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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

You’re It

[gif credit to @ehghtyseven]

Square: Mechanic!AU ( @supernatural-jackles tell me a story bingo)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Her life is falling apart around her. So she heads to her hometown to start fresh. But is she ready to take on what awaits her in Lawrence Kansas.

Warnings: Angst, abusive relationships, domestic assault, break ups, Lisa being a bitch, Death of a character, tears, strong language, smut ( 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it up boys), p in v, pwp (I think anyway)) things moving unrealistically fast but it’s a fiction so, screw realism.

Word Count: 5,400 ish

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A/N: This is a long one, I hope you enjoy it. :3

Tears streaming down her face as she drove down the long dark road on the rainy night.

All her belongings in the backseat and trunk of her car.

How she gave him so many chances was beyond her, but he is all out of chances. Out of chances to hurt her again.

An innocent dinner, and one accident brought out the beast in her, now ex-boyfriend.

She’s sure she’s still sporting the red hand mark on her face, a black eye and even a bruise on her shoulder.

But she was heading back to where it all started, her hometown of Lawrence Kansas.

She just reached the outskirts of the city when her car started to act up on her, making a scary noise that sounded expensive.

She saw a sign that caught her eye, made her think of her high school days.

Winchester Garage and Scrap.

Winchester. She knew a Dean Winchester. He was a grade higher than her; she was a junior and he was a senior when they met.

He was always so sweet to her. She even fell for Dean at one point, but it all shattered when she saw him kiss another girl at their prom. Ran home in tears.

She had no choice, her car was about to either die or explode, she had to pull in towards the parking lot.

She saw him.

He hasn’t changed at all, like he doesn’t age.

He came running out, signaling to her to shut her car off. She does as told without hesitation. The sound was scaring her this point.

Clearing her eyes of any tears, dry her face as she got out.

“That don’t sound good, lets get it looked at…” He says. “Wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,”

“Your junior prom and my senior prom, damn it’s been a while.” She could tell he’s just making small talk, ignoring the elephant between them.

She nods in agreement.

“You okay? Did…did someone hit you?” he saw it. She knew he saw it. Either the slap mark or the black eye. Either way, he saw it.

“It doesn’t matter Dean; can you please fix my car and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Doesn’t matter? Someone hurt you Y/N. Come inside, I still have hot coffee going, lets get you out of this rain.”

She nodded following him inside.

In the waiting room she heard Dean typing away getting her car checked into his system, getting her paperwork started for her, leaving a few other spaces for her to fill in but other than that, he helped her get the ball rolling.

Walking back in the waiting room he saw how small she was making herself become in the room. Something big happened to her, and she wasn’t up for sharing it with him.

He walked up to her, seeing her look up at him with her big eyes, almost puppy like. He handed her the clipboard.

“I filled out what I could for you, I just need your personal info, address, phone number, that sort of thing.”

“Okay.” She says, setting down the coffee and taking the clipboard and pen.

He only saw her write down her phone number.

“You don’t live in town anymore?” he asked curiously.

“No I didn’t, but I’m moving back now.”

“Look, I know something big and bad went down between you and someone. I just…it pisses me off that someone hurt you.”

“You still care about me, why is that?”

“You were my girl; I still consider you my girl. I don’t know what I did that pissed you off, you never wanted to hear from my side.”

“You were kissing another girl on prom night, I saw you.”

“A girl, oh, you mean Abaddon, she’s had a huge crush on me and forced herself on me.”

Her heart was pounding hard against her.

“She…did she did more?”

“No, I pushed her off. And I went to look for you, and when I couldn’t find you, I knew what her plan was.”

“She did that on purpose, in hopes I’d see it and break up with you. So you’d be up for grabs for her…that bitch!”

“Y/N, that was almost ten years ago now, she married Michael, and they been married for about three years now…let it go.”

She hid her face in embarrassment, forcing the tears back.

“I was with Lucifer,”

“Michael’s brother, why he’s such a dick?”

“He comforted me after what I saw. And after I graduated, I followed him to LA. We tried to be together but he just…kept hurting me.”

She saw his jaw clench tight. A vein popping from the side of his neck. He was pissed, beyond pissed if there ever was such thing.

“First was he hit me when I didn’t want to have sex with him, I told him it was too fast. He broke my nose in the process. I left him for a few days, and he came crawling back, apologizing. I gave him a second chance. Second, he hits me when I was trying to talk to him…about something, I don’t remember. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion. The story was I fell down the stairs. He apologizes to me and I told him he has one last chance…”

“Y/N, why were you giving him so many chances?”

“I thought he loved me. But after tonight, I guess he never really loved me.”

“Does he know where you went?”

“I never told him, he stormed out of the house to a bar most likely. I packed up everything and just left. I may have sped rather…fast, I just wanted to get away from him.”

“Well, you’re safe here sweetheart.”

Her lips twitched upward in a small smile.

“What about you Dean? Did you find someone?”

“Not really, nothing but break ups. Lisa and I had a bad break up just recently. Told me how weak I was for not trying.”

“What, trying what?”

“Just being with her. I was always at work, away at college, going to classes. Working my old job with my Uncle, and then opening this bad boy. She thought I wasn’t trying. But really I was making this all for her, and the family she wanted. But I guess that wasn’t good enough for her.”

“No Dean, she wasn’t good enough. She was being a bitch.” She encourages.

“I guess, but now I’m just wanting to be single for a bit. Maybe the right girl will show up.” he smirks.

“Dean…we both have been hurt, let’s just go slow. Lets try to be friends again first.”

“I can live with that.” He says. “Lets get your car in here.”

He managed to push her car in, having her steer it in the garage.

“I’ll work on it first thing in the morning.” He mentions. “Now, since you just got into town, you probably don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

“Well, my dad is still here. I’m gonna stay with him.”

“Didn’t you hear what happened though?”

“I know, he’s been down hill since mom died from Cancer. He practically gave up. I hope I can help lift his spirits now that I’m home.”

“Well that, but there’s something else. Yesterday, did he tell you?”

She shook her head.

“He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It had already spread, it’s too advanced for treatment. My dad told me.”

Her heart sank. “He didn’t mention that to me. But he did sound different when I spoke to him.”

“Do you want me to go with you? Get you settled in?”

“Please.” Her eyes glistened with more tears. “I don’t want to go alone; I don’t know what I’m in for when I see him.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, let’s get your things in my truck and we’ll get going.”

“Do you still have her? The impala?”

“I do, she’s tucked away at my house in the garage. I take her out once in a while. Maybe tomorrow I can give you a ride in her. Take your mind off things.”

“I’d love that Dean, thank you.”

Giving her a kind smile, he began moving her things from her car to his truck. Pulling the tarp cover over the bed to protect whatever he got in the bed of the truck.

Driving through the streets of Lawrence she looked out her window, seeing all that has changed.

“So, what do you do since High school?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Oh nice, got any books out yet?”

“I have a few out there. All romantics.”

“Working on anything new?”

“No, been kind of in a rough spot lately.”

“Oh, with…I gotchyou now. Well, don’t worry, I’m sure once things calm down it’ll come to you.”

“I hope so.”

He pulled down the familiar street. The same street she grew up on. Pulling into the familiar driveway seeing the familiar family house.

“He’s still here, after all these years.”

“Yeah, my guess is he misses your mom, you, your brothers.”

She nods, getting out.

She walks up the path to the front door, Dean behind her carrying some of her bags.

She see’s one of her brothers stepping out of the house.

“Hey shortie.”

“Hey big bro.” she says. Getting a big hug from him.

“You want us to hunt this fucker down?”

“No, he’s not worth it.” she says pulling away.

“Hey Dean,”

“What’s up Peirce.”

“Nothing new. Oh, Becky and I are expecting, she wants to invite you to the baby shower.”

“That soon?” Y/N asks.

“You remember Becky?”

“Oh that Becky, okay, I get why she’s doing it this early.” She giggles. “She should wait, what if it’s a girl and you got all boy stuff? Or a boy and all girl stuff?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure she has a plan for it.” He says. “Here, come in guys.”

“How’s dad?” Y/N asks entering into the foyer.

“Not good. His nurse is here. She thinks, with him knowing his family is here he might be heading out soon.”

She nods. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see him tomorrow. Because I’m sure he wants to see you.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder, looking up at Dean he gives her a sweet smile.

“She has her stuff in my truck if you want to help me move her in?” Dean asks.

“Sure thing.”

Her brother and Dean begin making trips from his truck to the house. While she wonders the house. Seeing everything as she left it. Finding a picture of her mom with her, her dad, and her two brothers. A tear finding it’s way to the surface, a tight feeling building tighter in her chest.

So much has happened so far, and she is making a big change in her life.

Hearing the door close takes her out of her haze.

“Alright that’s the last of them, Y/N, I’m gonna head. I’ll pick you up around eight, Fridays are my short days.” Dean says coming up behind her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Dean nods with a smile, offering a hug. She doesn’t hesitate. She needed a hug.

He takes her in close and tight to his chest.

“You’re okay now, you’re safe. Everything is going to be okay sweetheart.” He whispers.

She nods against his chest. Holding back the tears.

He pulls away, giving her one final smile before kissing the top of her head.

“See you tomorrow.” He says. She nods again as he walks out the door, heading home.

“Sis?”

“I’m not okay.” She chokes out before a sob wracks through her.

Her brother doesn’t hesitate in hugging her quickly as she broke down.

“It’s okay baby sis, I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you again. Like Dean said, your safe.”

She nods as she cries against her big brother.

The next morning she woke up, still heavy with memories of last night but the light for a hopeful future tried to beat down the heaviness she felt.

She got up to take a quick morning shower.

Once she got out and cleaned up she saw her nurse in the kitchen getting what looked like a water mug.

“You my dad’s nurse?” she asked sweetly.

“I am honey, he’s doing okay right now, but his body is getting tired.”

“I know, my mom was the same with her cancer.”

“It can take a big toll on the body. If you want to see him he’s up.”

She nods. Not thinking twice she heads up to his room. Seeing her dad lying in bed, peacefully dozing off.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hey buttercup.” He says groggily with a smile.

He saw the remaining evidence of last night.

“Do I need to send my boys after that son of a bitch?”

“No dad, he’s not worth it. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Good. You know you always have a home here.”

She smiles, taking a seat on his bed. Taking his hand in hers. Her dad rubbing a thumb atop her knuckles.

“I know this sucks sweetie, you getting back after all this time and I’m dying.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me dad. I got Peirce and Zane, and Dean too.”

“You and that boy back together?”

“We’re just trying for friends right now dad. We both have been through really shitty relationships.”

“He made you so happy.”

She nods. “I know dad, he still does. He’s taking me out for a ride in his car when he gets off at the garage.”

“That’s nice of him.”

She nods.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you as well.”

“What is it?”

“You’re getting this house, I want you to have a family in this house so you can tell your kids all the good stories, the bad stories. Tell them you grew up in this house.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I can…”

“The boys are moving back, Zane got himself a job with John Winchester on the police force.”

“Zane still a cop, even after all the crap that’s gone down?”

“He’s a strong man now.”

She nods. “That he is.”

“Peirce and his wife, his wife got a job as a news anchor here, and he is gonna work with Dean in the garage.”

“He never mentioned that to me.”

“Yeah, Peirce has a knack for fixing up cars. Then again, Dean did show him all sorts of stuff after you left. He didn’t know what to do.”

“Then again, he and Dean did graduate at the same time.”

“Yes, that too. But the family is going to be here.” Her dad says, bringing a hand up to her cheek, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. Her hand helping him hold it there.

“It’s going to be okay Buttercup. You won’t be alone here.”

“I know daddy.”

“I love you all so much.”

She fought the sobs so hard, she brought herself down to his chest, hugging him gently.

“I love you too Dad.”

That afternoon, she spent some time walking around the town. Seeing things being the same and different all at once. She saw what used to be Dairy Queen get turned into a Starbucks.

Taking her dad’s car she drove around the town, even finding Dean’s garage not far from the city limits.

Pulling in, she decided to stop by and visit.

Walking in she saw a line of people, one woman growing impatient turning around to leave.

This is a bad time. She thought. Until she saw a certain someone at the desk.

“Dean?”

“Hey Sweetheart,” Dean says, typing away. “I would love to visit but I’m really busy.”

“Can I help?”

“You want to help?”

“Yeah, just show me the desk work, I want to help you out.”

“Okay, come around here.”

Dean showed her how to fill out the information in the computer system, giving the customers their papers to fill out.

Showing her how to process them through the system. Showing what to do when the work is done, and what to do at the end of the day.

He was shocked at how fast she worked on the computer. Typing faster than he could. The line got shrunk down quickly, everyone getting checked in.

“Nice.”

“I am a computer nerd too after all.”

“I forget, you’re like Sammy.”

“Now, get to work so we can catch up.”

He chuckles as he turns around to the garage, getting everyone’s cars in and working on them.

Peirce popping in covered in oil and grease.

“Hey sis, got anymore?”

“One more, You guys are quick.”

“A lot of it is oil changes and tire rotations. Some are break pad changes. So, some simple ones.”

“Last one is a rattling noise in her engine.” She says handing him the file.

“Alright, I’ll get to it.” he says taking the file with the keys attached.

She smiles rolling her eyes, shaking her head. In the back of her mind, she thinks she may have found a good day job. It’s simple, fast paced for sure, but she loved doing it, nonetheless.

The workday was coming to a close, Y/N finishing up the paperwork.

“Y/N, We’re done, Dean’s also almost done with your car.” Peirce says coming in behind her.

“Okay.”

“You drove that thing hard, talk about perfect timing.”

“How bad was it?”

“Well, a cylinder burst, and the belt broke. That thing was about to blow.”

“How was he able to fix the cylinder?”

“Chevy’s are easy to come by. He had the right parts, and he was able to fix that, and get you a new belt.”

“He was in here last night wasn’t he, he didn’t go home.”

Peirce held his hands up. “You have to talk to him about that one.”

She shook her head. “Somethings going on, I know it.” she gets up from the desk and heads into the garage.

Seeing him working under the hood of her car.

“Dean, did you go home at all last night?”

“Why?” he asks, grunting as he tightened parts to her engine.

“Its just, engine work, now I’m no expert but that takes a lot of time to work on. Sure you had the parts but, to be done with my car this fast when any other shop would be done with it in a few days. You got done with it in one.”

He got up, wiping his hands. “What are you trying to say?”

“Is there a reason you’re not wanting to go home? Working at odd hours?”

“You sound just like Lisa.” He grumbled.

“Dean, I’m just worried about you is all. I don’t want you working yourself to death.”

“I’m not working myself to death.”

“Then why were you here last night and not at home resting?”

His jaw clenched, not wanting to talk about it.

“Dean, if you’re wanting to try again, you have to open up a bit. I opened up everything I could to you yesterday.”

He looked down at his hands, wiping his hands out of nervous habit.

“We both might have something in common, we had abusive relationships.”

“She…she didn’t…”

“She’d hit me, punch me. And for a small girl, she can hit. She had no reason. I’d come home late, she’d hit me, hurt me. I get home early, same thing. She wanted more with me, but I didn’t. All the late hours working, was to stay away from her. I moved out after I broke up with her. she knows where I live. One night she tried to…”

“Did you call the police, get a restraining order on her?”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter, apparently when guys go through this it’s no big deal.”

“It is too a big deal Dean.”

They sat in silence for a beat, Y/N trying to think what she could do.

“Can’t you move again?”

“I could but I don’t want to move too far from work, you know.”

The sound of tire screeches outside tore them from their conversation.

Peirce came running in as fast as he could.

“Dean, dude, she’s coming!”

“She, as in?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, Lisa. And dude, she’s pissed.”

“Call your dad, now Dean.” Y/N ordered.

Dean did as told. When another set of tires came tearing in.

“Winchester!”

Y/N saw red. Abusive partners, she was getting really tired of how sick and ugly people would get with people they ‘loved’.

She was in auto pilot. She marched out of the garage and towards Lisa.

“Out of the way bitch.”

“He’s not in there skank.”

“The fuck did you call me?”

“Apparently you’re deaf too, here, let me say it slower for you. Skank.”

“You fuckin’ bitch!” she screams. And begins throwing punches at her, wildly.

Y/N able to dodge most of them, blocking the others that got close.

“Y/N stop, the cops are coming!” Peirce warned.

“I’m not doing anything she is!”

“Fuck off!” Lisa screamed.

Dean came into view from the garage. Tearing Lisa’s attention from Y/N to him.

“There you are, the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re done Lisa, I told you.”

“You don’t get to end shit with me Winchester.”

Peirce got himself between her and him, y/n not far behind.

Lisa landed a strong punch on Peirce.

Y/N’s eye’s bulged in rage. She had grabbed onto Lisa’s shirt from behind, pulling her away from her brother before she could land another punch on him. But pulling her so hard she lost her footing and fell on her rear.

“You don’t touch him, or my brother you hear me bitch!”

“The fuck you care, you left him first!”

“At least I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

Lisa jumped up, ready to throw more punches, when a man in uniform. John Winchester came in behind, pulling Lisa’s arms behind her, cuffing her.

“What the fuck!”

“You’re under arrest for domestic assault and aggravated assault.” He says firmly.

“Bull shit, you got no proof!”

“I have my POV cam on honey, I was sitting not far from you. I saw everything.”

“Fuck off!” she screeched.

“No one hurts my son and gets away with it. Lets go.” He pulls her to his cruiser.

Y/N turned her attention to her brother.

She saw Dean sat next to him, handing him an ice pack.

“You okay Peirce?”

“Damn she can throw a punch.”

“Yeah, she’s bad news.” Dean goes.

“Yeah but ignore that, my sis is super woman, she just fucking tossed her like she was nothing!” Peirce laughed with a proud smile.

“Well, no one hurts my family and gets away with it.”

She saw Dean nod lowly. “And no one hurts my friends and gets away with it.”

Dean looks up at her, a confused furrow on his brow before he smiled sweetly at her comment.

“Now I think someone is safe to go home from work now.” She says.

“Yeah, thank god she’s been caught.”

She drove her dad’s car back home, seeing more cars by her dad’s house.

Getting out, she hurries inside.

The house full of family members she hasn’t seen in years.

Her nurse coming down the stairs.

“He just took a turn; I suggest saying your goodbyes.”

Her eyes filled with thick tears; a sob tore at her throat.

She felt two pairs of hands on her shoulders. Looking to her right she see’s Peirce. And Zane on her left.

The siblings head upstairs to his room. Their dad laid there, his breathing labored and shallow. Clearly suffering.

Zane taking one side of the bed, Y/N and Peirce walking around to the other side. The three holding their dads hand.

“Daddy, we’re here. Everything is okay.” Y/N says.

“Yeah dad, we’ll be okay. We’ll look after Y/N.” Zane says.

“I’ll take good care of the house.” Y/N adds.

“We’ll take care of each other.” Peirce adds after her.

His breathing quickened, pained. They squeezed his hands.

“Daddy it’s okay, you can rest now. We’ll be okay.” Y/N says, holding back the tears.

They felt their dad give a slight squeeze of their hands before his hand going limp.

He let out his last breath, his monitors flatlining.

Y/N let out a pained sob as her hands flew to her mouth to hold back yells of the pain of loss.

Pierce quickly brought his sister in his arms. Zane walking around the bed, hugging his brother and sister as they allowed themselves to cry.

It seemed like forever, they exited the room, slowly descending the stairs.

Y/N see’s Dean by the door. She quickly descended the last few steps and walks over to him.

Dean didn’t hesitate to hold her closely as she cried against him.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay sweetheart. I got you.”

After an hour of hanging with the family, their extended family leave for the night. The brothers staying, Dean as well.

They sat in the family room, Y/N sitting against Dean, Peirce sitting with his wife and Zane sitting on the end of the couch.

“If you want, one of us can stay here with you.” Peirce says.

“But babe, the baby shower.” Becky begs.

“I think it can hold until I feel okay again, please.”

“Okay, that seems fair.” She says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” Peirce says, kissing atop Becky’s head.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Y/n says.

“I can stay with her. Besides, I don’t feel safe at my house despite Lisa being arrested and everything.”

“You’re more than welcome Dean.” Zane says.

Peirce nodding in agreement. “Totally.”

“Besides, we probably should go, get some rest and all that.” Peirce says, after seeing Becky yawn.

They all got up from the couch, exchanging hugs with their sister and sister in law.

“Call us if you need anything okay shortie.”

“Will do big bro.” she smiles

That night, she got out of the shower with red puffy eyes. She managed to get totally dried off and dressed for bed.

Heading to her room she finds Dean dressed in his pajamas.

“Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind really. Because, screw going slow, I need you right now.” She says a sob cracking through the surface.

Dean hurries to her, bring her in his arms.

“I’m right here sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers.

He manages to help her into bed, he climbs in on his side of the bed and quickly wraps his arms around her as she continued to cry her eyes out.

He holds her close, placing a kiss atop her forehead, a silent promise that he’s there.

She woke up the next morning, feeling like she didn’t sleep a wink.

She saw the bed was empty, no sign of Dean but the kitchen smelling of breakfast.

She gets up and heads down to the kitchen. Seeing him dressed and by the stove cooking bacon and eggs.

“Morning beautiful girl.”

“Morning handsome.” She smiles.

“How do you like your bacon?”

“Well not burnt.”

“Come on, crispy bacon is good!” he says playfully.

“Blah!” she fake gags.

Dean rolls his eyes with a chuckle.

“I take it you didn’t sleep good.”

“No, I’m tired.”

“Well, I’m off today. My shop is closed on the weekends. So, we can stay in, clean up the house. Or I can take you on that drive.”

“I want to see baby.”

“A drive it is.”

After a delicious breakfast, she quickly showers off last nights tears. And dresses quickly, eager to see his 67 impala.

She walks out the door to find it parked in her driveway behind her dad’s car.

Dean sitting on her hood.

“She’s still as beautiful as ever.” She says walking up to him.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Stop you hopeless romantic.”

He chuckles hopping off the hood.

“I’m only a hopeless romantic for you.”

She giggles.

“There’s that smile, ready for a nice drive?”

“So ready.”

He walks around to the driver side as she gets in the passenger side.

He managed to find a nice spot in an abandoned field, overlooking the city of Lawrence.

“Thank you Dean, I really enjoyed this.”

“Glad you did. I enjoyed having you here.”

She looks up towards him, her lips finding his in a sweet and loving kiss.

She felt his hand come up behind her head, brushing through her hair, as he deepened the kiss.

“Sweetheart, if we keep this up, I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay Dean,” she says against his lips. Kissing him hard.

He adjusts himself; she adjusts herself with him as he gently guides her down to her back. His hands exploring her body, her hands feeling his strong arms, shoulders, and chest. Shedding their clothes as everything escalates, their lips not leaving.

She laid their completely bare and naked before him. She can feel his eyes roam her body; she felt the urge to hide herself away.

“So gorgeous.” He whispers.

His lips finding hers again, distracting her from his member hardening against her thigh.

She ground her hips against him, pulling a grunt out of him. He pulls away from her kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“Like I said last night, I don’t care anymore right now, I need you Dean. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, you sure?”

“So sure, you are it.”

He smiles proudly, kissing her again as he slowly brought himself into her.

She moaned against his lips as he got himself completely seated within her.

“You good?”

“So good.” She says, grinding her hips, urging him to move.

He begins a steady rhythm, not too hard or rough. Just making her feel good, good enough to forget all that has happened int heir life.

His hands braced against he passenger, the window down giving him a good grip as he drove into her.

“Fuck, faster Dean.” She begs.

His hips begin speeding up in intensity, drawing them closer to their end.

“Fuck sweetheart, you feel so amazing.”

“You too baby,” she pants.

A familiar heated coil builds up in intensity in her belly with every pounding he gave her. He began to speed up, he was close as well.

“Fuck Dean, close…”

“Go for it baby.” He pants.

Her walls clamp hard around him, spurring him into his end as she could feel a rope of thick, sticky come spill out of him. As he came with a guttural groan, her name falling off his lips.

His hips spudder against her as he kept coming, throwing her in a second orgasm, her legs shaking around him as she wrapped them around his waist. His name fall off her lips in a small scream as she came.

His hips thrust slowly to a stop as they came down from their highs, his lips finding hers once again.

“You okay sweetheart?”

“Much better, now that I have you.”

He smiles proudly again before kissing her again. His hips coming to life again.

“You got the stamina of a teenager, you know that.”

“You’re worth making love to for hours baby, you up for round two?”

“Give it to me baby.”

She can’t help but think of all that’s happened in the course of twenty four to forty eight hours.

She left her boyfriend who never truly loved her, returned home to start fresh.

Thankful she found her first love still waiting for her, ready to give her all the love he was about to give her.

As he drove down the long stretch of road back into town, she sat close to his side with his arm around her. Feeling his warmth radiating off of him. She snuggles close to him. Feeling him give her an assuring squeeze as he drove back to her house.

She was ready for what life was about to throw her way with her knight in shining armor for who she knows she can trust with all her heart, and who she knows really loves her.

A/N: What’d you think? Let me know, feedback is always appreciated. :3

Dean Girls:

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shannendoherty-fans · 4 years

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People, September 9th 1991

High School Confidential

By Tom Gliatto and Michael Alexander.

Photos by Mark Sennett.

Beverly Hills, 90210 Gets Its Heat from a Dangerously Cute Cast of TV's Hottest New Stars CONFIDENTIAL MEMO: FROM: The Vice Principal TO: The Faculty, High School U.S.A. I'm sure I don't need to remind you what happened when we didn't prepare for Bart Simpson last fall. The school was flooded with rude, antieducational T-shirts. Some cows were had. Well, as a new school year gets under way, I believe we face another daunting challenge: Brace yourselves for Beverly Hills, 90210. That's the Fox drama about unworldly twin teens Brandon and Brenda Walsh (played by Jason Priestley and Shannen Doherty), recent transferees from Minneapolis to the Hills of Beverly. There they struggle to assimilate into the fast-lane lifestyle of West Beverly Hills High School, where the kids come equipped with BMWs, call waiting and designer surfboards. In the process, the teens examine their emerging identities and the problems that adolescents everywhere face.

The show languished in the Nielsen ratings against Thursday powerhouse Cheers last year. But Fox had no replacement, so it stayed. While we were on summer vacation, new 90210 episodes began airing, and the show landed in the Top 20, becoming the most popular show among teenagers. To some extent, I take responsibility for having ignored 90210. I made the mistake of reading newspaper critics instead of my daughter's diary, and so I believed, as Howard Rosenberg sniffed in the Los Angeles Times, that the show was merely a "ZIP code for stereotypes and stock characters." Little did I know that this show would mesmerize teens by doing emotionally realistic shows that involved adolescent rebellion, alcoholic; parents, a breast-cancer scare and plenty of worrisome teen sex. "Most shows for adolescents," says 90210 creator Darren Star, "seem like they are written by 50-year-olds who think teenagers behave like 7-year-olds."

It also doesn't hurt that the show's male stars, Priestley and Luke Perry (who plays brooding loner Dylan McKay), are "to die for," as my daughter puts it. These two have each been receiving about 1,500 fan letters a week. So be vigilant: Surely some of these will be written by our students...during class! And I'm afraid that 90210 is only going to get bigger with our kids, if producer Aaron Spelling is to be believed. "I thought The Mod Squad and Charlie's Angels got a lot of publicity in their heyday," says Spelling, whose company produced those shows, "but it doesn't compare to this. It's crazy. We have merchandising coming out of our ears"—a complete line of T-shirts, beach towels, notebooks, etc. "And now these actors can't walk down the street!"

Or even streak through malls. You probably saw those alarming news reports about a frenzied mob of 10,000 fans that stampeded Perry when he appeared at a south Florida mall last month. "It's a little scary," says Perry. Scarier is the amount of time students will waste this fall discussing Luke. And Jason. And who is sexier. I provide some information on the two. Jason Priestley, 22, plays Brandon Walsh, a model of thoughtful level-headedness. In real life, however, the brown-haired, blue-eyed star, who started acting in commercials at age 4 and played an orphan on that very nice NBC sitcom Sister Kate, is no Oliver Twist. He likes dirt bikes, bungee jumping and is a chain-smoker (just about the whole cast puffs it up—but not on-camera). Vancouver-born Priestley likes to hang out in Las Vegas. As for his real romantic life, he was reportedly dating actress Robin (Doogie Howser, M.D.) Lively last spring, but it seems likely that now he is too busy for such dalliance;. He must be on the set 14 hours a day, five days a week. To avoid ever-present fans, Priestley says, "I look different from my character when I'm just walking around. I don't shave, I don't dress like Brandon."

On the show, 26-year-old Luke Perry (Brenda Walsh's boyfriend, Dylan) sports a leather jacket, dagger sideburns and a squint that spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e. Although he grew up and graduated from high school in Fredericktown, Ohio, he seems to have attended James Dean wise-guy classes. Perry, who played country-boy Ned Bates on the ABC soap Loving, entertains the 90210 cast by strutting around bare-chested making jokes. Does he have a girlfriend? "No. You know how I can get in touch with Linda Hamilton?" What kind of music does he listen to? "Tom Jones is awesome." Are he and Priestley ever mistaken for each other? "He's mistaken for me on his good days." And 90210, he says, is "the best show on television, except for Jeopardy!" We should act quickly, faculty, when we see any signs that Beverly Hills, 90210 is disrupting normal student activity.

How abnormal might things get? Consider: "It's almost like there are cults," says Brian Austin Green, 18, the North Hollywood High grad who plays the cutely dweeby David Silver. "Girls go to school the day after the show, and they actually become these characters. They say, 'Okay, today I want to be Dylan, you can be Brenda, you can be Brandon.' " Needless to say, students caught pretending to be TV characters should be brought directly to my office for detention. But you know, it might not be a bad thing if our students could show some of the good sense that the 90210ers display in coping with the pressures of fame and fortune. Jennie Garth, 19, who plays the very sexy, very blond, very snotty Kelly Taylor, is particularly admirable. The youngest of seven children, she grew up on a farm near Champaign, Ill., until her schoolteacher parents moved to Phoenix when she was 13. "Living in a small town and coming from a very tight and close family instilled a lot of standards that I need to live up to," says Garth, who just bought a home in Sherman Oaks. She also recently supplied her parents with the down payment for their new home, setting a splendid example for today's youth.

According to a tabloid that someone left in the faculty lounge, Memphis-raised Shannen Doherty, 20, a veteran of such wonderful shows as Little House: A New Beginning, is the only cast member to be accused of behaving like "a spoiled brat" on the set. But she maintains she is no such thing. "I think everybody gets in a bad mood," Shannen says. "You do not work 16-hour days and not start feeling it. But I have never thrown a tantrum. I've gotten upset on the set, but it's never been just to be a bitch. You have to stand up for yourself in this business. That was something I was told when I was 12 years old and working with Michael Landon."

As with about half the cast members, Doherty is in a relationship—in her case, a real-estate developer with whom she's exchanged commitment rings. "You really have to date a while before you decide if this is the person you want to marry," she says with Brenda-like candor. Almost sounds like the relationship could be a future 90210 plot. "The problems of young people have accelerated," says Aaron Spelling, "and so have their feelings and thoughts." The show, he says, has kept pace: Even with their Clearasil-perfect complexions and plump allowances, the students at Beverly Hills have encountered their share of problems. "We had the guts to make Luke Perry be a member of AA," says Spelling. "We had Jason, our star, drinking and driving. That's reality."

And, apparently, the adulatory fan mail often includes a sad dose of that reality. "I got a letter the other day from a girl who mentioned the show we did on parental drug abuse," says Perry in a rare moment of seriousness. "She wrote about catching her father freebasing in the basement. I get letters like that all the time, from people all over the country." Gabrielle Carteris (at age 30, she's 90210's oldest cast-kid), who plays Andrea Zuckerman, the bright student who comes from the wrong side of Rodeo Drive, remembers an encouraging close encounter in a grocery store. "One girl came up to me after we'd done the breast-cancer show," says Carteris. "She said, 'I went home with all my friends and we checked our breasts for lumps.' "

In conclusion: Maybe I didn't need to write this memo. Maybe things won't be that bad, even if every locker in every corridor has a picture of Jason, Luke, Shannen or Jennie in it. Perhaps our dear little school is more like West Beverly Hills High—at least the TV version—than I thought. That's what Ian Ziering, 27, thinks too. "The reality on the show pretty much mirrors the way life is all over, in terms of teenagers," says New Jersey—bred Ziering, who once did Fruit of the Loom underwear ads and now plays 90210's curly-headed jock, Steve Sanders. "There's a mystique about Beverly Hills. But that's not what keeps people tuning in. The show could have been Montana E-I-E-I-O." By the way, should any student pronounce his name "eee-an," correct him or her, please. It's "eye-an."

-- WHEN BEVERLY HILLS, 90210 PREMIERED last October, Highlights, the student newspaper at Beverly Hills High, ran articles mocking the school's TV counterpart, West Beverly Hills High. "They said that the show was a joke," says Jenny Brandt, 14, a sophomore at the 1,900-student school. But as the story lines improved and Jason Priestley and Luke Perry became stars, the jokes stopped, and Brandt found herself, like many of her pals, glued to the set on Thursday nights from 9 to 10 P.M. "No phone calls allowed," says Brandt. "Except during commercials." Hope Levy, a 17-year-old senior, has taken fandom a step further with her friends. "We have little handmade cards," she says, speaking from her mom's car phone. "They say you're a member of Club 90210." While some kids think the show treats them as snobby stereotypes, most agree with sophomore Jordan Rynes when he says, "It's like a soap opera for teens. The shows dealing with drinking and drugs are the most real—adults don't realize how accurate it is."

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 6 years

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Could we get some fluffy/angsty LinkxSamus, where Link fights Samus to get her back in World of Light? I’ll give you a taco braid.

“Somehow I had a feeling something like this was going to happen. Knowing my cuccoshit luck. Doesn’t make it any easier.” grumbled Link to himself as he renewed his grip on the Master sword. The blade seemed to hum with power, and a comforting warmth seemed to travel up his arm. Link smiled grimly to himself. "Least I’ve got you old girl.” he said.

““You will rejoin the One.” said Samus, or at least the thing that used to be Samus. “The Pink Creature has harmed you by removing you from the One. Order will be restored.”

“Oh come on Galeem, at least try to do a decent impression of my girlfriend.” snapped Link. “Seriously, even Roy wouldn’t fall for that.” he snapped.

“We are not deceiving you Hero of Hyrule. We are stating a fact.” said Galeem-Samus.

Link glared once again. “Look Galeem, do me a favor and just let her go. I really don’t want my girlfriend to be mad at me when I kick you out of her. Besides, I’m the only one allowed inside of Samus these days. Hi-oh! Oh, I’m going to pay for that one.”

“You are mistaken. It is you that will fall.” said Galeem-Samus. And with that, she charged him.

Link raised his shield and absorbed the powerful blow of Samus’s armored fist, though it did send him skidding back several feet. ‘Damn’ Link thought to himself. ‘Guess Galeem gave her some buffs.’

“Well, let’s get to it.” said Link. “They always say the first couple fight is the worst.”

Kirby, Wolf, and Zelda ran across the desert towards Link’s location. “That stupid romantic idiot!” roared Zelda as they charged. “I should of known he’d try something like this!”

“Less bitching and more running!” snapped Wolf. “We’re almost there!”

Zelda gritted her teeth as she resolved to kick Wolf in the groin later. But he was right. Yelling just wasted lung-power that was needed for running.

“Poyo!” cried Kirby, pointing down and skidding to a halt as they crested a hill. Sure enough, below them, was Link and Galeem-Samus duking it out.

And Link was losing. Badly.

“Something’s wrong.” said Zelda in a frightened tone. “This... Link shouldn’t be losing like this. They were always evenly matched before.”

“Shit!” roared Wolf, pounding a fist into his palm. “Galeem must be onto us! He’s buffing his slaves now.”

“We have to get down there! e have to help him!” cried Zelda, but she felt a clawed hand grab her own.

“I think we have problems of our own.” growled Wolf.

Sure enough, three more Galeem possessed fighters were now behind them. Specifically Fox, Falco, Captain Falcon and Ridley.

“You will be assimilated.” they said as one. “Order will be restored.”

“Poyo!” cried Kirby.

“Yeah, the marshmallow’s right! You morons are going down!” cried Wolf.

Zelda gave one last look over her shoulder, but turned back to their own problems. They needed to deal with this first. She needed to trust that Link could do this on his own.

‘I can’t do this on my own!’ thought Link as he and Galeem-Samus fought. ‘Where the Sacred Realm is help when you need it!?’

Sure enough, Galeem-Samus was dominating this fight. “Do you understand now, Hero of Hyrule. There is no power that can stand against Galeem. Your quest is in vain. Order will be restored, as they should be.” she declared.

“Now you’re just pissing me off.” growled Link.

But in his heart he was beginning to think she was right. This... this wasn’t a fight he could win. Galeem knew how he fought, knew his powers. He knew exactly how to counter him. He couldn’t win this.

But... maybe he didn’t need to.

“Okay, gonna try something stupid now.” said Link to himself. And with that, he sheathed his sword in the ground, and cast his shield away too.

Galeem-Samus seemed taken aback. “Does this one finally realize the futility of-”

“With all due respect Galeem, fuck off. I need to talk to Samus right now.” said Link. “Starshine? Come on, I know you’re in there.” he said gently.

“This? This is what you’re reduced to?” sneered Galeem-Samus. “Your Assimil-”

“Starshine listen to me.” said Link. “You’re stronger than him. You’re Samus motherfucking Aran. You hunt space pirates, kill entire armies, and beat up planets until they stop bothering you.” he said. “You’re better than this Supernatural reject. Just fight Sammy. I know you can.”

“This is foolishness.” snarled Galeem-Samus. “You will-”

“Enough with the Doctor Who shit! You’re not a fucking Dalek!” snapped Link. “Starshine, look. You can do it. I believe in you. I believe in Samus Aran.”

“ENOUGH!” roared Galeem-Samus. With that, she punched Link in the face. “We will assimilate you. But first, We shall break this form utterly! EVERY LAST BONE!” screamed Galeem-Samus.

More blows rained down on Link, and the knight felt a couple ribs breaking. “It’s okay Starshine. It’s okay. I’m here.” he said.

“DIIIEEE!” roared Galeem-Samus, but the blow never fell. It hovered in midair, shaking slightly.

“Sam? Starshine? It’s me.” the fist uncurled. “Come on baby. Keep going. I’m here for you.” The helmet was torn off, revealing Samus’s face.

Her eyes free from the golden glow.

“Link.” said Samus in a strained voice.

Link, even in his battered state, wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’m here Starshine. I’m here. I love you.” he said.

“You... need to... give it to me.” said Samus. “He’ll fight back.... take control... if you do it.” she said. “Give it to me.”

Link furrowed his brow, but then his eyes fell on the Master Sword. “I... I understand.” said Link. And the world seemed to tilt as he handed her the blessed sword.

“See you... on the... other side.” said Samus, as she gripped the sword. And with that, she drove it through her chest, cleaving through her armor as though it were made of butter.

Galeem screamed inarticulately as his essence was torn from Samus’s body. “DIE! YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS!” screamed Galeem in fury.

“Oh, just fuck off.” growled Link, as he pulled the Master Sword from his lover. With that, he drove it forward,right through the part of Galeem that had controlled Samus.

And like that it was gone.

Samus lay on the ground, barely conscious. The wound from the Master Sword was gone, but she was still gravely weakened. “If you... ever... dosomething that stupid again... I’ll kill you. Then clone you and kill all your clones.” she rasped.

Link collapsed next to her as Zelda, Wolf, and Kirby charged down the hill towards them dragging the freed Ridley, Fox, and Falco with them.

“I love you Starshine.” he said, clasping her hand.

“I love you too... you dumbass Legolas cosplayer.” she said.

And that’s how they found the two. Laughing through the pain, hands clasped tightly around each other.

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jacpotts · 5 years

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No More Drama | Juliac

Who: @heyjuliette , @jacpotts

When: Saturday, May 18th

Where: The WHS gymnasium

What: After months of awkwardness over Julie’s ex, Jac and Julie finally address the bad blood that has been between them their whole lives.

Jac was having a lot more fun at this baby prom than she'd anticipated. Of course, at first she only chaperoned to keep an eye on Teegan, but he seemed to be faring well by himself. She'd even broken her tradition of wearing a sensible pantsuit or jumper and opted for her own recreation of the famous 13 Going on 30 party dress, so maybe that was what was making her feel so spry and fresh. She was able to maintain a professional demeanor as a chaperone, of course, but she felt so light. It all reminded her of a way simpler time. When the familiar opening chords of (You Drive Me) Crazy started blaring through the speakers, though, Jac knew that her professional demeanor had to come down for a small dance session. She started pumping her arms upward and out, but didn't get too far before accidentally elbowing someone next to her. "Oh! Pardon," she started, before noticing it was Julie...In dog ears. "Oh! Juliette...Pardon. I -- um," she gestured to her head with a furrowed brow. "...what's so early 2000s about being a dog? Are you the Beverly Hills Chihuahua?"

Julie wasn't really much of a chaperone type person. If anything, she was still the type of girl that needed to be chaperoned. But after Mairi had enjoyed the Valentine's ball so much that she hadn't stopped talking about it for weeks after, Julie couldn't resist signing up to chaperone the Morp so that Mairi could have another fun time at a dance. However, Julie had forgotten how old the youngest castle kid in Walt was and hadn't expected to see anyone from home at the dance. At least until she got elbowed in the middle of keeping her eyes on Mairi learning to spin from the Morp DJ and found out that Jac was also chaperoning. "You're fine, Jacqueline. Whatever." Julie replied, stepping back rather than actually wanting to engage in an interaction with her least favorite person. "No. Mairi wanted me to be the Tinkerbell to her Paris Hilton." Julie replied, politely but reluctantly, gesturing towards her little girl up at the DJ booth in a short blonde wig, tiara and pink dress. "What are you? Vomit?"

Jac followed Julie's gesture to see Mairi up at the DJ booth giggling and learning from the DJ, and her heart sunk. She put on a smile, albeit a sad one, and clasped her hand over her heart. "Of course she knows about Paris Hilton," she chuckled, unable to hide on her face how much she missed babysitting the little girl. "I'm Jenna from 13 Going on 30 during the party scene!" She held her arms out and twirled, feeling the skirt bubble up around her hips. "I don't usually wear dresses out, but this felt like more of a costume party anyway." She held her small purse meekly to her chest and gave a sigh. "As long as I've got you here, Juliette -- I wanted to let you know how much I miss being around Mairi." Of course she could see her while Crannog was there, and in passing whenever she would visit. But it wasn't the same as babysitting. "And not that you'd let me know if she missed me, too, but I can assume she does. This is all kind of getting a little petty and out of hand, don't you think?"

Julie Julie might have felt a little shitty about how she'd banned Jac, seeing her now and knowing full well how much people, especially those who were damn near family like Jac was, tended to love her daughter. But in Julie opinion, it would've been too much of a bitch move if she hadn't upheld Crannog's decision that dating would only confuse Mairi, right down to the letter. "What can I say, I like to keep my baby cultured." Julie looked over Jac's outfit once again and shrugged as if she'd never even heard if that movie before (even though she absolutely had). Jac looked nice, of course. But Julie would rather die than let her ever know that. "Bold of you to assume that Mairi even mentions you, but okay." Julie didn't look away from Mairi, to answer Jac. Just in case some of the truth about how Mairi occasionally asked for Jac to babysit would be visible in her eyes somehow. "There's nothing petty or out of hand going on, Jacqueline. Crannog was the one that came up with the idea that dating anyone would only confuse Mairi in the long run. I'm just listening to him. If I wanted to get out of hand with you by now, you know exactly how I'd go about it."

Jac raised her brows at Julie's subtle dig, but kept her shoulders high. She hadn't known that Crannog had said that...But maybe he didn't consider what they were doing to be dating. Which she didn't have time to overthink and agonize over in her woman-brain that wanted to run to him immediately and ask if they were dating or just hooking up or what. "Well, I didn't know he'd said that but...People change their minds, Juliette. Have you two discussed whether or not he's changed his mind? I think I'm kind of different than him or you bringing home some stranger. She's known me her whole life." She didn't even think to mention that maybe it'd be more confusing for a child to have two parents who weren't together but also didn't seem to be romantically interested in anyone just for her sake. "I really don't know what I've done to make you dislike me for so long. I've wanted nothing more than for you to consider me family and maybe if you had, I'd find some reason not to pursue Crannog. But considering how you've never treated me like anything but the daughter of the help, I can't do that."

Julie turned to Jac finally and raised an eyebrow at her question. "We discussed it at the dance and it's barely been more than three months. So doubtful." Julie crossed her arms and momentarily considered just walking away from Jac and not entertaining anymore conversation. But part of her wanted to keep talking just so in the end she could remain the bigger person. "If Crannog won't be with mewho's known Mairi for longer than she's been alive, there's absolutely no say you'd ever be the exception to the rule." Julie narrowed her eyes at Jac's claim that she didn't know what she'd done to make Julie hate her so much and stepped a bit closer to the other girl. Even though they were both the same height, Julie had worn higher heels and knew exactly how to hold herself to seem intimidating anyway. "You don't think I hate you because your mother's my family's housekeeper, do you? I genuinely could not care less who's kid you are. I didn't like you when we were kids because every time I wanted to hang out with my twin brother, you were always in the way. And somehow twenty fucking years later, you managed to get the literal love of my life away from me. As far as I can tell from the De La Betes and the Potts, that's not how either of us was raised to treat family. So why should I have ever treated you like something you're clearly not?"

Jac nodded, bringing her arms down to her hang by her sides so as to appear calm and casual and not at all tense like she was definitely feeling. " 'Won't" be with you? You make it sound like you've been trying to get back together," Jac rolled her eyes knowing that that idea had to have been preposterous. Crannog would have told her...right? And then Julie mentioned the real reason she had been so awful to her their whole lives, which Jac kind of already figured out on her own, but there was something gratifying about hearing the juvenile reasoning straight from the other girl's mouth. "That hardly sounds like my fault at all. And besides, you had the rest of your life to be around him after I left but then you ran off to join the circus or whatever, so it looks like we both still abandoned him." She let out a shaky breath, then, realizing the rest of what Julie had said. "...The love of your life? Julie, I -- " she stammered, her heart sinking as her brain tried to comprehend that idea. She softened, stepping closer to the other girl. "...Julie, I did not know that. I just assumed that if you were living together and not together, that it was over for good. If I had known -- if Crannog had known, we would not be doing this. You should tell him you still have feelings."

Julie glared at Jac's eyeroll but didn't bother to correct her statement. She had an old ass wound to get off her chest and it was a little more important. "It felt like it when I was a kid, especially when you had so many brothers and all I had was my twin and my way more fragile little siblings. And an orchestra is much more interesting than whatever you did for years, so don't even start." Julie crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back when Jac softened and stepped closer in a way that was a lot less confrontational than she had. Julie knew how to do weird tense conversations with Jac, not whatever the other girl was trying to do right then. But then she couldn't help but let out a loud bitter laugh. "Crannog does know. I told him on New Year's and then he was making out with you a month later. So yeah, you are doing this with him knowing full well how I feel."

Jac didn't necessarily see what her having so many siblings had to do with Julie and Rainier's relationship, but she conceded anyway. "Juliette, you know that what you and Rainier have is irreplaceable. I could never take your spot and would never even try. I got a little overzealous with the realization that I'd found my soulmate, but I was also like -- five," she chuckled bitterly to herself as the walls seemed to come down between the two of them, which made the dropping of the bomb that Crannog knew of Julie's feelings fall even harder. "Oh," was all she could say for a second, finally letting her woman-brain do its worst in her head. "I really didn't know. Men, right?" She tried to joke, but knowing that both she and Julie felt so strongly for Crannog, just lumping him in with the shitty majority felt wrong. Even if it was true. "And here I thought you were just being a spoiled little princess who doesn't know how to let go of an old toy. I'm standing down. You two have something to work out, and I'm just complicating it." It stung to admit, but now that she knew Julie's side of the truth, it was necessary.

Julie rolled eyes this time and uncrossed her arms to flip her hair over her shoulder. "I know that now, Jacqueline. But I was like barely older than you and by the time logic had kicked in that it was a little psycho to always be pissed about my brother having a pal, I'd already made up a million other stupid petty reasons to hate you." Julie shrugged, her lips quirking up into a hint of a grin as she realized just how funny it all sounded out loud. And she almost laughed for real when Jac attempted to make a joke about Crannog. But since Julie did have something of a heart behind all the crazy, she did sort of feel bad for Jac in a way she'd probably feel gross about later. "I wouldn't give me that much credit. I'm totally a spoiled little princess who doesn't know how to let go of an old toy. But I think that old toy might just be my soulmate?" Julie had noticed that Jac's mention of Rainier as her soulmate didn't sound like something that wasn't true anymore and she didn't know exactly what she'd do with that information just yet, but she would think about it more if it ever came up again. "Thanks for stepping down, Jac." Julie said, testing out using Jac's nickname for the first time...ever? "I know the dick was probably bomb."

Jac noticed the twitch in Julie's smile and felt her own do the same. This was all so...stupid, now that they were fully adults. "Well I'm sure all one million couldn't have been made up. I do tend to -- I don't know, leave the lid peanut butter jar just oh-so slightly unscrewed?" She could think of a million reasons of her own to hate herself, definitely, but they were more introspective than funny. Her brows cocked up when Julie used the same terminology about Crannog that she had used about Rainier. Hearing it like that...Well, if she hadn't already stood down, she would've right then. Imagining, say -- one of the Lumos girls falling for Rainier...Just the thought nearly had her breaking out into hives. She almost placed a gentle hand on Julie's shoulder, but stopped short when she made the comment that fully sent her over the edge into laughter. Once the gut-busting subsided, Jac wiped the corners of her eyes where tears of hilarity had built up, and sighed. "....It kinda was, not gonna lie. But I'd prefer to have a clean conscience over all the 'bomb dick' in the world. And to finally have a moment with you where I don't feel like I'll leave with a knife somewhere in my body that wasn't there before."

Julie actually started to grin at Jac's response and shrugged. "Well I think your accent is a little cray sometimes but it's still not worth all the energy of hating you." Julie joked, now that they were trying to get along it was really nice to laugh together about silly shit and their now mutual ex's dick like gal pals. Like a little taste of what their lives could've been like for decades now if they'd had learned to share a little better. "I don't think I have anything on me tonight, so you would've been fine either way but yeah. I like not wanting to leave you with a knife somewhere in your body." Briefly Julie wondered if they should hug or something to really complete the moment, but then her gaze flicked up to Mairi again up at the DJ booth before returning to Jac's face. "Uh you wanna come say hi to Mairi? We should be going back home soon and she has soooorta been asking about you."

Jac laughed out loud this time, shrugging. "I will agree that my accent is pretty cray. You got me there," she nodded. This was nice -- she'd never thought about what it could be like with Julie without them hating each other. She almost made another quip about the knives before Julie mentioned Mairi. Her heart nearly burst at the mention of getting to say hi, and even more at the confirmation that she had, indeed, been asking about her. "Really?!" she asked gently with a sigh, gazing up at the little girl at the DJ booth. "I'd love that," she nodded in Julie's direction and, without thinking, threw her arms around her in a hug.

#( interaction: juliette )#( feat: juliette )

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pengychan · 6 years

Text

[Coco] Heaven and Earth - Coyote

Title: Coyote. Summary: The first time Héctor saw someone die up close, he was grateful to have Ernesto and Imelda by his side - and failed to heed the warning. [“I like her, she’s got the heart of a lioness. It’s your friend I dislike. Eyes of a coyote. No, don’t like that.”] Characters: Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Chicharrón, Óscar, Felipe

Other fics from the series can be found here.

A/N: This one took a while, but it's finally done. Héctor is still a crushing puppy. Shame the current situation is far from romantic. (Also I seem to be making a habit out of posting stuff from the airport right before boarding a plane)

***

As the Revolution went on, the arrival of men on horses meant bad news for Santa Cecilia.

Federales were the worst thing, of course: they would come like a swarm and make demands – for shelter, for weapons, and for food if they were lucky. They’d give what they could, and the men would again be on their way. But sometimes they would come with more horses than men, and that was when every boy and man in town had to hide – when they would demand for men to join them and replace their fallen comrades.

Young, old, little more than boys – it did not matter. They were deaf to pleas of mothers, sisters, daughters. To refuse to join meant siding against them; to side again them meant death. Héctor hoped he would never understand that, never find out how a man’s view of the world could become so narrow: with us, or against us.

How many of them had been forced to join either faction in the first place, as they were now forcing others to? When that war ended, for it had to end one way or another, how would the survivors ever return to a normal life? Could they? He hoped so. The world seemed to have gone insane, with factions tearing into each other like wild beasts. Such deep wounds don’t heal without scars.

Sometimes, Héctor pitied them. Most times, he was just terrified – and that was one of those times.

“They’re coming! I saw them from the top of the hill. They will be here soon.”

“Empty horses?”

“A dozen. Maybe more. They were still far away, watering them before going up the hill.”

A heavy silence fell, and Héctor swallowed. There was a weight on his shoulder, and it was his father’s hand. He turned to meet his gaze. “Go hide,” he said, his voice quiet.

Héctor was barely fourteen, but they both knew that, as far as they were concerned, he was old enough to hold a gun and fire. Still, he shook his head. “I can’t leave you--”

“That was an order, Héctor. I’ll get you some food so you can keep away for however long it’s needed. They stayed three days last time, and almost found you in the basement.”

“What about you?”

“I’m too old to be of any interest, mijo,” he said. It was a lie, and a bad one at that. He wasn’t so old he couldn’t hold a gun. He, too, could be taken. “It will be all right.”

The thought was like a vise around his chest, and a sick feeling at the pit of Héctor’s stomach told him that no, it wouldn’t be all right, not that time.

“Papá, no. Come hide--”

“And leave your mother alone when they come to take what they wish? No.”

“She can also hide! We can all--”

“If they find no men at all, they will know people are hiding and start searching. And if they search, they will find you,” his father cut him off. “Why do you think so many of us stay in plain sight? So many fathers with sons to protect?”

Realization felt all the world like a punch in the gut. “Papá--”

Ricardo’s hand held his shoulder a fraction tighter. “Héctor, listen to me. If they take me, I may yet live. At worst, they can take my life. But if you die, they will have taken my future and that of your mother. She can do without me, but not without you. If anything happens to you, we…” he paused and his features twisted, as though it was something too horrible to comprehend. “It would be the end of everything. Do you understand?”

Something painful seemed to be stuck in his throat, and Héctor could only nod to say that yes, he did understand. His father reached to hold him close and for a few moments he lost himself into the embrace, praying whoever may be listening for it not to be the last.

***

“I’ll get you a fresh eggs, just laid. Take the bread. We have some hard cheese and cold cuts, in case they stay longer and… for the love of God, stay hidden, all right? You have the map your father gave you, don’t you? Good. Don’t come out until the food is finished and even then, be careful. I’ll hang the sheets outside, you should see them from a distance, I will take them off when it’s safe to return--”

“Mamá,” Ernesto called out, and reached to put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. That caused Adela to still for a long moment, falling silent, and then let out a long sigh. She turned to look up at him - she’d had to look up at him for a while now, she was so tiny, how had he ever been so small himself to fit into her body? - and smiled weakly, reaching to cup his face.

“Right. You’re a grown man now, and you’ll be fine,” she said, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. “I keep forgetting that, Tito. It’s what mothers do.”

Ernesto grinned down at her. Truth be told, he wasn’t nearly as sure of himself as he wanted to seem, but he’d pull his teeth out with pliers before he showed how scared he was. To her and, most of all, to the cabrón standing in the doorway, looking at them with sullen eyes.

“It will be like a vacation. I’ll lie low and do nothing but eat until they’re gone,” he said, then, “I’ll take those eggs. I’m probably going to need the oil lamp, too.”

As his mother nodded and went to fetch the lamp, Ernesto sighed and patted his pocket, where a map of the old mining system was; the best possible hiding place at the moment, his father had told him as he drew that map entirely from memory. He would know; he’d worked as a miner there for twenty years, from the day he’d turned thirteen until the explosion that left him maimed, and he’d known it like the back of his hand.

Ernesto didn’t much like the thought of venturing there, given how he’d almost drowned in it during a sudden flood five years earlier, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the soldiers were a far bigger danger. He would take the food and lamp, and go pick up Héctor - because of course he would go with him; his father could grumble all he wanted on how a man hiding on his own was safer. Wherever they went, they went together.

Plus, he’d made a promise to old Ricardo. Héctor didn’t know that; he’d never seen nor heard his father turning to Ernesto and putting a hand on his shoulder, back when the subject of hiding away should more soldiers come had come up.

“If they come, keep him safe,” he said, staring straight in his eyes. “Whatever you hear, whatever happens, stay hidden. Promise me you’ll keep him away until it’s all over, Ernesto.”

He had promised, of course. He was Héctor’s brother in all but blood, and older; it was only natural he would look after him. And plus he had a debt to his parents, who had let him stay at their place without a single question more times than he could count, sometimes for days at end, when things at his own house became rough.

“Ernesto.” Estéban’s voice rang out suddenly, snapping him from his thoughts, and Ernesto made a face. He turned to ask him what he wanted, but words died in his throat when he realized he was handing him something - an old handgun, and ammunitions.

His father had had that gun for a long time, but before the Revolution Ernesto had only seen it used once - on a small stray dog, a pregnant bitch who had come scavenging for scraps around their house when Ernesto had been five years old. He’d thrown food at her whenever he saw her and she’d gradually come closer and closer, until he could almost touch her.

Maybe eventually she’d let him, he’d thought. Maybe when she had her puppies she’d let him pet them. Maybe they could keep them, he’d thought, and had begun thinking of names - but then his father had shot her, for no reason. He’d had one of his episodes, those that had started after the explosion in the mine, and the dog - Ernesto had taken to calling her Zita by then - had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, too close to the chickens. There had been a bang, nothing like those of the fireworks he so liked, and then a scream that had sounded almost human.

When Ernesto had ran outside Zita was in the dirt by their porch, still kicking weakly, in a pool of blood. It was as though one of her sides had burst open and through that hole he’d seen… he’d seen what he had seen. Why his father had done that - he of all people, who’d often downright panic if he heard a bang - he’d never know. There had been no reason for it.

He didn’t remember much else of that day, but he did recall crying a lot while his mother tried to calm him down; he remembered his father yelling for him to stop wailing and for his mother to stop coddling him before he’d limped out, to return only three days later.

It was the accident, Ernestito, he recalled his mother saying, like it was supposed to matter, like he was supposed to care. He wasn’t like this before the accident. It will get better.

Not a single word had been spoken of the episode since, as far as Ernesto could recall. The gun had never come out again, until the Revolution had first reached Santa Cecilia and the soldiers had almost taken him away; that was when his Estéban de la Cruz - now with a wrecked shoulder as well as a lame leg - had decided he should teach his son how to shoot.

“I don’t like it,” Ernesto had said, and it was true. He hated the weight of it in his hand, the kickback, the thought he might have to use it on someone. He’d killed before - not that anyone but Héctor and Imelda knew that - to return home, but it had been something he’d had to do, and he hadn’t had to look at the men dying after he’d lit up the gunpowder.

The thought of having to stare at someone and shoot them dead - watch them bleed - made him feel queasy. There was a reason why he’d let Imelda keep the rifles they’d taken from the soldiers when they’re made their escape; he was meant to hold a guitar, not a gun.

“You don’t have to like it,” his father had said. “Just know how to use it. A few sleepless nights are better than a funeral, and I refuse to bury you because I sent you out there without defense. Now pretend you’re a man for once, and see if you can hit that goddamn target. If you can waste your time with that damn guitar all day, you can aim and pull a trigger.”

He hadn’t been good at it at first - and he hated not being good at something - but his father, despite growing paler with each bang that rang out, had refused to let him stop until he could at least hit the target most times. And now he was handing that gun to him, expecting him to shoot men if need be; he would if forced, sure, but he didn't like it, didn't like it, didn't like it.

“Don’t forget this,” his father was saying, and for all of his distaste, he took the gun. It felt heavy in his hand. “I hope you remember how to shoot. If you see an uniform, shoot first and ask later. Don’t hesitate. Don’t ever hesitate, because they won’t. Understood?”

“Sí,” Ernesto said stiffly, and turned to leave. A weight on his shoulder caused him freeze. He didn't like that, either, and he was about to shake it off when his father spoke.

“Be careful, mijo,” he said. He hadn't called him that in a long time; it caused Ernesto to pause, and look at him over his shoulder. He was paler than usual, stone sober for once, and scared. They’d always looked very much alike, but at forty-seven his father seemed old, his beard graying . Ernesto, who would never get to turn forty-seven himself, scowled slightly.

I will not end up like you, he thought, but what left his mouth was something else.

“I will, papá,” he said, then, “Try not to piss off anyone this time. If you get my mother in the line of fire again, I’ll shoot you myself. Not in the shoulder.”

That got an odd smile out of Estéban, one that seemed almost sincere.

“As long as you come back,” he said. Ernesto de la Cruz - who would walk out one day seven years later to tour Mexico and never return - smiled back and said nothing.

***

“Why the long face, chamaco? Lighten up, it will be fine. We'll have some fun time between amigos and come back to find our old men still there.”

Ernesto sounded so sure of himself as they crossed the stream, hopping from rock to rock with practiced ease, that Héctor found himself almost believing him. Only that he’d known him all his life, as far back as he could remember, and heard him uttering the most absolute bullcrap with that same iron-clad certainty.

“Easy for you to say. You know they’d never take a lame guy,” Héctor muttered, and of course he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. Ernesto just laughed before he could apologize.

“Hah, if only! If they took in cripples, they’d find my old man tied up right on their path with a big red ribbon and a side gift of tequila,” he said, and Héctor laughed a little - not because he found it funny, but out of sheer relief that Ernesto wasn’t angry at him.

“Shame we couldn’t bring a guitar, but I guess that would lead them right to us,” his friend was saying, and Héctor raised an eyebrow, eyeing the holster at Ernesto’s hip.

“Not that it would be a problem, Tito. With your marksmanship, you’d take them all down in a minute. Or shoot yourself in a foot,” he said, gaining himself a scoff and a shove.

“You wouldn’t even know how to hold it, chamaco. And I was always the best with the slingshot. It makes little difference.”

“Says the one who broke the Delgados’ window.”

“Says the one who got the Guzmans’ bull in the rump.”

“That was… totally on purpose.”

“If almost got us, pendejo.”

“But we were too fast. You especially,” Héctor pointed out, and returned the shove. “Who says you’re not going to run off on me if the Federales find us?”

“That entirely depends on how annoying you’re going to be now,” Ernesto shot back, but laughed, and ruffled his hair. Héctor never noticed the way his jaw had clenched for a moment. “Don’t worry, it won’t come to that. We-- I won’t need to shoot anyone. No one knows we’re here, and--”

“Hey, that’s Héctor!”

“Hi Héctor!”

“And... Ernesto?”

“Hi, Ernesto!”

“... Aaand now someone does.”

Héctor turned to see Óscar and Felipe barrelling towards them, their legs almost comically long for their thin frames - something he could relate to all too well, really. As they came to a stop before them, they squinted a little.

“Oh, it is you!”

“We weren’t entirely sure.”

“We can’t see that well from far away.”

“Mamá says we need glasses.”

“She’s saving money, but we’re gonna build our own!”

“Once she gives us back our tools.”

“Which is never, at this rate,” a very familiar voice rang out, causing Héctor’s heart to seemingly jump in his throat. He turned to see Imelda - because of course she would be there, the twins wouldn’t be out there on their own - standing a few feet away, with a bag over one shoulder and, on the other… wait, was that--

“Is that a rifle?” Ernesto blurted out, eyeing it cautiously, and Imelda nodded.

“One of the ones we took from the soldiers, yes. I wanted to be prepared,” Imelda said, matter-of-factly. “After what happened last time, my mother didn’t want me or the twins to be anywhere near town when the Federales arrived. But we could still run into some.”

Ernesto frowned. “Do you even know how to use it?” he asked, gaining himself a scoff.

“Better than you can use that piece of rust,” she muttered, eyeing the old gun at his hip. “Does it even work, or is it just for show?”

“Of course it works!” Ernesto protested, suddenly defensive over a gun he clearly hated handling anyway, but Héctor paid him no mind.

“Do you have a place to hide?” he asked, and Imelda shook her head. Her braid hung over her shoulder.

“Not really. We heard of the old mines, though.”

“That’s where we’re heading!” Héctor exclaimed, and smiled. He entirely missed his best friend’s grimace. “Ernesto has a map. We can all go hide in there. This way, no one gets lost. And we’ll have two guns, just in case.”

“I could defend us both just fine,” Ernesto muttered, and Imelda glanced at him only briefly before looking at her brothers - “Can we stay with them? Please! They’re fun!” - and then finally back at Héctor. She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

“It sounds like a good idea. We did well last time,” she added, and Ernesto didn’t seem inclined to argue against that. He shot another look at the shining new rifle - it seemed to displease him greatly, and Héctor wasn’t sure what that was about - before he nodded. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly normal.

“Right. I do have a map,” he said, and pulled it out of his pocket. It wasn’t really necessary, because they hadn’t even reached the mines yet and they knew the way up to there, but for some reason he puffed out his chest while doing so, and Héctor decided to say nothing. “Follow me,” Ernesto added, and he seemed really pleased when they did.

***

“... Tadpoles in the holy water font, really?”

“Yes, people at the parish weren’t too pleased.”

“I do wonder why,” Imelda said drily, and Ernesto shrugged.

“We caught so many, may as well put them somewhere. I also put one in his glass,” he added, causing Héctor to scowl. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, with his back against a wall of the old mine shaft, he scowled.

“I remember it all too well, thanks. So, this other time--”

“You didn’t realize until after drinking it.”

“I remember. Thanks,” Héctor gritted out, hoping against hope the heat on his face did not mean he was blushing. He wished he could kick Ernesto without being obvious, and instead he reached behind his back to pinch him. That only caused his friend’s grin to widen.

“You cried,” he muttered. The twins laughed, and Imelda… Héctor wasn’t sure, he didn’t dare look at her face. If he died right there and then of sheer embarrassment, he told himself, he was going to haunt Ernesto’s nightmares for the rest of his life.

“Because you told me it was going to grow into a frog in my stomach!”

“So gullible.”

“I was six!”

“And gullible,” Ernesto repeated, but he seemed to take notice of the desperate expression on his face, because he finally changed subject. “Oh, tell them about the church rooster!”

One of the twins blinked. “Church rooster?”

“Oh, you didn’t live here yet, but it was the talk of the town for weeks! We set a rooster free in the church on Sunday - they never knew it was us, though.”

“Which is why we’re still here to tell the tale.”

“Sister Gregoria would have strangled us. So, old Pedro had this rooster, right? I caught the rooster--”

“Hey now, I caught the rooster.”

“But I drove it to you.”

“Right. Let’s say it was, uh…”

“A coordinated effort.”

“Yes, that. A coordinated effort to get the rooster. It didn’t make it very easy.”

“And it kept trying to peck your eyes out. Good thing your nose was in the way.”

“Gee, thanks. Anyway, we had the rooster, so we put it in a bag and headed to church.”

A small hand shot up. “I have a question.”

“Yes, er…?”

“Felipe,” Imelda spoke up for the first time in several minutes. She was sitting across them in the tunnel, the oil lamp casting deep shadows on her face, but Héctor could tell she was smiling. He smiled a little himself.

“Right. What is it, Felipe?”

“Actually, he’s Óscar,” his brother spoke up. “I am Felipe.”

“Oh! Sorry, I thought--” Héctor began, only to trail off when Imelda’s hands smacked both twins on the back of the neck. It wasn’t too strong, but it caused them both to yelp.

“Don’t listen to them,” she said, humor plain in her voice. “They try to pull this trick on everyone. This is Óscar,” she pulled the ear of the boy at her right, “and this is Felipe,” she added, pulling the other’s ear as well. As the kids protested, Héctor grinned.

“Got it. Well, we did it because… er…” he paused, and turned to glance at Ernesto. “Help me out there. Why did we do it?”

Ernesto shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, we went to Mass, got the chicken in and somehow no one noticed. I left the sack behind a confessional--”

“I did that,” Héctor pointed out. He normally didn’t mind at all when Ernesto got mixed up over who had done what, but now that Imelda was smiling over the tale of their caper years ago, he found he wanted full credit for that. It had been a risk, after all.

Ernesto rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Héctor left the sack behind the confessional, and Mass started. It... took it a while to break free, really. We had to sit through most of it.”

“It got out of the sack just as the priest pulled out the holy bread,” Héctor said, with no small amount of pride. As Óscar and Felipe leaned forward, faces split in identical grins, he shot a glance at Imelda. She was trying not to smile too widely - after all, he was telling her about something they definitely were not supposed to ever do, setting a rooster free in a church - but her lips curled upwards anyway. “It went straight for it.”

“Took it right out of the old man’s hands,” Ernesto confirmed, and folded his hands in front of the oil lamp, casting a shadow on the wall that could have been a very misshapen bird. He crooned, and the shadow on the wall attacked Héctor’s, who flailed his arms like Padre Edmundo had back then, throwing holy bread and wine everywhere.

“God in Heaven!” he cried out in a near-perfect imitation of his voice, and the twins doubled over, howling with laughter. Héctor joined them, but laughter died in his throat when Imelda spoke suddenly.

“Not so loud! We’re hiding, remember?” she hissed, causing her brothers to fall quiet and Ernesto to scoff.

“Are you allergic to fun all of a sudden?”

“Someone could hear us!”

“We’re pretty damn deep in the mine. It’s not like someone is going to just be taking a stroll here to hear us--”

“Yowchgoddammit!”

The voice that rang out was one Héctor had never heard and, as it reverberated down the shaft of the mine, it seemed as loud as a gunshot. Several things happened almost at the same time: they all jumped on their feet, the twins stepped behind their sister, and both Imelda and Ernesto - she handled the rifle with more ease than he did his gun - pointed their weapons towards the source of the noise, which had come from behind a bend. Not knowing what else to do, Héctor picked up the lamp to hold it up… and then they were all still and silent for several moments, barely daring to breathe.

“Hijos de-- de--” there was a groan and, right afterwards, the sound of something dropping not too far way. Of someone dropping.

Instinctively, Héctor took a couple of steps towards the sounds - only to stop short when Ernesto held out one arm, holding him back. “Don’t, chamaco.”

“But someone is hurt--”

“He’s right,” Imelda cut him off. She was still holding up the rifle, eyes fixed on the bend. “Might be a trap.”

“It could be someone from town…”

“That’s not a voice I know.”

“But--” Héctor trailed off when another muttered curse rang out, followed by a choked-out cry of pain. It made him shudder. “We can’t just stand here!”

“Watch me,” Ernesto muttered, but Imelda seemed to hesitate before nodding.

“I’ll go have a look. You stay here.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Don’t go, Imelda!”

As the twins reached to grasp her gown, and Imelda looked down at them speechlessly, Ernesto let out a groan. “Uuugh, fine. Fine. I’m going,” he muttered. “Not like I can go back and tell my old man and let a girl go ahead.”

Imelda narrowed her eyes. “I know how to use the rifle.”

“But the tunnel is narrow and my gun is easier to handle,” Ernesto retorted, and she fell silent, grudgingly conceding the point. Héctor tried to step forward, but Ernesto held out his arm again. “You stay here.”

“But you’ll need the light--”

“To make me an easy target?” Ernesto snapped back, but his expression softened when he looked down at him. “Stay here, hermanito. I promised your old man you’d be safe. That’s what big brothers are for, no?”

Something in Héctor’s chest hurt, but he knew Ernesto was right. He didn’t have a weapon, didn’t know how to use one, and he’d be worse than useless if something happened. He was always worse than useless. He was lucky to have Ernesto looking out for him.

“Be careful,” he could only whisper through the lump in his throat, and Ernesto gave a convincing enough grin before slowly heading towards the sounds, gun in hand.

***

Please don’t be a soldier. Please don’t be a soldier.

Don’t ever hesitate, because they won’t.

I don’t want to. I don’t like it. Why the hell would they even come here?

If you see an uniform, shoot first and ask later.

If only I could see a damn thing.

As he turned the corner, walking silently and crouching behind every broken cart and rock he could find as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Ernesto sort of wished he’d let Imelda go ahead as she as about to, since she thought she was so great with her shiny rifle and whatnot.

But he couldn’t, because he’d never hear the end of it and besides, Héctor would have insisted to go with her - and it wouldn’t do because Ernesto was supposed to look after him. Him, not some little girl who had turned fifteen just a couple of months earlier. Héctor was his little brother and he couldn’t leave his safety to a twig who’d probably be thrown back by the recoil if she tried to shoot, likely without hitting anything.

Even back in the hills that night, when they’d taken care of those soldiers, she had given orders… but Ernesto had been the one to set the gunpowder on fire. It had been one hell of a feat, and sometimes he wished he didn’t have to keep it a secret. Maybe it would finally teach the old cabrón that he was no longer a kid who’d sob his eyes out over a dead dog.

Now pretend you’re a man for once and see if you can hit that goddamn target.

You don’t know me, old man. You have no idea.

His father’s voice echoing somewhere in the back of his mind, Ernesto scowled and finally peered over the rock he was crouched behind. Now that his eyes had grown used to darkness, he could see a form on the ground - a man, whether in an uniform or not he couldn’t tell. He was motionless and, when Ernesto picked up a small rock to throw it past him, he didn’t move.

… Well, look at that. Maybe he was dead, and no one else was in sight. Now that would be a problem off his back. But why had that guy gotten all the way in there to die…?

Gun still in hand, Ernesto left his hiding place and went to kneel next to the man, the unpleasant smell of dried and fresh blood filling his nostrils. Yes, it looked like his new friend had dragged himself in there to die. An odd place to pick, but to each their-- wait, what was that on his back?

Ernesto ran a hand over the object. It felt oddly familiar, and he was taken aback to realize it was a guitar of all things. And a pretty decent one, by the feel of it.

Well, finders keepers, Ernesto thought, and went to undo the strap when, suddenly, something moved… and a hand seized his ankle, causing him to let out a loud, startled scream. He fumbled to pick up the gun - why why why had he put it down - but he lost his balance and fell back.

There was a cry somewhere deeper in the mine, a familiar voice calling out his name and footsteps, and suddenly there was light; enough to see that the man - cursing and swearing, face to the ground and trying to move weakly - was wearing an army uniform after all.

“Ernesto! Are you all right?” Héctor asked, lifting the oil lamp. Ernesto turned to see he was staring at him with wide, worried eyes.

“I… I’m fine,” he croaked, and stood quickly after picking up his gun. “He just-- I thought--”

“A soldier,” Imelda spat, rifle pointed at the man, then looked around. “Where is she?”

Héctor and Ernesto exchanged a glance before blinking. “She?”

Imelda returned their gazes with an equally confused one. “I heard a woman’s scream.”

Ah. That.

“I--” Ernesto began, a sudden sense of heat on his face - he had a powerful voice, all right, and it could get high-pitched when startled, nothing he could do about it - but Héctor got there first, sparing him the pain of explaining as much.

“Oh, that was a grito!”

She blinked. “A grito, now?”

“It’s a code between me and Ernesto. So that I’d know it was him,” Héctor said quickly and, thank God, Imelda seemed to buy it. Ernesto gave a silent sigh of relief, patting Héctor’s shoulder briefly - ay, hermanito, what would I do without you? - before turning his attention back on the fallen man.

He was groaning, trying to push himself up on his elbows, and glared at him. He was a short, sturdy man with a bald head and jutting jaw, looking up at them with red-rimmed eyes. His skin was ashen gray, shiny with sweat, and it didn’t take much to guess that he was on his last leg.

“Hands off my-- my guitar, hijo de--” he gasped, then his gaze found Imelda, and shifted towards Héctor. He looked surprised for a moment, then he made a noise that sounded more like a bark than a laugh. “Hah! Kids! Hiding away from the Federales, eh? Smart of you. Should have… done the same when I could.”

There was a moment of silence, then Imelda slowly lowered the rifle, though not by much. “You were drafted,” she stated.

“Of course I was. They were picking kids off the street, if they didn’t take me it would have been one of them. But I ran off, you know? To go back home. Or I tried to. Some hijo de puta managed to shoot me.” The man grimaced, and Ernesto frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting to die, what does it look like?” was the reply, and he lifted an arm to show something clutched in his hand - a bottle. “Made it through the desert and thought I could get help in this town, but no. Federales everywhere, damn it. I didn’t… didn’t escape my regiment to end up in the hands of another. Turned away just on time before being spotted. Let my horse go at the stream. A good horse, but I won’t need her where I’m going, you know?”

Imelda gave a slow nod, and finally lowered the rifle before stepping closer. “Where were you shot?”

“Leg and lower back. Nasty business, señorita. I’m not going to make it. Best if you shoot me. Would do it myself, but I ran out of bullets.

I have some, Ernesto almost said, but Héctor spoke first. “What-- no! You-- maybe you’ll be fine, señor. We can get you a doctor after the Federales have left.”

Another sudden, barking laugh. “Hah! You’re an optimist. I hate people like you,” the man muttered, and made a face. “Ah, but I’d like to return home. There’s someone I want to see before I kick it.”

“You will,” Imelda said suddenly, stepping forward, and Ernesto was reminded of something Héctor had mentioned - that her father had joined the revolutionaries and had never returned, killed in a skirmish.

When Héctor handed him to oil lamp and moved in to help her carry the guy - who kept wincing and cursing like they were poking him with hot irons with every move - he wasn’t especially pleased… but not surprised, either. Héctor had always been such a bleeding heart.

With a sigh, Ernesto put the gun back at his belt, lifted the oil lamp, and led the way back.

***

“Does it hurt?”

“Mph. It did, but now I can’t feel a thing.”

“If you let me take a look--”

“Not taking my shirt off in front of a señorita,” was the dry reply. “You’re no doctor and no nurse. Nothing you can do about it. Spare my dignity,” the man added, and turned to the side to spit before bringing the bottle of something that smelled like very bad alcohol to his lips.

That had been it: Imelda had just nodded, and moved to the end of the tunnel with her brothers, likely to spare them the sight; they had been staring at the man with more curiosity than fear, as Héctor supposed was normal for kids. He sort of wished he could go with them, because he didn’t want to watch a man die, but he didn’t want to leave him alone either.

… All right, so there was Ernesto, but the guy - he kept refusing to tell them even his name - didn’t seem to like him at all. “You keep your eyes off my guitar. When I die, it comes with me,” he snapped, holding on the instrument he’d put across his knees after being leaned against the wall. He was glaring at Ernesto, who sat on a rock right across him. It was hard to tell if he was actually looking at the guitar: his eyes were difficult to see in the trembling shadows cast by the oil lamp. For a few moments it was as though there were no eyes at all; only the dark, empty sockets of a skull.

Héctor shivered, and forced himself to chase the thought away. He wasn’t a little kid anymore - he was almost a man - and that was a stupid idea. Of course Ernesto’s eyes were just fine; he was letting the dark get to him, that was all.

Unaware of his thoughts, Ernesto was shrugging. “I have a better one at home,” he said. It wasn’t true, really, that guitar looked better than Ernesto’s old one, but Héctor said nothing as his friend reached into a bag to pull out a bottle. “Better tequila, too. Whatever you’ve having smells awful,” he added, and took a swig before he held out the bottle to the man. “Come on. If it’s your last drink, let it be a decent one.”

The guy looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicion plain on his face, then his jaw slackened just a bit and he took the bottle. “... Gracias.”

“De nada,” Ernesto muttered. He’d avoided to look at the blood soaking the uniform’s left leg, but now that it was covered by a blanket he seemed… oddly at ease, sitting across a man they knew was dying. But then again, he was older. A man.

And Héctor… he still felt like he was just a boy. “Is that better?” he finally asked as the man put the bottle down and smacked his lips. He grinned weakly.

“Not bad at all. You have taste, I’ll give you that.”

“You could say my old man is an expert,” Ernesto said with a shrug, and lit up a candle before he stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The thought of being left alone with a dying soldier, Imelda and the twins some distance away, made Héctor’s stomach clench. “Where are you going?”

“Answering nature’s call, chamaco.”

“Ah. Right.”

As Ernesto left - Héctor could see him turning left after leaving the gallery, further down in the earth - the man spoke again. “Your hermano?”

“Huh? Oh, sort of. He’s my best friend,” Héctor said, relaxing a little. It was something closer to casual chat, and it was better than talk about holding onto one’s guitar in death.

“Mph. And the adelita?”

“Adelita?”

“Hah! Don’t you call them that around here? The soldadera.”

“She’s not a soldadera. She’s just…” Indescribable. Amazing. Brave. Fierce. Loyal. Funny. Clever. “... Just Imelda. She’s a friend, too.”

The man guwaffed. “Well, she handled the rifle so well, could have fooled anyone,” he muttered, and smiled. “I like her, she’s got the heart of a lioness. Reminds me of someone I knew.” He paused to rest a hand on the wound on his leg through the blanket, then grimaced. “It’s your friend I dislike. Eyes of a coyote. No, don’t like that.”

Héctor frowned. Now that was just unfair, and even if the man was dying he felt it was his duty to argue. “Ernesto is all right. A good friend. You don’t even know him,” he replied - and yet, something about his choice of words bothered him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a memory resurfaced, he and Ernesto looking at some mariachis performing in the local cantina from their hiding place, when they’d been only children.

He remembered Ernesto saying they were going to make music like that one day, he remembered the hungry look on his face and he remember, vaguely, thinking that he reminded him of a coyote staring at chickens from the other side of a fence. Then he shook his head, chasing the memory away as the man spoke again.

“If you say so,” he muttered, then. “Don’t let him take my guitar. I want to be buried with it.”

“He wouldn’t steal from a dead man!”

“Oh, he was about to. Just like a scavenger. Eyes of a coyote, I tell you.”

“He-- You’re not dead!”

“Ah, but I’ll be soon. A shame. I really wanted to make it back home,” he added, and sighed. For the first time, his rough features twisted in sorrow.

Héctor had to swallow a lump in his throat as he watched him turn the guitar in his arms and strum softly. He tried to imagine what his mother would do, what she would feel if his father was taken by the Federales. Once again, he prayed no such thing would happen - prayed he would return to the surface to find them both still there. “Is someone waiting for you at home?”

“Hah! I sure hope she is. But she’ll stop waiting eventually,” he said, and began playing, his thick, roughened fingers surprisingly delicate on the strings. He was not supposed to do that - even if they were pretty deep underground, it was best for them not to make noise - but he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything… and neither did the others. Héctor was aware, vaguely, of Imelda’s presence by his side, of the twins behind her, of Ernesto’s steps as he approached. None of them said anything.

“There’s a song she loved, you know? She always said it sounded like it was written for her,” the man was said, then he chuckled and sang, his voice weak as the music was gente.

“Everyone knows Juanita, Her eyes each a different color Her teeth stick out and her chin goes in…”

There was a word or two there that children were definitely not supposed to hear, but neither of the twins said a word and even Imelda stayed silent. The song came to an end, the notes faded and so did his voice. The man let out a long sigh before leaning his head back against the wall, still holding the guitar, and closed his eyes.

He did not open them again.

***

They took him into another tunnel, and buried him under earth and rocks, along with his guitar; Ernesto clearly thought it a waste, but didn’t argue too much once Imelda weighted in. Once the deed was done, no words were spoken. They each took a long swig of tequila in a silent toast - he could hold it a bit better, now - and in the end Héctor put the empty bottle down on the grave, as a marker. He really wished they had known his name.

But he has left them a song and that, Héctor supposed, was better than nothing at all.

***

“Ernesto!”

“Hola, mamá.”

There had been a time when his mother’s embraces had felt overbearing, trapping him like a snare. Now the hold around his neck felt like nothing; her entire weight, and he picked her up and spun, felt like nothing. He laughed like an idiot and she did, too, before he put her back down.

“Ay, Tito, I was so worried. I thought they would never leave,” Adela exclaimed, kissing his cheek, and finally pulled back with a laugh. “You’re prickly as a cactus, mijo.”

“I do need a shave,” Ernesto grinned, and looked up to see his father standing a few feet from them; not quite sober but not drunk, either. “Papá.”

A nod. “They didn’t find you.”

“No. Who did they take this time?”

“Sebastián and Alejandro, that I know of. Surely other people,” he said, and shrugged. He didn’t seem to care too much. It had happened, same shit as always, so they may as well just be glad it hadn’t happened to them and carry on. “Did you need to use that gun?”

“... No.”

“I hope you never do. But keep it, just in case.”

He did keep it, but he never had any reason to use it. He never had a reason to kill, until a fateful night in Mexico City - but even then, there was no bang or gunpowder or blood.

There are cleaner ways to kill a man.

***

“Mamá! Papá!”

“Héctor!”

“Mijo!”

Throwing himself in his parents’ arms, the dread in his chest melting away, Héctor was vaguely aware that he was crying and he didn’t care. All that mattered were the arms around him, the tearful voices, the scent of home. He was there, they were there.

Surely other people had been torn away from their homes; maybe even people he knew, because he knew almost everyone in Santa Cecilia. Héctor would ask, he would mourn, he would pray for their safe return - but that would have to wait. Right there and then there was only place for one thing in his chest: the simple, uncomplicated joy of being home.

“A few of them passed by, but it was to demand food, thank God. We gave what we could, and they left.”

“Not without taking a good look at this gorgeous woman.”

“Ricardo!”

“One almost walked into the closed door on his way out. He was in love, I tell you. Good thing I snatched you first.”

“Haha! He’s exaggerating, mijo. As always.”

“Exaggerating, me? When do I ever!”

There was laughter, some tears, a home-cooked meal - and Héctor found himself unable to ask who was missing, unable to mention the man who had died in the mines. It would have felt like inviting the cruelty of the outside world within those walls, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think of a woman who, somewhere, would wait in vain for a nameless soldier to come home - wait in vain to hear their song again.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, and his parents - who had little less than one year left to live - held him in their arms for another long minute.

#pixar coco #hector rivera #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #chicharron #felipe rivera #oscar rivera #coco #heaven and earth

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theroyalweisme · 6 years

Text

Duties of a Prince - Chapter 16 - Leo x Liam x MC

A little AU of what would have happened at Leo’s fling before the social season to determine his bride kicks off.

Rating: For mature audiences… language and themes as the story continues.

A/N - Check out the scene from Princess Bride used later in the chapter here.

(A RoE and TRR Crossover)

Summary:

Two brothers who couldn’t be more different if they tried. One out to be the life of the party. The other understanding both of they’re roles and determined to fulfill them all. But what happens when they fall for the same girl?

MASTER CHAPTER LIST

tagging: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @captainkingliam @chrstbll @pens-girl-87 @mfackenthal @xxrainbowprincessxx @queencatherynerhys @syltti78 @boneandfur @ranishajay @decisso @blackcatkita @trianiasti @bobasheebaby @pbchoicesobsessed @madaraism @umccall71 @enmchoices @hamulau @drakelover78 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jlouise88

The gym was dark as Leo stopped at the door to flip the light switch. He paused, his finger hovering over the light switch as he heard the sound of the heavy bag being pummelled and someone muttering between hits.

He slowly moved towards the back of the gym. Leaning against a wall he watched Sabrina deliver a series of hits to the heavy bag, the chain bouncing on its clip, threatening to give away.

“Fucking bitch…” she seethed, resetting her feet. Hmmm… Leo mused silently, crossing his arms over his chest, she’s got quite a cross for a southpaw. “Thinks she can just bat her pretty fucking eyelashes and he’ll fold for her.”

She stepped into the bag, crouching low as she delivered a series of body jab/cross combos. Then she quickly jumped back and delivered a devastating side elbow. Leo cleared his throat gently, but she didn’t so much as acknowledge him there.

“And he did,” she seethed, sending her right foot to the center of the bag. The bag swung out as she planted her right foot, swinging left around her and into the side of the swinging bag.

As if it had enough of the abuse the chain jumped off of its hook and landed harmlessly a few feet away from her.

“Shit…” she sighed deeply before taking a deep swig of water and wiping her brow with a towel.

“Looks like you’re in need of a new partner there, Beautiful,” he mused. Her head whipped up and turned to him as a mischievous grin flirted with her lips. Her wrapped hands crossed under her perfect chest, causing Leo’s eyes to settle there.

“And you think that partner should be you, Pretty Boy?” Her grin grew wickedly as she crossed the floor to him. She stood nose to nose with him as he nodded slowly, now unsure of himself. She leaned in close to him, her breath hot against his neck. “I’d break you.”

She whispered the words softly in his ear. A shiver running down his spine, involuntarily, at her words.

“Besides,” she sighed, turning away from him and back to her small pile of items. “I need to talk to your brother at some point.”

She pulled off her dusty grey hand wraps, quickly rolling them into tight balls. Leo sighed before pushing himself off of the wall.

“Sabrina,” he called back to her. She paused briefly, tilting her head towards him. “Be gentle with him…”

She sighed, her head dipping slightly.

“I know you’re hurt,” he nodded to the fallen heavy bag. “And he probably deserves all the wrath you could potentially throw at him. But… He hasn’t really had a normal life here. You’re the first person he’s cared about romantically. But he has a reputation to keep.”

“And you don’t?” Her eyebrow quirked at him making him shift uncomfortably in place.

“I do…” he sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair. “But I don’t care about my reputation. His is everything to him.”

She nodded as she started to head back to the apartments. She stopped briefly to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, Pretty Boy,” she whispered. “You’re a good brother.”

He smiled sadly at her, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly. He waited until the pretty blond had long left the gym to release the breath he was holding.

“Yah…” he muttered turning to the bench press and loading on his weights. “Fucking great brother…”

Liam slowly pushed the door to the apartments open, expecting a very unhappy blond to be waiting for him on just the other side. What he was met with was darkness. No lights were on in the main room. Killer hadn’t even come up to the door.

That’s when he heard soft voices coming from the living room. He moved quietly, leaning against the door jam as he watched her watching a movie on the large television, her long, lean legs covered by a blanket, with Killer curled up at her feet.

“You’re cruelty reveals everything. You’re the dread pirate Roberts, admit it!” She whispered along with the blond, dressed in red on the screen. The man dressed only in black responded with a bow. “You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.”

She sniffed, wringing what looked like a well-used tissue in her hands. The man in black chastised the young woman softly, almost mockingly.

“You killed my love.” Sabrina mouthed along with the woman as the man then began to decide whether or not he had committed this heinous act, before mocking the woman’s love. “No, a farm boy. Poor. Poor and perfect. With eyes like the seas after the storm.”

Her eyes took on a wistful faraway look as if she had lost herself outside of the movie. The couple on the screen bantered back and forth for a few more moments before he made it seem like she had all but abandoned her love the moment he left her.

“You mocked me once,” Sabrina whispered along with the dialog. “Never do it again. I died that day. And you can die too for all I care.”

Her hand found her chest as the blond on the screen shoved the man in black down the hill. The blond’s eyes widened before she flung herself after him.

“What is it with women and sappy movies?” He muttered from the doorway. Sabrina’s ice blue eyes met his, the hardness flashing before softening almost as instantly.

“They remind us of what we deserve,” she grinned, nudging Killer off of the couch to give him space next to her. He lifted her blanket-clad feet, settling onto the couch next to her. Killer let out a deep huff before curling up at his feet. “How were your meetings?”

“Good,” he smiled at her, rubbing one of her feet in his hands. “Leo even joined us on the trade referendum discussions. He had some really insightful ideas.”

“Leo doesn’t normally go to these?” She asked, her voice conveying her confusion. “Isn’t that his job? I mean, if he’s going to be King…”

Liam sighed heavily, thinking of how to properly answer the woman’s questions.

“Leo is far more concerned with whatever is on Leo’s mind at that exact moment in time then he is the events happening in Cordonia’s political spheres,” he mused, his hands trailing up to knead her calves lightly.

“Liam…” she sighed, pausing the movie to turn and look at him. “We need to talk about last night.”

Liam’s hands paused on her soft skin, his heart feeling like it was lodged in his throat. He nodded slowly, his throat trying to work. She pulled her feet from his lap, curling them under herself as she watched him.

“Liam...” her voice was soft, probing. Slowly he turned his face to hers, hurt shining in her bright blue eyes. “Did you really think I attacked that girl?”

He expelled every last ounce of air held in his lungs as he thought about the events of the night before.

Olivia, knees on the ground with her arm pulled behind her in a restraining manner. Liam had seen Bastien and Michael place people in the same hold, usually to prevent them from hurting themselves or someone else.

“No...” he sighed, his head hanging softly. “I don’t. I think you were probably protecting yourself. But you don’t understand, Sabrina.”

She sat back, patiently waiting for him to continue. His fingers raked through his hair.

“Olivia is...” he sighed deeply, trying to think of what to say to her. “Life here is...”

Her eyebrow quirked as she impatiently crossed her arms over her chest.

“Sabrina,” his voice was heavy. “I am sorry terribly sorry. I reacted rashly last night. And I shouldn’t have.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up almost imperceptibly before settling back into her blank stare.

“What can I do to make this better?” He pleaded. She expelled all the air in her lungs before turning to look at him.

“Do you understand how you made me feel last night?” His head hung embarrassed by his actions. “Those people looked at me like I was a barbarian... or a criminal!”

She sighed deeply, shaking her head.

“Livvy... Olivia... whatever her name is... she has a support system here. She’s a part of your world,” she motioned to the room around them. “I can’t do this if you’re going to leave me to fend for myself. You left me to the wolves.”

“I know...” Liam sighed, staring at his hands in his lap. “It was wrong for me to do that. And I can promise that I’ll never —“

“Never say never, Blue Eyes,” she smiled softly, squeezing his thigh gently. “You can’t promise never.”

“Alright...” he nodded. “Can I promise to try? To make an effort of staying in your corner?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled, sliding over to him on the couch. “Will you take me to bed now?”

“What about your movie?” His lips involuntarily curled into a smile.

“Farm Boy will still be there tomorrow,” she waved at the TV. “I’ve got my live Prince with eyes like the seas after a storm right here.”

His smile grew as he swept her into his arms with a squeak. The dog barely raised her head from the floor as he half ran towards the bed.

#choices stories you play #choices the royal romance #choices: the royal romance #choices: stories you play fanfics #choices: the royal romance fanfics #choices: stories you play #trr #roe #liam x mc #leo x mc #brothers rys #princes

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visualnoveldiscourse · 8 years

Text

Amnesia: Memories- Kent Route Day 10

We pick up on Day 10 at Kent’s house after we tell him about our scary encounter with the mysterious possible murderer.

We are off to a great start. No memories, spirits in our heads, friends that think we’re out to get the targets of their affection, an emotionally constipated boyfriend, and now we might have a serial killer after us. Good deal.

Heeey, if there’s a serial killer aspect to this story, are we going to be rescued by big, scary Kent? Yes, please~ I have always been a slut for a damsel in distress story. But what would make me even happier is us rescuing Kent! 0v0

Kent is suspicious of the fact that we say we don’t know the guy that apparently knows both of us.

Orion suspects that we might have known the scary guy before he lost our memories for us. I agree that it’s unlikely that we have never seen or met him before. Kent, ever the diligent man, notes our paleness and asks if we know of any reason anyone would want to hurt us. Unfortunately, we have no memories and we’ve been hiding that, so we can’t tell him any form of helpful answer. My answer choice here is “I can’t think of anything,” since we literally know of no reason that anyone would wish us harm.

I dunno, man. Maybe I’m pale because a scary guy I don’t know knows my name and your name and was talking about killing me and then you’re like “maybe he’s a serial killer.” You tell me, would that not elicit at least some concern?

Of course, Kent immediately follows that up with “He must have been really scary!” And I’m like no fucking shit. Before any further conversation can be had, Kent comes closer and looks really freaked out.

Awh, was he going to hug us and then he realized he was about to touch us and was like “holy shit, better not frighten girlfriend”? Like, I could probably use a hug right about now, maybe chill, Kent.

“I wasn’t going to do anything outrageous...” Kent, you’re blushing because you wanted to give us a hug? Precious. Or... not.

Well, I suppose hand holding can also be comforting. But personally, I’d rather have a hug. But he doesn’t stop there.

Kent really worries too much. We’re dating. Hand holding and hugs and even sometimes kisses are typical things to expect from romantic relationships. Having you come closer to me and hold my hand to comfort me is a plus, not scary. This must be because of our rocky relationship and the rocky foundation of it.

“So you don’t need to be so guarded.” Is the final part of Kent’s next lines. Were we making a face? Like. Kent is the least threatening person we’ve met the entire game. I’m pretty sure I could put him up against a kitten and the kitten would be scarier.

Fortunately, Kent takes our concerns seriously. He offers to walk with us after dark to make sure we’re safe. I also love how Kent doesn’t put forth a bunch of blustering bravado to impress us. He could just as easily have said “I’ll walk you home every night to make sure you’re safe. I’ll beat him up if he bothers you.” or anything else involving typical macho man bravado. But instead, he says he might be able to help deal with that man. Help deal with that man. Not swoop in as a hero in a cape to save the day. Not fix the problem for us. Not to reduce us to a prize in some macho man fight about who gets the girl. He says he might be able to help us deal with him.

Another significant choice of words is saying that he might be able to help. Kent makes no guarantees that he would be able to protect us from any threat. He humbly acknowledges here that he might not be able to deal with this guy if he seriously is dangerous, but he will do what he can to help us if it came to that. There is nothing I like more than a guy that is honest with me and himself about his capabilities and the situations we are in.

We are going to die. I know I was just harping about how nice it is that Kent is honest with me and that he will help me deal with this scary man, but if the scary man is here right fucking now, I need more than like two seconds to mentally prepare myself for the fight or flight reflex. If I’m hiding, are you going to shove a shelf against the door or are you gonna be dumb as fuck and open the door for the serial killer?

Kent, I don’t want to watch your bespectacled ass die in front of me while I hide under your desk and hope I’m not discovered-

Son of a fucking bitch. Kent. Ikki. I’m over here having a panic attack because serial killer and you two have to play your fucking math nerd assassin games? That’s it. I’m done. Play your games like the overgrown children you are. I’m going h o m e and there is nothing you can do to stop me.

Oh. I can’t leave yet? Not cool, game. I’m mad. Can’t we just leaaave? No? Fine.

Kent apologizes for the interruption that Ikki caused in our discussion. As if that is what merits an apology. How about giving me a heart attack and knocking twenty years off my life?

Ikki changes the subject to math puzzles that Kent likes to make and when he discovers that Kent already gave us some of said puzzles, he has the most hilarious reaction. You fool. You didn’t even suspect that I love math puzzles. Maybe soon, I’ll join your stupid play pretend math assassin games.

Okay. So I can’t really fault him much for this one. Although, I am personally offended. We already know that we met Kent through a basic/beginner’s math course thing, so it’s natural he would consider our math skills elementary at best. But still to come out an say it in front of your bro and in front of me. Rude. (This is another rare occasion where Orion and I agree).

Immediately following Kent’s statement, Ikki takes to his defense... Or so it seems. “I’m sure he’s a ton of trouble. He’s not a bad guy though, so try to be patient with him.”

Kent is suddenly affronted by something Ikki says or does and one thing that I don’t like about this scene is how we don’t know what Ikki is doing until Ikki and Kent describe it. Would it have been that much more difficult to draw Ikki’s hand reaching over the camera to rub our head?

Kent is, understandably, upset by this development. Ikki is taking some liberties here, what with rubbing the head of his best friend’s girlfriend.

Wow, Ikki. You’re not even hiding the fact that you’re doing this to make Kent jealous. The tone of voice the actor uses here cements that fact, which I cannot portray to you through text and screenshots. To Kent’s credit, he keeps his cool, calmly telling Ikki that he has no morals.

Of course, Kent is getting prety worked up about Ikki touching us. It’s probably because Kent can’t even bring himself to hold our hand without dramatically working up to it. Ikki is being pretty insensitive to his best friend. And Ikki isn’t content to leave it at that, either.

Before, it could be excused as a little lighthearted teasing, but now Ikki is just being an asshole. Like, dude, maybe leave Kent and his insecurities alone? Also, maybe stop rubbing my head, cause like, I don’t remember you asking permission to touch me and I’m sensitive about things like that. But alas, being a silent protagonist with a spirit running our show, we don’t have the option to punch Ikki for being too familiar and touching us without permission.

Ikki, seriously? With friends like you, who needs enemies? Openly flirting with your best friend’s girlfriend and pushing our boundaries by touching us and making open advances without permission. Kent is having no more of this.

He’s clearly getting pissed. Ikki should call it quits, since it’s obvious that his playful teasing isn’t being well received. But he doesn’t. He casts another jab at Kent by brazenly asking for our number right in front of Kent.

Look, there is nothing wrong with a guy and a girl who are not romantically involved exchanging phone numbers. Men and women can be friends, after all. But Ikki’s timing here is awful. He’s flirted with Kent and insinuated that he would give us more intimate contact and Kent is already suspicious that Ikki intends to seduce us. It’s just a dick move.

We, the MC, could definitely do more to discourage Ikki’s advances, but we’re a blank paper bag with little real input into the story. So, we exchange numbers and Ikki backs off and heads out.

Alone, Kent approaches us, with a deep blush on his cheeks. Is he going to ask us for reassurance? Is he going to attempt to reaffirm that we have feelings for each other? Is he going to do something sweet? Oh, Kent-

This sets off so many alarm bells in my head. He’s got his hand balled up in our hair and his expression is the scariest I’ve seen on him. Kent is so insecure that he would hurt us to prove to himself that he is manly enough to touch us in an intimate way.

Personally, in real life, this would be a straight up deal breaker for me. I don’t give a flying fuck how cute you are, how smart you are, how much I like you and am interested in you romantically, the minute you cause me physical harm is the minute your ass is on the curb. No one, no man and no woman and no one of any gender on the spectrum will be allowed to cause me physical harm of any kind and stay in my life. Unless it’s completely accidental, like, we ran into each other face first and now we’re laying in the floor groaning about how much our heads hurt.

You have disappointed me, Kent. You have disappointed me.

But you are still, by far, the best boyfriend this game has to offer. You heard me correctly: there are boyfriends in this game who treat us much worse than this. Much worse. I will miss you and your insecure hair pulling when we move on from your route to another.

Fortunately, we get a chance to talk to Kent about how this hair pulling, rubbing thing feels. I choose “I don’t dislike it, but it hurts.” In this scenario, alone with a man bigger than me, who is already holding me by the hair, I wouldn’t want to antagonize him. Best to pacify him and when I’m no longer in immediate danger, run for the hills.

I don’t forgive you. First of all, your hand is still balled up in my hair. You’re pulling my hair as you apologize to me for pulling my hair and hurting me. Second of all, you lost control and you hurt me. You hurt me because you wer insecure and you are intelligent enough to know better. Not laying a harmful hand on someone you profess to love isn’t difficult. It’s being a decent human being.

Well, first of all, he wasn’t pulling my hair and hurting my head. Second of all, I don’t have a good answer for that, because the protagonist is a blank, passive page and Orion calls almost all of the shots. But we’re hiding this from Kent, so we don’t have a good explanation for him. But! Regardless! You have no right! To harm me! No matter if you think someone else was allowed to do it!

Can we go home yet? No? Kent has to angst about how Ikki will make advances on us? You don’t trust me to love you and to choose you over Ikki? Just what is our shitty relationship based around, anyway? Why are we even still trying at this point?

Then get your hand out of my hair, shit fuck.

“While I hesitate to even hold your hand, your heart could turn towards him...” Hand. In my hair. Fuck you. Also, before this fiasco, I would have said “of course not. You are being paranoid. “I’m afraid that he could take you away from me.” Dude, I don’t even want to see your face right now.

“It takes all I have just to touch your hair.” Then stop touching it. It’s not like I’m forcing you.

Oh, well, since you put it that way- you are not forgiven. Not that quickly, you asshole. Prove to me you aren’t gonna abuse me and that that sort of thing will never happen again. Oh, wait, things like that usually have repeat performances.

“Could you go home for today? ...I’ll walk you back.”

Oh, thank God. Just the words I was waiting for. I don’t especially want you to walk me home, but better for you to walk me home than me be axe murdered in the street, I guess.

Back at our apartment, Orion says “That was a surprise.” and I’m like, which part? Kent going crazy and pulling our hair or Ikki violating our personal space or maybe the way that Kent excused his behavior like an abuser would do?

Which is a major warning sign in my book. Danger, danger. That’s not something to be happy about, Orion. “He might like you more than we expected.” Bro. This is a bad thing, not a good thing. Instead of getting more onto Ikki about this, he let all of his anger out on us. That’s not cool.

What a crappy note to end day 10 on. And our romance was finally starting to get better.

#amnesia: memories #Kent route #clover route #abuse cw #abuse tw #nothing major #cause it's kent #spoilers other characters are worse than Kent #brace yourselves

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