#freeze girl / marvel.#//this exists now bc of our discord chats lmao #queue.

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chronothread · 6 months ago

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Horizon

<Music, if you'd like: Black Steel, Cold Embers (Forge Ahead: Final Fantasy XIV) - piano transcription (youtube.com)>

“...really though, couldn’t they have just said they were heading out here?”

“You know how they can get Salem, wrapped up in their own head.”

“Yeah, well someone needs to remind them they need to remember to breathe-”

“-Salem…”

“-without how far up their own ass they get, hahaha!”

“What, the same way someone needs to pull your unconscious head out of the barrel whenever you decide it’s a convenient day to drown in alcohol?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know I strategically picked that barrel because it was empty enough that I wouldn’t drown. Anyway, I don’t want my little brother lecturing me about big girl business. Run along and play with your little toys, let the adults be adults.”

“They’re not toys, they are highly sophisticated inventions. Like the bow I made for you. And furthermore! By a quarter bell! No one takes that into account when talking about age, who even cares-”

“Solaris-”

“What!!!”

“Isn’t this…”

The pair stop dead in their tracks. It was late afternoon in Coerthas, and it was snowing besides. A blizzard was supposed to roll in later that evening, so being out here in the open was decidedly a bad idea for any party involved. Ishgardian and Coerthan included. And yet here in this field, tucked away in a corner of nowhere was a trail of smoke, desperate to rise to Halone’s Halls before inevitably fading out into nothingness. The soft crackle of flame fills the air, and a figure sits by a campfire, their shadow cast over some sort of structure they were leaning on behind them. They had purple hair - with streaks of lavender scattered about their head. They were an elezen - amber eyes, like the twins who had stopped short of their camp. Their skin was much fairer in contrast though, the twins sporting a warm, brown shade.

The one named Salem, a redhead, steps forward first. She puts a hand on her hip, loosing a sigh that could have shaken the very foundations of Ishgard herself. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” she goes on, stepping on the opposite side of the fire to the figure, making contact unavoidable. “Eldest between the three of us and you’ve got us two looking for you when Menphina’s ass is about to cover the sky. Can you be normal for once and, I don’t know…leave a note?”

No response. They continue to look onward, past the fire, past Salem. Their piercing gaze seeing straight through their sister, and into the cloudy sky.

The one named Solaris, blue locks on his head, tries next. He walks around the side of the campfire, crouching down. “It’s um…we should go, Gale. There’s supposed to be a blizzard rolling in.” he looks between their blank yet focused stare, and the monument behind them. It’s simple, nothing more than a rugged but clean looking rock. There were flowers adorned on it, a few candles - some lit and some naught but wax - dotted the base of the stone. The most notable feature was a name and a few words, beautifully engraved on the monument’s surface.

Ventus Amante.

The worst-mannered of us.

A vulgar, frustrating vagabond.

A reckless, immature contrarian.

And my best friend.

I’ll see you over the horizon.

Solaris finds that his words escape him as he runs through the stonework once. Twice. Three times. “Didn’t know this was here…” He takes a seat by the campfire, next to Gale, and inhales deeply as he looks into the flame, deciding to stoke it with a stick that Gale had left by their leg. “This would have been the day, huh? A decade or so ago.”

Gale doesn’t speak, but they do take a deep breath. As if to take every essence of this place into their being.

Salem grunts, pulling out a rolled-up cigarette from her coat pocket and using the fire to light it up. Finally, she takes a seat across from her brother, next to her sibling. “Salem, you shouldn’t-” Solaris begins, but is cut off as Gale holds a hand out to him, gesturing for him to stop. After what seems like an eternity, they finally speak.

“Light one for me too Salem.” Their response is quiet, tired. But peaceful. Their sister, who had previously been so vocal, had now ceased her provocations. She takes a deep drag of her vice, smoke spilling into the frozen air of Coerthas. She ignites the paper with her own joint, passing it to the older elezen. It’s a rare moment for them, they don’t make it a habit to stuff their lungs.

But Ventus liked to do it, and today was a special occasion.

It takes another minute before they speak again, House Amante’s scions huddled together in silence. They don’t even smoke, they just hold the cigarette between their gloved fingers, staring at it. Solaris eventually relents himself, asking his sister to roll him one too, which he decides to take a hit of, no more complaints. No more questions asked.

After an eternity, Gale’s voice escapes their throat, an almost unwilling action. “You’re right, we should go before we get caught in a snowstorm.”

They’re about to clamber onto their feet, before something stops them. A sea of blue finds itself nestled on their left shoulder, Solaris leaning onto their sibling, looking up at the sky. “...blizzard shouldn’t roll in for another few hours. We have time.” His soft features soften further as he shuts his eyes. He looks just like Gale in this moment - tired but peaceful. Red similarly floods their right side, Salem finds herself mimicking her brother. She doesn’t say anything, but she grunts approvingly. For once, she doesn’t argue.

Gale looks up to the sky and draws deep from their cigarette, before finally releasing a breath that they had been holding for a long, long time. The smoke seeps from their lips, traveling upwards towards Halone’s Halls. Like their siblings, Gale shuts their eyes. Never to know if the trail had made it or not.

#FFxivWrite2024 #FFxivWrite #FFxiv #gale amante #cw alchohol mention #cw cigarettes #cw smoking

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chen-chen-chen-again-chen · 2 years ago

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Hi, hello, hola, and happy Stab Caesar Day! Tumblr ate my original draft because, um, I guess its hunger is horrible and insatiable? But here I am for take two. Thank you to @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, and @forabeatofadrum, who tagged me today and who continue to craft delightful things.

Updates on My Good Egg (Good morning, good night, good morning): My plan of posting Chapter 4 today ain't gonna happen. I updated the author's notes, but the next posting date is TBD. I need to focus on my health right now, and then I'll be travelling for a bit (March 24-April 7). But hey, if you've been meaning to read this one, now's a great time to catch up? 🤣

In the meanwhile, I'll share a snippet featuring several of my OCs, Baz's queer, chaotic uni friends. Behind the cut for mild spice. 🌶️

Bunce goes off with Simon so that she can pump the American bartender for information, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, Emma leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Well?”

“Well what.”

“I told Liu and Ramesh you got kidnapped,” Emma says, waving her hand dismissively, “and of course we’re all very worried and hope you’re doing okay and acclimating to regular life again, but have. You. Ridden. That.”

Baz regrets downing a few rats before they left for the pub, because it means he has enough blood in him to blush. “We’ve been figuring out this kidnapping situation,” he says coolly. “It hasn’t left much time for carnal pursuits.”

“Baz,” Liu says, aghast. “Why haven’t you fucked that nice himbo? He’s clearly gagging for it - he couldn’t stop staring at your arse in those jeans.”

“Is he a himbo?” Ramesh says. He pulls out a pen and starts to doodle a triple Venn diagram on a napkin. “He seemed like more of a twunk to me. And he’s got a great bear belly.”

“Ladies,” Emma says, her hands fluttering in mock-distress, “please don’t objectify that sweet boy before Baz gets to objectify him. Baz will eat his fill of the man-meat and then give us a report.”

(Please put in the comments/tags if you think Simon Snow is a twunk, a himbo, or something else delightful. 🤣)

Hello tags and tagbacks: @whogaveyoupermission, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, @captain-aralias, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @whogaveyoupermission (THE EDGING CONTINUES), @raenestee, @ileadacharmedlife, @shrekgogurt, @hushed-chorus, @shemakesmeforget, @theimpossibledemon, @imagineacoolusername

More about the hiatus for My Good Egg:

(Warning for some hard stuff, Big Feelings, trauma recovery. Feel free to skip and just bask in Ides of March posts instead!)

Okay, so introspective life/writing blather here... I keep meaning to write a post, at some point, about some of the best practices that I follow when I am writing about material that is heavy, like in Baker boxer teacher grief or the Rosethorn girl universe.

A lot of stuff that works for me is probably self-evident: go slow, be gentle, ground yourself, talk to safe people, have a release valve, be able to walk away, offer yourself a lot of self-care and self-compassion, take care of the soft animal of your body. And don't feel like you have to put everything in - some of what you can write can just be for you, and it can be enough to have written it, and not include it in the finished product.

I honestly didn't expect Good morning, good night, good morning to get me where I live. It is, as I've always maintained, a dumb horny rom com (that somehow developed a plot and backstory and plot TWISTS and OCs but ANYWAY). But there was a line in Chapter 3 that kept rattling around in me:

“You were a kid,” Simon says, his voice low and angry. “You were just a kid.”

This is not the first time I've been triggered by own fic (and probably won't be the last, LOL!), but this one did me a doozy. I've had to take a few steps back, and just focus on recovering from trauma that's been reactivated in my body. It is wild what the body remembers, and how it holds onto pain.

(There is, at the same time, other stuff happening with my family with grief and estrangement and just a whole mischegoss of hard feelings, so that adds another element into the mix.)

To circle back round to My Good Egg: I'm putting it to the side for now while I tend to my health and just recovering from the past few weeks. It's funny - I don't think it's a particularly angsty story or one that does a super deep dive into trauma, but I need to take some pieces off my plate right now, and this fic is one of them.

I will always keep writing - the WIP game has been a delightful brain refresher, and I have a very fun Six Sentence Sunday post that I'm already excited to share. But for now, My Good Egg is gonna have a li'l nap. When I come back to it, I think I'll switch over to writing the second draft in its entirety, and then posting the chapters weekly, whenever that happens. I'm not putting a timeline on it right now.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk making your way through this personal essay, if you've gotten this far. I am continually blown away and delighted by everyone who engages with the fic, and I am so excited to serve you up some treats in the future.

To end on a lighter note, here is an exchange with my spouse, the inestimable EarlobeGreyTea who continues to offer thoughtful and nuanced feedback on this fic, Exhibit A:

EarlobeGreyTea: Did they fuck in this chapter?

Me: No Me: And they didn't fuck in the previous chapter Me: It's the EROTIC Grope Fest. It doesn't have to have explicit sex (yet) EarlobeGreyTea: Yeah, I guess it isn't the Sloppy Fuck Fest

Love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

#WIP Wednesday #My Good Egg #good morning good night good morning #life and writing #long boi #big mood #my fic tag

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chenziee · 2 years ago

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Protect her right

My piece for @opdilfzine!! So honoured to have been able to work on this amazing project with so many talented people <3 Aftersales are open right now but stuff is disapprearing really fast so don't hesitate to check it out!

I wrote two more fics for the digital add-on that i'm excited to share soon as well!! :D

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI ]

Alternate summary:

—————————————————————————

Making his way through the snow-covered lands of Ringo with fried tofu in hand, Kawamatsu the Kappa couldn’t help but remember the last time he had walked this same path. Back then, he couldn’t appreciate how pretty the winter region looked with its small shrines and toriis, snow sparkling in the sun above.

Thirteen years ago, he was looking only at his feet, searching for a place to rest for the final time. He had ignored the way Sotomuso cried at his waist, the blade knowing its master was ready to atone for his failure, yet unable to do anything.

It was a twist of fate that had brought him to the eternal graves just as the graverobbers had attacked Onimaru. He truly owed the flame-fox—and ironically, the robbers—his life.

Kawamatsu wasn’t expecting Onimaru to still be waiting for him… but he hoped he was doing well despite having been left alone.

He looked up at the sound of steel clashing together. Fighting on the Bandit’s Bridge… that brought back memories. The thought of Gyukimaru and Onimaru protecting the graveyard just beyond—it made Kawamatsu smile.

But, looking at the warrior monk and samurai crossing blades, it didn’t seem like the same scene from years before. His hand closed around Sotomuso’s hilt—the blade’s presence familiar as if it had never left his side—and slowly pulled it out of its scabbard.

“Cease this fight!” he called, throwing Sotomuso towards the battle that lacked any bloodlust.

He only huffed when the samurai stopped the shirasaya as if it were nothing before throwing the blade back. It was reassuring, seeing that the Land of Wano wasn’t completely void of capable samurai after all these years.

A laugh bubbled out of his chest as he caught Sotomuso in his hand once more. “What do I find here? A samurai and a monk, doing battle in this remote place? Yet neither of you is trying to kill the other. A curious sight!”

“Kawamatsu?!” a woman’s voice cried out then. “Is that you?!”

Kawamatsu frowned, his gaze turning in the direction the voice had come from—a young woman hiding behind a tree; her hair long and turquoise in colour, her features soft and pretty, her eyes wide with shock where she stared right at Kawamatsu.

The samurai felt a pang of nostalgia looking at her… but why?

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

Tears appeared in the woman’s eyes when she covered her mouth. “Kawamatsu!” she gasped, taking a step forward, then another, and another. Soon, she was rushing towards him; as soon as she was close enough, she buried her face in Kawamatsu’s chest, her shoulders shaking as she clutched at the fabric of his kimono.

Kawamatsu wasn’t sure what to do. Just who was this person? He had been in prison for thirteen years. If she had known him before… she had to have been quite young.

There was only one young girl who knew him well enough.

Kawamatsu’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, heart beating fast in his chest. He gulped heavily, his hands coming to gingerly touch the woman’s trembling shoulders.

“Don’t tell me—” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Don’t tell me you’re… Hiyori-sama?”

Immediately, the woman lifted her head. She looked up at him with big eyes that glistened with unshed tears, her lips stretched into a bright smile. “Yes! I’m so happy to see you safe!”

The moment he looked into those eyes, it was like he was thrown back in time.

Suddenly, he was back at Oden Castle with tiny hands clutching at his webbed fingers as the little human girl learned to walk. A smile spreading on his face in response to the adorable grin she would give him any time he’d accept one of her lovingly folded origami creations—a ball, a crane, a fox, or even just a simple boat.

He could almost hear a shamisen playing, the song clumsy and slow, the instrument a little too big for the four year old thrumming at its strings with utmost focus. Even while she was still learning, the melody was already so beautiful. Kawamatsu wondered… How sweet would it sound today?

“Hiyori-sama…” Kawamatsu breathed, barely audible. “To see you alive and well is the greatest gift I could imagine.”

The fists clutching at his kimono tightened momentarily at his words while the Princess buried her face in the fabric, a sob escaping her. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m so sorry for running away!”

With every tearful word from her, Kawamatsu felt the weight that had been resting on his shoulders for the past 13 years lifting little by little. He couldn’t believe how terribly kind Hiyori-sama was even at such a young age—to leave all for fear of her retainer going hungry. A kind of warmth gathered in Kawamatsu’s chest, spreading throughout his body to the very tips of his fingers. He barely felt the chill of the wind blowing past them anymore.

Just to see Hiyori-sama again, grown up into such a wonderful, kind young lady—

Deciding to stay alive for all those years, eating every disgusting, poisonous fish thrown his way… it was all worth it just for that.

He had failed to keep her safe once before.

This time, he was not going to make the same mistake.

No matter how many of Orochi’s or Kaido’s men came after them, no matter how little food he would be able to find, this time…

This time, he was going to protect her right.

And he was going to start with taking Kaido down along with the rest of the Kozuki samurai.

—————

Kawamatsu wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting at the edges of the ongoing festival, simply watching the crowds celebrate the fall of Orochi and Kaido’s tyrannical rule. He could hardly believe it had only been a little over a week, a mere ten days, since he had been reunited with the Princess.

Even just the battle of Onigashima itself felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. Yet, the remains of the island were still lying beyond the Flower Capital’s borders, a reminder of all the pain, suffering, and loss that they had gone through. A reminder of the disaster that they had barely avoided only thanks to Momonosuke-sama and Luffytaro.

A reminder that dawn had finally come to the Land of Wano.

“Kon!”

Kawamatsu laughed at the happy yip. Turning his head to look at the flame-fox sitting by his side, he placed a hand on Onimaru’s head, running his fingers through his soft fur. “Are you excited, Onimaru? We can put the swords to rest again now.”

With another yip, Onimaru tilted his chin up, leaning into Kawamatsu’s hand for more scratches, and a wide smile spread on Kawamatsu’s face at the sight. It reminded him of the old days—only now, there was no biting cold, no graves to rob, and no danger of capture.

No need for Kawamatsu to hide his face and no need to steal food.

Suddenly, Onimaru jumped up to his feet, fully alert. Kawamatsu almost reached for Sotomuso but then he noticed Onimaru’s tail wagging, his mouth open as he panted happily, his eyes short of sparkling and he could only let go of a relieved sigh as he relaxed again.

He smiled when a young woman carrying a woven basket approached them a minute later, a warm smile of her own on her lips as she kneeled in front of the fox. “Your name is Onimaru, right? Do you like fried tofu?”

“Kon kon!!” Onimaru yipped, tapping his feet in excitement.

Kawamatsu hummed. “Good for you, Onimaru. Your favourite!”

Hiyori-sama chuckled before picking up one of the tofu pieces and handing it to Onimaru—who finished his treat in two bites only to stare intently at the Princess, begging for another piece.

“Here you go,” Hiyori-sama said, placing the basket full of tofu in front of Onimaru.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Princess?” Kawamatsu asked once she sat next to him on the grass.

“I am!” There was a bright smile on her face when she nodded. “It feels like life is coming back to the country.”

“We need to properly thank Luffytaro and his friends!” Kawamatsu laughed.

“What are you talking about?!” Hiyori-sama cried, her cheeks puffing up. “What about you and Denjiro and everyone else?!”

Kawamatsu blinked as she went on, poking the kappa in his chest with her perfectly manicured finger.

“I’m sorry,” Kawamatsu said with barely suppressed amusement at the sight she made right then. Somehow… no matter how old she got, she would always be that little girl pouting because Oden-sama stole her favourite kappamaki at the dinner table.

She huffed defiantly as if reading his thoughts but then her face split in a soft smile once more when she looked at her retainer. “Thank you, Kawamatsu. For everything.”

Kawamatsu blinked, completely stunned for a moment… until a happy laugh bubbled out of his chest. “It’s an honour, Hiyori-sama.”

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