#You don’t have them stay in the bombed out club instead of retreating to the fortress the bad guys should have attacked in the first place

[corellianhounds]

There were parts of TBoBF I wanted to like but the writers and directors just kept making story choices that made their characters look dumb or inept.

I wanted to like the fight sequence with Mando and Boba working around each other in the streets, but if they were able to hide on the rooftop of the bombed out Sanctuary until getting the drop on the Pykes et al., why on earth would they leave the rooftop

Why would you come out of hiding. Why would you give up your cover in exchange for being wide out in the open. Why would you give up the literal high ground to go stand in the middle of a three-way intersection within a more achievable firing distance for your enemies. Why wouldn’t you stay on the roof firing from afar, something the both of you as hunters would not just know how to do better than anybody else there, but would know TO do in this specific situation. Why are you negating the element of surprise and the entire purpose of being on the rooftop to begin with.

I don’t care how cool they could have looked. I don’t care that we get to see the jetpacks in action. I don’t care how it’s supposed to represent some “I’ve got your back” moment between these two. It’s an incredibly basic directorial and fight choreography flub to have your two characters purposefully put themselves into danger when you’ve literally just established that they had the strategic advantage. Even children know it’s harder for people to get to you when you’re up somewhere out of reach.

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | Chapter 2: Jaemin x Reader

Summary: 

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

CHAPTER 1

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

------------------------

"So you want to be a doctor?" Jaemin asked as he took a bite off the crust of his pepperoni and cheese pizza. He could have easily eaten it like any other person, but of course, he refuses to be normal and chooses to do even this his way.

I shrugged and tucked my legs under me with a sigh. We were currently sitting on an expansive field of grass overlooking a cluster of abandoned factories, the first place that Jaemin actually asked me to hangout with other than his regular visits in the cafe. It was a couple of minutes of drive away from the city—and is honestly kinda sketchy looking—but at twilight, the place transforms into a peaceful sea of green with the clear night sky watching over it. 

"I'm trying to be a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact." 

He turned and gazed at me quietly for a few seconds, his slice of pizza halfway into his mouth.

"Trying?"

"Yes. Getting into the medical field… It's tough. And expensive. I can take the endless studying, but the money… that can be so hard to get by sometimes."

"Why? How much is it?" He asked innocently, a small frown etched between his eyebrows. Jaemin wasn't lying when he said he doesn't know how to do friends. In fact, there's a lot of things he doesn't seem to know. Normal ones too, almost as if he lives in a bubble of his own. It has always intrigued me, how someone can be so out of touch with things, but of course I never took it against him. 

"Hmm… really expensive. Usually students like me can get loans but that will have us strapped into long years of paying them off even after finishing our studies. I did get a partial scholarship though so that helps, but the day to day academic expenses are just expensive so you know…"

"Doesn't your job at the cafe cover that?"

"No way," I answered quickly with a short laugh. "Well, barely. But it isn't comfortable. If I want to get a side gig that can pay for everything, I might as well work at a strip club. Or find a sugar daddy," I answered off-handedly as I popped a french fry into my mouth. 

"You don't want to go to strip clubs. They're dangerous."

I choked a little at how seriously he said that. 

"Why do you sound like you know so much about them?" I grinned and teasingly wriggled my brows at him. He didn't answer, taking another bite of his pizza instead. 

"Just… don't even think of doing that, okay?"

"Jaemin, do you really think I can pass off as a stripper? Relax. I know that's one job I'm underqualified for."

"Overqualified. You're too pretty to be one."

He said that so casually I didn't even know what hit me until he had moved on to another topic. 

"You know if you need money, I can help."

I gave him an odd look, still reeling from that compliment he just gave. 

"How?"

"I can give you money." 

I blinked at him.

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing. I can just give you money."

I stared at him like he had grown another head. 

"Why?"

He looked at me like I was asking such a common sense question. 

"Because you need it."

"Jaemin, you're not my sugar daddy. Is this how you always offer help to your friends? Because I am seriously so concerned for you right now."

"Well, if you want, I can also be your sugar—"

I slapped his arm before he could even finish what he was trying to say. 

"Ow! That is not very sugar baby-like of you."

"I'm going to wring your neck, I swear." 

He flashed me his grin and dropped himself back on the grass, his arms behind his head. It was dark, but the moon threw just enough light on the curves of his face to compliment his features. His eyes twinkled back at the stars looking down on us and I forced myself to look away after realizing how much my heart started beating harder in my chest just by staring at him. 

I don't know when I started feeling this way towards him, but it is for sure not the first time I noticed where my emotions were going. It is odd… how these things happen. One day everything was going well like normal, until all of a sudden there is a skipping of a pulse after a smile, a flushing of the cheeks when he laughs. Everything is normal, until one day, it's all just free fall. 

Of course, I'm not stupid enough to do anything about it though. Jaemin has been nothing but a good friend, but the fact that I still know nothing about him is a big factor, at least for me. Lately, I felt like he was trying to open up more of his world to me—case in point, these quick escapes to this field—but there are still barriers there, walls that seem too steep to be broken down. 

"I wanted to be a surgeon too…" 

His voice was so quiet that I barely caught it when he spoke again. I looked back at him and caught the pensive look on his face, the same one he would always have whenever he thinks nobody is looking his way—that expression of longing that seems to overwhelm him every time he retreats into his own world. 

"You can still be one though… it's not too late yet," I whispered as I leaned back so that I was laying beside him. I rolled to my side to face him better, my eyes scanning his moon-washed features.  

He chuckled and briefly looked at me. 

"I wish it could be that easy, but it's really complicated."

"Why?"

He rolled on his side as well so that we were facing each other. The stare he gave me was so intense, it felt like he was pouring his heart out to me, except he can't do it with words. I tried my hardest to meet his gaze, my own way of telling him that he can if he wanted to... That I am his safe space.

"Didn't we agree on not asking questions?" He asked in a soft whisper. 

"I never agreed to such a thing." 

"But you've been trying your best." 

That made me purse my lips. My gaze moved away from his momentarily as I tried to weigh my words. 

"Until when can I not ask questions…?"

"Until when can I ask you to do it without you leaving me…?"

Our eyes met again. In that exact moment, I knew we were both on the same page despite the unsaid words and the secrets. 

"Until I can, Jaemin."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

------------------

"Hi, hi! What's your specialty here?" 

It took me about three seconds to register the boy currently beaming at me by the counter. I was going through some inventory so I had my back turned to the door for a little bit but I sure was expecting to hear the small bell by the entrance ding to alert me of new customers. I was about to open my mouth to answer when another boy strolled towards us, coming from the area where we have our pastries on display. There were… two of them I didn't notice? 

"Yah, Chenle. They have cheese bread. Buy me some." 

I softly cleared my throat and tried to plaster on my well-practiced service smile.

"Um… hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. Would you like to have a cold or hot drink? I can recommend our best-sellers for each." 

"What does Jaemin-hyung usually order?"

My smile dropped and I stared at the duo in front of me. Who are these kids? 

"I'm Jisung and this is Chenle. We're Jaemin-hyung's friends."

The taller of the two answered as he seemed to have picked up my confused expression. I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning the visitors. They look just a little bit younger than Jaemin, maybe about two to three years tops, as noticeable from their more careless, youthful air.

"Did… Jaemin recommend our place?" 

The pair exchanged glances before they both broke into giggles.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What the hell are you two doing here?”

The three of us whipped our heads towards the source of the voice by the door. Standing there was Jaemin, his face tensed as he stared at the two boys in front of me. It’s obvious from the looks of his reaction that he did not, at all, recommend this place to his friends. 

I was about to call out to him when the door pushed open behind him again to reveal two other boys.

“Yah… I told you to distract him, Jeno-hyung!” Chenle whined while Jisung pointed at his friend as if silently telling everyone that it was all his idea in the first place. The one I assume is called Jeno shrugged and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. He looked almost the same age as Jaemin but with a more muscular build that reminded me of some of the athletes at my uni. 

“I tried. Haechan slipped. Go blame him.” 

My gaze moved to the other one standing on Jaemin’s right at that moment. He is a little shorter than the other two boys crowding the door but there is something about him that seems wilder than the two. His eyes sparkled as they met mine and his lips twisted up into a slight smirk as he knocked back the lollipop he had into the other side of his mouth. He crossed the space between the entrance and the counter quickly with long quick strides and leaned his hand into Chenle’s shoulder to peer down on me. 

“Ah, so that’s why this is your favorite place, Jaem. How selfish of you to keep it all to yourself~” 

“Um…” 

Jaemin finally moved to approach us quickly, his eyes moving between me and the three boys in front of my counter. The boy called Jeno wandered into the cafe, looking at the bags of beans and tea packs we have on display at the far side. 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea they were coming,” he told me apologetically, his face strained. I couldn’t really understand why he was so worried but I gave him a smile to assure him that everything is fine. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I have no customers anyway so I’m glad your friends came over.”

I have a feeling there is more to his anxiousness than I could understand. 

“She’s right. We’re just here to have some coffee,” the boy, Haechan, said as he winked at me. “So what do you recommend, miss? I won’t have anything Jaemin loves to get, if it means having his death concoction.

That made me laugh a bit. Jaemin’s frown deepened.

“Well, we have really good Chia tea and some hot chocolate. Our cocoa is sourced from the Philippines so—”

“According to online reviews, their blueberry cheesecake is bomb,” said a new voice that followed the opening of the cafe door for the third time in the past ten minutes. All of us looked around to see a new visitor with black and blonde hair falling over his eyes. His thin frame was covered by a light jacket and he glanced up from his phone to talk to us as if he was right there with us from the beginning.

“Do you have it right now?” 

“Uh… yes.”

“Seriously, who else did you crackheads invite?” 

Jaemin turned to Haechan and the rest of the guys with an expression I couldn’t quite paint.

His answer came with the cafe door dinging open again. 

“Yo, man. Am I late?”

Jaemin gave one look at the boy with blue hair, groaned, and cursed silently to himself. 

-----------

“Go back there and hangout with your friends,” I nudged Jaemin slightly by the shoulders as he continued to fume silently beside me. I was finishing the orders of the group and he seemed to still be adamant in keeping his distance from them for as long as he can. 

“I don’t hangout with assholes.” 

I chuckled. He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Hey, language. Why are you so pressed, anyway? They just came by to visit. I’m glad I have customers.” 

For a moment, I thought he was not going to give me any answers again. Jaemin simply stared  at me, his arms crossed over his chest for a few full heartbeats. 

“I don’t think I should get you any deeper into my life as it is,” he finally said quietly, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the humming of the espresso machine. I looked up at him, surprised by his words and the fact that he actually replied to my question. 

“I suppose I cannot ask what that means…?” 

He gave me a small tight smile. Just then, the microwave beeped to tell me that the food I was heating was ready. We both looked at it and Jaemin took the chance to push himself off the counter he was leaning on to grab a tray. 

“I’ll take care of it. We’re making your job harder today, at least let me help serve those dorks.”

I nodded and wordlessly let him put some of the drinks on his tray. I did the finishing touches on the blueberry cheesecake the guy called Renjun ordered before loading it on mine. 

When we both walked to the table that the rest of his friends chose, the boys had already busted the jenga game that we usually offer to our customers. Jisung, Chenle, and Haechan were in the middle of sabotaging each other with their pulls while Renjun and Mark—the last newcomer—were peering over Jeno’s shoulder who I assume was playing a game on his phone.

“Here are your orders. I added extra powdered sugar on your chiffon cake, Jisung,” I said with a smile as I arranged everything on their table. The youngest boy looked up at me with sparkling eyes as if I’ve given him the world. The others took their orders after giving their own variations of thank you. 

“Thank you, noona,” Jisung said before turning to Haechan to “whisper” in his ear.

“I like her.” 

“She can hear you as clear as day, Jisungie.”

“Well, if you need anything, just call out to me alright?” I said with a polite smile, already feeling a little bit more relaxed around the group. I’m sure Jaemin has his own reasons to feel anxious about his friends being here, but they all seem like your regular boys to me. I’ve always wondered what kinds of acquaintances he has and I’m glad to know these are the ones he has around. 

“Wait, can’t you hang out for a while?” Haechan asked as I took the trays with me. Jaemin was quick to answer, throwing dagger glances at the other. 

“She has work.” 

“There are no customers.” 

“You can go back if someone comes. You’re only serving us right now, anyway,” Renjun quipped as he took a bite of his cake. My eyes moved to Jaemin just in time to see his jaw tighten a little bit. He did look a little bit resigned though so I decided to compromise.

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes. I haven’t had my break yet,” I said with a slight smile. Mark patted Jeno’s thigh to give way for me to sit on the space where he had his leg up.

“So, are you and Jaemin-hyung dating? For how long now?” My ass haven’t even touched the seat yet when Chenle shot the question. I looked at him, completely taken aback. 

“Chenle, you don’t just ask people that out of the blue,” Mark said, despite the small playful smirk that he tried so hard to hide. He turned to me apologetically then, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t go out often.”

I was too taken aback that I failed to notice how Jaemin didn’t even try to deny Chenle’s assumption. I glossed over it and chose to take another route instead. 

“Do you guys all live together?” I asked with genuine interest. Jaemin did say that he doesn’t get a lot of chance to socialize but it seems like it applies to all his friends, too.

“We all live in the...same apartment, yes,” Jeno said carefully. 

“Oh… roommates.” 

“We grew up together, actually,” Renjun pointed at Jisung who had his upper lip covered with powdered sugar as he shoveled cake into his mouth. “Jaemin birthed him.” 

“That’s right,” Jaemin said so seriously with a straight face beside me. 

“So you’re also childhood friends.”

“I guess you could say that. Chenle and I both came from China but we grew up here.”

I nodded, already invested in knowing more.

“Are you studying? Or are you always here?” Haechan asked me as he deftly removed a block from the Jenga tower he had reassembled. 

“Mm, yes. I’m on pre-med right now.” 

Jeno gave a low whistle and lowered his phone a bit to look at me.

“You’re going to be a doctor?”

I smiled. “Hopefully a surgeon, yes.”

“So does that mean you’ll be stitching up wounds and getting bullets off flesh and things like that?” Chenle asked. I laughed at how specific the situations he gave were. 

“I can actually do them right now, but yes. My father used to be a doctor too and I helped him around his clinic before he died so I know the basics.” 

“I didn’t know about that…” Jaemin spoke up beside me in a quiet voice, breaking his silence.

“About what?”

“About your parents.”

I laughed. “You never asked.” 

“So are you living alone?” Mark followed through. 

“Right now, yes. I lost my parents a couple of years ago but I do have an auntie living right in the next city.” 

“Man, so you’re working and studying at the same time. You’re tough.” 

“Thank you, but it’s not really anything new to college students like me. How about you guys? Are you in college?” 

The boys exchanged quick looks with each other. 

“We’re all, uh, home schooled,” Renjun finally answered. 

“Oh… I see. That makes a lot of sense.” Just then, my eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. I started slightly after realizing that my fifteen minutes of break is up.

“I have to go though, sorry. I’m alone right now so I have to work on multiple things,” I said apologetically as I picked myself up from my seat. I gave everyone a quick smile before retreating behind the counter. 

I didn’t look back to see how Jaemin stared at me as I left and how he finally caught Mark who was staring at him in return. 

The two boys didn’t have to speak to understand each other, but the younger one easily got what his captain clearly told him with his gentle gaze. 

Be careful. 

----

Chapter 3

[fellulahh]

What he’s like on a night out (all characters) CHAOTIC

Lucifer:

- Lucifer always embarrasses himself on a night out without fail. Usually he’s all composed and serious but as soon as he’s has too much to drink he’s incredibly clingy and soppy

- Tells his brothers how much he loves them, gushing over how wonderful they are and how proud he is to be related to them (he’s almost like an embarrassing parent)

- Confides in MC, expressing how he hopes he isn’t too harsh on his brothers

- Ends up confessing how much MC means to him when they’re talking; basically says everything he refuses to admit while sober

Mammon:

- he just follows MC around everywhere for the entire duration of the night

- Introduces everyone to MC and says that they’re his partner which earns him a playful slap

- He’s a bit of a big kid, he’s always tugging on Lucifer’s arm saying ‘hey, hey Lucifer! Watch this!’ And then does something really stupid and pointless

- Once he’s really drunk you could probably find him somewhere chatting up a plant

- Has to be carried home because he’s wasted but that doesn’t stop him from singing a duet with MC on their way back to the house

Levi:

- Oh this demon cuts some shapes on the dance floor!

- He starts off the night really quiet, hiding behind his brothers wishing he’d never gone but after having some shots with MC and Mammon, he becomes completely wild

- Him and MC basically have a dance battle in the middle of the room with Levi winning every time without fail

- The brothers and MC - no matter how drunk they all are - end up just staring at him with open mouths because he has everybody surrounding him while he busts a move

Satan:

- he becomes incredibly smooth while he’s drunk. Usually when he’s sober he can make some comments toward MC that make them blush but as soon as he’s had a drink he doesn’t hold back

- Has a constant smirk on his face, he becomes the biggest flirt. All eyes are on him as he flips his blonde locks

- Waltzers up to MC about 30 times throughout the night, leaning on the bar to tell them how enchanting they look

- There’s no way he’s ending the night without at least a kiss with how much of a smooth criminal he is

Asmo:

- he’s basically every drunk girl in the bathroom at a club - he is the kindest, most sweetest thing you’ll ever meet!

- Anyone that he talks to, he’ll compliment their outfit, saying how flattering it is on them and how much he loves it

- Screams when he hears his favourite song come on, practically deafening the brothers

- Does a lot of drunk dancing and shots with Solomon; they’re effectively partners in crime on a night out

- If MC gets their feelings hurt by one of the brothers or a random demon, Asmo’s the one who will be motivating them, “you don’t need them! You’re fucking beautiful, you could get anyone you want!”

Beel:

- Beel’s that person that randomly disappears throughout the night and you don’t see them for a good hour and then you end up finding them in the smoking shelter with a new group of friends

- Spends the entire night asking ‘are we getting a kebab after this? Is it time for the kebab yet? When are we getting a kebab?’

- Gets excited whenever he bumps into MC and will carry them over his shoulder insisting that they dance together

- He also carries Belphie out of the club when they leave because his twin passed out

Belphie:

- Belphie’s quite naughty on a night out - he won’t get as drunk as everybody else but he’ll still be a bad influence on them

- He’s basically the little devil whispering in everybody’s ear ‘you think you want a jäger bomb? They’ve got an offer on so get 4. You want to try and get a picture of Lucifer cuddling up to Simeon? Do it, he’ll love you for it!’

- Drunk Belphie causes chaos and he loves it

- He’s also the one to take all of the embarrassing videos and photos

- 100% gets kicked out of the club for passing out in one of the booths though

Diavolo:

- he is absolutely WILD, he’s 100% the life of the party doing stupid stuff to entertain everyone; this demon radiates big dick energy and it works because MC is all over him

- Diavolo flexes a lot, he will take every opportunity to try and woo MC, boasting about something random like how many bathrooms he has in his palace

- He’s that demon that smashes beer cans on his head before drinking them

- He always has a crowd following him because he’s the Prince of Devildom!

- Buys drinks for everyone in the club - they adore their future King

Simeon:

- even when drunk, Simeon is still pretty reserved - he’ll stay close with MC and the others and won’t disappear

- He’s the most rational drunk, you wont catch him doing anything ridiculous like some of the others

- However, he will randomly surprise you though. Everyone will be dancing when suddenly a really sexual song will come on

- Sinful Simeon then comes out and starts rolling his hips, doing slut drops and grinding against MC (and Lucifer)

- Nobody knows whether they should be gobsmacked or turned on!

Solomon:

- he spends the entire night trying to chat up the various demons; trying to get an insight into their world

- Tries to flex that he’s a human but that doesn’t really count for much in Devildom

- He also tries to make a deal with the brothers on why they should make a pact with him; although Solomon is completely intoxicated so he probably doesn’t make much sense to them

- Whines to MC, ‘HOW have you got a pact with all of them?!’

- When he’s not busy approaching demons, he’s searching the club for Asmo

Barbatos:

- he has a hard time remembering that he’s got the night off. If somebody mentions that they’re thirsty Barbatos’ natural instinct is to say ‘allow me to get that for you’

- Once he’s had a few to drink, Diavolo has to keep pulling him by the collar because Barbatos keeps trying to sneak behind the bar to help them out with orders

- He’s actually incredibly blunt while intoxicated and can say some absolutely SAVAGE things to the others (i.e ‘Satan please stop whining about Lucifer. We all know it’s because you just want him to acknowledge you as his son.’)

Luke:

- he’s resting in bed staring at his clock on the wall thinking ‘where in heavens are they??’

- Lowkey misses his Papa Simeon

BONUS: What they do when they get home:

Lucifer:

- Hugs the router takes MC by the hand in the hallway and insists they dance with him, he doesn’t want the wonderful evening to end!

Mammon:

- Immediately retreats to his bedroom and sits in one of his many cars going ‘vroooooooom vroom’

Levi:

- Naruto runs through the door, he’s still cutting shapes all the way to his bedroom, whipping out the ‘just dance’ game as soon as he enters

Satan:

- he escorts a very flustered MC to his bedroom where their drunken flirting can continue!

Asmo:

- goes to every single bedroom to wish everybody a goodnight, saying how much he loves them all

Beel:

- after taking Belphie up to bed he raids the kitchen and eats everything in sight, tries to order 6 different takeaways until he realises he’s calling the restaurants with a calculator

Belphie:

- he just gets carried to bed by Beel, Belphie can never remember how he gets home from a night out, let alone how he made it to bed

Diavolo:

- he gets all whiny because he wants to go to the House of Lamentation. Instead he walks through his palace shouting ‘SO MANY BATHROOMS!”

Simeon:

- practically breaks down the door to Luke’s room, “hello!! How’s my precious little cherub doing, did you miss your papa?”

Solomon:

- immediately runs upstairs and puts on the Harry Potter series, trying to convince himself he’s a powerful wizard too

Barbatos:

- tries to help Diavolo to bed but ends up stumbling through the palace and passing out in one of the hallways

MC:

- Satan

——

Phew! That was a big one. What character are you most like on a night out?

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, Fennec is your gal pal & boss, slow burn to smut (tomfoolery starts end of ch 2 & sex starts in ch 3, I gotchu), some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

Translations:

Ayy - Twi’lek name, means star

****

CHAPTER ONE

TW: 1x mention of noncon/abuse

You fiddled with your lucky charm as you waited to speak to Fennec. You shifted the weight of your back pack from one shoulder to the other. She was attending to Fett right now, acting as his right hand as he held court. Several groups had been fortunate enough to be granted an audience with the Great Fett today. He almost looked like a statue of a Mandolorian rather than a real, living being.

Finally there was a break in audiences. Fett leaned back, relaxing his posture slightly. Fennec turned away from the throne, and noticing you, walked over to speak with you.

“Well?”

You presented the backpack, unbuckling the straps as you did. Fennec lifted the flap. It was the target’s head.

“Interesting way to show proof of death.”

You simply shrug.

“I’m not touching that. Come with me.” You follow Fennec without really thinking about it, assuming you are going back into one of the private rooms to speak. Instead, she steps in front of the throne, directly in front of the step up. You stop next to her, nearly bumping into her. You grip the backpack, already feeling Fett’s heavy gaze on you.

“Hasrgrid is taken care of. We have proof of death. She pulled back the flap to reveal the top of his head.


“Show me,” he commanded.

Fennec looked at you expectantly. You realize why and grab the head by the hair, dropping the pack. The head hangs from your left hand. You raise it up and dare to look up at Fett’s visor. He very clearly looks from the head to you. He pauses for a moment. You realize he’s leaned forward again. Finally he says, “Good.” He waves a dismissive hand. Fennec ushers you from his presence.

“Get rid of the head now, babe,” she says, smacking one of your ass cheeks.

You put the head back in your back pack, nodding. You wait for further instruction. She tilts her head towards the stairs up out of the throne room, “Head out and relax for now.” You nod again and turn wordlessly.

****

The third floor dance club was still active. Fett kept it open for his ‘esteemed guests.’ While there were no longer slaves, there were hired entertainers, who danced on raised diases scattered throughout the club area. You were allowed up there as one of Fennec’s go-to mercs. You nursed a spotchka and watched your friend dance. She winked at you and you gave a half smile. You were bored, waiting for a job.

Suddenly Ayy jumped down off her dias. Your eyes snapped up out of your daydream. She cowered on the floor, crying and shaking. You got on her level immediately. “Ayy, what’s wrong?” You reach out a hand to comfort her.

“That’s the one,” she breathed shakily. You whipped around, eyes full of hate. You saw a group of Twi’lek males who were just entering.

“He’s the one,” she whispered.

“Which one?”

“The one in blue,” she shivered.

You unsheathed your vibroblade and stood up, walking deliberately. You would keep your promise. You walked up to him, a confused expression on his face as he saw you approaching.

”And what do you wa-“

You slashed down at one of his lekku. It plopped to the ground. Someone screamed. In a fury you slashed up, connecting with his throat, slitting it. He went down gurgling. Blood flowed to your feet; you stood while it crept past you. His companions had long fled. You stood over him, still filled with anger. A fine mist of blood covered your face, twisted in rage. Ayy came up behind you.

“Thank you,” she said through hiccuping tears. “Now what will happen?”

You turned to her, fire still in your eyes, “I don’t know, but just go back to dancing.”

She nodded and returned to her dias, still shaking.

***


Fennec had been furious. The Twi’lek was part of an alliance that Fett had some kind of doings with. You had apologized, but you weren’t really sorry and it probably showed. Finally she dropped the bomb.

“You are in trouble. I can’t shield you from this. Fett wants to see you.”

You stared at her in surprise. You swallowed down your fear. “When?”

She crossed her arms, “Now.”

Your body started to buzz. Kriff.

You followed her through a short corridor, a secret short cut to the throne room. It was empty save for Fett, who sat impassive on his throne. Fennec came to stand before him.

“Here’s the merc,” she said simply.

He nearly imperceptibly tilted his head to observe you.

“The one with the head,” he said.

“Yes,” Fennec said, amusement clear in her voice despite the situation.

He leaned back a bit, “Tell me, little one, why you killed my guest.”

You stared at his helmet for a second before a response formed. Anger shone in your eyes as you spoke. “He kept my friend as a sex slave for years. He separated her from her sister. He made her do terrible things.”

Fennec turned her head slightly, a look of understanding crossing her face. Fett stayed still for a moment. You figured he was deciding how to kill you. Finally he said, “Understandable. Do not make a habit of killing my guests. Leave.” He waved you away.

“Stay,” he said to Fennec. You retreated hastily.

***

You were drunk for once. Ayy and some of the other dancers had made it their goal to get you sauced for your birthday. You had regretted mentioning it. They brought you shots and drinks all day long, singing to you and dancing for you. You admired their graceful movements and their soulful voices.

By the end of the evening, you were hanging off a pole, dancing with Ayy. You had watched the dancers enough to be able to pretty successfully emulate them, if not quite as smoothly. They hooted and encouraged you.

You smiled, letting loose a bit for once. You noticed a group come in, but ignored it. You were having a good time. Overheated, you shed your jacket. You jumped back onto the pole with Ayy, and you both spun around, laughing and smiling.

Finally you took notice of the group, only because you saw Fennec. It was rare to see her on this floor. It must be someone important. Curious, you peered at the other faces. You stopped spinning on the pole, stunned. Fett himself was over there, sitting with a group of what appeared to be other Mandolorians. Your mouth was slightly ajar. Suddenly you saw Fett turn his head slightly. It looked like he was staring directly at you. You shuddered and got off the pole. Chastened, you took your seat. Ayy looked down, “What’s wrong bae?”

“Fett’s over there!” You exclaimed.

She nodded, “So? It is his palace.”

You gesture vaugely, “But I’ve made a fool of myself!”

She gave you a withering look, “As if he kriffing noticed.”

You considered. Of course he wasn’t looking at you. You relaxed a bit. She tsked at you and returned to dancing.

[letsperaltiago]

a calm surrender to the rush of day

Jake’s had a few too many beers when he’s sent back home to Amy and his still relatively new son. It’s all good and cute, promise. Peak domestic Peraltiago. This oneshot is based on a prompt on this list.

#98: "I think we should have another"

Read on AO3 here

Amy was fast asleep in their bedroom when the sudden sound of the front door lock clicking and shifting followed by a half-hearted slam jolted her awake. For a very brief second, with her heart galloping in her chest as a result of the shock, Amy was utterly disoriented and the uneasy feeling was definitely not peculiar when you happened to live in a city that was ranked way too high on the Top 10 Most Dangerous Cities in America – a club she did not particularly enjoy being a part of. Although, as fast as it had encased her body to begin with, the shock quickly wore off the second she heard shifting and rumbling paired with a “shit” coming from what she figured out must’ve been the living room.

Jake, she realized, suddenly remembering why he wasn’t currently beside her in bed but rather out with some friends from the academy – or, at least, was.

In an attempt to put the final puzzle pieces in place she leaned over to grab her phone wondering how long he’d out and about for. The time revealed itself across her lock screen picture of Jake, fast asleep on their couch a few days after their son’s arrival with said son resting beneath his hands and on his chest. 3:11 AM – no wonder why she could barely keep her eyes open. There was a second of wondering if she should just turn over, go back to sleep and let Jake come join her whenever he was ready, but something else on the screen caught her eye before she could ultimately decide on doing so: 3 texts from Rosa with the last being from around 30 minutes prior.

Rosa Diaz – 12:39 PM Dude, Jake is horrible. He won’t shut up about you and the baby and for some reason the other guys from the academy seem to be eating it up. I hate it. What have you done to him?

Rosa Diaz – 1:56 AM Nvm. I take it back. He just paid a second round of beers to celebrate, and I quote, “His miracle baby”. Please get pregnant more. Means more free booze.

Rosa Diaz – 2:47 AM Def spoke too soon. He just threw up at my feet. We’re waiting outside the bar for his cab. I’m sending him home to you. Texts me when he gets there. Also: good luck lol. He’s stupid drunk.

Almost as if Jake had read the text as well, as to emphasize its point, Amy could hear him stumble into the bathroom across the hall to, what she chose to believe, grab his toothbrush but instead knocking over the glass holding it generating a loud commotion which tore throughout the entire apartment.

Amy’s head immediately as per instinct shot in the direction of her 3-month old’s crib, which stood against the wall on her side just a few feet away. Apart from the limited amount of Catholic traditions she’d grown up with living with her parents she wasn’t particularly religious, but right then and there she internally prayed that her son, who she’d spent an hour getting back to sleep just 3 hours ago, wasn’t woken up by her father’s drunken circus. She held her breath as a few, way too long seconds went by: no cry. Amy’s chest dropped in relief.

Moments like these were tiny victories that she as a brand new first-time mom held onto for dear life. In general, though she had nothing to compare to, her little boy wasn’t a particularly difficult baby but the past few days had been a bit rough on the little family: rough to the point where Amy had to push Jake out the door earlier that evening because he didn’t want to leave her behind with a fussy baby. But, more than ever before, Amy was confident, telling him it would be a waste for him to stay home and miss out on some fun; he should go out and she’d be fine. He’d ended up going. Although it was borderline against his will with half-worried eyes that Jake had crossed the threshold to exit their apartment, while repeating over and over again that she could and should call him if things turned out to be too much: he’d grab the first cab he saw back home.

Amy loved this considerate and worried side of Jake but it also turned out to be quiet unnecessary that night. Besides the hour from hell of fussiness at midnight, the evening alone with her son had gone by pretty smoothly – she’d actually made quite an enjoyable experience out of it. First of all, right after he’d had left, Amy ate the dinner Jake had prepared for her in advance on the couch with Flynn lying next to her in his little nest, talking and admiring his small sounds and smiles. God, she loved him so much and there was no TV-show or movie in the world that could beat the incredible sight of her son clumsily waving around his tiny legs and arms in his green pajama-onesie. Then, after bathing and changing him, she’d fed him to make sure he was completely ready for bed and by 8 PM she was silently smiling down at, admiring, her very own tiny sleeping human as he dozed off in his crib. Losing track of time was incredibly easy these days, both from the lack of sleep but also the huge amount of love for said little human, but after making sure (for the 32nd time) that Flynn was well asleep Amy had, trusty baby monitor in hand, retreated to the living room. There, with a tiny glass of white wine in hand, she’d managed to finish today’s The Times’ crossword puzzle - something Flynn had interrupted a couple of times that day – before she’d felt an inevitable wave of tiredness creep up on her. Once ready, having gone through her own routine plus checking up on the, to her pride and joy, still sleeping baby, Amy went to bed where she’d slept peacefully until her son had claimed her attention a few hours later. So even though Jake was her favorite person to hang out with, her evening had been great and, all in all, she wouldn’t mind doing it again  

Now here she was once again awake although this time it was not her baby causing the distraction from sleeping but rather her apparently very drunk husband stumbling around the bathroom. The fact that he hadn’t been loud enough to wake up their son had probably (for sure) helped, but also, Amy couldn’t be mad at Jake when she’d been the one to basically force him to go out and have fun. So, after giving up on falling back asleep figuring it’d be hopeless with Jake stumbling around the apartment, she instead took matters into her own hands and made her way to the bathroom. Here, to her amusement, the sight of her rather nicely dressed husband, unruly curls spilling onto his forehead, was barely able to stay awake and standing upright while brushing his teeth.

“Hey there,” she leaned her hip against the door frame before crossing her arms in front of her chest adding to it a teasing smile.

“Oh god!” from the way he almost choked on his tooth brush, Jake was obviously startled by her sudden appearance but quickly avoided choking with a sad attempt at smooth recovery by clumsily spitting the toothpaste into the sink getting it all over his lips in the process.  “I’m szo szo szorry,” the words tumbled from his mouth much like she imagined he’d tripped and fallen over various furniture and items on his way into the apartment just a few moments ago. “Dridn’t mean tro wake you.”

“Well…” she shrugged nonchalantly not really minding mostly because drunk Jake was a hilarious mess she’d missed during their pregnancy, but also partly because she knew he’d be paying the painful price in the morning. “You did.”

Immediately, as if he was a puppy whose tail had just accidentally been stepped on, Jake’s previously insouciant demeanor switched into a intoxicated version of his famous worried frown. Though the second she could tell panic was forming in his drunkenly fatigued eyes, she was quick to step in and avoid guilting him.

“But it’s okay,” her tired but nonetheless somehow always warm eyes worked their best to comfort him, hip nudging her off the doorframe and into a short journey to where her husband had shifted into a leaning position with his back against the sink, toothbrush desperately hanging from the left side of his mouth. His eyes, though dazed and barely able to stay open, followed her every move towards him closely but he was still startled when she’d come close enough for him to feel her breath on him and had sassily snagged the dangling toothbrush out of his mouth (careful to not hurt him in the process, of course).  

“As long as you don’t wake up your son,” she raised an eyebrow daringly only to be met by a shocked expression that told her he still wasn’t entirely over that bold toothbrush-move of hers, and was just barely managing to listen to what she was saying solely because of the mention of Flynn. He knew that the baby was an angel (duh, he was his and Amy’s creation) yet Jake was also very much in touch with reality which was that said son also hadn’t managed to sleep through the night yet (which according to his go-to parenting book Cry Hard was normal). Therefor even drunk Jake also knew that every second his son was asleep was to be handled as carefully as you would a bomb, and the mention of him possibly waking him up was enough to sober him up – or at the very least have him feel like it for a second.

“Luckily,” Amy proceeded, placing her hands on his chest before sliding them up to rest on his shoulders, “you didn’t.”

Paired with a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath in suspense, she instantly felt his shoulders drop in relief. Needless to say that Amy loved the way her husband cared greatly about his new father-role. Sometimes to the point where Jake, very unnecessarily, would push himself down an endless rabbit hole of doubt, where he, Amy had come to find out relatively early on, could only be calmed down by her ordering him to go lie down and so she could place tiny Flynn on his (incredible) father’s chest. Only then, with his son looking up at him with curious brown eyes or even just being fast asleep, Jake could feel his heart rate slow down significantly and the anxiety fade. His son was here on his chest, tiny heartbeat against his big one and they were both okay. It was love and that was all that mattered.

So yes, Jake’s father-role was very important to both him and her, but for tonight, Amy quickly decided, Jake was allowed to be just drunk-Jake. She had no problem taking full responsibility for Flynn-duty that night, and, even though neither of them kept scores or cared about the unspoken tally, she also knew Jake would make it up to her another night.

“So Flynni iz ztill azleep?” Jake whispered loudly not actually managing to control his voice as intended. His sluggish, wondering eyes reminded Amy of the look on her milk-drunk 3-month old’s face right after a feeding which made it even more obvious that Flynn Peralta was very much her father’s son and would grow up to be an exact copy.  

“Yes, Flynni,” she giggled emphasizing the nickname her husband had come up with, “is still very much asleep. But he won’t be for much longer if you don’t quiet down,” her hands slid up Jake’s neck to cradle his jaw, his tooth brush still in her hand.

“Zorry,” he smiled sheepishly actually managing to whisper this time. “You’re ze bestest mom in ze attire world, Amy Zantriago.”

“Hm,” she squinted her eyes jokingly, “maybe I should just put back that tooth brush because now you’re just talking crazy.”

“Nooo,” the whine that escaped her husband was childish as he simultaneously pulled her in for a clumsy, giggly kiss that’d cover her mouth in his toothpaste remains – unsurprisingly, drunk-Jake was not a very precise tooth brusher and had a toddler’s amount of basic skills. “Ze only crayzay here is me. Crayazay ‘bout my WIFE!” unable to control himself he half-yelled out the last word causing Amy to make a quick decision and shove the toothbrush back into his mouth. This, besides yet another surprised and confused expression greeting her, seemed to work and would hopefully keep him quiet till he made it to bed where he could pass out.

“Hush, Peralta,” and he immediately did. He knew his always very convincing wife only had good intentions (which making sure their son stayed asleep ultimately was) and whilst she picked up where he’d left of to finish brushing his teeth for him he, like the inner toddler the alcohol ignited in him, stayed put against the sink.

A few minutes later, still managing to stay somewhat silent (apart from constantly trying to whisper sweet nothings and stupidities into her ear meanwhile she struggled to brush his teeth and wash his face) Amy lead Jake to their bedroom which, for once, was for unsexy reasonz (with a z, yes). Immediately as soon as it was within what his drunk brain considered a safe distance, Jake’s body caved and dropped to the soft welcoming surface of their bed. Amy quickly figured that it was probably for the best and she should take advantage of Jake finally staying still, meaning she carefully started undressing him, and it had seemed that he was passed out right up until she popped the third button of his flannel and his eyes shot open along with a sneaky smirk.

“Amez, Iz tonight zhe night that we become PILFs?”

Amy frowned as she reached the last button and then pushed the flannel off of his torso. “PILFs?” She wordlessly prompted him to sit up as to allow her to remove the flannel entirely only to be followed by his undershirt being lifted off via his head – something she’d done a million times before but most cases being for other reasons.

“Parentz I’d Like To Frick,” he smiled in appreciation at his own genius invention before stealing a kiss when Amy happened to be close enough to reach by simply leaning in a bit. It did earn him a small giggle like he wished but then also a light shove back.

“Stop that and help me instead, would you?” She was far from mad at him which he could tell from the way she couldn’t keep an entirely straight face but on the other side of things Amy clearly wasn’t having the easiest time undressing her full grown husband either. Suddenly the task that was changing Flynn 7 times a day was put into a quite interesting perspective: a perspective she didn’t necessarily need.

And so, feeling that his wife was doing all the hard work, he helped. It might’ve taken him 5 minutes to pop open and zip down his jeans, but he succeeded and it was with way too much pride that he kicked his jeans off in a madman-ninja manner which resulted in them flying across the room to touchdown by the door. Normally Amy would demand he put them in the laundry bin but for once she couldn’t care less. The pants being off itself was a great victory.

“Nicely done, babe,” she joked trying to ignore the fact that 3 simple tasks had taken them almost 40 minutes by now, prompting her to playfully throw his night shirt in way so it landed on his head. “Now put that on and you’re good to pass out for the night.”

She walked back over to her side of the bed, throwing in a glance at Flynn in his crib to make sure he was still well and asleep, before crawling back under the covers and pushing the part on Jake’s side aside to invite him in.

It was a matter of seconds before he dropped into place but instead of passing out immediately as Amy had expected him to, her husband shuffled across the bed’s invisible center line wordlessly asking for snuggles that Amy, of course, couldn’t decline. She loved that Jake went out and had some fun by himself, although, at the end of the day, nothing would ever beat having him home with her – even if it meant dealing with an all at once incapable and horny man child.

So, by all means, she lifted her arm to welcome him to make himself at home under it, felt his head moving to on top of her chest, before she put it back down in a soft grip around his shoulders. His free arm would then soon enough wrap around her middle earning him a soft peck to the forehead.

“I love you, Amz,” he mumbled tiredly into her shirt.

“I love you too, Jake,” she smiled leaning her cheek against where she’d just planted the kiss.

“And I love our baby. Zo much. I mizzed him all ze night,” he mumbled on the verge of falling asleep.

And while she always did expect it these days, right then and there when she very honestly in the moment least did expect it, a loud cry as if scripted, tore through the darkness of their bedroom. A small sigh escaped her body although she was couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the situation.

“… Sounds like he missed you too, babe.”

“Oh no,” Jake whined basically imitating Flynn to a point where it was scary as Amy scooted out from his snuggle and the newfound warmth of their bed. “I woke him up. I’m zo zo sorry.”

In the meantime Amy had made her way to the crib.

“You didn’t wake him up, honey,” she made sure to reassure Jake of the fact before picking up the tiny crying figure before promptly looking at the time on her night stand, where her suspicion was immediately proved to be right. “It’s 4 AM: he’s just hungry.”

Not many things in this world were sure or certain, but if there was one thing that was then it was definitely Amy’s knowledge when it came to her son’s schedule. Yes, Jake got up with Flynn just as frequently as she did, but contrary to her, Jake didn’t take note of the time and just did what his son demanded without interest in cracking the code to their baby’s life-pattern: as long as he got to care for him and make him happy again, the logistics were somewhat irrelevant to Jake.

“You sure?” he complained nervously questioning his wife as she sat back down in bed with Flynn cradled to her chest.

“Yes, completely.”

With her always being right and all, Jake settled for accepting his wife’s statement quieting down to take in the sight of their son fumbling to find where his mother had lifted up her shirt in order to feed him. Seconds later, like the peace that followed after a huge sky-cracking thunderstorm, silence settled upon the family of three letting the two adult of said family know that Flynn had once again worked out how to still his hunger. Apart from the very faint sounds of suckling, the occasional little pop followed by a wail when he’d lose his mouthful and complain until Amy managed to help him back on track, idyllic silence of the night wrapped up the apartment as if Jake had never interrupted it just an hour prior.

It was in moments like these where Jake became untouchable, completely disregarding any physical or mental state he might be in, and simply gave in to soaking in the faultless felicity parenthood provided him with. He’d never been anything but happy with Amy but this life he’d been living for 3 months now was even better and beyond any imaginable expectations he’d had. Flynn, though being the one who was completely dependent on his father’s care, had given Jake life a renewed meaning he hadn’t known or felt close to before. A meaning he’d originally been so afraid of even considering before he met Amy but had come to realize he wanted with her and only her.

He wanted 4 AM cries. He wanted the sight of Amy, depending on what her energy level was, either dozing off to or actively admiring their son latching onto her swelled chest as he suckled on it. He wanted the rush of pride every time Flynn made a new sound even if it was simply bringing into existence a new pitch when he squealed or whimpered. Jake wanted all and everything, big and small, as long as it was with them.

So of course, as soon as Flynn was placed stomach down on Amy’s chest after being done eating and burped, earning himself a sweet praise when he succeeded, Jake was back to snuggling into his wife’s side. There was no minding sharing her chest with the tiny human as it provided Jake with the perfect combination of cuddling with his wife and the incredible sight of their stupefying son slipping back into a peaceful state of sleepy satisfaction.

“He’s sro prerfect, Amy.”

“I know, babe,” with a hand safely cradling and stroking the back of Flynn’s decently hairy head she mumbled her reply obviously in the early stages of dozing off herself. The other hand, this arm having returned to its spot around Jake, was resting against her husband’s back stroking it in a synchronized motion.  

“Like, he’z like getting ze one exact toy you wanted ze mostest in your Happy Meal as a child.”  

She would laugh out loud at his comparison, finding it incredibly endearing, but she was by then too exhausted and only managed to form a tired smile – also the laughing would cause her chest and then automatically Flynn to quiver which she was not about to dare.

“He really is,” she mumbled.

“I think we shrould have anozer.”

It was easy to tell that the comment was partly genuine and sweet but also partly… intoxicated. Though Amy didn’t doubt the fact that Jake wouldn’t mind more children, she also didn’t doubt the fact that he definitely wouldn’t remember this conversation when he woke up some hours later with a hammering headache and zombie-like state of mind.

“I think I have enough on my hands with you two.”

Yes, she did see them having at least two kids but one newborn was definitely more than enough at the moment, plus  they had plenty of time to consider further additions to the family once Flynn would be older and Jake not completely wasted. Although it was nice to hear some truth about his inner thoughts spill from her drunk husband, there was no doubt in her mind that there was no need to hurry. They would get there eventually and for now they were already so very happy.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of Jake’s lips planting a soft, half-sloppy kiss to, first, their son’s head, then, then her neck. Then small movements beneath her hand on Flynn was next, quickly peaking her curiosity and winning over her exhaustion then forcing herself to open her eyes. Immediately feeling glad she did so because she was met by the most heartwarming sight of Jake carefully caressing Flynn’s tiny feet.

“We’re gunna make zo many perfect bebiez, Amy Trivago. Zo many. Like zis one.”

“I’m sure of it, babe,” she gave into one last tired chuckle hoping agreeing would give him the peace he needed to fall asleep. And besides the fact his fingers continuously toyed with the tiny feet, Jake seemed fast asleep a few moments later leaving Amy to soak in the moment, fighting to stay awake just a few more minutes to enjoy how incredibly lucky she was.

There was indeed nothing better than feeling her two favorite boys’ heartbeats against her skin as she herself dove into a deep sleep.

[razieltwelve]

Siren (The Vestige)

For a long moment, Lightning couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. It had been years since she’d heard a fal’Cie siren go off, but there was no mistaking that loud, shrill, klaxon.

“Mom?” Diana tugged on her sleeve. “What’s that sound?”

Lightning said nothing. Instead her gaze swept over the crowded boardwalk as people froze. The children were confused. They didn’t understand what was happening. But the older people, they all knew what those sirens meant.

“Come on.” Lightning looked at Fang. “We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah.” Fang’s eyes were wide, and Lightning could tell that she wasn’t entirely there. “We have to go.” She picked Diana up and then glanced down at Averia. “Stay close, Averia. We are getting out of here right now.”

“But why -” Diana’s question was cut off as Fang broke into a swift walk. She would have run, but even with her prosthetic, Lightning would never have been able to keep up, and Fang wasn’t going to leave her or Averia behind.

“This has to be a false alarm,” Fang muttered. “There’s no way it can be real.”

“I hope so.” Lightning fumbled for her phone and quickly dialled a number. The Eidolon Program had largely gone into stasis since the end of the Breach War. There simply hadn’t been a need for it after the Breach had been sealed, and the money had been desperately needed elsewhere. However, there were still monitoring stations in place, and she still knew people on the inside. “I’m going to make a call.”

“Good.” Fang’s pace quickened slightly as panic began to set in. They got off the boardwalk and began to make their way through the winding alleys that would take them back to the train station. They both knew that the main streets would be full of panicked people. 

“Are they back?” Averia asked quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Lightning said. Averia might only have been nine years old, but she’d paid close attention to the history of the Breach War. They had closed the Breach, but there was nothing guaranteeing that it wouldn’t open one day. The bomb they’d sent through was the biggest in history, but there was still a chance something might have survived it. “I hope not.”

Her phone finally managed to get through. “Lebreau, it’s Lightning.”

“Marshal...” Lebreau was short of breath. “You’re not going to believe this...”

“I’m in Bodhum. I can hear fal’Cie sirens. Is this a false alarm?” Lightning cut straight to the point.

“No.” Lebreau swallowed thickly. “We detected a Breach almost an hour ago, but it’s taken us this long to confirm it. We don’t have as many sensors up as we used, so we had to reroute a fishing boat. We’ve got a Category V headed in that direction. Estimated time of arrival is two hours.”

“Two hours...” Lightning did a mental review of the military assets in the area. “That’s not enough time for the military to scramble a sufficiently large response.” A Category V could be taken down with conventional weaponry, but it would take days of sustained heavy bombing or the use of nuclear weapons, perhaps multiple nuclear weapons depending on the fal’Cie. “And there’s no way we can evacuate in time.”

“I know, ma’am.” Lebreau made a pained sound. “I can have a chopper at Bodhum’s airport in half an hour. You, Fang, and the kids can get out.”

“Serah is here too with Snow and their kids...” Lightning trailed off. “Lebreau... how decommissioned is Odin?”

“What?”

“After the Breach, we pushed to have the remaining Eidolons preserved and memorialised. Odin overlooks Bodhum Bay. How decommissioned is he? Is there any chance we could get him up and running again?”

“Uh...” Lebreau had to be looking up files. Odin had suffered massive damage during the Breach War. However, he’d been refurbished prior to being memorialised as a giant statue overlooking the bay. Lightning had been too ill at that point to keep up with everything they’d done to the machine, but she’d left Vanille in charge of it. And if she knew Vanille, the redhead would never have allowed them to gut Odin’s interior. She would have pushed for the bare minimum to ensure he was ‘safe’ to use as a statue. “Give me a second...”

Lightning winced as the wailing of the sirens grew louder. If people weren’t panicked already, they would be now.

“Right.” Lebreau’s voice was breathless. “I finally found the real file. It turns out that Dr Dia did what she always does - she lied and did whatever she wanted while ignoring orders from the higher ups. Odin was supposed to have his core removed and his weapons disabled. It turns out that Dr Dia filed a fake file stating the work had been done, but she apparently gave me personal access at some point to the real file. Odin’s core was deactivated, but it should theoretically still be operational - we built them to last - and while he doesn’t have any ammunition for his ballistic weapons, the Blazefire Sabre was restored to working order, as were the rest of his weapons. But after going so long without maintenance, I’m not sure how good they’ll be.”

Lightning made a mental note to scold Vanille a little less harshly for her insubordination next time. “It’s fine. It’s better than nothing.��I don’t know who’s in charge of this sort of thing anymore, but you need to get in touch with them. We need whoever we can get - techs, engineers, mechanics, anybody - over here to try to get Odin up and running. I’ll call Serah. She and Fang should be able to pilot him.”

“I’m already on it,” Lebreau said. “We’ve got some retired folks from the Eden City Ark living in Bodhum. I’ll get in touch with them too.”

“Do it.”

X    X     X

“Ma’am.”

Lightning returned the salute as Diana and Averia looked up at Odin in awe. The area immediately underneath the Eidolon was normally closed to the public, but these were special circumstances. “It’s good to see you again.” She recognised every single one of the people here. “I know it’s been a while, but I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem.” The mechanic grinned. “We used to do maintenance on Odin back in the day. It’ll be nice to give him a bit of a refresher.” His voice turned sombre. “Besides, it’s not like running away would help. If we can get him working again, we might have a chance.” He shrugged. “Odin has never lost a battle. I doubt he’ll start losing any now.”

“That’s right.” Odin had been critically damaged twice, but he had still won each of those battles. “When can we expect the suits to arrive.”

Her question was answered as a helicopter landed. 

“That would be them now,” the mechanic said. He gestured to his fellows. “Come on. We’ll let the techs handle the suits. We’ve got work to do! I want that core up and running in half an hour or less!”

The techs with the suits ran over. They were also carrying advanced communications equipment, and Lightning set it up on a nearby picnic table. 

“I hope I still fit into one of those suits,” Fang said, trying to smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Serah approaching with Snow and their kids. The pink-haired woman had given birth less than six months ago, but there was no way she’d refuse to get into the Conn-Pod. Refusing would mean Lightning would have to try her luck again, and neither she nor Serah wanted that.

“I think you’ll do fine.” Lightning nodded at Snow. “Can you take the kids?” she asked him. 

Snow looked like he wanted to protest. He’d been a phenomenal pilot in his own right. However, he didn’t have an Eidolon to pilot right now. Finally, he nodded. “All right.” He smiled. “Okay, Averia and Diana, you two can come with me, Claire, and the twins. It’ll be fun.” He lowered his voice. “Marshal...”

It was telling that he was addressing her as marshal rather than as Lightning despite them being in-laws. “I’ll do my best, and I know Fang and Serah will too,” Lightning said. “I just hope it’s still good enough.”

X    X     X

“Today,” the newsreader announced. “We found out that the Breach War is not over. For the first time in more than a decade, a Breach opened, and a fal’Cie once more laid siege to one of our cities. Bodhum was attacked, and if not for the extraordinary actions of former members of the Eidolon Program, it would have been lost.”

Footage began to play. It was a mess, obviously taken from several phones, supplemented with some shaky camera footage from a terrified news crew who had been covering a sandcastle competition.

A titanic monster, the fal’Cie, waded toward the beach only to be intercepted by one of the most famous Eidolons ever built. Odin charged into it, driving it back into the shallows. The Eidolon was still decorated with the ceremonial signs and placards that had been put on him when he’d been installed as a statue along the shoreline.

“The decommissioned Eidolon, Odin, was reactivated and sent into battle once more. Piloted by Oerba Yun Fang and Serah Farron, the Eidolon engaged the Category V fal’Cie only a few hundred yards from the shore.”

The footage shifted to show the two behemoths exchanging blows so hard the water sprayed outward with each impact. A swipe of the fal’Cie’s claws shredded the armour along the Eidolon’s right shoulder before a punch from the machine staggered it. Another blow followed, a rocket igniting briefly on the Eidolon’s elbow before fizzling out. The punch still rattled the fal’Cie, and Odin charged forward to ram his shoulder into the monster’s chest.

The fal’Cie slid backward, losing its footing as it tripped over something hidden in the water. It toppled back, and Odin used the break in combat to unfurl the Blazefire Sabre. The weapon jammed half-way through transforming, but Odin barely paused before simply raising the weapon and bringing it down over the fal’Cie’s head like a club,

There was a deep crunching sound, and the fal’Cie shuddered, trying to scramble back and put some distance between them, so it could recover. Odin stumbled over the same thing that had tripped the fal’Cie, and the monster managed to retreat. As Odin threatened to fall, the Blazefire Sabre swept forward to be used as an improvised crutch.

The impact jarred the weapon, and it finally unfurled to its full length. Plasma flared to life along the blade’s edge, and Odin staggered forward almost clumsily. The first slash caught the fal’Cie along its side, and the creature shrieked in pain and fury. Its tail darted forward, but Odin managed to jerk far enough to avoid the worst of the attack. Still, the barber stinger tore a gash along the Eidolon’s right flank, and the Eidolon staggered for a split-second before bringing its sword around for another blow.

This time, the Blazefire Sabre ht cleanly. It dug deep into the fal’Cie’s shoulder, and there was a metallic howl as the servos and systems built into Odin roared to life. The blade swept down and to the left, and the fal’Cie’s arm came off in a spray of gore. Wounded, the fal’Cie tried to charge forward, but Odin met the charge head-on, driving its shoulder into the fal���Cie’s gut and flinging it back.

The Blazefire Sabre struck again, cleaving a chunk out of the fal’Cie’s chest before it unleashed a spray of caustic acid. Odin’s left arm came up to shield the Conn-Pod, and the armour along its forearm began to sizzle and melt. With a metallic roar, Odin’s battered arm wedged itself into the fal’Cie’s open mouth, halting the spray of corrosive fluid as the hilt of the Blazefire Sabre cracked into the fal’Cie’s forehead.

The monster’s knees threatened to give way as its skull fractured, and Odin twisted the Blazefire Sabre around to stab down into the gap between the plates of armour along the monster’s collarbone. The blade bit deep, and the Eidolon sawed it back and forth, one hand still wedged in the monster’s mouth as the fal’Cie flailed and thrashed with increasing desperation.

A few moments later, it was over, and Odin yanked the weapon free with a spray of gore.

It must have been the first time the newsreader had seen the footage because she had gone completely silent, just staring at the screen. “I... uh...” She shook herself. “The battle took place almost entirely in the bay, vastly reducing the possibility of casualties or property damage. At this stage, the Eidolon Program has yet to issue a formal statement although officials in both the government and the opposition are demanding that the Eidolon Program be reactivated in full and that all remaining Eidolons be reactivated.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Some people aren’t destined for quiet lives. Lightning, Fang, and the gang are amongst them. 

It just goes to show that you need luck sometimes. If Vanille hadn’t been as obsessed with not breaking any of the stuff she helped build, if Fang and Serah hadn’t both been there, or if Lightning hadn’t called Lebreau... there are so many ways this could have gone horribly wrong.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems, Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire, and The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

[thenovelartist]

AU August - Day 31 - Fencing AU

I finally finished the story I started back when the incredible @megs-ils​ did a few fencing AU pieces. Here and Here. This is the origin story I thought up for them.

“Knock it off, you two,” Mr. Dargencourt warned. “More sparing, less flirting.”

Marinette could feel her cheeks burn at that. Was it that obvious? And here she thought she had her crush under control.

“Flirting?” Adrien jested. “Marinette doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Says the boy who tried a pick-up line from an anime on some poor damsel.”

“At least I can string a sentence together. But then again, I’m certain a blush and stutter does wonders for stealing a boy’s heart.”

She lashed out.

He tapped her.

She inwardly cursed.

He flicked up his mask, revealing that infernal, handsome, cheeky, dazzling grin. She lived for that grin, even at the cost of a loss.

“Touché,” she admitted, lifting her own mask.

“Control your temper, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Dargencourt warned. “You could have easily beat him with his sloppy footwork.”

Adrien shrugged, smile still on his face.

Mr. Dargencourt shook his head. “What am I going to do with the two of you. Both immensely talented yet refuse to focus.”

“Send us home because it’s the end of fencing club?”

Mr. Dargencourt looked at the clock. “Aye. That it is. Disband.”

So, they headed to the locker rooms, changing out of their fencing attire and collecting their things. Marinette was the only girl in the female locker room. Sure, it was a shame that not more women were in the club, but it gave her pride knowing that she could beat the boys.

As she exited, Adrien was there waiting for her. As always. “Walk you home?”

She grinned. “Thanks.”

They walked side by side out of the school and towards Marinette’s house. “Are you going to the fencing tournament this weekend?” Adrien asked.

Marinette sighed. Yes, she heard about it. She’d signed up—not that Adrien knew about it—and won the local sparing competition to see if she could have a spot. But… “My parents won’t let me go.”

Adrien looked at her, wide-eyed. “Why not? It would be a blast to watch.”

“It’s too far away, on the other side of Paris. They’d have to drive me and they’re too busy.”

“Oh,” Adrien said with a sigh.

“What about you? That’s sounds like fun.”

Adrien shook his head. “Grounded.”

“Oh! What for this time!” Marinette cried, exasperated.

“I bombed that test—”

“Okay, you did not ���bomb that test’. No one did well on that test, and you got the second highest grade behind Max.”

“My dad wasn’t happy since it took my grade down.”

“By what?” Marinette exasperatedly challenged.

Adrien remained silent, which was all Marinette needed to know.”

“I think he needs a sabre to the chest,” she grumbled. “Or hilt to the head.”

Adrien chuckled. “I would pay to see that.”

When they arrived at the bakery, they paused at the door. “Do you want to come in for a treat?”

“I’d love to,” Adrien ruefully said. “But I can’t. Father wants me home immediately.”

“Can I send you home with a macron or two, at least?”

He hesitated. “Sure, I’d love that.”

“Give me a second.” Marinette hustled inside, dropping her gym bag behind the counter and earning a warning look from her mother. Quickly, Marinette grabbed small box of pre-boxed macrons from behind the counter and ran back outside to Adrien.

He gave her the softest look. “You spoil me.”

“Anything for my best friend, right?”

It was barely noticeable, but his posture deflated. “Right. Best friends.” He took the box. “I’ll see you at school?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette said, waving to him as he slowly backed away. “See ya.”

He waved good-bye, but his smile didn’t reach those stunningly green eyes of his.

Once he was out of sight, Marinette retreated back into the bakery, marching past the counter up to her room.

“Ahem.”

Oh… her bag. Right. “Sorry, Maman.”

“And this is why I tell you to take it up to your room.”

She flashed her maman a sheepish grin. Her mother returned the gesture with a fond smile and shake of her head. “What am I going to do with you?” she teased.

“Love me because I’m your daughter?”

Her mother broke out into a full, wide grin at that. “That’s true.”

With one last smile, Marinette took off to her room, dumping her bag on the ground and collapsing on her chaise. “Best friends,” she grumbled. “Yup. That’s all we are.”

…

“Best friends,” he said, dropping his bag on the ground before falling onto his couch. “That’s all.”

He let his eyes drift shut, only to immediately conjure up the most beautiful set of eyes, ones that hardened competitively when faced with a challenge yet could melt a man with the softest and most gentle of looks. Paired with a smile that was dangerous for his heartbeat, he was sure she’d be the death of him.

But they were friends. Best friends. Clearly, that was all she wanted to be.

He sighed and turned on his tv for a distraction. The news was on, reporting on the large fencing tournament that was being set up across Paris. Not only did he want to go just because he loved a good challenge, but he wanted to find a teacher. All the best were going to be there. He’d signed up already and earned his spot in the prestigious competition.

Too bad he was grounded.

Unless he snuck out.

It was really risky. Borderline stupid. There was no way his father wouldn’t notice.

… Then again, this was his father they were talking about.

The only problem was the fact the whole thing would be broadcast. It was quite the prestigious event, after all. The news would be all over it. And if fashion model Adrien Agreste showed up, the news would zero in on him and he would be pulled from school faster than he could blink.

Too bad he couldn’t cover his face.

It took a moment, but a slow smile crept across his face. Well… why not?

…

“Alya, this is a bad idea.”

Alya waved a hand dismissively at Marinette and started the car. “It’s a great idea. Your parents don’t need you and the only thing you need is a ride. How is it not perfect?”

“My parents will catch me.”

“No, they won’t. No way they’ll watch the tourney.”

“But what if someone else sees me then rats me out to my parents and I’ll be grounded for breaking their trust and—”

“Okay, okay,” Alya interrupted, “Calm down. Just wear your mask the whole time. No one will know.”

“But my name will still be displayed.”

Alya frowned, pacing back and forth in Marinette’s room. Suddenly, she gasped. “I’ve got it!” She ran to her backpack, falling to her knees and pulling out a comic book. “Ta-da! New identity.”

Marinette stared at the comic book dubiously. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Think about it. Don a mask, a costume, and new name and boom! Instant cover.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Visionary.”

Marinette snorted. “Alya. If you come up with a half-decent idea, I’ll do it.”

Suddenly, Marinette was not liking that smirk on Alya’s face. “You’re on.”

…

Adrien was accustomed to sneaking out to the point he was scarily good at it. He knew how to get all the way across Paris on his own.

With help from Nino.

“Bro, I owe you.”

Nino yawned. “Yeah, you do. You’re paying gas money, lunch, and a new set of headphones.”

When Nino stopped at a light, Adrien pulled out the pair he’d already bought. “Something like this?”

Nino stopped to stare wide eyed at the top-of-the-line pair of studio-quality headphones. “Bro, I love you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When they arrived, Adrien slipped on his mask.

No, not his fencing mask. His black face mask.

Nino stared at him dubiously. “And why’d you think this was a good idea?”

“When don’t I have good ideas?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Adrien snorted. “Trust me. This is one of my best plans yet.”

Nino stuck with Adrien up to the sign-up table, where Adrien scribbled in his pseudonym Chat Noir.

The sign-up lady looked at him oddly, giving his black fencer’s suit and mask a once over. Adrien shrugged and gave her a charming smile. “It’s my nickname. Most don’t want to cross me.”

She stared at him a while longer before her expression fell back into one of boredom. “Building 1 to the left. Bracket C, number 13.”

“Thank you,” Ad­-Chat said before stepping off to the side. “This,” he said, resting a hand on Nino’s shoulder, “is where we part ways.”

Nino held up a fist. “Good luck, bro.”

Adrien pounded it. “Thanks.”

With one last salute, Adrien wandered off to his section. He wondered inside, searching for anything that said Bracket C. Instead, he found a map with several brackets underneath.

He suddenly was no longer surprised the tournament spanned over the three-day weekend. Sure, there had been many long tournaments he’d had to compete in beforehand to secure this spot, but he didn’t realize this one would be the biggest of them all. There were brackets A-P, each consisting of 16 contestants. Today was basically the preliminaries to decide who actually was worthy enough to stay. He doubted any teachers would be here today, but that didn’t mean he could slack. He had a bracket to win.

…

“I can’t believe this was your brilliant idea,” Marinette whined.

“It will work perfectly.”

“It’s nuts.”

“It’s perfect. I’m a genius.”

Marinette sighed, feeling the face mask underneath her fingers.

“So you decide that I, the clumsiest person alive, should be named after the luckiest animal ever?”

Alya tapped the steering wheel of her van. “Well, it matched that red suit you had in your closet. Besides, you need a little ladybug luck.”

“I’m strangling you for this.”

“When you win the tourney and score an awesome teacher, I’ll make you eat those words.”

When they arrived, Alya waited in line with Marinette at the sign-up table. When they arrived, the lady looked her over. “Did I miss the memo? What is it, Halloween?”

Before Marinette could ask what she meant, the lady pushed a sign-up sheet towards her. Marinette signed her name. Well…nickname. Ladybug.

“Building 3 to your right. Bracket L number 7.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, go win, girl.”

“Thanks, Alya. I have the feeling I’ll need it.”

…

Day two, and Marinette felt twice as confident donning the mask. She’d garnered a bit of a reputation of having lady luck on her side and people did not like facing off with her. She was quick, agile, efficient. Matches were over in the blink of an eye and all they would see is a flurry of red.

It gave Marinette a deep sense of pride, and soon she found she didn’t want to lose such a reputation. She couldn’t disgrace the ladybug, after all.

By the end of the day, she couldn’t help but notice a crowd gathering in her corner of the building. Likely to watch her, the Lucky Lady in Red. Alya filmed her success throughout the day. By the end, she was crowned the winner of her bracket.

“Congratulations on your win, Miss Ladybug” a game manager said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you, sir,”

“Tomorrow, you’ll be heading to building B, where you’ll face off with the 15 winners of the other brackets. Best of luck.”

With that, she retreated up to Alya.

“Girl, you were amazing!” she cried, giving Ladybug a hug.

“Thanks,” she said, returning it. “I’m so excited.”

“You should be!” Alya said, “Play like that and you’ll win the whole thing.”

“Fingers crossed.”

They started down the bleachers, setting their sights on the door when they were stopped by a lady in a simple red dress. “I have to admit,” she said. “Your skills should be what I’m looking for, but I’ve always admired a woman in red.”

Marinette stared at the woman for a moment, and once her brain registered who she was talking to, her jaw hit the floor. “Y-y-you’re…”

The woman smiled. “I’ve got my eye on you, Miss Ladybug. Maybe my lucky bet will be on you. I’d say best of luck, but looks like you’ve already got that.”

With that, the lady walked off towards another match.

“Who was—”

“ALYA!” Marinette squeaked, grabbing her best friend by the shoulders and shaking her. “That was Tikki Fu. The Tikki Fu!”

“I’m so lost.”

“She’s a legend!” Marinette squeaked, looking back over to where the woman disappeared. “She was in the world series and won for France in the female’s division.”

Alya’s jaw was now appropriately on the floor with Marinette’s. “No. Way.”

“YesWay!”

The girls squealed. Any jabber that continued between them was now completely undecipherable and pitched at uncomfortably high levels, but neither girl really cared. Not with the high Marinette was riding on. Now, she was determined not to mess this up. After all, a chance to work with Tikki was on the line.

…

At first, he questioned his idea to wear a mask, black suit, and nickname. The looks he had received were mocking and degrading. One gutsy competitor dared call him a pussy.

But that was before Adrien shredded him.

After that, no one mocked Chat Noir.

He grinned like a cat that got the cream every time he landed a hit. He was good; he knew it. And people were quickly growing afraid of his reputation.

“Kid, if you’re gonna be cocky, better not be afraid to land on your ass.”

Adrien turned around to see a man in a black leather jacket standing nonchalantly against one of the arena dividers.

“Not that the little outfit isn’t amusing,” the man said, slowly standing straight and sauntering towards him. “And the name certainly throws people off, but you better have the skill and focus to back it up.”

Adrien lifted his head shield and watched as the man’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Quite an act.”

“Let’s just say that I don’t want my face anywhere.”

“Been there,” the man said. “But I also learned real quick where to draw the line.”

And that’s when Adrien’s eyes widened with realization of just who he was talking to. “You’re Paul Fu.”

The man snorted, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Nice to know someone knows my actual name. I’m pretty sure that even Wikipedia thinks my name is Plagg, now. That being said, if you’re gonna have a nickname, better make sure your skills are backing it up, not your mouth. Clear?”

Adrien nodded.

“Good. If you want a teacher at all, you’re going to have to prove that. A lot of them won’t take a smart mouth.”

Adrien knew he was talking from experience, so he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With an amused smirk and tilt of his chin, Plagg walked passed him by.

Leaving Chat Noir with a warning he wasn’t soon going to forget.

…

The final bracket was organized by bracket letters. A against B, C against D, etc. The competition was fierce, and it was made twice as challenging by the fact trainers were there, ready to pick up new students.

If any competitor wasn’t on edge, then they had no idea the stakes.

Marinette was positively buzzing. All the tea in the world wouldn’t touch her anxiety. Alya revoked her privileges to liquids after a while. “You’re gonna end up having to pee in the middle of a match. You’ll thank me later.”

But she was still sweating. After all, winning the competition would be great, but there was nothing more important than impressing Tikki.

She nearly lost her first dual. It was the closest call she’d had. Thankfully, she came out on top. The second was very similar, but once again, she just eked into the lead.

“Girl,” Alya said, patting Marinette’s shoulder when she was on break. “You need to focus. You’re really off your game.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“Is this because you want to work with Tikki?”

“Yes!” she hissed. “I don’t want to let her down.”

“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to. Come on, girl. You’re better than this.”

“Knowing and doing are two different things.”

Alya hummed. “Then kick back and watch the competition. You still have to face off a couple more, and you need to learn how to shred them.”

Marinette knew she was right. That was probably her greatest strength, after all. She needed to use it.

“But because I’m curious, what do you think about Mr. Chat Noir?”

Marinette really stared at him. He was…  a ball of pure instinct. From the few matches she’d seen him in, it was clear his fighting style differed between competitors. He was always stronger in the offensive than defensive, but that was the only similarity between his matches. The only downfall she could see was he was cocky. He subtly taunted his competitors, but it was a tactic that always worked well in his favor. This was a sport of class, usually full of stuck up, over-rich pricks, and having someone taunt them during a match was a great way to throw them off. They weren’t used to such behavior.

“I think he’s going to the final round.”

“I think so, too,” Alya said, continuing to film him. “He’s good.”

“He’s something.”

“Just make sure you beat his little tail, got it.”

“I’ll try.”

“See, it’s that sort of attitude that isn’t going to bode well for you.”

Marinette froze. Because that wasn’t Alya.

One again, Tikki was wearing red. “Come now, have some confidence,” she said, taking a seat beside Marinette. “You notice his faults. You plan ahead. Then you go in there and beat him.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Oh well,” Tikki said with a shrug. “As long as you give all you’ve got, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. The best will lose battles. No one’s perfect.”

Marinette listened, but her nerves didn’t calm.

And Tikki took notice. “This wouldn’t be because you’re nervous about snagging a teacher, would it?”

Marinette whipped around to face Tikki and turned into a sputtering, incoherent mess.

Thank goodness for Alya. “Partly,” she said, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders. “You see, she’s this really talented and really sweet person who deserves to have a female instructor instead of being the only female in her school’s fencing club.”

Tikki giggled. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve already decided I want to take you on as a student.”

Marinette turned silent.

Tikki nodded. “You’re very good—obviously, for you to have gotten here—but I have the feeling you’ll be teachable. And I’m not going to waste my time with someone who may be the best fencer here yet won’t listen to my instruction. That, and I’ve always found luck in red.”

Marinette’s heart pounded. “R-really?”

Tikki grinned. “What do you say?”

“Yes!” Marinette cried. “Yes. Please. Really. Thank you. Yes.”

The red-head giggled again. “I knew I liked you. Now, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Be sure to beat Mr. Cocky in the black, there,” she said. “I have the feeling I know exactly who’s going to pick him up and I’d love to shove it to the man.”

Marinette stared at Chat Noir, watching the lazy way he loped back to his seat then looked over the competition with an arrogant air about him.

She’d take him down. He needed a good lesson. “Deal.”

…

It was times like this that he wished his father would be here. He was doing very well in the tournament, beating competitors left and right. He knew he caught the eye of a handful of teachers. He’d love to be chosen by one of them to continue practicing his craft. One in particular had caught his attention, and if the master Paul Fu picked him up, then that would be the best thing ever.

However, Plagg never approached him. Nor did any other teachers. And it was the last round.

“Ladybug, is it?” Chat said, lazy smile on his face. “I was hoping to get the chance to spar with you. You’ve caused quite a racket.”

“Same as you, Chat Noir,” she said, sticking a hand out to shake. “It will be an honor to spar against you.”

He shook her hand. “It will be an honor to beat you, milady.”

She frowned, then turned and headed towards the arena.

The curt dismissal caught him off guard. Seemed she was the serious type, one focused on the match and movements.

He smirked. He knew exactly how to deal with that.

Throughout the match, he kept fishing for just the right comment that would overthrow her. Teases to playful insults to constantly complimenting her style.

But it didn’t help him win.

She was good, and he was a graceful loser.

Even though it stung a bit.

Or a lot.

He stuck out his hand at the end. “Good round.”

She frowned at him but still shook his hand. “Maybe, if you were a little more serious, things could have gone differently.”

With that, she walked off through the crowd of people wanting her attention.

He was bombarded with people, too. After all, he was second place winner. Not too bad in a competition of this size.

However, when he was never approached by a teacher, he was more than just a little salty. And unfortunately, he knew why.

“They think you’re too cocky,” Nino confirmed. “I overheard a handful of them talking. They think you’re good but arrogant and they aren’t going to take you for it.”

“Yeah, figures,” Adrien mumbled. “Let’s just go home.”

“You did well, bro,” Nino said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You should be proud. You’re literally the second-best fencer in all of Paris. And technically, the best guy fencer in all Paris.”

Adrien’s smile was small, but still there. “Thanks bro.”

They navigated the parking lot to Nino’s ride, only to stop when they saw a figure sitting on the hood.

“There you are,” he said, sliding off the car and standing to full height. “Wondering when you’d make it out. Quite a match, there.”

Adrien shrugged. “She was good. I lost fairly,” he answered, doing everything he could to hold back his bitterness. Because it was true; she was good. Heck, everyone he sparred with was good.

He just kinda hoped he was the best.

“No teacher?” Plagg asked with a smirk.

“They all think I’m arrogant, apparently.”

“And you want to correct them?”

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, only to pause. “Maybe a little,” he said. “I just…”

“You just, what?” Plagg challenged.

“I’m not a pussy,” he said. “And I am good and I want to show them they can’t mess with me like that.”

Plagg stared down at him.

Adrien didn’t waver under the pressure.

“What’s your name, kid?” Plagg asked. “If I’m going to train you, I’m gonna need a name.”

Adrien froze, staring wide eyed at Plagg.

He just quirked a brow. “Well?”

“Adrien,” he said. “Adrien Agreste.”

It was Plagg’s turn to quirk a curious brow, but his expression turned into a smug one. “Well, if that don’t explain all,” he commented. He handed him a small card with a number and address. “Call me when you have a schedule, kid. And if daddy refuses, well… you’re what? Nearly eighteen. Daddy can’t control you forever.”

With that, he walked off.

“Dude,” Nino said, breaking Adrien from his trance. “That. Is awesome.”

“You wouldn’t mind giving me rides, would you?”

Nino smirked. “I could use some more DJ equipment.”

Adrien grinned and grabbed Nino’s shoulder. “You are the best friend ever.”

…

“Congratulations!” Alya said, tackling Marinette in a hug once she escaped the swarm of reporters as well as teachers all wanting to take her on. She had to turn all them down and did her best to be as polite as possible.

“Thanks, Alya,” she said, returning the hug. “I can’t believe I won!”

“You should!” Tikki chimed in. “You were fantastic. I knew you were my lucky bet.”

Marinette giggled.

“So,” Tikki said. “I’d like to set up a training schedule as soon as possible. However, I’m going to have to know the girl underneath the mask for that.”

Quickly scanning the room for any reporters or other nosy people yet finding no one, she took of her mask. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“She may or may not have sneaked out in order to be here,” Alya cheekily added. “It’s not a normal thing, though. Just on this one occasion.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to abandon Ladybug completely,” Tikki said, shaking Marinette’s hand. “I kinda like it.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Tikki nodded. “I think it would be fun to have such an alias, and it certainly creates a buzz, don’t you think?”

Marinette shrugged. “I guess so.”

Tikki grinned. “So, should I give you my number to call when you have a schedule worked out?”

“How about,” Alya said, pitching in. “You visit the Dupain-Cheng bakery for lunch.”

Tikki gasped. “Oh, I knew your name sounded familiar. I love the cookies there. I have such a bad sweet tooth.”

Marinette giggled. “Then can you come over after lunch sometime this week so I can tell my parents everything and get their okay.”

“That sounds perfect,” Tikki agreed. “Monday?”

“Monday.”

“Wonderful. I will see you tomorrow. Until then, congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile and a wave, Tikki headed out

Leaving Alya and Marinette screaming in giddy, girly excitement.

[thegreatwhiteferret]

We Don’t Talk Anymore

Summary: As Stan laid there in the quiet of the Sunday morning a thought kept plaguing him, he needed to see Richie Tozier as soon as possible. In his mind, he knew that he should be thinking of how to apologize to Archie, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Stanley Uris only wanted Richard Tozier.

Pairing: Stozier (Background Hanbrough and Benverly)

Rating: Explicit 

A/N: This is the requested sequel to my previous Stozier story Attention. You don't technically need to read Attention in order to enjoy this fic, however reading it would provide lots of background information about the plot and characters actions, as well as another explicitly smutty Stozier encounter. Special thanks to the lovely Anon on here who requested this sequel and to the people on AO3 who requested this in the comments. I love all of y’all!!! Y’all are the absolute best, thank you for wanting to read more! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

NSFW Under the Cut...

Out of all of the members of the Lucky Seven of the Losers Club, Beverly Marsh was the one who knew how to get shit done. She especially knew better than anyone how to handle the boys when they were being idiots. This expertise is what led her to Richie Tozier’s house at an ungodly time on a Sunday morning. Someone needed to talk some sense into the Trashmouth, and start the steps to settle this bullshit once and for all.

Ben’s party had been the night before. What had started as a light hearted night of drinking and dancing had ended in heartache and pain. The whole club had sprang into action when they saw a very pissed off Archie sprint out the front door followed by a barefoot and disheveled Stan, and then there was Richie moving to catch up with ex. It didn’t take much for Bev to decipher what had happened, she knew that Stan always felt a strong pull towards Richie, he had tried to explain it to her multiple times before they had even started dating. It only got worse after they had started to date, Stan head over heels, oblivious to the fact that his boyfriend could never be the soft boy that he craved. Richie Tozier was a dick, a inappropriately wisecracking dick, who would never change. Bev knew this because Richie was her partner in crime, her closest friend in the Losers Club for a long time. She had seen the distance that he was putting between himself and the other Losers before Stan had noticed, she knew something was wrong but couldn’t put her finger on it. She only wished that she could have warned Stan sooner. Bev had held Stan in her arms as he cried over Richie choosing drugs over him. Had done everything she could to cheer him up, and had even been the one who introduced him to Archie. Bev thought she was helping, at the time she truly thought she was. When Richie had released those dirty pictures of Stan and spread those rumors, Bev was beside herself. She never thought that Richie would be so cold and heartless. It was beyond forgiveness. Of course it didn’t end there, Richie never knew when to quit. He pulled Stan right back in at that party, and left the rest of them to deal with the ticking time bomb that was Stan’s emotions and broken heart. She could still hear the muffled sounds of Stan’s sobs as he wretched into the toilet bowl of the bathroom in Bill’s house.

Bev climbed the few steps up the Tozier front porch and rang the doorbell. She tapped her toe as she waited impatiently. The other Losers had no idea that she was doing this, even Ben had no idea where his girlfriend was at this early hour. She heard some banging inside and then the door swung open, revealing a very distressed looking Richie.

“Fuck you want, Bev? It’s too fucking early.” He went to slam the door not even giving her the chance to answer but she caught it before he could and pushed him into the house, closing the door behind her.

“We need to talk, Rich.” She said in the most condescending tone that Richie had ever heard her pull. He sighed, he knew that trying to resist Bev at this point would be futile, and retreated to the living room where he plopped down on the worn sofa. Beverly sat in the arm chair, and turned her body to face him. “What the fuck are you doing, Richie? To Stan, to yourself, what the fuck is going on in that mind of yours?” Richie groaned and dramatically flipped himself over so his face was hidden in the cushions of the couch.

“I don’t know, Bev. I don’t fucking know.” He muttered, barely audible from his position, he heard her click her tongue and he knew that she was about to give him a verbal beatdown, so he continued before she could. “I still love him. With every fucking fiber of my being, I love him. I just...I couldn’t stand seeing him with that fucking jackass, stupid red hair and muscles, since when does Stan even go for jock football players who play the fucking guitar...I just don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ, Beep Beep Richie.” Bev snapped. “You can’t use love as an excuse for abuse. You made your choice with the drugs and everything, you chose them over Stan. That killed him Rich. Do you know how many times I sat with him while he cried over your pathetic ass? No? Don’t have an answer for that one? Archie was a good change for him. A real decent guy who would focus on him and put him first. Stan was getting better.” She shook her head, in disbelief that she even had to say all of this. “When you released those pictures….said those things about him, I couldn’t believe it. My best friend, Richie Tozier, would never do something like that. So aimed to destroy someone who he once loved. That was awful, but Stan was trying to cope, and then you decided to truly destroy him. Don’t lie to me, Jackass. You knew that he would be there, knew that he would be drinking. You took advantage of that and showed up anyway.”

“It...it wasn’t like that.” Richie tried to defend, but he knew it was a lie. “It was like that. I don’t know why I did those things to him. Why seeing him happy hurt me. I was just so miserable. And I know that he deserves better. He’s always deserved better than me. The whole world knows that. I didn’t go to the party to do all of this, but then I saw him. How beautiful he is, and he was yelling at me and all of the pain and misery went away when I kissed him. I felt whole again. I didn’t fuck him to mess up things with him and that other guy. I just...couldn’t not touch him.”

“Rich…” Bev pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “You’re right. He deserves better. Better than a drug addict that blows him off all the time. But that’s not you, Richie. That’s not the Richie that we all knew and loved, the one that Stan fell head over heels in love with. You changed.”

“Fuck!” Richie screamed, tugging at his unruly curls. “I fucking know that I have changed. Jesus Christ. I just...I didn’t want to feel anymore. I know that sounds cheap as shit, because I had you guys, and Stan, but things just got to be so much. I knew you guys were going to get sick of me and leave me behind, and I just wanted to get a jump on it. Wanted to be in control, instead of having to wait around and feel like you guys were just pitying me. And then I met those guys in detention one day, they were talking about this new drug they had got their hands on. Well, new to them. Cocaine. And they asked if I wanted to try it too. And I’m not proud of this, Bev, I’m not, but that hit made me feel like I was fucking flying. Like all of my worries were gone. When I came down, I realized what you guys would think, what you would say, you’d be mad or disappointed. Eddie would throw some facts out about how I had killed my brain cells. Then I realized, that it might be bad enough for you guys to freeze me out. For me to finally have my answer, but Stan. Stan would try to fix me. He would soften up, ditch his sassy one-liners and try to get me to be normal, but he would waste his time doing that. Because even without drugs, he deserved better than me. He deserves someone who can give him the fucking world. I can’t do that. I could never do that.” Richie’s voice was small and he was crying.

Bev tried to follow his rant as best as she could, but he rambled, and it was difficult. His thoughts were scattered, and Bev couldn’t help but wonder if he was on the drug right now. Her heart ached for him and it made her feel conflicted. He was still her friend, but he had done so much damage. She had to handle this delicately.

“We would never boot you out, Rich, or leave you. We’ve all told you time and time again. I know that’s your biggest fear, but you have to trust us.” He nodded along with her, and she took a deep breath, the next thing she had to ask was going to suck. “Are you still using?” Richie’s head shot up at the question and he looked mildly irritated, she shot him a warning glance and he dropped his head again.

“I...I’ve been trying to quit. It’s been hard. I have been clean for almost a week...I know that doesn’t seem like much…”

“It’s a great step, Richie. I’m proud of you.” Bev soothed, placing her hand in a comforting manner on his back. He leaned into the touch, obviously touch starved from his forced self isolation. “Wait, so you really fought with Stan in public and then fucked him last night when you were sober?” She wandered out loud, and Richie nodded. “Christ Almighty, Kid. Let’s get you showered and dressed, I’ll treat you to breakfast, and we will make a stop on the way.”

Richie followed Bev’s instructions, and within the hour he was sitting in the basement of an old building in Derry at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Bev squeezed his hand in support as he listened to the stories of how drugs had ruined the other attendees lives. Richie vowed to himself that he wouldn’t go back, that he would stay clean and sober. He couldn’t continue with his destructive path.

-

Stan woke up with a massive hangover and his ass was throbbing. He rolled over to see Bill sleeping peacefully, he figured that the losers chose Bill’s house to stash the very drunk boy because Bill’s parents just didn’t care what their son did anymore. As Stan laid there in the quiet of the Sunday morning a thought kept plaguing him, he needed to see Richie Tozier as soon as possible. In his mind, he knew that he should be thinking of how to apologize to Archie, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

Stanley Uris only wanted Richard Tozier. He shook his head and forced that intrusive thought to leave his mind. He needed to get his head sorted out, he needed to apologize to Archie for everything he had done. Stan tried to roll out of bed, but groaned at how his whole body ached. If the result of drinking the copious amounts alcohol wasn’t bad enough, he could still feel Richie all over him. Bending him, thrusting hard and fast deep into him. Stan closed his eyes, and steeled his nerves, willing himself to fight the discomfort and get out of bed, but a hand touched his shoulder softly.

“C-come back t-to sleep, Stan.” Bill murmured sleepily, Stan looked at the warm bed and his best friend’s open arms, and sunk back into them. He curled into Bill’s arms and let him rub circles on his back.

“Isn’t Mike is going to be pissed off that you’re cuddling someone else in your bed?” He snarked, regretting it immediately when his head began pounding.

“Sssssh. Mike’s t-the one who p-put you in t-this bed.” Bill replied in a low voice, considerate of the other boy’s headache. “I c-can stop the c-cuddling if you’re s-so co-con-concerned about my r-relationship…”

“No!” Stan curled into him even more and Bill let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around his friend tighter. They stayed like that for another hour, before Bill got up to bring Stan back some aspirin and water. He set up a bath for Stan to help sooth his aching body, and read to Stan in a soothing voice while he washed away the memories, and bodily fluids, from the night before. Bill was the absolute best, Stan had always thought so, but this had proved it. They were sitting at the Denbrough’s kitchen table when Stan made up his mind.

“I have to find Archie and apologize.” Bill raised an eyebrow at him, but let Stan continue. “It’s the right thing to do. Archie is a great guy. I can’t believe I did that to him.”

“W-why did y-you?” Bill asked cautiously, “W-why did y-you give in t-to Richie l-like that? Y-you were d-doing so w-well.” Bill’s eyes hold the kind of sincerity that could never be confused as pity, but Stan still feels it anyway.

“I don’t know, Bill...he kissed me and all of these feelings came flooding back. It’s like...everything I had been missing, since I left him, maybe even before that in our relationship, was in that kiss. I know it was wrong, Bill. It was an awful choice, but feeling him again…” Bill grimaced, not wanting the details. He had heard enough about Richie’s magic cock from Stan in the past, and while he doubted that it came anywhere close the that of the stunning Mike Hanlon’s, he really didn’t need to hear more about it or have this particular line of discussion on this Sunday morning. Stan picked up on Bill’s face and stopped. “Sorry, Bill. Beep, Beep, Me.”

“Y-you still l-love him? Still c-crave him?” Bill asked, and Stan nodded with tears in his eyes. “B-but you f-feel like y-you have to a-ap-apologize to Archie?” Stan nodded again.

“It’s the right thing to do. Even after he said those awful things to me.” Stan let that flash into his mind. The sweet caring redhead had called him a filthy little cum slut in front of everyone while Stan had stood barefoot and crying on Ben’s front lawn. Had told him that he never wanted to see him again, and had acted like Stan had owed him for him being nice to him.  “If the situation was reversed...maybe I would have done the same…”

“N-no. You w-wouldn’t have.” Bill shook his head, anger rising over what that jackass had said, no amount of betrayal should lead to someone’s weakness being exploited. “He w-was hurt, b-but he s-shouldn’t have said t-those things.” He knew that he wouldn’t get Stan to agree with him, so he moved on from that line of thought. “D-do you w-want me to g-go see Archie w-with you?” Stan thought it over for a few moments, Bill would probably lose his temper and start screaming at Archie, fists would fly, and the situation would only escalate. He shook his head.

“No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He replied, “Do you think Mike would drive me over to his house?” Bill shrugged.

“I c-can call and a-ask him.” Stan nodded and Bill got up to walk over to the phone on his kitchen counter. He dialed Mike’s number from heart. “H-hi, Mr. Hanlon, m-may I speak t-to Mike? Thank y-you.” Bill glanced back to Stan who seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at his bowl of Cheerios. “H-hey baby...y-yeah, he’s awake...o-okay I t-think, he w-wants to go s-see Archie and a-apologize...I k-know. C-could you d-drive him?...N-no. He d-doesn’t w-want me to g-go...Oh m-my God, I w-wouldn’t p-punch him M-Michael. I c-can control m-myself...D-don’t ‘baby boy’ m-me...I’ll s-see you when y-you get h-here...I love y-you too, bye.” Bill moved back to the table and Stan seemed to snap out of his trance. “Mike w-will be h-here in f-fifteen, do y-you want to p-practice what y-you’re going to s-say?” Stan nodded, he definitely needed to work on what he was going to say and get his mind straight.

They sat there and practiced until Mike showed up, to pick Stan up.

-

Stan sat in the passenger seat of Mike’s truck. He tapped his fingers on his legs in specific counting patterns, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. They had pulled up to Archie’s house a few minutes earlier and he was trying to get the courage to actually get out of the vehicle and walk up to the door.

“Do you want me to drive around the block again? Might be less creepy then just sitting here…” Mike asked and Stan shook his head. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the cab. He slid out and shut the door behind him, stealing his nerves and forcing himself to continue his trek.

Stan rang the doorbell and waited. His hands fidgeted in front of him, as he waited. Soon the door was being opened and a middle aged man with a scruffy beard and a worn face was opening the door. He looked like how he imagined that Archie would look when he was older.

“Hi, I was wondering if Archie is home. I would like to speak to him.” Stan spoke as politely as he could, the other man sized him up for a second, but nodded.

“Archie! There’s someone here to see you!” He called over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs. He heard groans and what sounded like someone stumbling out of bed. “He should be right down, would you like to come in…?”

“Stan.” He supplied. A slight look of recognition passed on the older man’s face. “No, thank you, Mr. Andrews. I can just wait out here for him.” The older man nodded in understanding and shut the door when Stan stepped back. Stan waited for a few more minutes until he heard the door open again and someone step out.

“Oh my God. Seriously? You didn’t do enough damage last night? I told you that I never wanted to see you again.” Archie seethed, and Stan shrunk back into himself a little. He had figured that Archie would be mad, it was understandable, but Stan was still taken aback by it actually happening. Archie had always seemed so level headed and pleasant.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night...in person.” Stan let out meekly. Archie started to laugh, and Stan stepped back a bit, this manic state spooking him.

“Your behavior? Your fucking behavior. And what behavior are we speaking of, Stanley?” He spat in his direction. “Would that be getting drunk off your ass? No. That would be understandable, possibly forgivable considering you were upset over everything that’s happened. Would the behavior you’re speaking of be starting a fight at the party and making an ass of yourself in front of the entire twelfth grade? Nah. You did that, but even that would be forgivable. Oh. I remember. The behavior you must be speaking of is how you let your ex boyfriend fuck you in some back bedroom at a party that you invited me to! Me, who you, what? Were keeping around for fun? Using me to forget him? Stop crying, Stan, Jesus. You’re such a little fag.”

“I shouldn't have...I didn’t mean to…” Stan was really choking on his words, willing the tears to stop falling so he can appear to be strong, even though he felt anything but that.

“Didn’t mean to spread your legs for him? What? Did you slip out of your clothes and then he fell on top of you and accidentally shoved his dick up your ass?” Archie scoffed. “Everyone was fucking right about you. You’re a stupid little cumslut who would go running back to your druggie ex anytime he asked!”

“I AM NOT A FUCKING CUMSLUT!” Stan steamed, getting pissed off, he could admit that he had been wrong, but the name calling was unnecessary. “I’m trying to fucking apologize. I’m sorry I slept with Richie, I’m sorry that I got too drunk to stop myself. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You fucking used me, made me start feeling things, I’m not gay, yet you had my mind all twisted around you like that!” Archie’s face held so much disgust for Stan, he had seen it so many times before on the homophobic faces of people in Derry. Archie was different though, he was afraid of being gay himself. Of admitting his feelings for Stan. And for that, Stan truly felt sorry for him.

“I didn’t make you feel anything you didn’t want to. Stop lying to yourself.” Stan shook his head, Bill was right, this was pointless. “You were right though, I’m not over Richie. I never was, but I never meant to use you or replace him with you. I am sorry for last night. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to see that and forgive me. If not, I understand.” Stan turned and began walking back to Mike’s truck.

“Go fuck yourself, Uris. I will never forgive you for this!” Stan heard Archie yell from the porch before he heard a door slam, he cringed a little involuntarily, but Stan wasn’t hurt by the words. He had done what he had come to do, he couldn’t make Archie change his mind or feel less hurt. Stan opened the door to Mike’s truck and climbed in.

“You okay, Stan?” Mike asked, looking over at him. Stan nodded in response, ducking his head down a bit, trying to control his breathing. He had stopped crying, but his mind was still swirling with emotions. “You know, Stan, I’ll go and kick his ass for you, just stay the word.”

“No.” Stan laughed, “That’s okay. I’m good. Jeeze, you and your boyfriend are both hot heads aren’t you?”

“Helps keep the passion alive.” Mike said rolling his eyes and starting his truck back up, pulling out onto the street when it was clear and heading back to Bill’s house.

-

Bill was pacing in his living room, waiting for some word about what had happened when Stan went to apologize to Archie. He nearly dove across the room to get to the phone when it began to ring.

“H-hello?” He rushed out. Manners falling by the wayside in favor of rushing to get the information he so desperately needed.

“Bill, hey it’s Bev. I really need to talk to you.” Bill relaxed as he heard Bev’s voice coming through the line.

“H-hey, Bev. I’m w-waiting for a n-news from Mike a-about Stan. Is e-everything okay?” He asked, stretching the cord of the phone until he reached the front foyer looking through the front window again to check if Mike and Stan had made it back yet. His shoulders slumped when he didn’t see the familiar truck parked by the curb.

“I went and talked to Richie…” Bill took a deep breath, his reaction apparent without needing words. Bev continued, “He’s really messed up, Bill. It’s no excuse, but he thought we were all going to leave him, so he went the self sabotage route. You know how he gets about this, he’s so insecure about his place in the group.”

“Bev…” Bill tried to compose his thoughts, he did know Richie and what he was like, but he hurt Stan, and that was as unforgivable as kicking someone’s puppy on purpose. “N-none of that m-makes it okay. I-I’m not s-saying that Stan is b-blameless here, h-he chose to s-sleep with Richie a-again, albeit u-under the i-influence of a l-lot of alcohol, b-but Richie...h-he said t-those awful and p-personal things a-about Stan. He r-released that p-picture. That’s n-not just ‘Beep Beep Richie’ b-behavior. Not to m-mention the d-drugs, Bev.”

“I know. I know.” Bev started, and Bill knew that she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not saying that it’s okay. I’m not even saying that we need to welcome him with open arms, but I think that we need to hear him out. He’s clean now, Bill. He’s still in the beginning stages, but we went to a NA meeting this morning before going for breakfast. He says that he wants to get better, and I believe him. I think that he and Stan need to talk, and the only way that’s going to happen is if we trick them into meeting.” Bill sighed, he knew that Bev was right. They never just abandoned each other in times of need, cutting Richie out couldn’t have been a bigger mistake.

“O-okay. I t-trust your j-judgement. They d-do need to t-talk.” Bill admitted and rushed to the window when he heard the purr of an engine. Mike had just pulled up to his house, and he and Stan were getting out. “H-how about w-we plan f-for four o’clock at Ben’s h-house? Mike and Stan j-just got b-back to m-my house, and t-that gives me an h-hour to f-figure out how t-to get Stan to a-agree to come. I’ve g-got to go, Bev.”

“Okay, Bill. Four it is, I’ll tell Ben.” Bill hung up the phone just as his front door was opening. He rushed to the entryway to meet them.

“H-how did it g-go?” He asked, looking between Mike and Stan, trying to pull some information from their body language.

“Well, you were probably right.” Stan said, his voice sounded deflated and tired. Bill’s heart ached for him. “He said some pretty nasty things, tried to say that I twisted his mind into thinking that he liked me and was attracted to me. Internalized homophobia at its finest.” Stan let out a bitter laugh. “But what’s important is that I apologized, I said what I needed to, and it’s his choice whether or not to forgive me.” Bill and Mike nodded in agreement with him.

“You are absolutely right about that, Stan. As long as you feel like you’ve done what you needed to, and you understand your wrongdoings, you’re good.” Mike gave Stan a pat on the back. A look crossed Stan’s face, that had Bill a little worried, he cocked his eyebrow and telepathically willed Stan to spit it out.

“Don’t give me that look, Bill!” Stan squeaked. “I figured something else out too, while I was thinking this morning and after talking to Archie...I’m not over Richie. I still love him, and that bugs me because he has given me every reason in the world to hate him, but I just can’t. There’s something about him, about us. I’m just so confused.” Bill moved forward and pulled Stan into a hug, Stan was starting to get teary again and he buried his face in the crook of Bill’s neck. He really wasn’t one to cry so much or show all of his emotions, but this whole situation had him turned upside down.

“It’s o-okay, Stan. W-we understand.” Bill assured, trying to pour comfort to the other boy through his thoughts and words. “L-love doesn’t d-discriminate between p-people who are g-good for us, and t-those who aren’t. W-we have t-to make the c-choice.” Stan nodded, and Mike went to make him some hot chocolate in the kitchen, while he and Bill got comfortable in the living room. “Everyone is p-planning on m-meeting up a-at Ben’s in a b-bit, s-sound okay?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. I think I should apologize to everyone else as well for the mess I made of last night.” Bill shook his head, Stan didn’t need to apologize to them, none of them were perfect. “Don’t even, Debrough. I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Bill couldn’t argue that point. The three of them sat and chatted about nothing important while Stan finished his hot chocolate, and then they headed out the door to go to Ben’s.

-

Bev had managed to convince Richie that him going to Ben’s with her was a good idea. It wasn’t difficult, once he heard that Stan was going to be there, and she told him that his ass better have a fantastic apology ready for him, Richie knew that he didn’t have a choice. Bev figured that they needed to arrive last. Ben knew about the plan, as did Bill, but Eddie and Mike could be wild cards. No one knew how they would react, and their primary concern had to be Stan’s reaction of course. When all was said and done, Bev and Richie pulled up to Ben’s house in her slightly beat up burgundy 1970 Chevy Nova SS at four fifteen on the dot.

They didn’t bother knocking. Bev was the daughter that Ms. Hanscom never had, and she was beyond thrilled that her son had found someone to love as strong and independent as Beverly. She had given Bev a key and told her to never bother knocking. The house was open to her anytime she wanted. When they found the ground floor empty, Bev and Richie headed down the stairs to the finished basement. They could hear the other’s voices from the top of the stairs. Eddie was the one who was talking, telling some ridiculous story about how he had knocked Henry Bowers on his ass in gym class, the other Losers were laughing as he described the antics, but everyone froze when Bev and Richie reached the bottom of the stairs.

“What the fuck?” The words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth, his eyes were wide. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Tozier.” Eddie was the most fiercely loyal person that any of them had ever met. People often mistook him for weak because of his size and propensity to rely on a bevy of placebo drugs, but he would do anything to stick up for his friends and what he believed in.

“Eddie, calm down. This was my idea, not his. I thought that it was time that we listened to what Richie has to say, and then let him and Stan talk…” Her eyes fixed themselves on Stan, gauging his reaction. “If that’s okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. That’s o-okay.” Stan murmured. “Eddie, it’s okay, I promise. Come sit with me?” Eddie nodded, and moved over to where Stan was. They all settled in around the basement. Eddie and Stan sat on the overstuffed loveseat, elbows touching, anchoring and comforting Stan. Bill, Mike, Ben, and Bev all squeezed in on the couch leaving Richie in the lone chair that was across the sitting area from the loveseat. They all look expectedly at Richie, and he starts to panic and fidget.

“Uhm, hi guys…” No one looks amused, and Richie mentally slaps himself. “I don’t really know how to say everything that’s on my mind. I’m so sorry. I’ve missed all of you. I know that I’m an asshole, and that I’ve messed up. I also know that you probably won’t be able to forgive me, and that’s okay.” He looks to Bev for support and she gives him an encouraging smile, so he continues. “I’m clean now. It’s only been a week, but I’m trying really hard to be better.”

“A week is a great start, Richie. It’s a step in the right direction.” Mike said, tone supportive as always. “I don’t speak for everyone, but I’ve missed you too. It’s not the same without you, but you’ve done some damage, so while I am comfortable with you coming back to the club, I think everyone else needs to say their peace too.” The group nodded along with Mike’s words, and Richie understood.

“Thank you, Mike. I appreciate that. And I understand that my place isn’t guaranteed in the group, I wouldn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.” His eyes flickered to Stan, he had so much to say to him, so much to discuss, if he ven wanted to listen to him.

“You already know my stance on things.” Bev stated simply. “You’ve always been a dick, Rich. Nowhere near soft and sweet, but loveable in your own way. You fucked up majorly, but I’ve missed my best friend, and as long as you are clean and trying to better yourself, I’m okay with you taking your spot back in the Loser’s club.” Ben nodded in agreement.

“I know that my opinion isn’t the most important with this decision, but I’m with Bev. If you’re clean, trying your best, and everyone is comfortable with it, I’d love to have you back, man.” Ben said truthfully. Bill was the next to speak, his words echoing the thoughts of the others, with an edge of warning to it.

“We h-have been f-friends since k-kindergarten, and w-we have been t-through a lot t-together.” He started, he couldn’t let things slide like the others had. He needed to speak his mind. “What y-you did, was n-not okay. It w-was bad. When Bev s-suggested that w-we do this, I w-wasn’t sure it w-was a good i-idea, but she s-sees the p-possibility of redemption in y-you. So d-don’t make m-me regret c-considering forgiving y-you. You b-better be s-serious about c-changing, because I s-swear to God, Richie, if y-you hurt h-him again…”

“Oh thank fuck! Bill, thank you for being reasonable here!” Eddie interjected, he turned to face Richie, shoulder still pressed into Stan’s. “We all fucking love you, you damn Trashmouth, but that doesn’t mean that we can ignore your asshole level of fuckery!” He shrugged off the looks from the Losers on the couch. “Oh my God, you guys, he needs to be held accountable! I’m just saying, admit what you specifically did, and that it was wrong, and then promise to be better. I think that’s all fair to require.”

“Eddie is right.” Richie says, he’s got a frown etched on his face. “You guys shouldn’t be so nice and forgiving. I deserve to be punished for what I did.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, when he opens his eyes again he meets Stan’s. “Stan...there aren’t enough fucking words to apologize. You deserve so much better. I didn’t mean to mess things up between you and Jock McGinger last night, but once we kissed I couldn’t control myself…”

“Richie. Stop.” Stan breathed out. “I need you to stop using the excuse that I deserved better. I deserve to be with who I love, and who loves me back. I’ve never cared that you weren’t perfect. Never cared that you do things that quite honestly make me nauseous from the stupidity of them. Last night was just as much my fault as it was yours, it’s what came before that...that’s much worse. You lied to me. You started changing and using, and you never gave me the decency of a conversation about it, just hid things. We’ve never kept secrets from each other. And then after...those things you spread through the rumor mill. Telling people details about our sex life? About things we did together? Richie. That killed me. You promised that what we shared was sacred, that no one would ever know what we did behind those closed doors, and then you told everyone. I’m not even going to focus on you sharing that picture, because that was a knife to the heart repeatedly. I mean...how could you do that to me? Did you never love me at all? Were you trying to punish me for walking away? I don’t understand. I love you so much, and you hurt me so easily.” Stan’s eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill over, and Richie is in a similar state.

“I don’t have reasoning for that. I love you, have since we were twelve. And I know that I’m the one who made you walk away, I did it on purpose honestly. I couldn’t let you throw away your life on me, I’m not worth it. I saw you with that guy in the hallway, smiling and laughing, and I snapped. By the time I realized what I had done it was too late. Henry had copied the picture and posted it everywhere and told everyone what I said. I was upset and one moment of stupidity led to that. Jesus, Stan. I’m so sorry.”

“Guys, I think it’s best if we leave Stan and Rich alone for a little bit to talk on their own. All of this is really personal and between them.” Mike suggested and the others agreed, before they climbed the stairs, he added, “If you need us we will be upstairs. Be safe and speak from the heart.” The five of them walked up the stairs, and Stan and Richie were left alone.

“I forgive you.” Stan said softly. Richie couldn’t believe what he had just heard, he blinked a few times, sure that his brain was playing tricks on him.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m hearing things.” He shook his head, and then asked, “What?”

“I said, I forgive you.” Stan repeated patiently. “I know that you wouldn’t have wanted me to help you. To get clean and everything. It was a decision that you needed to make on your own, and I don’t need to baby you. I guess I can understand the rest of it too, not the picture and telling everyone I’m a cumslut, because that will never be okay. But...I forgive you. I love you, Richie, I always have. No one, no matter how perfect they appear to be, will ever compare to you.”

“I love you too, Stan. I never stopped, I’m so sorry.” Richie took a chance and closed the gap between him and Stan, sitting next to him gingerly on the loveseat. Stan looked up at him, kind eyes boring into his. Richie couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stan’s. The kiss was soft and slow, so many conflicting emotions being present. They pulled away and rested their foreheads together. “Can I be honest for a second? I missed you. Everything about you, last night was unbelievable, and I won’t apologize for making love to you right upstairs in this very house, you make me feel things that no one else ever could.” Stan blushed at Richie’s words.

“Gahhh, yes. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you like that. Working me open and fucking me good and hard. I can still feel you in me.” Stan bit his lip, and looked Richie straight in the eye. The other boy let out an involuntary moan. “I know we still have so much to talk about, but I don’t really want to talk right now.”

“What about everyone else?” Richie asked bewildered. “They could come down here at any time and see.”

“Don’t care.” Stan whined, “I want you inside of me. I want you to show me how much you love me.” He surged forward again, placing a far more heated kiss to Richie’s lips, and the other boy gave in. Letting the pleasure and want take over him. He pushed Stan back until he was laying on the loveseat, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Their tongues battled for dominance, distant familiarity present, ready to be revived with new experiences.

Richie broke away from the kiss and immediately attached his lips to the tender skin below his ear. Stan moaned out in appreciation, gripping onto the back of Richie’s shirt, overcome with pleasure. He began to scrunch Richie’s shirt up until the other boy got the hint to pull the shirt over his head. Stan watched his every movement with his lip pulled taught between his teeth. He ran his hands over the now bare skin of Richie’s chest, taking it all in.

“Like what you see, baby?” Richie asked and Stan blushed as he nodded. “It’s all yours, Stan. Only yours.” Stan moaned out at that and pulled Richie in for another deep kiss. He raked his nails down his back and Richie cried out at the pain mixing with pleasure, he would definitely have marks those marks for a while. A reminder of their reuniting, that Richie would totally be fine wearing with pride. “Can we get you out of your clothes too, please? I need to see that perfect body.” Richie groaned, and Stan complied. They both stood up from the loveseat, stripping down to their underwear before taking in the sights of eachother.

Richie was so tall, all lanky with lean muscle. His pale skin was freckled with random birthmarks that stood out. Stan used to love tracing them with his fingers and tongue, memorizing every inch of his body. His pupils were already blown out with desire, his thick glasses magnifying them further. His dark curly hair was in a mop on top of his head, as it always was, and Stan couldn’t wait to tug his fingers through it. His plaid boxers did a poor job of covering up what he was packing. Stan knew what laid beneath the thin cloth. He ached and longed for it. Richie was definitely above average in length, and his girth was considerable enough to stretch Stan open in the most satiating way. It had done so just the night before.

Stan had ruined Richie for life when it came to how he looked, standing there in nothing but his briefs, lips kiss swollen and flush of arousal spreading down his chest. Stan had more delicate features than most of the boys that Richie had encountered in his life. He was svelte, all sharp and clean lines. His hips flared out slightly to accommodate his perfectly round and perky ass. His skin was a pristine shade of pale. His golden brown curls laid on top of his head in perfect corkscrews that Richie had always thought must have been the result of magic. His eyelashes were thick and fluttered against his cheeks when he would throw his head back in pleasure, revealing his long neck, and begging for Richie to mark it all up. His dick may not have been as large as Richie’s himself, but if you asked him, he would say how absolutely beautiful it was. It matched Stan perfectly. He was beautiful and delicate and Richie couldn’t believe that he was here in front of him, begging him to ravish his body.

Stan made the first move, pushing his briefs down over his hips and ass, leaving him completely naked, and then moved to kneel in front of Richie, at eye level with his clothed cock. He looked up at him through his eyelashes, as if he were asking permission, and Richie had to muffle his groan with his fist so that the others wouldn’t hear. Stan hooked his fingers in the waistband of Richie’s boxers and pulled them down, allowing his massive cock to pop free. Richie stepped out of his boxers, and Stan licked his lips taking in the sight in front of him. He lightly grasped Richie’s cock in his hand, and stroked. Richie let out a stream of curse words under his breath at the feeling, he was already falling apart, and Stan hadn’t even gotten his mouth on him. He was painfully hard, and he wanted everything Stan had to offer.  Stan smirked and took the head of Richie’s cock in his mouth, alternating between harshly sucking and lapping at the tip. Richie groaned above him, and Stan took that as encouragement to take him all the way in until he was hitting the back of his throat. Richie let his thumb run over Stan’s cheek, and then drifted to where his lips were stretched around his cock. The sight was downright pornographic, and Richie couldn’t help thrusting deeper into the heat, Stan pulled off a bit, taking a few deep breaths through his nose to steady himself, and then took him in all the way again. Richie ran his fingers through Stan’s curls gently and elicited a moan from him, he tugged a little more and Stan groaned at the feeling. Richie experimentally fucked his hips forward into the heat of Stan’s mouth and throat, and Stan mewled hotly around his dick. Richie set a rhythm, fucking into his throat repeatedly, pleasure building in a tightening coil the pit of his stomach.

“I’m gonna cum, Baby, need to pull out.” Stan groaned, but let’s Richie move back, dick sliding out of his mouth with an obscene pop. His throat was going to be so sore tomorrow, but he didn’t care. It was all worth it. “Can you kneel on the couch, Love? Let me see that pretty hole of yours?” Stan nodded and raced to do it, brain clouded over with desire and lust, words failing him. He got into position, resting his chest on the back pillows of the couch so that he could use his hands to spread his ass cheeks wide open, giving Richie access to his hole.

Richie grinned at the sight in front of him. Stan was buzzing with anticipation, his thighs twitching as he held his cheeks apart. Richie kneeled behind him, hot breath ghosting over the boy’s sensitive skin, causing his hole to flutter. Stan let out a long whine, but Richie was planning on taking his time. He kissed the pale flesh of Stan’s right ass cheek, right above where he was cupping the globes.

“Richie! Please!” Stan whined again, and Richie smirked, but decided to give his boy what he wanted. Richie leaned in and licked a stripe that stretched from Stan’s sack all the way up to the bottom of his spin, then pulled back slightly, once again letting his breath ghost over the area, intensifying the sensation. “Gahhhh. Yes, fuck, more!” Stan cried and Richie placed an open mouth kiss right over Stan’s throbbing entrance. He traced his tongue around the hole lightly, teasing him further causing more incoherent sounds coming from the other boy. Just when Stan thought he couldn’t take anymore, Richie applied the pressure he was yearning for, he massaged Stan open with just the tip of his tongue, tugging and playing with the ring of muscle, before plunging his tongue all the way in. “FUCK!” Stan writhed and moaned, forgetting where he was and that their best friends were sitting just a floor above them. Stan rocked his hips back to meet the thrust of Richie’s tongue, spreading himself open. “Mmmmm Richie, so good, gahhhh, need more…” Richie pulled his tongue out and immediately pushed his pointer finger into the needy hole. He began thrusting it in and out without much difficulty, but he knew that spit alone wouldn’t be enough lubricant to work Stan open.

“Baby, we don’t have any stuff, I’m not going to be able to fuck you…” Stan cried out in frustration, still pushing back on Richie’s one finger, wanting so much more.

“I’ve got...lotion, in my backpack there’s lotion. I don’t care if it’s not lube, Richie...please.” He managed to force out, motioning with his head to where his backpack was sitting neatly against the wall. Richie pulled his finger out carefully causing Stan to whine at the loss, and moved to collect the bag, he searched through the tiny pockets before finally finding it in an inner compartment. He zipped the backpack back up, leaving it where he had found it, and brought the lotion back to where his very disheveled Stan was still waiting.

“Stan, why don’t you move down to the floor so we don’t get Mrs. Hanscom’s couch messy with your cum?” Richie whispered and Stan moaned, he hated messes and the idea that Richie knew this about him and was thinking ahead really did something to him. He moved to the floor, resting his arms and head on the couch, pushing his ass out for Richie to use. “There you go, Stanny. All pretty and ready to get wrecked.” Richie popped the came on the bottle of lotion and worked the lavender cream down his fingers before rubbing some around Stan’s aching hole. He quickly pushed his pointer finger back in, thrusting hard and fast into Stan before adding his middle finger as well. He worked his fingers in nails dragging slightly down Stan’s walls searching for his prostate. Stan cried out when Richie managed to touch it, back arching further. Richie began massaging the bud mercilessly, watching Stan fall apart in front of him. He waited until Stan was just on the verge of pain with the stimulation before moving his fingers out and thrusting three back in, completely ignoring the spot. Stan whined, but fucked himself back on Richie’s fingers enjoying the slight burn of the stretch.

“I want that big cock of yours inside of me now.” Stan managed in between gasps and moans. Richie was glad that he asked, he needed to be inside of Stan immediately. His swollen and neglected red tinged cock hung between his legs, desperate to release in the warm wet heat of the other boy. He quickly squirted more of the lotion onto his hand and worked it around on his dick, moaning at the sensation. He worked his hand up and down a few more times than was necessary. “You can jerk off some other time, Rich, hurry the fuck up.” Stan cried impatiently. Richie loved how needy and slutty Stan got when it came to sex. He would beg and whine until he got the pleasure that he was looking for. Richie had fucking missed seeing him come apart like this.

“Lay on your back, Baby. I need to see your face.” Stan rushed to do so, laying on the plush carpet and spreading his legs so Richie could fit. Richie braced himself on his shoulders above Stan, careful to not put too much weight on him. He grasped his cock with one hand and pulled the other boy into a kiss. Stan moaned into the kiss, trying to deepen it, but then his jaw dropped open and his head fell back as he felt the head of Richie’s cock breach his hole and begin to press in further. Richie moved his lips to Stan’s neck, kissing and lapping at his pulse point until his hips met Stan’s ass, bottoming out. Stan’s eyes were fluttered shut, legs wrapped tightly around Richie’s waist holding him in place so he could get used to the feeling. After a moment, he urged Richie to start moving, pressing the heel of his foot into his ass, and Richie began to pull out slowly before snapping his hips back in. They both moaned at the feeling.

Richie repeated the motion and began picking up speed. Pounding harder and harder into Stan as the other boy was reduced to moans and unintelligible noises. Stan arched his back and took all Richie was giving him.

“Fuck, Rich. Harder. Ugh yeah, faster, Baby. You know I can take it. Yeah, uhhh, yeah, ah fuck…” Stan praised and Richie felt the words go straight to his lower half, the coil in his abdomen wrapping tighter and tighter. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but Stan had to cum first, he reached his hand for Stan’s throbbing erection, but the other boy pushed it away. “Uh uh, want to cum on your cock, Richie, nothing else. Fucking me so good, making me feel soooo good.”

Richie snapped his hips in harder, hitting Stan’s prostate dead on, the other boy screamed at the pleasure, and he aimed for the spot again, pounding into it repeatedly at a brutal rate. He could feel Stan’s legs shaking and his toes curling against his ass, he fucked in once...twice...and Stan was cumming. Thick ropes of cum shooting up and landing on his chest, his load kept pumping out as Richie continued to fuck him, milking his prostate clean. Richie knew that Stan was about to be on the edge of being overstimulated, he was so close to cumming himself though, he kept thrusting, rhythm faltering.

“Come on, Richie, cum inside of me. Fill me up.” Stan whispered in his ear and that was all it took, Richie’s hips stilled as his cock began to pulse and his own orgasm took over his body. Stan held him close through the aftershocks, stroking his back. When his cock was spent, he pulled out of Stan carefully, dropping his head down to the abused hole and licking up his own semen that was dripping out. Stan moaned at the feeling of his oversensitive and stretched hole being licked clean. When he was satisfied with his work, Richie moved to Stan’s chest, quickly and greedily lapping up all of Stan’s cum while the other boy laid boneless and giggling at how the sensation tickled. They were so wrapped up in the moment that they didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the stairs.

“G-guys, how’s e-everything going… OH M-MY FUCKING G-GOD! MY E-EYES!” Bill squawked at the sight of his friends lying naked on the floor, their previous actions very apparent from their current appearance, before he ran back up the stairs screaming to presumably alert the other Losers to the horrors of what he just saw. Richie rested his forehead against Stan’s, pure bliss radiating from him.

“That was amazing, Richie.” Stan breathed out, “Best. Sex. Ever.” Richie laughed at the compliment before the tone shifted a little, becoming more serious. “I love you, Richard Tozier. Totally and completely. I will stand by you through anything, no matter how hard you try to push me away. We belong together.” Richie’s eyes began to tear up and he looked at the love of his life beneath him.

“I love you too, Stanley Uris. More than the moon and the stars, more than words could ever possibly describe.” Richie replied sincerely, he pressed his lips to Stan’s swollen ones again before pulling back. “I will work so hard to be a better man, to be what you deserve. We both know that I’m an idiot, I’m nowhere near perfect, nor am I the soft prince charming type, and I’m going to make mistakes, but I will try to be smarter about them. I’ll talk to you about them, and let you in. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the best person for you.”

“Thank you, Richie. That’s more than I could ever ask for or imagine.” Stan smiled, tears in his eyes as well. He met Richie for an emotion filled kiss. They eventually pulled away, and began to redress themselves, knowing that they were about to face a firing squad of questions from their friends.

“Hey, Uris.” Stan made a noise of acknowledgement and pulled his shirt over his head before he turned his attention to Richie. “I’m going to marry you someday.” Richie said cheekily, a goofy smirk across his face.

“Yeah?” Stan asked and Richie nodded. A smile spread across his face to match his love’s. “Well then, I can’t wait.”

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

Klaine Advent 2017: Defiance/Deliverance

Hopefully 24 ficlets of varying length set in my Defiance/Deliverance verse, in no chronological order. Some may even be set before the beginning of Defiance, or after the end of Deliverance.

Day 11: Key

This plays about ten years before the beginning of Defiance.

“Can I stay a little longer and talk to you?” Elliot asked when everyone else prepared to leave, taking the leftovers of the food they brought with them. Monday Potluck dinners were a beloved tradition of all of four months now, and the fact that Rachel was back in Lima visiting her dads was no reason to cancel one of them.

“Sure,” Kurt nodded and then continued listening to Dani. Her girlfriend Santana was standing up from where she had been sitting on the floor, and went to get both their coats, but Dani made her wait while she finished telling a story that had everyone laughing.

“What's on your mind?” he asked when everyone was gone, happy that this time, Elliot would be there to help with the clean-up.

He was not prepared for Elliot dropping a bomb on him.

“I'm dropping out of college,” he said, completely calm.

“What? Why?”

Elliot took a dish towel, preparing to dry, while Kurt hadn't even started washing, instead staring at Elliot, aghast.

“Because my dad is an asshole and there is nothing I can do to win his approval anyway, so I might just as well do what I like.”

“Where does that come from?”

“Oh, it's been there all along. But, let's just say—spending a few weeks in a yoga retreat with nothing but yoga commands and silence gives you a lot of time to think.”

“I knew it.” Finally, Kurt started to wash the dishes his friends had left behind. “So, what will you do instead? Are you looking for a job?”

“Actually, I kind of already have one.”

“Oh?”

“Look...could we maybe sit down for this?”

“The water will cool,” Kurt protested, but one look at his friend's face made him relent, and he led them to the couch.

“So, what is it?”

Elliot put a hand in his pocket and pulled out a key. “This is the key to my job. I have bought my own club. It will be called Defiance, cause that's what that is. I'm defying my father and his expectations. This way, at least, I will put all these awful management seminars to good use. And if it all should crash and burn, then, well it will at least have been something I loved.”

He sounded defensive, but also determined, so Kurt spared both of them the probably futile effort of voicing his fears of everything that could go wrong with such an endeavor.

He only asked, “What kind of club?” He couldn't imagine Elliot having just some kind of regular club.

Elliot hesitated. “For this, I have to tell you something about myself. Not many people know it, because I don't advertise it, and telling you now means I have a lot of trust in our friendship. Also, I think if you can keep an open mind, it might be something you'd like to try.”

Kurt was intrigued and a little scared. He sat in silence, waiting for Elliot to continue.

“For a few years now, I have made a little extra money giving lessons and holding workshops. In...in Dominance and BDSM. I'm a Dom, and the club I will be opening is a BDSM club.”

[rawtaytilacigol]

Henry’s Character Arc

So a little over three years ago, I decided one day to sit down and write a lengthy analysis of Henry from Next to Normal. And, well, I thought I'd revive it, so here we go!

Can I just say how much I adore Henry? Because it’s occurred to me recently that he hardly gets any attention. He’s such an interesting character who grows up a lot over the course of the play—from a misguided stoner who sees Natalie with rose-colored glasses, to a genuinely caring person who is learning what it means to love someone who has a lot going on in their life. Up until recently it always bothered me that he and Natalie ended up together in the end, but after having thought it over, I’ve decided that while their relationship may not last forever, it’s the right thing for the time being.

So let’s look at this development chronologically. In the beginning, Henry is very childish. On the one hand, this makes him very endearing and lovable—like, I can completely imagine him in his room that first morning telling himself, “All right, dude, you can do this. This is the day you’re finally going to talk to Natalie.” He is visibly nervous, and he retreats almost like a lost puppy when Natalie seems to reject him.

He’s also very idealistic, which is best exemplified during “Perfect For You.” At this point he gets very caught up in the moment, professing his love for her and talking all about how he forgets about all the bad things in the world when he’s with her. He insists that he loves her, but I don’t think that’s true at this point; he is more determined to be the one person to save her.

And while I think his proclamation was coming from a very sincere place, this mindset of his proves that he doesn’t see her as a complex person. You can’t really blame him for that though; if this really is the first time they’re speaking after six years, then Henry has definitely had a lot of time to form an idealized image of her in his head. I wouldn’t say that’s his fault. Even so, I’d say it’s a huge part of his character in the beginning, and one of the main beliefs that he has to let go of in order to develop as a character.

Anyway, the main problem I have with him in the beginning is that he doesn’t have any sense of boundaries. He stalks Natalie outside the practice room, tries to kiss her even after she pulls away, and tries to get her to do drugs. He also refuses to accept that she won’t let him into her house—and when Dan lets him in instead, he gladly joins in on the former’s enthusiasm and also feels a small sense of accomplishment. In being invited in, he’s gotten a step further in having a real relationship with Natalie, and at this point that’s still his primary goal.

After the bomb drops during “He’s Not Here,” Henry grapples with the realization that he isn’t the center of Natalie’s universe—she’s not a manic pixie dream girl, and she has problems that he can’t ever understand or solve. Suddenly everyone gets silent and uncomfortable, and it sinks in for the first time that he’s crossed a line.

Still, even after he realizes that Natalie has problems, he does not immediately get out of his self-centered, idealistic mindset. When we see him next, Natalie is venting to him, but he’s not really listening to her—he’s too busy trying to fix her by getting her to try pot. But he doesn’t understand yet that Natalie doesn’t need to be fixed so much as she just needs support.

He continues to push her to do drugs, though, and during “Wish I Were Here” he gets a second reality check. When Natalie loses control and starts dragging him to all these different clubs, he gets concerned and realizes his mistake, and then he genuinely wants to help. He realizes that his way of dealing with his problems might not necessarily work for Natalie, and in understanding this he takes another step in understanding that she is a real person whose experiences he can never relate to. But again, he’s a genuinely good guy who really does like Natalie as a person, which is why he takes care of her towards the end of that number. His motivation has long since changed from wanting to go out with her.

Meanwhile, Natalie herself goes through a bout of self-hatred after having lost control at the club. She pushes Henry away during the end of “Wish I Were Here” and also “Hey #1,” even though she really doesn’t need to. I think that at this point, Henry does love her—regardless of whether or not that love is romantic, he does genuinely care for her as a person, and just because he can’t solve all her problems, doesn’t mean she’s unlovable. But Natalie seems to just assume that he hates her, and he can’t seem to convince her otherwise.

When this comes out during “Why Stay/A Promise,” Henry manages to calm her down—not by trying to fix her, but by just calmly insisting that he still loves her. I read a post here a long time ago that talked about how during that song, Dan is doing all the talking while Henry mostly doesn’t know what to say—most of his lines are simply short echoes of what Dan is saying, or just wordless sounds. And I think that illustrates that Henry has finally understood that helping a person in Natalie’s situation isn’t about saving them or fixing them. but by listening to them and reassuring them. 

That said, though, it’s not that black and white. Natalie still refuses his help when disaster strikes moments later, but in that case it’s help that is actually reasonable. He doesn’t tell her to forget about everything and go to the dance—he just offers to drive Diana to the hospital. Natalie rejects him because she still doesn’t believe that anyone can understand her. It takes Diana to shake her out of that. (On the other hand, it could be Henry who slips up at this point—maybe he’s overstepping his bounds by trying to be involved in Natalie’s family problems. Even so, he has internalized that distraction is not the answer.)

And in “Hey #3,” Henry at first seems to be back to his selfish ways: “Will your mom be okay? / Well, she might be someday. / But for now, it’s all fine? / She’s still on my mind. / Can you leave it behind?” (It was actually this part that made me want to contemplate Henry further.) And Natalie does get some things right here—Henry can’t stay with her forever, and it’s obvious that their relationship is tragically destined to end up just like her parents’. And for the record, I think Diana was completely right to walk out on Dan—the latter was investing too much on trying to solve his wife’s problems, and that was harming both of them. This will probably happen with Henry and Natalie too, and it should.

So for a long time, I thought that Henry was completely wrong in that moment—sweet, but misguided, like he was for most of Act 1. But when I observed Natalie’s self-hatred more this time around, I decided that he had the right idea in telling her that he would be there. Because even if the relationship doesn’t last forever, it is still important for Natalie to know that there are people out there who think that “crazy…and fucked up is perfect.” She can still be loved, and that’s what we can see during the time skip in “Light”—he’s starting to just be there and listen more, and we can see that all her problems don’t have to prevent her from having a pleasant birthday dinner with Dan and Henry.

One of the things I like so much about this ending is that just because Henry has developed, doesn’t mean he’s an entirely new person. He’s not perfect for her, and he’s never going to be. He’s still determined to be, and while that is misguided, this quality of his is also beneficial in a way because it reassures Natalie that there’s someone out there who’s loyal enough to at least try. Henry’s development doesn’t involve him completely shedding that part of himself, but rather adjusting to his reality check and using his new experiences to make that trait more adaptive. I think we all have traits like that, and I think it’s a good message about how one can change for the better without completely erasing the things that make them who they are. I’ve never seen anyone else mention any of this stuff, but I see it as one of many reasons to love Next to Normal.

@deanpala67-79 

[yawednesdays-blog]

MOXIE is more than just a book, it’s a call to action! We talk all things Riot Grrl, music and our misspent youth with author Jennifer Mathieu.

The Riot Grrl movement was born out of the feminist punk scene of the 1990s. Nearly 20 years later and so much has changed, but even more has stayed the same. There is still a need for female unity. There is still a need for feminist activism. There is still a need for Riot Grrl. Jennifer Mathieu’s new book MOXIE reminds us of all the reasons we need REVOLUTION GIRL STYLE NOW!

YA WEDNESDAY PRESENTS:

An Interview With Jennifer Mathieu

Q: The dedication of this book is badass but it makes me think this story is personal. What inspired Moxie?

A: Writing that dedication was, truly, the most fun I have had writing in years. It was very cathartic. I think I was inspired to write Moxie not only because of my personal interest in Riot Grrrl and feminism (which really started during college) but also because I wanted to write the sort of book my high school self would have wanted to read. My high school was very conservative, stifling, and especially restrictive when it came to gender roles. It was the early 90s in the suburbs and it was hard. The teacher to whom I dedicated the book also bragged about giving his wife a frying pan for her birthday. The vibe was just gross and in my gut I knew it. But I didn’t have Moxie or anything like it, so I decided to write the book I wish I’d had when I was 15.

Q: I grew up in small town not unlike East Rockport High and Vivian’s story felt very real to me. Was your high school experience like what was described in Moxie?

A: Yes, in a lot of ways. I didn’t grow up in a small town, but the sports teams were very important at my school. My school was religious, too, so in many ways it was very conservative. I don’t mean to imply you can’t be religious and progressive or religious and a feminist, but my school was very conservative in its approach to social issues. It put a high premium on conformity. I had several bad experiences there. The teacher to whom I dedicated the book was one of them. I also had my cheerleading coach imply I needed to lose weight. It was really gross.

Q: Music was such a large part of the Riot Grrl movement and Vivian’s story. What songs fueled you while writing Moxie?

A: I remember the first girl punk song that blew my mind was Cherry Bomb by the Runaways. I discovered it in high school because it was on the Dazed and Confused soundtrack, which I played obsessively on cassette – lol! When I got to Northwestern for college, I met up with people who I really connected with, and they introduced me to punk. I listened to a lot of those songs as I was writing Moxie, including a ton of Bikini Kill, of course. I listened to Cool Schmool by Bratmobile repeatedly as well as a lot of Team Dresch songs. I listened to a lot of music by bands that came a bit after the RG movement, including Sleater-Kinney and Cadallaca. I don’t always listen to music when I write, but for this book I definitely did!

  Q: In Moxie, Vivian finds a box of paraphernalia from her mother’s high school days called “My Misspent Youth” box. What would be in your My Misspent Youth box?

A: Great question! It’s funny because after the book went to print I wondered if I should have called that box something else because I don’t think Vivian’s mom thought her youth was misspent – she was mostly being tongue in cheek about it! Her youth was important and revelatory for her as was mine. I’m 40 years old, and I think I would include my ticket stubs from all the shows I went to – Fugazi, Sleater-Kinney, The Queers, etc. as well as some of the books that made a real impact on me, including Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion and the Sisterhood is Powerful anthology, edited by Robin Morgan. I’d include some of my journals and the letters and postcards my friends and I wrote to each other – we were part of the last generation to write to one another instead of just email or text. I would also include Zine, the Pagan’s Head zine anthology by Pagan Kennedy, which introduced me to zine culture and what zines are all about.

A few item from Jennifer’s “My Misspent Youth” box.

  Q: Vivian was inspired by the Riot Grrl movement from the 1990s. What historical movement or individuals inspired you both in high school and now?

A: For me personally, looking at feminism’s second wave, I am deeply inspired by Gloria Steinem and Audre Lorde. I had the opportunity to hear Gloria speak when I was in college and it was an amazing experience. Audre Lorde’s “Sister Outsider” collection is as relevant today as ever, especially in regard to feminism needing to be inclusive and not just a movement full of middle class white women. As far as RG, I was and still am inspired by Kathleen Hanna, the lead singer of Bikini Kill and later Le Tigre and The Julie Ruin. I know in her early years she shunned off the “leader” title, but she is so charismatic, inspiring, and hilarious it’s no surprise that word kept getting thrown at her. I have also been so impressed by Beth Ditto, who led the band Gossip and is now a solo artist. I recently read her autobiography From Coal to Diamonds and was so touched by her insight and honesty. She was really influenced by the Riot Grrrl movement as well. And finally, Roxane Gay is one of the most important feminist voices out there right now. She should be required reading in schools, and that’s why I name dropped her in Moxie! LOL!

Some of the woman that inspire Jennifer Mathieu. Take note ladies.

Q: In Moxie, some students are less than enthusiastic with the idea of a feminist agenda at their school. What would you say to anyone who thinks “feminist” is a dirty word? 

A: I would be really gentle with them because arguing back isn’t going to help change their minds. I would ask them why the think this way. For a lot of people I think it’s the media’s influence or just stuff heard at home. Feminists are man haters or can’t wear makeup – just dumb stereotypes that get circulated online and elsewhere. I would ask them if they think women and men should be paid the same. I would ask them if men should be able to cry in public and not get shamed for it. I would ask them if childcare and housework should be valued no matter who does it. Feminism isn’t scary if you think about it like that – it’s really about liberation for everyone from stifling and repressive stereotypes. As the great bell hooks said, feminism is for everybody. It’s about love, inclusivity, and living authentically.  I think approaching the conversation that way might help.

Q: After finishing Moxie I was ready to take over the world! What would you suggest for girls who want to continue the Moxie movement after they finish this kick-ass book?

A: I’m so glad you felt this way! I didn’t want Moxie to be the ending point but rather the starting point, so with the help of my former student, Lexi Acevedo, I created the Moxie Tumblr which can be found at moxiegirlsfightback.com. There you can find resources, a playlist, and tips on starting your own Moxie Club at your school! You can also Ask a Moxie Girl a question or submit original art and writing to be shared on the Tumblr. It’s my hope that the Moxie movement really becomes a community. The book is already out in the UK and I recently heard from two young women over there who are working on their own zines and starting a Moxie Club! i wanted to scream with excitement! Actually, I did!

Q: So, the rights to Moxie have been acquired by Amy Poehler’s production company (yay!). What songs would be on your dream Moxie soundtrack?

A: Yes, right now the screenplay is being developed and we’ll see what happens from there! As for my dream soundtrack, I would recommend every song on the Moxie playlist, which you can find on the Tumblr. For sure Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl” and “Feels Blind” would go on there, but I would also want to include some contemporary lady punk, including a song called “Mujer Moderna” by this kick ass San Antonio band called Fea as well as “Dream Number Nine” by a UK band called Big Joanie.

San Antonio band FEA

UK band Big Joanie

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu: The Review 

From the book flap:

 MOXIE GIRLS FIGHT BACK!

Vivian Carter is fed up. Fed up with a school administration at her small-town Texas high school that thinks the football team can do no wrong. Fed up with sexist dress codes, hallway harassment, and gross comments from guys during class. But most of all, Viv Carter is fed up with always following the rules.

Viv’s mom was a tough-as-nails, punk rock Riot Grrrl in the ’90s, and now Viv takes a page from her mother’s past and creates a feminist zine that she distributes anonymously to her classmates. She’s just blowing off steam, but other girls respond. As Viv forges friendships with other young women across the divides of cliques and popularity rankings, she realizes that what she has started is nothing short of a girl revolution.

Moxie is a book about high school life that will make you wanna riot!

Overall: There are times when the problems of the world seem too big to handle. Climate change, racism, politics…Problems- so, so BIG. Me- SO, SO small! To stop myself from sliding into depression and retreating to my bedroom with a quart of gelato, I  remind myself that no problem, no matter the size, gets solved with inaction and even a small act creates momentum, the opposite of inertia. MOXIE is that reminder. Moxie proves that small acts can lead to BIG change. Alright ladies-go read this book, then go change the world!

Judge a Book by its Cover: Black, white, pink and pissed! The Moxie cover fits the book’s vibe perfectly.

Me Talk Pretty: Jennifer pretty much channeled me at 17 while writing Vivian. This quote especially sums up my high school experience.

Audiobook Narration:  Audiophiles, you’re in luck. Moxie will be available as an audiobook on September 19th and the reader is audiobook veteran  Suzy Johnson.

Kick-Ass Factor: The Kick-Ass factor for Moxie is high! Don’t get me wrong, this is not a book about a girl who suddenly finds out she’s got secret martial arts skills and starts challenging bullies in hand to hand combat. No, Moxie kicks ass in a way that is real, believable and accessible to anyone. Vivian just gets fed up with the misogynist status quo at school and she decides to do something about it. It’s not something that would be considered overly grand or reckless to everyone, but for meek Vivian, it’s huge. And from her one act of defiance, the Moxie movement is born.

Body Count: While this is not a book with a literal body count, there are definitely casualties.

The Chosen One: The plot of Moxie could have slipped into the cliché if not for the skillful writing of Jennifer Mathieu. Moxie is Vivian’s story, but this is not one girl against the world. There are other girls in this book who are fighting their own battles in their own ways.  Moxies girls fight back, but there are consequences.

Just. Why. One thing I couldn’t understand was Vivian’s love for frozen dinners. Please Vivian, stop with the Stouffer’s!

He Said/She Said: Moxie is told from the perspective of Vivian, a girl who does a lot to go unnoticed. She’s smart, but afraid to speak out in class. She clever, but doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. She’s got ideas, good ones, but she’s too scared to voice them. Vivian’s inner dialogue proves this girl has a voice, she just needs to learn to use it.

Bizarre Love Triangle: Jennifer introduces the sort of love triangle that is way more common in real life than the usual YA trope: The Platonic Love Triangle. It’s easy to feel pulled in two different directions when a new friend threatens to shake-up the friend equilibrium between you and your old school bestie. Especially when the new friend is a badass girl from the big city with all kinds of subversive ideas. Is there room in Viv’s life for old friends and new ideas?

Don’t Believe the Hype: When Amy Poehler endorses your book and wants to turn it into a movie, the bar is set pretty damn high.  And for me personally as a self proclaimed Riot Grrl, this particular bar was 20 feet above eye level. But Moxie is worth all the praise it’s receiving. ALL. OF. IT.

Open tab/Last call: Jennifer Mathieu proves that Moxie Girls can be both gentle and tough. This is why the perfect Moxie drink is Fortified Lemon- sweet and sour with a hidden kick! We’ll keep the punch bowl full for you, Jennifer!

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu, Roaring Brook Press, 336 Pages, September 19, 2017

Ann-Eliza

First Reads Friday Presents: MOXIE by Jennifer Mathieu, Author Interview + Review MOXIE is more than just a book, it's a call to action! We talk all things Riot Grrl, music and our misspent youth with author Jennifer Mathieu.

[nilesarchives]

New Threats ― CANON. (current verse)

It’s been months since the wedding and, as always, things are still super weird. Miles is over it and finally wants to come clean to Nick about absolutely everything and tell him how he feels after months of awkward, back-and-forth exchanges and ignoring each other. He wants to put a stop to it. He’s surprised by the appearance of Nick’s new friend Jude, driving yet another wedge between them. Some not-so-nice words are shared.

It was safe to say that Miles had had enough. He felt like there was a lot of that happening lately, to be fair. Something would happen, things would be different, he and Nick would start to dance around subjects and avoid talking about things…and then one of them would always be pushed over the edge. Every single time. History was repeating itself over and over again. But that didn’t stop Miles from doing what he felt he needed to, walking to Nick’s apartment with long, purposeful strides, set to say everything he wanted—no, needed—to say. This was really getting out of hand now. They were grown adults who both clearly wanted something, and Miles wasn’t going to let them keep pretending that that was nothing.

He knocked on the door and waited for Nick to open it, and as soon as he did, Miles didn’t miss a beat. He stepped past him into the apartment, pivoting to face his friend. “This is stupid, Nick. It’s so stupid and you know it is,” he started, knowing damn well that Nick knew exactly what he meant. “We can’t keep doing this. Something’s gotta give here. And I guess that’s me, because…I don’t know, here I am. I want this to stop. I don’t give a shit about everything being ‘normal’ or whatever anymore. I just want them to be honest.”

Nick didn’t know why he was so surprised to see Miles standing outside his door. He didn’t think anything of it when he pulled the door open to see who was knocking, but in the back of his mind he assumed his best friend wouldn’t be popping in like he used to. Things had been strange between them — stranger than they ever had been. They were still friends. If he could help it they always would be, but there was a certain tension between them that Nick couldn’t help but notice every time they talked. And as he listened to Miles go off on him, he realized that he had noticed too. He was clearly as tired of it as he was.

Nick stood there dumbly for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. God, he wanted to agree with him. He didn’t want things to get weirder between them. He wanted to be honest with him. “Miles…” He began, not even bothering to move back from the doorway in order to let him in. Clearly they needed to have this conversation now. There was no beating around the bush this time. “I want this to stop, too.” He finally decided on, his fingers tightly grasping onto the door frame in an attempt to give himself some courage. “I…” It was at that unfortunate moment that he felt someone coming up behind him, and he nearly cringed as he remembered that he had company. Of course fucking Jude had to walk out at this exact moment. Like it was a damn drama movie.

Nick had met him months ago, during a night he wasn’t particularly proud of. He didn’t think he’d ever see him again, but after running into him again by chance a month prior, the two had struck up an unlikely friendship. He was actually kind of cool away from the seedy club he’d initially met him at. Breaking his gaze away from Miles to glance back at him, he was met with the sight of a shirtless Jude, holding one of Nick’s shirts in each hand.

“Hey which one of these do you care about the least?” He heard Jude speak as he held up the shirts for Nick to see. “They both bring out my eyes so whichever one I take don’t expect it back.”

Nick just shot him a look with a jerk of his head toward Miles to show that he was busy, and instantly he saw the look of recognition on Jude’s face. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’ll just go with this one.” Jude held up the one in his right hand. “Other ones got holes in it anyway.” Jude smiled and nodded towards Miles. “Hey, dude.” Jude began to retreat back to Nick’s room to presumably put away the other shirt. “Carry on.” He called out playfully as he went.

Nick let out a long sigh before turning back to Miles. “I’m sorry about him, he’s about to leave. Come in? We can talk.” He paused, biting on his inner lip out of anxiousness. “We will talk.”

Miles listened intently as Nick spoke back to him, thankfully seeming to agree with him. And just when it seemed that Nick was going to open up, to be honest like Miles wanted, he paused and turned around. Miles followed Nick’s gaze to some guy, half-naked and entering the room like he belonged there. Miles had never seen this guy in his life. What was he doing in Nick’s place with no shirt on, asking which of Nick’s shirts he could wear instead? What the hell? Miles’ jaw fell open as he stood there dumbly, staring, unable to form any sort of words as his eyes bore into those of the stranger.

There was a small amount of tension and some words spoken to Miles before the other guy turned and disappeared again. Miles, of course, stayed silent, watching him walk away with that same dumbfounded gaze. And then Nick was turning back to him and talking to him like that — whatever the hell that was — had never even happened. Miles looked back at him. “Are you…” he started, unsure of how he should even proceed. What the hell was he supposed to say? “Nick, are you fucking kidding me right now?” His tone was already loud enough that he wondered if perhaps the other guy could even hear him. But he could not possibly care less. “You…you’re weird with me, and you have random guys in your fucking bedroom? Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” He took a step back. “What the fuck is wrong with you.” It should’ve sounded like a question, but it wasn’t the way Miles said it.

Nick could see Mile’s attitude before his very eyes. While at first he was earnest and upfront, his eyes were now guarded and clearly upset. The change startled Nick, and he realized a moment too late why his friend was upset. “Miles, it’s not what you think.” He started firmly, motioning with his free hand as though that would stop him from just leaving.

“He’s just a friend.” Nick felt the need to explain himself, even if him and Miles were technically just friends too. His throat suddenly felt tight and guilt ran through his veins. He knew he had to be honest, and he knew at that moment there was no way Miles’ wasn’t going to end up steaming mad at him. “We were hanging out and he squirted pizza pocket filling on his shirt so I’m letting him borrow one of mine. Nothing happened.” The guilt was increasing, and he didn’t want to have to say this here. Not now. Not with him already so mad and Jude in the next room.

He flinched at Miles’ harsh words, but still made a move to walk forward as Miles’ began to step back. He knew he deserved them. “You still want me to be honest, though?” He swallowed and his heart seemed to speed up uncontrollably. He kept his voice as low as he could so only Miles’ could hear him. He wished they could talk about this somewhat calmly, but he didn’t think that was an option with Miles so upset. But he had to tell him the truth. If he didn’t, things would get even worse. And he was pretty sure the guilt would eat him alive. “I have slept with him. But not for a long time. Not since…” He shook his head. Not since Miles’ started talking to him again. Not since the night of the wedding. But he couldn’t say any of that. “It was right after I found out about that girl of yours. I don’t know, it was stupid. I’m stupid. But nothing happened tonight.” He tried to silently plead with him to understand, his hand reaching out as though to reach for him, before he let it fall back to his side. “Nothing was going to happen.”

“Oh, it’s not what I think.” Miles laughed hollowly at that. Right, like he was going to believe that. Because Nick constantly had random shirtless men that Miles had never seen before streaming in and out of his apartment. Then again, maybe he did and Miles just didn’t know it. He listened to Nick’s explanation, just barely, unable to stop himself from shaking his head the entire time. This was ridiculous. It was absolute bullshit. Nick had given him so much shit for sleeping with Lily, and then he turned around and did the exact same thing. He didn’t know how to take it.

He considered for a moment, especially when Nick’s explanation did sort of make sense, that he was telling the truth. Maybe this guy was just a friend. It wasn’t like Miles knew of every single person Nick had ever spoken to in his life. He probably was just jumping to conclusions. These thoughts went through his mind as Nick continued, and he thought that maybe he should apologize for lashing out. He and Nick both knew he tended to take his anger to the next level sometimes, and maybe he said things he didn’t mean—

But there it was. Nick dropped a bomb on him, the one he’d been waiting to hear. They had slept together. And now the guy was back again, so it clearly wasn’t just a one time thing, and Miles felt like the room was spinning. “Wow,” was all he said at first, all he could possibly think to say. He took another step back, trying to put more distance between them, because honestly right now he didn’t know if he wanted to punch Nick in the face or pull him in and kiss him just to…prove a point. Or something. He didn’t know. “You really think I’m that stupid? Honestly. What if I told you Lily was just a friend?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t I go home and invite her over and then feed you some bullshit excuses when you happen to run into her there? Would that work for you?” He was being ridiculous, he knew he was. But at that moment, he didn’t care. He was angry. He was upset. He was…jealous. So fucking jealous when he didn’t have a right to be at all.

“Is that what you want? Seriously, I’m genuinely asking. You want me to go around fucking other people because clearly, you’re having absolutely no issues doing just that.” He emphasized his point by jerking his finger toward the bedroom door that the other man had just disappeared through. “You’re truly something else, Nick. You can’t even be honest with yourself and I was a fucking idiot to think you’d want to be honest with me.” That wasn’t fair. It was uncalled for. He knew it as he said it. But he wasn’t going to take it back.

Whoever said the truth would set you free was clearly a fucking liar. It was like the more Nick tried to explain himself, the worse the situation seemed to get. And really, Nick knew he fucked up. He’d known for a long time that he was a hypocrite for being mad about the Lily situation when he’d literally done the same thing when he found out. He was even more of an asshole for not telling Miles about it when he confronted him about Lily.

What he didn’t do was lie to him about it now. He was trying to be honest now, because that’s what Miles had wanted. That’s what they needed. He didn’t want to keep lying to his best friend. He just wanted him back; he wanted them to stop this fighting. But fuck — at Miles’ words, anger began to boil up in his own veins. “Right now you’re being stupid, yeah, because I’m telling you the fucking truth.” He raised his voice an octave higher than the whisper it had been at previously. The thought of Miles’ with Lily again made him sick. It made his chest hurt and it somehow made him even angrier. “If you want to go fuck her be my fucking guest.” He got out, not meaning it, but also not being able to stop himself from fighting back. “You want to be an asshole? Go be an asshole. But I’m not lying to you. I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I fucked up, okay? I didn’t tell you when it happened. I was a hypocrite — whatever. But you did the same thing with her and I let it go. Yet somehow when I do it, I’m the only douche-bag? I might be fucked up, Miles, but so are your priorities.”

He was so angry at this point he almost felt nauseous, but more than that he was hurt. He was guilty. He wanted to fix this but he wasn’t sure how to. “Stop it.” He yelled out, now. He didn’t want that. Miles knew he didn’t want that. “I didn’t… go around doing anything. Stop accusing me of shit. What does it even matter anyway?” His voice cracked, and he was about to say something he’d regret. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” The words hung in the air heavily, and he knew he shouldn’t have said it. But God, his chest hurt and he wanted to have the opposite of this conversation. It was too late now, though. They’d both gone too far. Nick’s shoulders sagged slightly, beginning to feel defeated because he knew this conversation was going nowhere fast. “I was being honest with you, Miles. It’s just not what you wanted to hear.”

There was so much Miles wanted to say, but none of it would do him any good at this point. He should stop yelling at him, for one thing. Yelling at Nick wasn’t going to change the fact that he’d fucked that guy, as much as it pained Miles to admit it. Nothing was going to change that. “I slept with Lily because you made it very clear that you didn’t want me to be anything more than your friend,” he countered, his voice much lower now. “You slept with him because, what, you were mad at me? You wanted to get back at me?” He shook his head. “It’s not the same thing, Nick.“

At Nick’s words, Miles froze. He hadn’t expected that. Of course he knew it, but hearing it kind of sucked. A lot. He wasn’t Nick’s boyfriend. That was clear. And Nick didn’t want to be his boyfriend—that was even clearer. Miles’ shoulders fell, the fight leaving his body. He was still angry, but now, he was more…sad. “You’re right,” he said, even quieter than before. “You’re not my boyfriend.” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. It’s not fair to Nick. Don’t say it. “Because you’re too fucking scared to be my boyfriend.” He stepped back again, this time more than once. “You want to be with me, and you just won’t. And maybe I deserve better than that.” He paused. “Than a coward.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Nick’s fault. But Miles was sick of the excuses.

“If I wanted to hurt you I would have told you about it when it happened.” He said it quietly, but his anger was still right below the surface. Miles was wrong. He wanted to tell him he was wrong. But he knew at that point he wouldn’t bother to listen. “I didn’t do it to fuck with you. But now I’m wondering if you slept with Lily to try to get back at me.”

Nick knew he shouldn’t have said it. He knew it was wrong; he knew it was mean and uncalled for. But at least it was the truth. Hearing Miles’ reply was like a slap in the face, and he froze, not being able to look at him. It hit him right in the chest, rendering him useless for a moment. Miles went too far, too. But the worst part was that he was right. He just stood there for a moment, letting his eyes fall shut and shaking his head back and fourth. Eventually, he opened his eyes, but avoided looking at Miles. A cold laugh left his lips, and he shook his head again. “Yeah. Maybe you do.” Nick’s voice cracked despite himself, and he finally lowered his gaze in order to look Miles in the eye. He swallowed thickly. “I think you should leave now.”

The anger had dissipated now. The sadness remained, but there was absolutely nothing he could say anymore. He missed Nick. He wanted to be with him. He wanted to forget all of this and go and sit next to him on the couch and never leave. That was what he’d wanted to tell him. But now Miles wouldn’t be able to stop picturing him with someone else, wouldn’t be able to push all the words they both had said out of his mind. Nothing would change what they’d said or how they both now felt.

The fact still stood, though, that Miles was right. And so was Nick. So there was no winning here, and each of them had to wait for the other. Miles watched him, studying his features, wishing he could swallow his pride and say sorry. But was he? He didn’t know. He struggled to tear his gaze away from Nick’s face and turn around, but Nick was correct. Miles should go. He paused with his hand on the door handle, opening his mouth briefly, but there was nothing left to say. He opened the door and stepped out quickly, letting it slam shut behind him.