#at least until i get pulled back in when chapter 5 and 6 come out

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (15/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: With the rut drawing to a close, you and Sylus look to the future for what this means for you both.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Minor breeding kink. P in V.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (16)

Read on AO3

You soon realized that dragon ruts were not for the faint of heart. The next week of your life was the most exhausted you had ever been. Every single day, multiple times a day, Sylus found you wherever you were and fucked you within an inch of your life. He had cooled off a little, able to push aside the lustful haze to offer you some respite the longer it went on.

But that first day had been the most feral he had gotten. You hadn’t left the hoard room until late into the evening and that was just because you absolutely needed more food than what he scrounged up from the kitchen between rounds. Thankfully the entire rut didn’t need to take place in the hoard room so you at least got the cushion of the bed back to make things a little more comfortable.

You were also shocked at how sweet he was during the whole thing. Despite how rough things got and how filthy he spoke, he would always be there to help ease you back down. And if you really didn’t want to have sex, if you were just too sore for anymore he didn’t push you.

In between rounds you’d lay together and talk about what your future child was going to be like. “And you’re sure I’m not going to end up laying an egg?”

Sylus chuckled. “Yes. You won’t lay an egg.”

“But the woman who birthed you--”

“Was cursed and her womb magically altered to be able to lay a dragon egg. You are not cursed and because I am at least half human you should have a normal live birth.” Sylus assured you, “Although, the state of the baby is uncertain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I was born I looked almost entirely human except for my eyes and as I got older the scales and tail and horns grew in. The children will most likely be the same way. But I do not know what all they may grow. Some might have horns and tails and wings and scales, others may not. Maybe one grows horns and scales but no tail. Maybe another grows wings but no claws. I cannot say for sure.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about little claws or horns complicating things when they come out.” you touched your stomach. You looked back at him. “Do you want to try one more time?”

His smile sharpened. “You bounced back quick this time. Alright then, come here.” He sat up in the bed. He pulled you across his lap, your back pressed to his chest.

He receded the armor around his hands with a small groan. “Sylus, I know it hurts you don’t have to--”

“I want to be able to play with your pussy a little before hand. The pain is temporary and not important.” he dipped his now clawless hand between your legs, the soft pad of his fingers swirling over your clit.

You reclined your head back on his shoulder as little blips of pleasure heated your body. “That’s it,” he said, “Always so responsive to me.”

He removed his hand from your pussy and sucked the juices from his fingers. You whined at the loss but you only got a dark chuckle in response. “Do not worry, little bird. You’ll get my hand and much more back in a minute. But right now, I need you to do something.”

He caressed your arms and lifted them up and behind you before curling them around his horns. “Hold onto these while I play with you and do not let go. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” he sighed, feeling how tightly you were gripping his horns.

You thought he was going to go back to your pussy but instead he moved slowly, his hands gliding up and down your body at a lazy pace. He traced every dip and curve with his hands as if memorizing every inch of your body by touch alone. His mouth kissed down the column of your neck and to your shoulders. When his mouth landed on the faint mark of your mating bite he suck his teeth into your soft exposed skin. Arousal pooled between your legs as he continued to caress and tease you.

You could feel him getting hard underneath you. The hard ridge of flesh was hot and curved back to rest on your folds. You tried to grind against it but he pulled your hips back to keep them still. “Not yet.” his breath was hot in your ear, “I want you ready to burst when I put it in.”

He continued to strum your body, plucking at your most sensitive spots but without any of the relief you sought. It seemed wholly unfair that he could be so patient during a rut. Wasn’t he supposed to throw you to the bed and fuck you until you were screaming in a fit of lust filled rage? How come he was teasing you?

“Someone’s pouting.” he turned your face to his. “What do you want, little bird? What can I do to make that frown go away.”

“You can put your dick in me. That’d be a nice start.” you batted your eyelashes at him. “Please master?”

“Calling me master while I’m in rut,” he growled, biting your neck again. “Do you think that a wise decision?”

“I think it’ll get me what I want.” you smirked. “So please, will you put your dick in me and breed my pussy, master?”

“That dirty trick won’t work forever.” Sylus muttered angrily as he lifted your hips up.

“I just need it to work now.”

“Becoming my mate made you such a brat.” he hissed as he lowered you down onto his cock. “There, you have your precious dick snug in that tight little pussy. If you want it bred though, you have to work for it.”

“But--”

“You expect your master to do all the work? That’s what you’re here for. Now get moving but don’t move your hands. Keep them wrapped around my horns.” he cupped your breasts and pinched and pulled at your nipples.

You began shaking your hips, pulling yourself up and down on his lap. His cock slid against your walls, sending bursts of ecstasy into your brain while he played with your breasts. He had sufficiently worked you up enough that you felt like you could come right then.

“You feel so good, wildfire.” he moaned into your neck. “This is exactly where I want you forever. Fucking yourself on my cock, trying to make me come. Cause that’s what you want, right? You want me to come. You want me to come inside you and breed this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes!” you clamped down on him tighter. “Yes Sylus! I want it! I need it!”

“I know you do.” he groaned, drawing in a sharp breath as you sped up. “You make me wanna come, wildfire. Just keep bouncing yourself on my dick.”

One of his hands trailed down your stomach and found your clit, adding to the sensations that were already overloading your body. “I won’t come until you do.” he said. “So if you want my cum you have to come for me, wildfire. Come on you master’s cock and he’ll give you what you want. What you need.”

“Ha��ha…ah fuck!” you forced your hips to move faster, chasing a release so close yet just out of reach. Your hands were cramping holding onto Sylus’s horns. The tighter you held them the heavier his breathing got.

“Sylus…” you whimpered. You were so close. “Sylus please!”

“Right here. I’m right here.” he craned your head back to kiss you. “You can do it. Just come for me.” he rubbed your clit faster, his other hand squeezed your breast.

“Sylus!” you moaned against his lips as you both came. He smothered the moan with another kiss, panting against your lips.

“So good. You are so fucking good, wildfire.” he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

Your arms fell to your sides as you relaxed against him. He rubbed at your shoulders, relieving the ache that had grown there. He moved you back so you were laying side by side on the bed again.

You took several deep breaths to center yourself, grounding yourself by nuzzling into Sylus’s chest. “Hey, not that this hasn’t been a lot of fun but how much longer is this rut going to last? I’m getting exhausted.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “You were the one that tackled me into bed this morning, not the other way around.” he reminded you. “I think you forget that your libido is just as bad, if not worse than mine can be.”

“Fine. I admit it. But really, do you think we’re any closer to knowing if I’m pregnant or not?” you stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my sweet little bird,” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “If you had let me speak this morning instead of dragging me back into bed I would have been able to tell you that you already are.”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant. I could smell the change this morning. That’s why I originally came in here. I was going to tell you after you had a chance to wake up a little more.” he was smiling the widest you had ever seen him.

“I’m really…” tears sprang to your eyes. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“Yes, we are.”

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck. It was happening! It was really happening!

Oh gods it was happening…you were…with a… You were going to give birth to a little dragon baby. Oh gods. This was actually happening! It wasn’t just a fun roleplay in bed. It was real. You had a little dragon growing in your womb.

“You look panicked. Are you alright?” Sylus asked. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am! I am ridiculously happy!” you assured him. “I’m also kinda terrified. In a few months we’re going to have a baby. We’re going to be parents and be in charge of another life. I mean, how do we even do that?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

With your pregnancy confirmed the rut wore off. You were thankful for the respite but now your mind was filled with nothing but preparations for the baby. You weren’t even showing yet and all you could do was make lists of things that needed done.

“Where is the baby going to sleep?” You asked Sylus one afternoon as you sat at the kitchen table, a list of things that needed done in front of you. At the top of the list was make a nursery.

“I suspect they’ll sleep in our room until they’re old enough to move them to their own room. There’s a lot of empty rooms in the mountain. We can fit a whole brood of hatchlings in here.” he kissed the top of your head and went about grabbing a bowl of stew from the large pot over the fire.

“A brood? Exactly how many kids do you want to pump into me?”

“I was thinking at least six or more.” he said with a shrug.

“Six!” you shouted.

“My ideal is nine since it’s a lucky number.” he took in your dumbstruck expression. “What?”

“You are insane if you think I’m going to birth nine kids.” you couldn’t even comprehend having a family that large. “I’ll give you three.”

“Seven.”

Was he haggling the number of kids you were going to have? Fine then. “Maybe four.”

“Five?”

“Four.”

“Alright, four.” he set another bowl of stew done for you. “Make sure to finish that. You’re eating for two now.”

“I know.” you set the list aside. “I need to go into town and do some shopping later, as well as tell my father and friends the news.”

“I’ll take you down whenever you’re ready. Are you nervous at all about telling them?”

“A little. It’s only recently that father came around to you and I’m not sure how he’s going to react. I hope he’ll be happy with the idea of being a grandfather at least.”

“You’re giving him his first grandchild, he’ll be thrilled no matter what.” Sylus assured you.

You grabbed some coins from the hoard room and left with Sylus for the village. Your first stop was to find your father and tell him the news. Sylus walked with you to the house but stayed in the background as you talked to your father. Your father was shocked at first but was soon smiling and congratulating you and Sylus both on your upcoming bundle of joy.

“I’ll have to get started working then.” he said, “I’m going to make a mobile for you to hang over the crib.”

“That sounds wonderful, father. Thank you.” you hugged him again. “I actually came into town to commission the woodworker for the cradle as well as buy some fabric and yarn to make baby clothes. I also need to find Tara and tell her. I know she’s going to be thrilled too.”

“That she will be. Congratulations, sweet pea. I can’t wait to meet them when they’re born.” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and you were on your way.

You left to run your other errands. Sylus was still by your side, looming in the corner wherever you went like a shadow. The village had really come to like him but he was still rather uncomfortable with the attention. He looked like he was going to fly away when you told Tara the news about your pregnancy and had given Sylus a huge hug in her excitement. She had promised to do a reading for your pregnancy as soon as possible and tell her mother so she could make you a perfect baby blanket for the little one.

Your last stop after the fabric shop was the woodworker to commission the cradle. There were some other people there that saw you come in with Sylus and froze. The woodworker looked up though and smiled. “Ah, what can I do for you today?”

“Hello, I came with a very special request. Mind you, I won’t need it for a couple months so take your time but what I really need is a cradle.”

“A cradle?” the woodworker smiled. “Oh my dear girl, you’re having a baby?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Another mighty dragon in the village. What wonderful news.” the woodworker called to Sylus, “How big of a baby do we need to plan for?”

“A regular sized cradle should be fine.” Sylus said. “They shouldn’t be much different from a human baby.”

Sylus looked to his side where a man that had been waiting in the shop was staring at him. You didn’t recognize him immediately but it was a decent sized village, you didn’t have every face memorized. Sylus didn’t seem to appreciate the man’s staring and glared at him. “Do you have something to say to me?”

The man shook his head and took off. While most people in the village were used to Sylus there were some who still didn’t entirely trust him. It was an inevitability but hopefully in the years to come everyone would come to recognize him not as a threat but as a neighbor.

Once everything was done and finished you stopped by to say a final goodbye to your father and returned to the mountain.

You set what you had bought down and started getting preparations ready for dinner. While you were cooking you kept hearing Sylus walking back and forth past the kitchen. What was he doing now? While dinner simmered over the fire you went out to find him.

It was then that you noticed there was a carpet under your feet. That definitely hadn’t been there before. Where had it come from? And there were more carpets! They made a trail down the corridor and into your bedroom. Sylus was in there unrolling another carpet and layering it with the others.

“What are you doing? Where’d all the carpet come from?”

“Ah, yes,” he stood up, “I got to thinking that when the baby is born it’d be best if they had something soft to crawl around on so I’ve been finding whatever rugs I could from the hoard room and laid them out. I may also need to go around the walls and smooth them out so if they run into them they don’t get cut.”

It was endearing watching him worry and fret about how to make the mountain safer for your baby. You hadn’t even been pregnant a month and he was already doing so much. You walked up to him, your feet squishing against the plush carpet, and hugged him. “I’m so glad that our baby is going to have you as a father. I really am.”

His arms closed around you. “I’m the lucky one, really. To have a child with you. Knowing that this child is going to have you as their mother.” he knelt down, his face inches from your stomach. “Your mother is so good, little one. And I am going to love and protect you both for the rest of my life. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen to you so long as I draw breath.”

He kissed your stomach. You ran your hands through his hair, holding him there as he rested his head against you. “I can’t wait to meet our little one too.”

[pikolswonderland]

girl help new hyperfixation just dropped

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - chapter 1 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The lion's lamb series: Aesthetics, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8

You spent most of your life alone. It wasn't your decision but artists tend to isolate themselves by accident. you were the type to find inspiration and peace when alone.

You would spend hours in your room, painting, until your vision became a reality.

Most people would never work as hard as you do to make a living, but you lived in Monaco. The country where money flowed. You knew you weren't like other residents that surrounded her in this country.

You weren't rich and you didn't have a trust fund to fall back onto. Don't get it wrong, your paintings sold high enough to be able to live in the country permanently, but you were barely scrapping by.

Some might ask why you choose to live in Monaco when you could have been living somewhere else more comfortably.

Monaco itself was known for their wealth and in your line of work, you need the rich to buy your work. You had about three regular clients in Monaco that provided 80% of your entire income.

Coffee was the only time you took a break and wandered into the outside world. And today was one of those days where you needed a break. you had been in your room for the past 4 hours trying to come up with something, but your mind was blank with ideas.

A client had commissioned a piece about 3 months ago and gave the 23 year old a wide range of creative ability on the painting as long as it was a darker piece.

You were the epitome of bright and bubbly and couldn't seem to get her mind into a darker frame of thought. With the piece needing to be done in a months time, you were starting to stress.

You had ordered your cup of coffee at your usual spot. You heard your name being yelled at the counter and quickly went up to grab your drink. Once in hand, you turned only to run into a wall, spilling coffee all over herself and the wall.

To add fuel to the fire of the already embarrassing situation, you slipped on the coffee that had spilled on the ground and fell to the floor hard causing more attention to be drawn onto you. While on the ground, you noticed two shoes in front of you.

You hadn't run into a wall like you originally thought, but instead a man. Your eyes followed the shoes all the way up at the man's face.

Piercing blue eyes stared down at you in annoyance. You could tell he wasn't truly taking you in but rather glaring at you for spilling both their coffees.

Jumping up quickly, You immediately grabbed some napkins off the counter of the coffee shop and tried your best to wipe the stains off the mans white shirt.

"I'm so sorry sir!" you said with tears building in your eyes. "I didn't see you! I'm so sorry!"

As you wipe the man's chest, he grabs your hands causing you to look up at him. It was then, he took in the details of you standing before him.

Your big eyes stared up at him, tears threatening to spill out of the sides. You had a light sprinkle of freckles that ran along her cheekbones and over your nose.

You had long hair that was pulled back out of Your face, but bangs to frame your face perfectly. Your lips were the perfect size and your cheeks were now the color of your lips from embarrassment.

There was a certain shine in your eyes that drew him. He couldn't tell if it was because of the tears or something else, but he needed to find out.

"It's alright," he said. You picked up an accent that wasn't from Monaco but you didn't know where.

"Please, sir, let me buy you your coffee! It's my fault, I can at least try make up it up to you by getting you another."

He nods his head at your response causing a smile to erupt across your face. The man loved how every part of your face lit up at his response. He didn't even say a word, yet you acted like he hung the stars just for you.

"How do you like your coffee?" you asked.

"Black," he state.

With a nod of your head, you told him to sit down while you waited in line. There were only two people ahead of you but you didn't want the man to have to stand with you after you ruined his clothes.

Being around him longer than necessary would cause more embarrassment on your part.

After getting both their coffees again, you found your way back to the blue eyed stranger sitting at a corner table by the window.

"Here," you said while putting it on the table. You noticed his shirt was definitely going to stain and winced slightly at the brown blob on his chest "Again sir, I am so sorry!"

You started digging in your bag for some money to give to the man for dry cleaning. Pulling out whatever you had, you tried to hand it to the man, "Here. It's not a lot but it should pay for dry cleaning to get that stain out."

"No," was the simple response you got.

"Please! It'll make me feel better if you take it! It's the only way I can make up for spilling you coffee!"

"Sit down," he said. You tilted your head in confusion at the blue eyed man. "Sit down and tell me your name. I don't want your money but I will take a name and a conversation as payment."

A blush quickly took over your cheeks as you shyly looked away from the man and sat down across from him. When you sat down you finally got a good look at his face.

He was attractive. He had these piercing blue eyes that would stare into your sole. He looked at you with softness but you were scared to be on the other end of that stare when he was angry.

He was tall, or at least taller than you, but that wasn't saying much compared to him. He was a dirty blond and had a bit of scruff that started to turn into a beard.

You could tell he didn't smile much due to him having very little smile lines. He was a serious man and it showed.

"Your name?" He stated.

"(name)," she said softly, "and yours?"

The man's eyes quickly flashed a look of surprise before they softened again, "Max."

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday. 

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites! 

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least. 

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door. 

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough. 

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.” 

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…” 

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?” 

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–” 

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you. 

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow,  of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him. 

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice. 

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.” 

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…” 

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door. 

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?” 

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.” 

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run. 

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently. 

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.” 

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.” 

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.” 

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest. 

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.” 

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly. 

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city. 

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.” 

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile. 

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.” 

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.” 

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?” 

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.” 

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker. 

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.” 

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip. 

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter. 

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.” 

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.” 

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.” 

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive. 

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.” 

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.” 

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth. 

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection. 

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.” 

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?” 

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.” 

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man. 

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.” 

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.” 

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint. 

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you. 

Taglist:

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@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 15

Hey guys this story is back! I feel like it's nearing the end, but we'll see. I'm hoping for another couple of chapters (than the two have backlogged anyway) at least, but I'm not sure. Steve and Eddie are already freewheeling toward each other and I have learned when that starts happening either one or both of them hit the gas and they go from zero to sixty faster than NASCAR on race day.

Steve tries to get a job, has a good cry about it, Robin is bestest and they try the mall.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Steve sat at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, newspaper next to him, and paper and pen in hand.

“Hi, may I speak to the manager?” he asked in his best customer service voice. “Thank you.”

Once the manager was on the line, he began, “Hello, sir. I’m looking at your ad in the help want ads and was wondering if the position was still open?”

Steve shoulders slumped. “I see. No, of course. I’m sure your nephew will just be absolutely smashing at slinging those hamburgers. Thank you for your time.”

He set the phone down in its cradle and put his head in his hands. He had been on the phone for the last two hours calling up people for job interviews and he was utterly exhausted.

Everyone of them had turned him down. Not taking anymore applications at this time, the job has been filled, or in the cases he actually got far enough to tell them his name, they would straight up hang up on him.

He didn’t want to work in the mall, but it was looking less and less likely he’d get a job inside Hawkins.

Which meant that Joyce was going to be on his ass again. She had gotten so insistent in him finding a job, that he was forced to stop going over there, choosing to hang out with Will and Ellie at someone else’s house.

God, he got more peace at the Wheelers and Mike was openly hostile ninety percent of the time. So that was really something.

Steve picked up Eddie’s latest gift. It was a giant canary plushie. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. He loved it. He hugged it close.

“I miss Eddie, Kenny,” he murmured into its beak. “I know he’ll be home in a couple of weeks, but I miss being able to have him tell me I’m enough. That my worth isn’t dependent on what other people think of me.”

Steve stood up and carried Kenny over to the bed, where he fell asleep, tears falling into the soft material of Kenny’s neck.

~

He woke up slowly to soft music being played. He opened his eyes and blearily looked around. There on the sofa reading a magazine was Robin. She was listening to Blondie on his boombox but it was at a respectful volume so it wouldn’t wake him.

He had long since given her permission to just come in when she had a gift from Eddie or if she just want to hang out. As long as he wasn’t getting a shower or getting dressed, he really couldn’t care less.

Steve sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. Next to her on the sofa was a large box.

“Hey, dingus,” she said without looking up. “I took the opportunity to order us dinner.” She looked at her watch. “It should be here in about five minutes.”

Steve slid off the bed and padded over to the sofa where he flopped gracelessly next to her.

Robin set down the magazine and looked at him properly. “Still can’t find a job, huh?”

He shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest. She gave him a big hug and just held him until the food arrived. She rolled the food cart over lifted the cloche with gusto.

“Tada!” she said triumphantly revealing the mountains of fries, mashed potatoes, pizza, onion rings. All of Steve’s favorite things. “I figured you’d want some pick me up food and I went all out.”

“If we weren’t both gayer than the day is long,” Steve sighed happily, “I’d marry you.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek pulling out a slice of cheese pizza. He munched, grinning around the slice.

“Gross,” Robin said grabbing a handful of fries. “I mean the pizza not the marrying thing, because I agree. No, your pizza tastes are abysmal. Plain cheese? No meat, not veggies, nothing?”

Steve swallowed and set the pizza down. “It’s all my mom would let me have. Even when I’d go to parties and shit, she’d insist on them having a cheese pizza for me.”

“Okay I take that back,” Robin said. “Eat your cheese pizza, dingus. It makes you happy. But if I ever see your mother, I might accidentally scratch her eyes out.”

Steve picked up the pizza again, but paused with it half way to his mouth. ‘How do you accidentally scratch someone’s eyes out?”

Robin batted her eyes prettily. “I wouldn’t know, officer, I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was washing the blood off my hands.”

Steve threw one of the throw pillows at her head. “Don’t quote musicals at me!”

“Ha!” Robin crowed in delight, clutching the pillow to her chest. “The fact that you recognize it makes you the chump, not me!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but then his eyes went wide when he had no argument for that.

“I’d love to see proper theater, you know,” he said dreamily. “Like with a proper orchestra and not just a tinny tape that skips in places and actual actors instead of Old Mr. Abernathy trying to play Hamlet.”

Robin winced. “He couldn’t even remember ‘To be or not to be’ and that’s like the one line everyone knows.” She shoved more fries into her face.

“Maybe when I get out on my own,” he said, snagging one of her fries right off of her plate, “I’ll go see plays in Indy or Bloomington.”

“You’ve just got to take me with you,” she huffed, grabbing the half bitten fry right out of his mouth and shoving it in her face. “I’ve been saving up all the money I’ve been getting from this job so I can get driving lessons at school. I won’t be able to drive my parents’ care very much, but it would still be nice to say I have it.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. No, you can’t pay for my drivers’ ed classes. Because I want to pay for that myself.”

Steve pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t treat my friends to a little thing like a new car or new bikes.”

The new bikes were still a point of contention between Joyce and Steve. He had bought all of them new bikes and gear with exception of Max where he bought her a new skateboard and gear. All in their favorite colors. But she refused to let Will take his. She said it wasn’t his to spend and therefore to take it back until he could buy it with his own hard earned money.

Will stopped talking to his mother for a couple of days after that.

And Steve hadn’t blamed him, so he told Will to leave it at Mike’s and ‘borrow’ it when ever they rode out places. Joyce couldn’t stop him from doing that.

“I’m not saying not buy me a new car,” Robin huffed a little laugh. “I’m just saying I want to pay for the lessons myself. It’s more of an accomplishment thing.”

Steve perked up and batted his eyelashes at her. “Really? I can buy you a car a gift for passing your test? You’ll really let me?”

Robin laughed and threw a fry at his head. “Yes, dingus, you can but me a car. I talked it over with my parents and I told them that Eddie wanted to get me a car for all my hard work and that you’d be the one helping me pick it out.”

He grabbed the fry and threw back at her, it landing in her hair. “Oh that’s smart. I bet they had all sorts of restrictions on it being sensible and shit.”

But Robin shook her head. “My parents were hippies, not stupid. They know that if they try and restrict me I will come home with the reddest, wildest hot rod they’ve every laid eyes on.”

Steve laughed. “God, can we introduce them to Joyce? Because it sounds like they could teach her a thing or two.”

“I know right?” Robin said rolling her eyes. “Eat your pizza, you heathen and the next time I come I’m bringing proper Domino’s pizza with all sorts of toppings and you can find you actually like. In the mean time, open this present that is digging into my side.”

Steve reached out for it with grabby hands. “Oooh, I really liked the plushie from yesterday. I named him Kenny. Kenny the Canary.”

“Because of course you did,” she said dryly, handing over the package to him.

He could tell it was clothes just from the shape of the box. There was just something about them that screamed ‘hey I’m clothes!’ Inside was the most beautiful yellow cardigan. It was soft and warm.

The note said, “It may be hotter than balls in Hawkins, but up here in Canada, the weather is pretty mild. Not quite sweater weather, but I saw this and just had to get it for you. Just ten more days, little Canary.”

Steve buried his face into the softness of the sweater and nearly squealed in delight. Eddie had sprayed it with his cologne. Oh this was exactly what he needed.

Robin took the card from him and smiled. “He seems to really like you. I know a lot of the people you hang out with give you shit about Eddie and the money running out on you, but Steve, the way he writes these notes sound like someone who genuinely likes you.”

Steve set down the sweater with a sigh. “I know. But it’s the imbalance I’m worried about. I’ve already been called a gold digger. I don’t want that.”

Robin frowned for a moment. “My mom is making me apply for jobs at the mall. She says I can still do this, but she wants me to know ‘what real work is’.” She put air quotes around the last part. “Which is bullshit, but I’ll do it so I can keep doing this.”

She scooted over to him and put her arm around him. “So come with me and maybe we can get a job together, shove it everyone else’s faces, yeah?”

Steve nodded and curled up into her side. She was the only one besides Hopper who knew who his benefactor was and could offer a different perspective than anyone else.

“But in the mean time,” Robin said softly, “maybe talk to Hopper about getting Joyce to knock it off.”

He shook his head. “He’s tried. She has straight up told him that until he tells her who it is who’s funding you, she won’t drop the job thing.”

Robin winced. “And if she finds out who it is, she going to be worse. I haven’t met someone who wasn’t an adult when he left other than Hopper who liked Eddie Munson. I mean the only reason my parents are letting me do this is that Uncle Justin vetted the job and that Corroded Coffin would be on tour, while I stayed here in Hawkins.”

Steve sighed and sat back up. “That’s not even the biggest problem with them knowing. It’s having to explain where I was that Eddie would have seen me to help me out.” He changed his voice so it was higher and clutched his hands to his chest. “Yes, Mrs. Byers I was underage drinking at a bar in the hopes of getting laid so I had a place to sleep!” He dropped back down to his normal tone. “Yeah, like that will go over well.”

“Ooh,” she said with a grimace, “yeah I could see how that might cause waves with the parents. Like tsunami level waves.”

“Pretty much!”

Steve flopped his head back on the back on the sofa. “God, what a fucking mess.”

“Maybe just tell them you were going to see your cousin, Monty,” she suggested, “and you were smoking outside when you met Eddie. See if that goes over better.”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Maybe. I know Monty would back me up if that’s the case. But I would rather wait until Eddie got home and see what he says.”

Robin nodded sagely. “That’s fair.”

~

They had decided to let Robin get all the applications and bring them over to Steve in the food court. He had ordered them a couple of large Orange Juilus’s and two huge slices of pizza from Sbarros.

She handed him a pen and they got to work filling out all the applications, by the time they were done, Steve’s hand cramped and he worked his fingers open and closed to try to get the muscles to work again.

Robin rolled her eyes, but wisely said nothing as she gathered up their applications to return to their stores.

Robin got three call backs, but Steve only got one. Thankfully it was one that Robin had also got, but it was Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream shop with the little costumes and silly hats. They were both hired on the spot.

~

Sorry if you saw chapter sixteen on here, too. I'll post it later!

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

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9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 14

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Corroded Coffin audition with Paige, and you take more than one risk.

6.2k Words

(Master List 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13)

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You asked Eddie as the rest of Corroded Coffin piled out of the back of his van and started pulling out their instruments. You pulled your jacket closer around you, trying to shield yourself from the bitter wind right outside of Live Mike Studios. “I’m really not trying to be the Yono Oko here.” 

“You’re fine.” Eddie reassured you for probably the hundredth time in the past two weeks. “You’re just here for moral support, and to show Paige and her suits that we have at least one fan.” He handed you his guitar case and you slung it over your shoulder as he grabbed the amp while the others were grabbing Gareth’s drum set and hauling it inside. 

“Do you need the amp?” you asked.

He stopped for a moment, his brows furrowed and then set it back down in the back of the van. “Right. They’ll have one inside.”

“I mean, we’re at a recording studio. It makes sense.” You replied as Eddie shut the van door and turned back to you. In the few moments he had been out in the cold, his nose and cheeks had turned red which only added to the anxiousness in his eyes. 

Eddie said it was fine for you to be here, so you decided that at this point it there was no use arguing. Actually, that point probably came about an hour ago when he picked you up, kicked Jeff into the back of the van and had you sit up front next to him as you drove out of Hawkins to the studio where Corroded Coffin would be meeting with Paige and her people. 

You were a little intimidated to meet Eddie’s ex, especially since she held the future of your... boyfriend?  Eddie in the palm of her hands. It had been only a few weeks since that night in his trailer, but things had been going surprisingly smoothly all things considered. There had been no more miscommunication, no faking intoxication to get rides home, and the deal you had with Steve was dead and buried. 

The only thing that seemed to hang between you and Eddie was that you two hadn’t talked about what you two were or might be. That was one thing you never could wrap your head around when Steve talked about going on dates. He’d be going on multiple dates with different women, but he said it was all casual right now. That he was dating, but it wasn’t like he had a girlfriend yet.   

You couldn’t imagine dating more than one person at a time. Steve said you were thinking about it too hard, you said you didn’t want to hear that from him. Steve said that you clearly were doing well with Eddie, so you didn’t need to worry about dating anymore. You said that you still didn’t fully understand the difference between dating and being boyfriend and girlfriend. Steve said if it bugged you that much then to just talk to him about it. You threw an empty receipt roll at him for daring to give you good advice for once. 

There hadn’t been a good time to bring it up yet. After that chat with Steve, Eddie had announced that Corroded Coffin had an official audition with Left Turn Media. This meant that Eddie’s time had been all but completely been consumed by band practice, school, and work at the Hideout. 

Not that he hadn’t made time for you, of course. Eddie had picked you up and dropped you off every shift he had at the Hideout where Bev promised that he could play. It turns out that possibly being signed got the band more stage time. Not much, but more than just the usual half-hour per week that was allotted to them. 

He spent his nights with you, coming over after school or work to hang out in your shitty little apartment that was still decorated for Halloween because you hadn’t had the time to take them down. Eddie said that he liked the decorations, and that he thought it was pretty metal that you went so hard for the holiday, which only encouraged your laziness in taking everything down. 

Things were going well, and your crush on Eddie only grew more by the day. You didn’t want to mess anything up with him by moving too fast. 

Besides, today wasn’t about that. Today was about Corroded Coffin and their audition with Paige. Eddie had been worried about this for weeks now, even though you had said several times that this audition felt like a formality and that Paige seemed to really want to have him on board. 

Eddie didn’t seem entirely convinced, pointing out that the last time they auditioned WR Records had wanted only him, and didn’t want Corroded Coffin as a whole. 

Everyone made it inside the studio, instruments in hand. Eddie had taken his guitar back and you assisted with bringing in the drumset to set up in the recording booth. The band looked around in awe at the interior, despite how simply laid out it was. There was a palpable excitement within the group as this moment became more and more real. 

“Eddie!” A girl with freckles and dark hair walked out into the lobby to greet you all. This had to be Paige. 

You stood to the side as Eddie and Paige hugged awkwardly, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Paige then went to the remaining members and shook their hands and introduced herself. The only other person she seemed to already know was Jeff. Eddie had mentioned that he had been the only one truly around for the first audition. 

Then she turned to you, and looked you up and down for a split second before offering her hand out. 

“I’m Paige, you must be the girl Eddie mentioned.” She said. 

You took her hand and told her your name. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The girl Eddie had mentioned. Not girlfriend or the girl he was seeing. Dammit, you really needed to get out of your own head about that. That was a conversation for later, not right now. You and Eddie were dating, that was a fact. Eddie had turned down this girl to date you. 

But seeing the way Paige interacted with everyone, doubt crept into your mind as to why. Paige was pretty, there was no denying that. Her outfit was the perfect combination of professional and alternative and here she was, offing the guy you were dating everything he ever wanted. 

Then there was you, at your dead end job as the assistant managed of a retail store, wearing clothing you still wore in high school and completely clueless as to what the fuck you were supposed to do with your life and where you were supposed to be. 

Eddie and Paige belonged in music, anyone with two working brain cells could see that. Paige led everyone to the back area where there were several people waiting at the recording console. A few were in suits and a few looked like they had just crawled out of bed and staggered over. 

You weren’t sure which were more intimidating. 

“There’s some coffee and water on the table, if you’d like to grab something while we talk to the band.” Paige said with a smile. 

“Right, yeah.” You nodded and just as you were about to turn away, you felt someone grab your hand. 

Eddie gave your hand a squeeze and you swallowed any insecurity and gave him your best reassuring smile. 

“You got this.” you said, and leaned in to kiss his cheek before you realized what you were doing. You didn’t look at him as you made your way to the small coffee station and grabbed yourself some water. Your stomach was already tied up in knots and you were sure that coffee would turn your inside to liquid right now. 

You took a seat on a couch and watched as Eddie introduced himself and the band to the people in the room. Eddie’s skin looked pale with nerves, but other than that you would have thought that he had done this a hundred times. There was something about him that always exuded confidence, even when he was nervous. 

After everyone had shaken hands, Paige took over and led a few people in suits and at least one person in the beat up AC/DC t-shirt into a back room. Eddie turned to his band and nodded, and everyone filed into the booth to set everything up. 

The next hour was warm up and sound checks. The guy at the mixing booth kept muttering to himself and then giving directions in the microphone for everyone to hear him. Each time Eddie would nod and someone would adjust their instrument or play a sample. 

After about ten minutes of this, they launched into a warm up cover of an old Dio song, which they played twice, followed by the song they were actually going to audition with. 

You wished you could hear them, in the soundproof booth you could only see them playing their instruments. You almost got up to ask the guy at the booth for an extra set of headphones so that you could hear how they sounded. Based off of what you were seeing though... you weren’t confident that they were at their best. Eddie kept stopping them, and would either say something to the guy running the booth or to the rest of the band.

After about a half hour of this, the guy in the booth called for a break. Eddie was the first to set down his guitar and walk out, not looking at you as he made his way out to the hallway. You followed him instinctively, not looking the look on his face. 

In the hallway, Eddie was bonking his head against a vending machine, making the chips and candies inside rattle. 

“You know, a quarter would be easier to get something out.” you said, walking over to him. 

Eddie looked up at you, his fringe plastered to his forehead from sweat. “I think I’m losing it.” he said. “I can’t seem to get us together to play the way we should. We either sound like we’ve never been on a stage or too polished. This happened last time too.” 

“Have you tried imagining the audience in their underwear?” you offered. 

“The only person watching is the guy in the booth. He’s not the scary part.” Eddie turned his back to the machine and leaned against it. 

“What’s the scary part?” 

“Everything else.” He rubbed his face with a deep sigh. “Paige, getting a deal, letting my band down again... I can’t shake it.” 

“Whatever happened last time was a big deal, huh?” you said, placing a hand on his arm. You felt how tense he was, which worried you. 

“You have no idea.” he shook his head, dropping his hands. “Last time was a fever dream. It... fuck it’s hard to explain. Everyone kept telling me how real I was, that I had what it took to make it. I was going to meet all these major executives for a major label and I blew it. Now, I’m trying again and this time- this is gonna sound so fucking stupid.”

“I won’t judge.” you promised.

“This feels more real than last time and it’s throwing me off.” He admitted, his body sagging against the vending machine. “An instant record deal with the biggest company for metal? It felt like a goddamn fever dream where I was somebody. I did shit I wasn’t proud of to get there, and now I’m trying to do things right for once and I feel like I want to book it out of here screaming.” 

You grabbed his hand and his froze for a moment before squeezing it. 

“You know, I don’t think you should run away.” you said, looking at him. “Only one of us can be a p ussy, and I already took that title in 8th grade.”  

Eddie’s head snapped from the distance to your face, eyes wide. “What?”

“I mean, think about it. You’ve been playing for years at the Hideout, you rock. You know it, I know it, Paige knows it, and I suspect the rest of your band might know it too. You’ve gone this far, you might as well try. What’s the worst that can happen at this point?”

“You-” Eddie stared at you for a second, trying to decide how to respond. You didn’t blame him, you had just started talking at him hoping that something would stick. “...I guess the worst thing is that I could be a pussy for running away.”

“Yeah, and I already claimed that title and already ran away from an audition. We can’t both blow it, Eddie.” you nudged him. “We can’t be that couple that has to constantly copy each other and do things exactly the same. Don’t be a copy cat.”

You could swear there was a slight blush on his cheeks under the glow of the vending machine. “You’re a weirdo.”

“And you’re a freak. The music world is full of freaks. Go in there and get freaky or something.” 

You felt him relax next to you and he pushed himself off the vending machine to face you. “Thanks.” he said and leaned down and kissed you. 

You squeezed his hand as you returned the kiss, and he let his lips linger a bit longer than necessary before there was a cough from the doorway. 

Eddie pulled back and you both looked over to see Paige staring at the two of you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, glancing between the two of you before landing on Eddie. 

Right when you were going to let go of his hand, he squeezed yours tighter and started walking towards Paige. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

Once he was back in the booth, all eyes were on Eddie as he picked up his guitar and put it on. The men that Paige had been talking to were now in the room, huddled around the panel. One of the guys in jeans was setting up a camera in the recording room, making sure everyone was in frame. 

This time, you made your way to the front as well. It was a bit crowded, but you stood next to Paige with your feet firmly planted on the ground. You were not going to be intimidated by Eddie’s perfect ex after she’d caught the two of you kissing in the hallway. 

Paige leaned in and took the mic to talk to the band. “Alright, whenever you’re ready guys.” she said. 

Okay, maybe you could be a little intimidated. But that doesn’t mean you were going to run away or shrink yourself down. 

This time, you could hear the band from inside the recording room. You saw Eddie turn to Gareth and nod, and in return the drummer counted everyone off. 

The first take was better than what they had shown during warm up. They got through the first verse before one of the men in the suits leaned over to whisper something to Paige that you couldn’t make out before she called for Corroded Coffin to pause. 

Eddie looked over through the window, and any fear on his face had been replaced with all business. Paige gave them a note about their pacing and Eddie nodded and they started up from the beginning. 

This went on for about a half hour with the band playing and then being stopped for notes. Each note was being taken to heart, and with each take they were getting better. 

Which only confused you more when they couldn’t go through a full song without being stopped for some note. You could tell that everyone was getting confused and frustrated that each time they started they had to stop for some reason or another. 

“They’re too polished.” One of the men muttered, looking at Paige. “They look like shit, but they’re playing like a high school marching band.” 

You held back any amusement at the idea of Eddie in that stupid green marching band uniform with the feathered cap. 

Paige sighed, and looked at Eddie with furrowed brows, and gave him another note into the mic. Something was... off. These guys were giving Corroded Coffin note after note, but that wasn’t going to unlock what they really needed. 

“Thanks for coming out tonight, we’re Corroded Coffin and we’re here to make you feel like you’re fighting demons in hell!”“

You remembered that first night you had sat and watched them play at the Hideout. That’s what Corroded Coffin was supposed to feel like. They were supposed to be wild and raw, and make you feel like you were fighting in hell. 

Notes from a bunch of suits weren’t going to do that. 

What you were about to do was probably going to overstep so many boundaries, but your impulse control was thrown out the window. 

Taking a step back, you looked at each of the members of the band, trying to decide which one looked the most frustrated. Eddie looked stiff, Zack was fiddling nervously with his guitar, Jeff actually looked the least bothered... and then there was Gareth. Gareth looked like he was trying to burn a hole in his snare drum from the way he was glaring at it. 

Making sure that none of the suits were paying attention to you, you waved your arm at Gareth. He looked up at you confused, probably wondering why the hell you were looking at him right now. You hoped this worked, and you hoped that they’d forgive you for this later. 

“Hey.” you mouthed to the kid. “Fuck you.” 

Gareth blinked and his eyes went wide. He leaned back slightly, staring at you looking offended. 

You gave him your best. ‘Yeah, I said it. What are you gonna do about it?’ face. His grip on the drumsticks tightened as he glared at you. 

You yawned and glanced over at Zack, making eye contact with him. You hated doing this, and knew this was a shot in the dark to give these dumb suits what they wanted. You crossed your arms and looked him up and down, with a condescending smirk, mimicking the way that the popular girls used to look at you. 

You saw him mouth ‘What the hell?’ and this seemed to catch Paige’s attention for a second as she glanced at you while the suits were still muttering to themselves, oblivious to how two of the members of the band were now looking at you like you’d lost your mind. 

Jeff looked over at Gareth and then followed the line of sight to you. He just snorted and shook his head, his fingers absently walking along the strings of his bass. You had a feeling that provoking him wouldn’t do anything, so you looked at Eddie. 

He still looked stiff as he stared at the men watching him. Thankfully it was Jeff who walked over and nudged him and tilted his head towards you. 

There was a serious look in his eyes for a moment before he blinked and his expression softened. You smiled at Eddie. He smiled back. 

Then you pointed at yourself and then at him, earning a confused look as you pretended to dig into your pocket and pulled something out. Once your fist was in view of him, you shot your middle finger up at him. 

His head tilted down, and his eyes widened as you flipped him off. You pretended to dig into your other pocket and presented him with two birds for the price of one. 

“Freak.” you mouthed to him. 

You saw the way his grip tightened on the neck of his guitar and he looked back at his band. They all looked annoyed as they waited for the suits to let them know they could play again. 

Eddie looked at each of them and nodded before turning back to the mic. 

Gareth didn’t even wait for the signal before counting them off and starting their song. They were off, their music blaring through the room at an intensity and rawness that you’d seen at the Hideout, and that night at the talent show so many years ago. 

The suits looked shocked that they had started again so suddenly, but a glance at the men made it clear that they could see exactly what you saw. You took another step back, not wanting to interfere anymore than you already have. 

“Alright, I’m jealous.” Paige said, stepping next to you. 

That... was unexpected. You looked at her, but she was staring at the band with her arms crossed. 

“Sorry?” 

“If all it took was you flipping them off, I would have asked you to do that first.” Paige said. 

“They just needed something to snap them out of their nerves. They play better when they’re not being studied like bugs.” you shrugged, your breath catching slightly as you watched Eddie play. How the fuck did you manage to land a guy as hot as him? 

Paige was watching his as well with a thoughtful expression on her face. The suits had quickly shut up and were now watching Corroded Coffin with the attention they deserved. 

“I had my doubts about the new line up.” Paige admitted. “The first time, it was only Eddie that anyone was interested in.”

Even you? Is what you wanted to ask, but you held your tongue. 

“He works better with them.” she continued. “And with you.”

You glanced at her, but Paige just kept her eyes on the band as they played. 

“I don’t think he ever looked at me like that when we were together.” Paige continued, the corners of her mouth turning up. 

“Like how....?” you managed to asked, thrown for a loop at the turn of this conversation. 

“Like you’re a real person. A friend. A girlfriend.” Paige shrugged. “We had fun, and wanted the same thing but... I don’t think he really saw me. And I don’t think I really saw him.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you kept your mouth shut as Corroded Coffin finished the song with a fire in their eyes. 

There was muttering between the men and the guy who had been in charge of the camera nodded. 

“That was great guys,” one of the men said in to the mic. “Now can you do that again with that AC/DC song-”

Before he could even finish, Gareth was counting them off and they started playing again. This time all the men chuckled at the enthusiasm. 

“You know, we already got the take we wanted.” The recording guy said. 

“I know, but I wanted to hear them play this one. It’s my favorite song.” the suit shrugged. 

“Are you really banking their audition on how well they can cover your favorite song?” Paige asked. 

“Not officially, but it helps.”

With the way the band was playing, you had a feeling this extra credit wouldn’t be a problem. Now that they had found their footing they were now taking off, looking like they were fucking flying as they ran through the song. 

A few requests later from the men, and the boys finally were able to file out of the recording booth, flushed beaming.

The men in the suits shook everyone’s hand with a promise that they will be in touch soon with an offer. 

“And offer...?” Eddie asked. “Wait does that mean-?” He looked between the suit and Paige quickly. 

Paige smiled at him. “I always had every intention of signing you, but we’ll need to talk business to decide on how we can market you all.”

Everyone looked at each other, their eyes wide. It was like it was just now occurring to them that this was really happening. That they had auditioned and were liked. 

“Oh fuck, my mom is gonna freak.” Gareth said, his eyes wide. You had a sneaking suspicion that Gareth may not have told him parents that he was doing this. 

After a few more handshakes and gathering everyone’s contact information, everyone broke down their instruments and started heading to the parking lot. 

“Holy shit.” Jeff was the first one to say anything as they stepped outside of the studio. “Did that really just happen?” 

Eddie, looking a little shell shocked, opened the back of his van and helped put Gareth’s drum set inside. It was silent for a few moments as they all put away their instruments in the back of the van. Eddie turned to look at his friends, who were all staring at their leader for confirmation that what just happened was real. 

You watched as Eddie looked at each of his band mates, his face firm for a moment before breaking out into a wide smile.

“WE DID IT!” He yelled, nearly jumping three feet in the air. The rest of the band followed suit, screaming and cheering and jumping up and down and grabbing onto each other. 

Their joy was contagious, and you watched as they celebrated, your own heart swelling with joy at seeing them succeed. Though you had only known them for a few short months, you couldn’t be more proud of them. 

Firm hands grabbed your shoulders and started shaking you, and you let out a surprised cry, gripping onto Gareth's arms. 

“What the fuck was that about in there?” He asked, laughing his ass off. “We’re in the middle of the most important audition of our lives, and you tell me to fuck off?!”

“Actually, I said fuck you.” you clarified as he shook you again. 

“Yeah, what the hell was with that look you gave me?” Zack asked. 

“You guys weren’t getting anywhere with what those guys were saying- Gareth please I’m gonna puke if you keep shaking me!” you said, and Eddie came to your rescue, pulling the drummer off you. 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you in close. “We should be thanking her. She’s our biggest fan and she knew that the best way to get us out of our heads was to piss us off.” 

“I’m just glad it worked. I was really worried that I’d just make you all mad at me instead.” you admitted. 

“We’ll forgive you this time.” Jeff laughed. 

“So now what do we do?” Zack asked. “We just wait for them to call us back?”

“Basically.” Eddie said. “This is gonna be the waiting game for a while. Paige said that they’re still setting up the real studio.”

“The real studio?!” Zack stared at Eddie with his jaw hanging open. 

“I’m sorry, was that a fucking fake studio?” Gareth stared hard at Eddie. “Were we playing for a bunch of fake men in fake suits with fake notes?!”

“No, Gareth the Great, that’s not what happened.” Eddie used his free hand to ruffle the younger kids' curls. “Paige is setting up a studio for Left Turn media around here. She said it won’t be done until next summer.” 

“Dammit, I was hoping that meant we could quit school and focus on the music like you said the first time.” Jeff laughed. 

You looked at Eddie with a raised eyebrow and he shot Jeff a look. “If I have to stick with it, so do all of you.” He said firmly. 

“Dammit.” Gareth muttered. 

A chilled gust of wind cut through you like a knife and you found yourself moving closer to Eddie to steal his warmth and he pulled you closer. 

The drive to drop everyone off back at home in reality was filled with excitement as they all discussed what had just happened. Once they all remembered that you were watching from the other side of the booth, you were bombarded with questions on what the suits had said that they couldn’t hear. You answered everything as best as you could remember, still thinking about how Paige had admitted jealousy towards you of all people. Of course, that’s not something that they would actually care about. 

“They said you all look like shit.” you said from the front seat. “But I think that was a good thing. When you guys were sucking they said you sounded like a high school marching band.” 

This critique was met with yelling and denial but you held your hands up. “Don’t look at me, I’m just a fly on the wall. They shut up pretty fast when you got your shit together though. Also the one in the tan suit liked your cover of Highway to Hell. That scored you points because it was his favorite song.” 

By the time you all entered Hawkins again, they had exhausted every last ounce of information from you. Talks of the audition had been exchanged for dreams of grandeur and what it would be like to be big time rockstars. One by one the band was dropped off, hope in their eyes with the idea that this was the start of something big. 

Once at your apartment, Eddie collapsed on the sofa face first. You smiled and went to the kitchen and brought him a beer. It took a bit of coaxing but he finally sat up and took a long drink from the bottle and smiled at you. 

“Holy shit.” he said. 

“Holy shit.” you echoed. 

“I feel like I’m on top of the world and like I just walked all the way to Mordor.” Eddie shook his head, that smile never fading. 

“Nerd.” you said affectionately, leaning against him. “You did great, Eddie. I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah?” he looked into your eyes. “I’m... I’m proud of me, too.” 

“You should be, you kicked ass.” You smiled at him. “And they’re gonna come back with a million dollar deal where you get to keep your master copies, get insane royalties, and get you set up with a world tour right away. You’re gonna chart at number one for weeks and you’ll get so popular everyone’s gonna get sick of you within two months.”

Eddie let out a laugh “Everyone’s already sick of me.”

“See? You’re already ahead of schedule. Good for you.” Eddie just laughed and shook his head. “...Not everyone is sick of you.”

Eddie’s hand moved to the back of your neck and rubbed the skin there absently, making goosebumps prickle your skin. “Most of this town is.” He said after a while. 

“Most isn’t all.” you countered. “I’m not sick of you.” 

“A brave woman. You should get a medal for dating the town freak. Most girls run away screaming by now.” He joked. 

“Pfff, you wish you were as scary as your reputation. I’ve been more intimidated by suburban moms at Family Video.”

“Sweetheart, you’re hurting my feelings.” He set his beer down and pulled you in closer. “If word gets out that I’m not the mean satanic spawn everyone thinks I am, then no one will take my music seriously.” 

“I’d make fun of you and point out that you put a lot of D&D references in your songs, but I’ll be nice.”

“I’d hope my girlfriend would be nice to me.” There was a waiver in the keyword in his sentence that you didn’t miss. 

Your heart made a weird thumping movement in your chest and you stared at him. “...Girlfriend?” You managed to choke out. 

Eddie stared at you for a moment, looking as though he had royally screwed up. You felt that arm around you twitch as he decided if he should pull away or not. 

“Yeah I uh...” he stumbled. “Thought maybe since you weren’t seeing anyone else and I wasn’t seeing anyone else-”

“I’d love to.” you said, your whole body felt like fireworks were going off. “I mean, if you’re good with it. I just assumed you’d at least keep me around as a groupie.”

Eddie doubled over laughing, his hair moving wildly as he shook his head. “Groupie implies that I’m going to share you with the band, and there is no way in hell I’m doing that.” 

“Oh good!” you let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Because, between you and me, Gareth is just a tad young for me.” 

“Not into Juniors?” Eddie asked. 

“I generally don’t date high school students at all, but there are exceptions to every rule.” you said, crawling onto his lap and straddling him. His hands moved to rest on your hips and he looked up at you. 

“Listen about that I-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“I’m not gonna judge.” you said. “I had summer school every single year of middle school and sophomore year. It doesn’t change anything.” 

Eddie kept staring at you and took a deep breath. “...I sell drugs.”

Ok, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You stared at him blankly and looked him over. “What do you sell?”

“Are you looking to make a deal, or should I be careful how I answer that?” 

“I’m just looking for honesty.” you said. 

“Weed mostly.” Eddie ran one of his hands through his hair, his rings getting tangled in the curls for a moment. He struggled to break free as he continued. “Bennies... Special K....” 

“I take it that’s not a breakfast cereal.” you said, helping him free his tresses from the heavy rings. 

“No, not exactly.” Despite his wry answer, there was quiet laughter in his voice. 

“I guess it could be worse.” you said. 

“I just want you to know who I am before getting into something you might not want.” Eddie said, his fingers messing with the fabric on your thighs now that they were free from his hair. 

“Eddie,” you cupped his jaw and looked at him. “I like you. You like me. Stop trying to get me to dump you 2 minutes after calling me your girlfriend.” 

“Shit, sorry.” He sighed. “Yeah, I’m being a total dumbass right now, aren’t I?” 

“Only a little.” You dropped your hands onto his shoulders. 

“I know I’m not exactly the biggest catch. I’m a 6th year senior who’s already dropped out once, and a lot of people here think I'm some sort of Devil worshiper.” Eddie leaned back on the couch. “I’m just saying that dating me might not be the easiest.” 

“I’m in if you are.” you said, leaning over him, letting your fingers slide down his chest slowly. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw the doubt in his eyes immediately turn into Boy Brain at your wandering digits. “Are you in?”

His eyes darted down to your hands and then to your eyes and then to your lips. It was a little funny seeing him struggle internally with what you were offering. 

Eddie blinked and snapped out of that daze for a moment before nodding. “I’m in.” 

“Good.” you leaned in and kissed him. “No take backs.”

Eddie leaned up and met your lips in another kiss, deeper than before. His arms moved from your hips to slide around your waist and pulled you closer. You moved your hands back up to wrap around his neck so you could press your body against his. 

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, losing yourselves in each other as the rest of the word seemed to disappear. When you felt his hand slowly slide up your torso, stopping just below your breast, he pulled back and looked at you. 

“Is this uh... do you mind if...?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at how surprisingly polite he was being. The two of you had made out a few times, but hadn’t exactly taken that next step yet. Not that you hadn’t wanted to, and by the way you shifted and felt that insistent tent in his pants you didn’t think he’d have any objections. 

“Do you want to take this to my room?” you asked. “You can stay here tonight, if you want.” 

Eddie’s expression shifted into a sly smile. “Normally, I’d ask you to buy me dinner first, but you did that already a few times over.”

“Well, then I guess you owe me a few times over.” you smirked. 

“Good thing we have all night.” Eddie stood up as you slipped off of his lap, taking your hand in his. 

“Think you can go all night? Sure you aren’t wiped out from your big audition?” You teased him as you led him to your room. 

“Well, according to you I’m a hotshot rock god who’s about to go on a world tour.” Eddie closed the door and followed you to your bed where you laid down. He pulled his shirt off and crawled on top of you, the pick around his neck sticking to his skin. “If I can jump around on stage for hours and satisfy a stadium of adoring fans I’m sure I can satisfy my girlfriend.” 

“I like the sound of that.” you said, before pulling him into a deep kiss. 

Outside, a layer of snow started to dust the ground, but thee two of you had no trouble keeping warm for the rest of the night. 

a/n: I had a very long think about whether or not to add smut to this story and came to the unfortunate conclusion that it felt weird to add after such a chaste story. HOWEVER, with the series coming to a close within the next 2-3 chapters, I do plan on writing a few side stories. If you all ask REALLY NICE (ie: If at least one person says it lol) I will write smut for Eddie and Reader as a one shot.

We're really coming up on the end here, folks. I really can't believe that you all have stuck around this long. It's been almost a year since I started this story, and I really can't wait to see how this all wraps up! Yes, I know I'm the author, but that means absolutely nothing.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

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@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

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[morgana-larkin]

FIRST i just wanna say im obsessed with your writing!!

second i wanted to ask for a mel x reader!! where they are at janines party (like the finale”. basically they have really big feelings for each other but neither of them (especially mel) wants to admit it. during the party reader and mel gets really drunk (like she did in the episode). some guy starts flirting with the reader and mel gets jealous and just grabs the reader and pulls her out of the party and kisses her, and takes the reader to her place. maybe leads to some smut!?? then they wake up the next morning and remember what they did, they admit they’ve had feelings for a while and maybe some softer smut at the end!!?💕💕

Hi anon! I’m so happy you love my writing! ❤️. I hope I wrote it to your liking with enough fluff and smut! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’ll either be working on the next prompt or the next chapter of worth it, I haven’t decided yet. It’s a Chessy prompt, which one would you like?

Drunk With Jealousy

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst

Words: 2.6k

“So are you going to Janine’s party?” You ask Melissa in the break room. It’s the last day of school today before summer break.

“Yep, are you?” She asks and you nod.

“I wouldn’t miss it, especially more now that I know you’re going to be there.” You tell her and you look at your food and miss the blush that forms on her cheeks.

Later that day you arrive at the party at 7:50. You wanted to be early since you could help Janine with last minute setups that always happen at parties.

“Hey y/n!” Janine exclaims

“Hey Janine!” You say. “I wanted to know if you needed help with last minute setups.” You tell her and you hear voices coming from her kitchen.

“No I don’t believe so. Barb and Melissa are already here if you want to go see them, or at least Melissa.” Janine says and you look at her confused. “We all know you have feelings for her.” She tells you and you sigh. You go to the kitchen and true enough, Barb and Melissa are there, talking about something.

“Hey guys.” You say and Melissa whips her head around to see you and she smiles.

“Hey y/n!” She says.

“Hello dear.” Barb says as Melissa looks at a loss for words. “I’m going to finish up the living room. Maybe y/n can help you out in here.” Barb says to Melissa with a wink, that you don’t see, and leaves.

You’ve had a crush on Melissa since you started there 2 years ago as a second grade teacher. She was in a serious relationship with Gary at the time so you didn’t say or do anything. Then they broke up about 6 months ago and you found out she started hooking up with the fire chief.

Melissa on the other hand was a bit different. When you first started she didn’t think much of you as you were new. She thought you were attractive but nothing more than that. It wasn’t until 6 months after you started that she started getting to know you. She started developing a crush on you close to when you were finishing your first year at Abbott. She didn’t act on it as she was still with Gary at the time. But when they broke up, Melissa thought about telling you how she felt but chickened out and started hooking up with the fire chief. She will neither confirm nor deny that she’s imagined you there instead of the fire chief, more than once.

“So what are you two doing here early?” You ask Melissa once Barb left.

“Helping to tidy up. You?”

“I was making sure she didn’t need any help with last minute preparations.” You tell her and she nods.

“I see. So are you planning to get drunk tonight?” She asks and you chuckle.

“I am yes. I took an Uber here and I’ll take one back home.” You tell her and she shakes her head. “Are you planning to get drunk tonight?”

“Maybe, we’ll see.” She says and then you hear a knock at the door.

10 minutes later people are filling the space and dancing and getting drunk. You started drinking about 5 minutes ago and you’re currently on the dance floor while Melissa is happily staring at you from the kitchen. She’s leaning against the doorframe, with a barely touched drink in hand while she’s watching you dance.

“Why don’t you go dance with her.” Barb says as she comes up beside Melissa.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because then you’d both have fun together.” Barb states like it’s obvious.

“I’d have fun but I bet she wouldn’t. She probably wouldn’t want to dance with someone my age.” Melissa says. Just then you look over to see Melissa and Barb at the kitchen entrance and Barb is motioning you over. Melissa downs her drink as she sees you coming over, stumbling a bit.

“Hey guys!!” You slur a little bit.

“Hello dear, how many drinks have you had?” Barb asks and you think for a second.

“2 or maybe 3.” You tell them and Melissa snorts.

“Here, lemme take your cup and get you a refill. I need another myself.” She says and takes your cup to get you another drink.

“Dear, you should invite Melissa to dance with you.” Barb says.

“I would love to, but I don’t know if she likes to dance.”

“I’m certain she’d love it if you invited her to dance with you.” She tells you and you smile at that. Just then Melissa returns with 2 cups full of alcohol and you take a sip before looking at her.

“What?” Melissa asks as she catches you staring.

“Wanna dance with me?” You ask her and she looks taken back.

“Uh, um, s-sure.” She stutters out and Barb pushes her a bit towards you when she doesn’t move. You grab her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. You get to a spot near the middle where you both have space to dance and you start dancing with her. Barb starts dancing near you guys at some point.

About 10 minutes later the power goes out and Melissa goes to refill your cups. When she comes back a couple minutes later, she sees you talking with another teacher and she grips the cups a bit tighter. She walks closer to you guys to hear what you’re talking about and she sees him touching your arm and laughing at whatever you said. She puts the plastic cups down at whatever is closest to her and makes a beeline for you. She’s had about 3 cups of alcohol at this point and she’s not in the right state of mind to think about anything clearly.

When she reaches you, she grabs your hand and pulls you away from the teacher. She brings you to the doorframe of Janine’s bedroom and kisses you with force. You kiss her back with just as much force and then the power comes back on. You both pull apart and look to see it back on and then Mr Johnson comes and stops in front of you.

“Hey Janine.” He says and looks past both of you. “I fixed the problem.” He says and you both turn to face the bedroom and see Janine and Gregory there looking shocked at you both. “Am I interrupting something?” He asks all 4 of you.

“No, come on y/n.” She says and grabs your hand.

“Where are we going?” You ask with a giggle.

“My place.” Is all she says and you let her lead you away. She calls an Uber and you make it back to her place in 10 minutes. As soon as you walk through the door, her lips are on yours again and she pushes you up against her door. She hoists you up and you wrap your legs around her waist and arms around her neck. She moves her mouth to your neck and begins sucking whatever spot she put her mouth on first. You put your hands in her ginger locks and gasp as she began sucking. You undo her blazer and take it off of her and roam your hands on the exposed skin. She then carries you to her bed and drops you on it then crawls on top of you. She grabs the hem of your dress then looks at you and you nod. She takes your dress off and you're left in your matching bra and underwear set.

You take her gold shirt off and roam your hands all over her back and tummy while she kisses you and cups your breasts over your bra. You moan into the kiss and she reaches behind you and unclips your bra then rips it off of you. She cups your now fully exposed breasts as she’s straddling your hips. She leans close to you as she starts playing with your nipples.

“You’re mine y/n. You’re not that other teacher’s, the one who was flirting with you, mine.” She says, voice dripping with jealousy. You buck your hips and moan as she’s playing with your nipples and the sound of her voice with so much jealousy is getting you excited. She takes her bra off and you open your eyes and see that magnificent sight. The sight of her ginger hair perfectly framing her face, her emerald eyes that are so captivating, her lips that are so kissable, her amazing breasts that you want to suck on, and her tummy that has so much skin to touch. She takes her leather pants off and she’s left in her underwear and socks.

“You’re so beautiful.” You blurt out and she smiles at you as she strokes your cheek.

“Thank you, and just so you know I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll forget about ever wanting to be with someone else.” She tells you and you quirk an eyebrow.

“What if I already do that?” You tell her and she gives you a smile then a passionate kiss. She then retrieves the strap on and goes back to the bed. She takes off her underwear and puts the strap on. She takes a nipple in her mouth and she begins sucking on it and licking it with her hot tongue and you buck your hips. She lines the strap with your entrance and inserts it slowly. You gasp out as you feel it start to fill you up and you want more, more of Melissa. She gets you to bend your knees when she’s all the way in and she starts to slowly pump in and out of you. She goes faster and faster until you’re moaning out her name. “Omg Melissa, please I need you.” You tell her and she has no idea what you’re asking for as she’s already fucking you.

“What do you need from me babygirl?” She asks and you moan.

“I need you closer to me.” You tell her and she smiles at you and brings her body down to lay on your body.

“Is that what you need from me babygirl? My body on yours.” She questions and you nod. You place your hands on her back and dig your nails into her skin and she moans as it feels good, like you’re trying to mark her so nobody else does. She keeps pumping in and out of you and she puts her hand to your clit and begins rubbing circles on it. You come not long after that but she doesn’t stop.

“Omg Me-Melissa.” You gasp out.

“I still need to come babygirl, I’m so close.” She tells you. She comes a few seconds later and you come right after her as she was still rubbing your clit.

She pulls out of you gently and removes the strap and lays down next to you. You both try and catch your breath as she gets you to cuddle her. You shimmy closer to her and lay your head on her chest and wrap an arm around her waist. You fall asleep on her and she watches you for a few seconds before she gives you a kiss on your head before falling asleep herself.

You wake up to her spooning you and you began freaking out a bit. You try to get out of her grasp and out of bed to change and leave but you slip and fall off the bed. Melissa bolts awake at the noise and crawls to the edge of the bed to find you on the ground.

“Ooowww.” You groan out.

“Are you ok? Did you get hurt at all?” She says as she helps hoist you up.

“I think just my ass… and my pride.” You tell her and she giggles. You then suddenly remember you’re completely naked and you go to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” She asks you as she watches you put your underwear on.

“I’m getting dressed, what does it look like I’m doing?” You tell her and she looks slightly upset.

“Why?”

“Well I’m not going to leave naked.” You tell her a bit annoyed.

“Why are you leaving? I mean, you- you don’t want to stay?” She asks you as you put your bra on and then look at her.

“Melissa, usually one night stands don’t stay.” You tell her and she’s looking at you confused.

“This was a one night stand?” She asks as you pick up your dress.

“Well we got drunk, and then we had sex. What would you call that?”

“I think you left out the part that I got jealous.” She tells you and you look at her confused.

“Jealous? Jealous about what?”

“The teacher who was flirting with you.”

“Why did you get jealous of that?”

“Because I like you.” She says and you drop your dress that you were holding.

“You-you like me?” You ask her and she nods. You walk towards her as she’s still in the bed. You cup her cheek and she leans into your touch and hums. “I like you too.” You tell her and she smiles softly at you.

“Really?” She asks and you smile and nod. She gets so excited that she grabs your waist and pulls you down onto the bed and you end sitting across her lap. She moves the hair out of your face and she kisses you. She gets you to lay on the bed and goes on top of you. She kisses your neck and unclips your bra. She trails down to your nipples while she takes your underwear off. She rubs your legs up and down to touch all over you.

You’re gasping and moaning underneath her and then she switches to the other nipple and you buck your hips. She inserts a finger in your entrance and you buck your hips.

“Oh, oh my god Melissa. I love you!” You scream out and she freezes the pumping.

“What did you say?” She asks and you look at her.

“I said I love you. And I do, I really do love you.” You say and she smiles at you.

“I love you too.” She tells you and kisses you before you can reply. She starts pumping in and out of you and you gasp into the kiss. She presses her thumb to your clit and brings her free hand to one of your nipples. The pleasure is quickly building and you feel yourself getting close to an orgasm.

“I’m so close, Melissa.” You tell her and you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her close to you.

“Come when you need to babygirl, I’ve got you.” She tells you and she goes faster.

You then gasp out as you come and she slows down before she pulls out.

Before she can react you stick your fingers in her and she gasps out as she falls forward. Her hands are next to your head as you pump in and out of her.

Oh, oh, y/n, yes! Don’t stop! Please!” She screams out and you pull her down to you and kiss her lips. She pulls back just a little bit and she’s breathing heavily in your ear as she’s close to coming. “Oh y/n, I’m about to…” She screams out as she comes. You pull out of her and she stays straddling your lap, trying to catch her breath. She strokes your cheek and she smiles at you. “I love you so much, babygirl.”

“I love you so much too.” You tell her and pull her down to kiss her.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

Let me know if you want to be added!

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 7]

Summary: Mary is in danger, walking into the lion's den with nothing but a pocket knife. Forrest is on his way, but will it be too late…?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, themes of abandonment, difficult childhood, threat, violence, blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Ladies, gents and enby darlings, I need to draw your attention to this stunning artwork I commissioned of Mary from the unbelievably talented @ghuleh-draws... I cannot believe how gorgeous he is and I could talk about it for hours. Please, go and show her and the art some love. Hopefully it might heal some of the trauma I've caused with both last chapter and this one... And once again, a big thank you to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading this!

Mary’s arms ached, and yet, he continued with his work. Mr. Rogers had started to lose some of his dexterity, his arthritic hands no longer able to do as much as they used to and so, Mary’s workload had as good as doubled. Furniture in need of a new lease of life had begun to pile up in the workshop, and school prevented him from making the dent in the work he needed to. Late evenings were becoming later and later, and yes, Mary’s grades had started to suffer.  

But it was becoming impossible to ignore the financial situation he found himself in, and – even at sixteen years old – the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. There was no choice here. If he wanted to move himself and his mother into a real home and out of the scummy little motel on the outskirts of town, they had found themselves in, he had to do what he had to do; with very little time to be the kid he still was...  

He’d stopped glancing at the clock on the wall of the workshop long ago, well aware midnight had come and gone. It wasn’t the ideal place to be on a Friday night, when all his friends were out enjoying their freedom. Still, he continued to sand down the wood of the dresser he was working on tonight despite the aching. If he could just get the sanding and the first layer of staining done tonight, it would be dry by the time he came back into the workshop on Sunday and he could spend at least Saturday evening with his friends like he’d planned. If one night a week was all the free time Mary would get, he’d just have to be grateful for that.  

Mary turned off the sander and swiped his hand across the top of the dresser, feeling how smooth it now was to the touch – no ridges, no scratches and totally even. Mr Rogers himself couldn’t do a better job, he was sure of it. And so, he pulled his dust mask from his face, letting it hang beneath his chin as he put the sander away and reached for the brushes and varnish.  

As he did, his phone began to vibrate on the tool bench, violently rattling against the metal. He stared at it for a moment, part of him wanting to ignore it and continue his work. Another 45 minutes or so, and he could head back to the motel and get some rest. But it vibrated incessantly, until he had no choice but to put down the brush and tin in his hand with a loud thud and answer the damn thing. 

“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver, his tone dejected. He knew who was calling at this hour. He always knew. 

“Yeah, hey kid. Me again. Look, I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to come and get her. I’ve cut her off but she won’t go.” That voice belonged to Manny, the bartender at Ace’s Taproom. He sounded as exhausted as Mary did. 

Mary sighed into the phone, rubbing at his brow as if it would relieve the pressure that had built there.  

“Can you just... I don’t know, can it wait an hour?” Just enough time to get this layer of varnish done... Then he could still head out tomorrow night, his plans intact. 

“She’s already causing a bit of a scene, kid. The sooner you can get here, the better.” His tone was apologetic – even Manny knew this burden was too much for a kid to take. But who else was there? 

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Thanks, Manny,” he relented, already untying the tool belt from around his hips with his free hand.  

“I’m sorry, man. I’ll see ya soon,” Manny consoled just before he hung up. Mary dropped his phone back onto the bench with a loud slam, running his dusty fingers over his face and taking a deep, steadying breath. This was happening too often, almost every damn night. It had to stop, but what else could he do? He’d just have to keep saving her. 

When Mary pulled into the parking lot in Mr Rogers’ old van that he had kindly gifted him – for the sole purpose of collecting and delivering the pieces of furniture they worked on at the shop, since he could no longer lift them in his old age – he took a second to himself, collecting his thoughts and preparing himself for a confrontation he knew was bound to happen.  

He got out, heading towards the sign that flickered in neon red in the shape of an ace of spades. At this hour, there were very few people on the streets, much less left in the old taproom but still, he could feel the shame creeping in.  

Inside, he spotted her immediately, slouched over the bar on her usual stool nursing an empty glass with an incredibly pale drop of amber liquid in, as if the ice that had inhabited the last dregs of her scotch had melted and watered it down. Manny stood at the other end of the bar, talking to one of the other regulars but he shot Mary a sad yet appreciative smile across the room. Mary just lifted his hand in an almost-wave, and headed over to the bar. 

“Ma?” he called out gently. She barely stirred, her head laying on her arm like she was asleep. He shook her gently, pushing her hair from her face. “Ma, come on. Let’s go.”  He pulled her shoulders into an upright position, her head lolling as she came to.  

“N-no, I’m not done yet, baby,” she slurred, her tongue as drunk as her mind. 

“Yeah you are, they’re shutting up soon. We gotta get home,” he encouraged, trying to help her down from the bar stool. Her head gained its bearings, and she caught sight of Manny at the other end of the bar, as well as the other patron, watching the saddest scene unfold in front of them both.  

“Th-this prick... Said he wouldn’t serve me no more,” she rambled, pointing at Manny with an arm too weak to stay elevated. “What you starin’ at, huh?”  

“Ma, come on... Let’s just go, yeah?” Mary’s cheeks were heating up with embarrassment.  

“Don’t need your pity, dickhead!” she shouted, still slurring as if her tongue were too big for her mouth.  

“Go home,” he told her firmly, trying not to rise to her insults. She flipped him off, while Mary wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and hoisted her to her feet, slowly taking her outside.  

As soon as the door shut behind them, his mum pushed Mary from under her and tried to stand on her own two feet, stumbling a little in the process. But she found her footing, while Mary stayed close enough to catch her if she did fall.  

“Idiot boy, ruining my fun,” she mumbled. That was like a knife to the chest... 

“Either me or the cops, Ma,” he sighed. “Let’s just get home.” 

“Home? HA!” she hollered, “Where’s that then?” Mary just rolled his eyes, taking her arm gently and guiding her back in the direction of the van. Her walking reminded him of a newborn foal, so unsteady as she took one step at a time and yet she tried to get him off her the whole way, unwilling to admit she needed help.  

“Ma, this has gotta stop. This ain’t healthy...” he began, starting a losing battle. She stopped and slapped her hands down by her sides.  

“Don’t start with me, Mary,” she warned, but he was determined. 

“You’re drinking our savings, Ma! How are we ever gonna get outta that motel when you’re spending it faster than I can make it?” He raised his voice, his frustration evident.  

“You said you were working overtime!” she argued, as if that were any real argument at all. Mary was a 16 year old boy; his only job should be a few hours a week at most, if at all. Not every hour he could squeeze in, and certainly not to pay for her alcoholism.  

“Yeah, to get us a new place! But I can’t make enough if you’re just gonna spend it. Do I have to stop giving you money for you to stop? That’s for groceries, Ma. For shit you need!”  

“Don’t you curse at your mother, boy...” she practically growled. 

“Maybe if you acted like my mother-” It was a low blow, but not entirely unwarranted. His mother interrupted him with a sharp slap to his cheek, the suddenness stunning Mary into silence. His cheek stung, but his heart even more so. She’d never raised a hand to him before.  

“M-Mary...” she stuttered, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as the realisation sank in that she’d just slapped her son. Her little boy... Mary took a step back as she reached for him, letting her stumble and regain her balance again. “I’m sorry...” She tried to grab at him, to hold him and stroke his hair and desperately apologise but he shoved her off, and she stumbled to the ground in a heap. 

“I’m done. Get yourself home, Ma.” He turned quickly back to his van, his hands shaking with emotion he tried to hold back. His keys jangled in his hands as he unlocked the door with the press of a button, and he climbed into the seat with a slam of the door.  

His cheek still stung with the force of her slap, his eyes welling up as he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth could have splintered. He squeezed his eyes shut and hit his head back against the plush cushion of the headrest several times as he slapped at the edge of the steering wheel, releasing all of his hurt, his anger in an outburst he contained to the cabin of the van now that he was alone.  

Taking some deep breaths, he calmed himself to a point where he could wipe the fresh tears on his cheeks and shoved his keys into the ignition. But he paused before he turned them, the engine staying dormant, and glanced down into his wing mirror only to see his mother still in a heap on the floor. Her shoulders shook violently, her sobs audible even from here in the cab. His eyes lingered there, unable to tear them away as his chest ached. She looked so helpless, so utterly destroyed by what she’d done but more so, what had been done to her... 

“God fucking damnit,” Mary muttered, climbing back out of the van and walking back over to her with caution. Of course he did... How could he leave her? His own mother, lying on the cold tarmac of a parking lot, in this state? Mary was all she had now, their shitty little apartment snatched from them, abandoned once again by anyone and everyone. For years it had always been Mary and her, against the world – that couldn’t change now, when he was all she had left.  

Without a word, he lifted her again, her sobs quietening when she felt his hands under her arms and realised he’d come back for her. Her expression changed from anguish to surprise with an essence of gratitude and apology, allowing her broken son to pick up the pieces as he helped her back into the van. He took great care with every move, gently letting her get comfortable as he leaned over to strap the seatbelt across her, laying her head against the seat while she sobbed silently and hiccupped from time to time.  

As he drove her home, she reached for the radio to flick it on, getting comfortable in the seat and using the sound to try and distract from the situation the pair of them found themselves in. Mary stayed quiet the whole time, keeping a watchful eye on his mother as she seemed to drift between sleep and reality now she was bundled into a warm and comfy seat. 

“You used to tell me... I would hear you on there someday,” she slurred as they got closer to the edge of town, pointing weakly at the radio with a fond but weary smile. “My boy, ‘the rock star’,” she giggled. Mary looked ahead at the road, trying not to entertain the drunk rambles nor the dreams he’d squashed for himself with the weight of his responsibility. His one and only goal right now was to get them back on their feet – and even that felt unattainable. 

Back at the motel, he watched his mother struggle with her dexterity to fit the key into their room door. Eventually, he gently took the keys from her and let them both inside, guiding her as had become their routine. He let her sit on the bed – the one they now had to share under the circumstances – and crouched at her feet to take her shoes off for her, placing them one by one on the floor.  

He helped her take off her jacket, laying her down gently on the pillow while she curled in on herself in a foetal position. Mary headed into the bathroom with an empty glass, filling it with tap water and bringing it back out to his mother’s side of the bed. He crouched down next to her, urging her to drink. She did, small sips at a time. 

“Ma, please... you gotta get better. We need to get outta here,” he said softly.  

“I was getting better...” she sniffled.  

“I know, Ma. You can get better again,” he encouraged, but there was a small part of him that worried she never would. “You just gotta move on from-” 

“Stop,” she begged. “I don’t wanna hear it...” But Mary persisted. She had to hear him. 

“You can’t let this shit stop you. You’re stronger than that. We’ve been through worse,” he insisted. Her head shot up from the pillow, her gaze stoney and angry.  

“You have no idea, Mary... What it’s like to have the world promised to you and then ripped out from under you.” She spoke through gritted teeth. 

“You’re worth a lot more than that fuckin-” 

“Enough!” she yelled, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We could have had everything, if you had just...” 

“Me?” Mary interrupted, instantly offended at her accusation. “What the fuck did I do?” 

“Your attitude, Mary,” she shot her glare back at him. “Always fucking attitude.” 

There was no chance she was blaming him for all this... This was neither his, nor his mother’s fault. There was someone to blame, but in their absence the only person close enough to his mother was Mary, and the only person she could lash out at was him. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying, and yet, it still stung all the same.  

“Go to sleep,” he told her, his voice hardened and stern as if he were the adult, and she the child. “You’re just talking pure shit now. It ain’t my fault he lied to you.” 

“He didn’t lie-” 

“He did, Ma. He lied to you, and everyone else. He’s a piece of shit like everyone else in this washed up town!” Mary raised his voice, his anger at every injustice he faced from everyone around him mounting higher and higher. “I’m fucking sick of it, here! I wanna get us out, but you’re too busy drinking every dime I fucking make to notice that I’m fucking drowning!” 

Mary stood up suddenly, smacking at the shitty motel phone on the dresser beside the bed. His mother sat up, steadying herself from the headrush and the room spinning around her.  

“I’m doing my best, Mary!” she yelled.  

“Are you? Cause your best was getting clean eight months ago. Your best was no alcohol, getting yourself a job, being a normal fucking Mom! But now you’re back here, and it’s me who’s gotta look after you!”  

“I-I... I have an addiction, it’s not that easy-” 

“You’re not even trying! You’ve fucking given up, and why? Just ‘cause some fuckhead promised you the world with a cherry on top and it turns out, he was lying like every other dickhead?” Mary was going too far, but with a lack of a proper outlet, being forced to grow up quickly and fend for the both of them, every bottled up thought and emotion was spilling from him without restriction. 

His mother sat on the bed, watching her son thread his fingers through his hair in frustration and take some deep breaths to try and steady him – but they weren’t working.  

“Y’know what? Fuck this. You call me when you decide to be a mother again.”  

And with that, Mary grabbed his keys and stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door with so much force that the cheap painting on the wall fell and shattered behind him.  

Despite picking up his keys, he bypassed the van and kept walking, his legs taking him further into town without a destination in mind. He’d roam aimlessly if he needed to, but he needed to let off some damn steam, to expel some of this fucking rage that he’d imprisoned for too long.  

As he went, he found himself kicking over trashcans, the metal rattling along the sidewalk. He used his keys to scratch the sides of cars he stomped past – the expensive ones, mostly. The ones owned by people in this town with too much money, greedy fat cats with more of it than sense. On his keys, he had a swiss army knife keychain, and one particular car – a very expensive black SUV – he shoved the blade attachment into the tyre deep enough that it deflated, high pitched whistle getting quieter and quieter as he walked further into town.  

By the time he was in the town centre, he was starting to see a few people out and about, shoving shoulder to shoulder into them with a look of pure thunder on his face. Most people simply yelled out at him to watch where he was going, or called him a punk or other variations of ‘delinquent’.  

‘Yeah’, Mary thought, ‘that’s what you all fucking think of me’. A town full of people who only knew him for his namesake – a deadbeat father and a drunken mother. Why wouldn’t Mary follow suit? If people thought that of him already, maybe he should just live up to the expectations; become the stereotype and stop giving a shit about anyone and everyone around him. 

Why should he try anymore? 

But he shoved at the wrong shoulder outside a pool hall, two kids Mary knew as seniors from his high school stood outside with cigarettes in one hand and beer bottles gained with fake IDs in another. 

Corbin and Asher.  

 “Hey! Hey, fuckface!” Mary heard from behind him. He kept walking, too angry to give a fuck. But they followed. “Mary fuckin’ Goore, huh? You piece of shit, think you can slam into me and walk the fuck away?”  

Mary didn’t even look back, but they caught up...  

Corbin grabbed the back of his jacket and slammed him face first up against the shutters of a closed store, the metal rattling under the force. In an instant, he spun Mary around, slamming him again and holding him there.  

“You got a problem, kid?” he asked, cocky and ready for a fight. Mary struggled against his hold, trying to shove at his arms and kick at his shins.  

“Get the fuck off me, man,” he yelled. “You were in the way.” Corbin laughed condescendingly, looking back at Asher who stood there with both of their beers in his hands smirking the whole time.  

“This kid thinks he owns the sidewalk, Ash. From what I’ve heard, he belongs in the fucking gutter...” Corbin landed a fist to Mary’s gut, Mary folding up like a ball of paper as he coughed. “Maybe we’ll put him there.” 

He dragged Mary by his jacket and threw him to the ground, watching him roll around in pain until he tried to get up. Corbin raised his foot as if he were about to stomp on him, but Mary rolled to the side just in time to avoid it and instead reached out and pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground with a loud thud too.  

Corbin was older, heavier, but Mary was younger and nimble – quickly he straddled Corbin and started throwing punches, every ounce of anger inside him forcing his fists into Corbin’s face who was yelling at Asher to do something, to stop standing around like a fucking moron and get this ‘little shit’ off him before he ‘beat the crap outta him’. 

Before Asher could get close, Mary was being dragged off Corbin by someone else – someone in blue. Before he knew it he was being shoved against the hood of a car, his wrists clamped together in cold metal rings as the cop who’d stumbled on the scene slapped the handcuffs on him. His partner restrained Corbin just the same, slamming him on the other side of the hood.  

One of them called for another car, unwilling to shove both Mary and Corbin into the back of the same cop car lest they kill each other on their way to the station, but Mary was thrown in first, and taken in for processing.  

“Mary Goore, huh?” was the welcome he got when escorted inside by the Chief, sat behind the processing desk on a late shift. “Was only a matter of time,” he scoffed. Mary’s blood boiled at that. A few minutes later, as Mary was getting processed, another cop rolled in with Corbin in handcuffs. Immediately, Mary tried to lunge towards him, both of them hurling insults at each other while restrained.  

“Pembrook, get this kid in a fuckin’ cell to cool off!” the Chief yelled at the officer restraining Mary, who did as instructed and hauled him off to a solitary cell.  

“No, no wait! I get a phone call!” Mary said, running back up to the locked door as the officer shut it behind him.  

“You’ll get your phone call when you calm down, kid,” the officer shouted back through the door. It was at least another hour before Mary got his phone call...  

Not that it did him any good. He tried both his mother’s cell, and their motel phone – no answer. Perhaps he’d fucked up the phone when he smacked it off the side table, but still, his mother wasn’t answering her cell, probably passed out for the night.  

Mary was left alone, sat in a solitary cell with fresh bruises and cuts, until the sun had long since risen. He curled up on the bench at the back of the cell, cold and metal and uncomfortable, and barely got a wink of sleep. 

“Goore, let’s go,” he heard through the hatch in the door at God knows what time. He rolled over and sat upright, wiping the exhaustion from his face as the officer – a new one, only having just started his shift – opened the cell door. Behind him, was perhaps the only person Mary could really depend on at all. 

Forrest.  

“You can collect your things from the registration desk. Don’t find yourself back here again, kid. You got lucky, this time...”  

Mary just nodded meekly as the officer turned and walked off, the door wide open and Forrest stood there looking at him with an expression of nothing but worry.  

“Corbin got out last night, heard you were still in here. Got my parents to pull some strings,” he explained with a shrug. “Shit, Mare, you alright?”  

Forrest stepped into the cell and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders, inspecting him. Mary just nodded again, both too exhausted and too somber to form actual words.  

“I’m gonna kick Corbin’s fuckin’ ass for this,” he grumbled. “I’ll set his eyebrows on fire in chem. He’s the worst fuckin’ lab partner anyway.” Mary huffed out a barely-there laugh at that, his shoulders shaking in Forrest’s hands.  

Forrest was a senior, like Corbin and Asher. He knew they had a reputation, always getting into shit like this but he never thought he’d see Mary heading down the same path. He was the only one who saw what Mary went through, the work he put in at the workshop, the nights he spent nursing his alcoholic mother. He’d taken him under his wing a little, made him one of the gang and tried to offer him some respite from the slurry of shit he found himself in.  

Getting the money from his parents to bail Mary out wasn’t difficult; they threw money at him like it was bird seed on the steps of a cathedral, but it was for that reason he knew loneliness just as much as Mary. On opposite ends of the spectrum financially but somehow, they shared a common ground in just how shitty their relationships with their parents were.  

It shouldn’t have been him who got Mary out of here. It didn’t matter to him who started the damn fight or why; Mary had been through enough as it was, and an outburst like this was simply a ticking time bomb. What bothered Forrest more than anything, was knowing it had to be him walking him out of that police station and not the one person Mary loved most in this world, the one who was supposed to love, protect and care for him. 

This wasn’t the last time he would collect Mary from a cell; there were more outbursts to come, more frustrations and stupid mistakes but if he had to, Forrest would be there for them all. He’d never abandon this kid who cared so deeply about people and the injustices they would face. Mary could have his rebellious phase, get it out of his system – hell, Forrest certainly did, and he wasn’t sure he was even out of it yet. But he needed someone to lean on, someone to reign him in when he started to go too far.  

That night was Mary’s rock bottom, but Forrest jumped down into the pit with him, armed with ropes and twigs, ready to build a ladder to get them both out.  

You were pacing outside the convenience store, desperately calling Forrest with your groceries in one hand, cell phone pressed tightly to your ear in the other. He didn’t pick up the first time, probably ignoring a number he didn’t know but you were getting more and more desperate. The second time you dialled, he picked up after a few rings. 

“Yello?” he answered, chipper and riding off the high of a show well played.  

“Forrest?! Oh my god, thank fuck for that. Listen, it’s me... Mary gave me your number,” you rushed out, barely intelligible at the speed you spoke.  

“Duchess?” he questioned, using the nickname the boys had seemed to settle on when they realised you weren’t going to castrate Jed for creating it. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Mary’s... I don’t know, he said to call you! I’m at the store, he told me not to come back. Something’s wrong, Forrest... He said it wasn’t safe?” you panicked.  

“Shit...” he muttered. You heard scrambling on the end of the line, like he was getting up and grabbing a few things around him and stuffing them into a backpack. “Listen to me, you don’t go back to that apartment, okay? I’ll be there soon, one of us will call you when it’s safe. Just stay there.” 

“Forrest what’s going on?” Your voice had raised an octave in pitch, your cheeks burning from holding back tears.  

“Those guys at the bar... They know him, they’ve hated him for years and they threatened him. He just needs some back up, it’ll be alright. Just stay, okay? Promise me.” 

You wanted to promise that, but how could you stay there and not try to help Mary? If those guys had turned up at his apartment, he was outnumbered and if nothing else you could act as a distraction. You stayed quiet for a beat too long, and Forrest stopped rustling about his apartment needing to hear confirmation. He couldn’t be worrying about you too when his best friend was in danger. 

“Duchess?” he yelled into the phone.  

“Y-yeah, yeah... Sorry. I’ll stay,” you told him, still unsure if you were telling the truth.  

“Good, just wait for the call. He’ll be fine,” he assured, but the panic in his voice betrayed him too. He hung up without another word, leaving you stood in the street in the early hours of the morning, absolutely petrified for your boyfriend...  

Could you really stay put when he was just a few blocks away? When there was potentially something you could do to help him? You supposed you’d just have to... 

The door creaked as it slowly swung open, betraying Mary right from the start. If someone was in his apartment still, they’d have heard that... No doubt about it. And so, his grip on the swiss army knife tightened, and the steps he took became slower, steadier so he’d be able to plant his feet should he be ambushed.  

Stepping into his apartment, it was still dark. No lights had been turned on, just the orange glow from the street lamps outside streaming in through the windows. He listened out for any sign of movement, but nothing. To his left, nobody in the kitchen... But things were out of place, to put it lightly. Drawers hung open, cupboard doors almost ripped from their hinges. Cutlery, food and crockery lay strewn about the floor and countertops, like it had been ransacked.  

Mary proceeded with caution, noticing that the floor of his apartment was covered in his things... Records, clothes, blankets and pillows; even his tatty little guitar was on the ground in the middle of the floor, the neck broken and strings snapped. He wasn’t sure whether to feel rage or despair, but both hit him like a freight train.  

Slowly, he stepped a little further to peer around the corner that led to the bedroom and bathroom to his right, and then to his left, around the partition between the kitchen and living space. That’s when he noticed.  

A figure, sat on his couch with their back to him. He knew who it was immediately. 

Mary planted his feet, readjusting his grip on the blade in his hand. He was preparing himself for any sudden movement, every single one of his senses heightened. Should he be ambushed from another direction, he was ready.  

“Where is she?” The shadow asked, their voice low and eerily calm. Mary stood his ground; he was in no mood for games. 

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he asked, ignoring their question. The figure straightened up where they sat, no longer hunching forwards as they studied something on the coffee table. They took a deep breath, before answering with another question. 

“Where... is my daughter?” The shadow turned their head towards where Mary stood, between the outer wall of his bathroom and the entryway to his kitchen. The street lighting gave just enough of itself to illuminate the stark features of the man in front of him, the hardened glare pointed his way.  

The Mayor. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mary lied, without much conviction at all but he already knew there was no point. But he wasn’t giving him any information. He could go fuck himself. 

The Mayor cracked a grin; a sadistic little grin, as if he were some kind of comic book villain spoiling for a fight. “Now I know that ain’t true, so you’re gonna tell me where she is, I’m gonna go get her, and I’m gonna deal with you later.”  

“I don't know where she is,” Mary spat, his resentment and hatred for this snake barely contained. 

The Mayor sighed dramatically, slapping his hands to his knees and standing up. He turned towards Mary then, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, top button undone now he was technically off the clock. But he still wore his expensive suit, save for tie and blazer, as if it would intimidate Mary somehow.  

“Should have expected this from you, Mary,” he chuckled, “Defiance. Attitude. Even coming in here with a damn weapon.” He nodded towards the swiss army knife in Mary’s ever tightening grip.  

“Someone broke into my apartment. Gotta defend myself,” he stated plainly.  

“Nah,” the Mayor scoffed, “it was only a matter of time before you got yourself in trouble again. Cops of this town were always too good to you, lettin’ you off too easy.” 

As if Mary had ever done anything to hurt anybody... Sure he’d been picked up a handful of times for graffiti, or destruction of public property, that one fight with Corbin and Asher – which technically, he didn’t start... But Mary stayed quiet, staring at the threat in front of him just waiting for him to try something. 

“You know,” he started, turning back to the coffee table, “maybe I’m forgetting my manners, huh? Maybe we should catch up first?” He bent down, picking something up from the table and turning back. In his hands, was the photo frame Mary kept on his windowsill...  

The Mayor looked down at it, studying it with a smirk. “She always was a looker, huh? How’s she doing these days?” 

Mary saw red, desperately fighting every instinct in his body that wanted nothing more than to tear into this vile man, rip him limb from limb and cast him to the wolves. His already injured knuckles turned white, the wounds splitting back open as his fists balled up tighter, the handle of the blade in his right hand digging painfully into his palm. But he stayed grounded. He would not make the first move. 

“Get the fuck outta my apartment,” Mary warned. The Mayor was testing his patience, and it had already snapped once tonight.  

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where my daughter is.” His smirk dropped, along with the frame in his hands. He disregarded it without a care in the world, letting the glass crack as it hit the ground with a thud. Mary winced at the sound. 

“Wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” he lied. He was adamant he would never tell him where you were, never give you up if he beat him into a pile of broken bones. You’d been free of him for less than a week, but already you’d come out of your shell so much, found yourself. How could he ever put you back in the box they’d kept you in all those years? 

“Do you think you’re good for my daughter, hm?” the Mayor took a step closer, “You think she’d want someone like you?”  

Mary ignored him. He had to. This was just a manipulation tactic, something to throw him off and degrade him like everybody always had.  

“You’re the scum of this town, Goore. Everybody knows it.” He stepped closer again, circling Mary with slow and calculated steps like a panther on the hunt. “You, and your drunken whore of a mother, your deadbeat father... You were fucking destined for the gutter.”  

Mary watched him as he came to stand in front of him again, just a little taller than Mary but puffing his chest out as if to intimidate him. Mary stayed painfully still, grinding his teeth in rage. One wrong move, he was poised and ready to defend himself.  

“You think you know me... You don’t know shit,” he taunted, “But I know you...” 

“Oh-ho-ho," the Mayor laughed, “You do, do you? This should be good.” 

“Yeah... I know you’re a filthy letch who takes everything from good, honest people and lines his pockets with it.” Mary was getting cocky now, arching his eyebrow and tilting his chin up in defiance as a sadistic little smile crossed his split lip. “I know you used to be a good guy, once upon a time. Beautiful family, on top of the world...”  

The Mayor barely reacted, pushing his tongue into his cheek and looking down at Mary with the same arrogance he always exuded.  

“I know you trapped your perfect little wife up in your ivory fuckin’ tower while you flashed your shit about town like a damn Kennedy brother...” 

The Mayor’s eyes darkened. Now Mary was getting to him. 

“I know you trained your precious little girl like a damn puppy her whole life, only to have her grow up to resent every little fuckin’ thing about you...”  

Mary was about to cross a line. He was about to say something just to get a rise out of him, just to make him snap. He’d never talk about you like this and mean it, but for all the pain and misery this man had caused people through the years, he deserved something that cut him to the bone. 

“You repelled her so much that she crawled out of her pink, frilly cage... and spread her fuckin’ legs to the town scum...” Mary laughed, smug and satisfied when he saw the way the Mayor’s hands tightened around his biceps, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  

Mary took a step closer to him – a stupid move, but he was oozing cockiness, no longer thinking clearly and only wanting to cause as much fucking damage to this prick’s ego as he damn well could. He knew it would turn his stomach to know his daughter was friends with Mary, let alone willingly fucking him.  

Mary looked the Mayor up and down, smirking with barely contained glee as he leaned into him to deliver the final blow. 

“She calls me daddy now...” he whispered, staring directly into his eyes with an impish sparkle in his own.  

The Mayor’s eyes raked over Mary, sizing him up, looking him up and down while he chewed on his cheek, the disgust on his face twisting and morphing into a vile expression of hatred. Before Mary knew what was happening, the blade in his fist was knocked clear across the room, his balance thrown off as two large hands wrapped around his throat. He was spun around and pushed backwards into the small kitchen space, tripping over the mess left there as he tried desperately to fight the power of the much older, much bigger man attacking him.  

Soon enough his lower back was being slammed into the edge of a counter, the thumbs of the hands around his throat pressing down on his airways while Mary did what he could to fight back, clawing and scratching at the Mayor. 

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, spots starting to flicker across his vision as that murderous glare stared back at him. The thought briefly crossed Mary’s mind that he might not stop... Once he was rendered unconscious, there was nothing to stop him from taking the life he’d worked so hard to rebuild over and over again away from him. Just as he’d found a semblance of happiness, too... The Mayor was going to take it all away from him. Again. 

The Mayor’s grip adjusted to just one hand tightening around his throat, the other pulling back and coming crashing down on Mary’s cheek with a blow that reopened old wounds of the evening. Mary was going to lose this fight, there was no contest. Blow after blow landed to his face as the Mayor squeezed the life out of him... 

“Daddy!”  

The Mayor snapped out of his trance, his head whipping behind him with his fist pulled back in preparation for another strike, the other still choking Mary. You looked on in pure horror at what you’d walked into... You had expected to come back to a dangerous situation, but not one that included the attempted murder of your boyfriend at the hands of your own father.  

With the Mayor’s attention on you, however brief, Mary took advantage and lifted his foot to push at the Mayor’s hip quickly, twisting him just enough that he lost his grip on him, and Mary fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and spluttering as the oxygen rushed back into his lungs. It was all too much all at once, the sudden rush of blood back to his head and the pain of the punches hitting him at the same time and he rolled and writhed on the floor as he tried to regain control of his body. But the spasms continued, and he could barely see nor hear anything while he squirmed at the Mayor’s feet.  

You rushed into the kitchen, attempting to bypass your father and to immediately help Mary but you were stopped, a hand wrapped tightly around your bicep and attempting to drag you away. Of course, you fought back, smacking at your father’s chest and kicking at him as if it would help.  

“Let go! Get the fuck off of me! GET OFF!” you screamed over and over, hoping someone might hear from another apartment and come to your aid. 

“You forget your place, girl,” your father snarled, barely affected by you beating at him. You managed to wrench your arm free of his grip and take a step back, your father’s attention on you and you alone while Mary still coughed on the floor, almost vomiting with the way his chest heaved.  

“If you think it’s with you, you’re sorely fucking mistaken,” you growled. “What the hell are you doing?”  

“Teaching this little fucker a lesson in manners,” he spat, pointing down at Mary who spat a glob of red tinted spit to the floor – a biproduct of the hits to the face he had taken. He’d regained enough composure to sit himself upright against the cupboard, letting his head hit the wood as he glared up at your father, chest still heaving. 

Only now did your father take a good look at you, seeing how different you looked in a short denim skirt, a fishnet top, the make-up you’d chosen to wear over what you had always been told to. Once again, his expression clouded into disgust. 

“What has he done to you?” he asked, looking you up and down.  

“Him? You think I’d jump from a life where I’m controlled by a man into another one?” you shrieked. Your father pretended not to hear you, instead leaning down to quickly grab Mary by his shirt and heave him to his feet, holding him against the cabinets again. Mary didn’t fight back; he couldn’t. He was still in too much pain, his body not responding to his commands.  

“You take my daughter from me, and dress her up like one of your scummy little whores?” he screamed into Mary’s face while all he could do was wince and squeeze his eyes shut, trying to steady the swimming sensation in his head.  

You rushed towards them, pushing at your father until you could weave yourself between the two of them. Mary barely kept himself upright against the counter, but you reached a hand behind you anyway, securing it in his and holding it tightly against your back.  

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” you warned.  

“You wanna protect this little shit? Why? You think you love him?” your father mocked, scoffing at the mere thought of it. “I couldn’t quite believe it when I finally got it out of your mother... As soon as she told me she saw you get into a shitty black van, I fucking knew... I thought ‘no, no way my little girl is that fucking stupid’. Of all the decent guys in this town, you choose this?” 

The anger you felt as he berated you, insulting not only Mary but you and your intelligence too... You had no time to be angry at your mother, knowing what your father was like and how he could manipulate anybody to get what he wanted out of them. All of your energy was directed into protecting Mary, standing between him and your father and proving to them both you weren’t backing down. Gone were the days of obeying and staying in your lane. If Mary had taught you anything in your short time together, it was that you could be yourself and stand up for what you believe in unapologetically. And you believed in Mary... 

“He’s a better man than you give him credit for,” you seethed, squeezing his hand behind your back. Your father laughed maniacally at you, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.  

“Really? This little shit? If you think he’s any good for you, you’re dumber than I ever imagined. You come from a good, respectable family. This whole fucking town knows me, loves me, and all I ever did was give you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter... But you throw it back in my face?” he argued, throwing his hands around as he yelled. But you stood your ground. “You know where he comes from, right? Deadbeat fucking dad who drank and gambled his money away. A whore of a mother who also drank herself into a permanent hospital bed?” 

“You’d... know all about that, w-wouldn't you?” Mary struggled to speak through laboured breaths from behind you, hunched over but pushing up on the counter to stand upright.  

Your father’s head snapped back to glare at Mary. “Excuse me?” 

You felt a change in the air, notably in your father’s demeanour. His eyes had widened, and he seemed to freeze in place, waiting for Mary to speak again while he caught his breath and used his strength to stand properly behind you. He kept hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly but once he stood up, he used his free hand to steady himself on your waist; both protectively and for stability.  

“You... you think you have a right to judge... my mother? After what you did?” he asked rhetorically, which only confused you. Your brow creased and you turned your head to look back at Mary.  

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He tore his eyes from your father to glance at you, offering you a look of apology laced with fear as if he were apologising for what you were about to hear... When he looked back at your father, your eyes followed to see that same wide-eyed expression. “What did you do?” 

“You gonna tell her, or should I?” Mary’s voice was a warning, but still, your father remained silent. If he wasn’t going to tell you what the hell was going on, you’d just let Mary. Someone needed to say something, and quickly, before you lost your cool again.  

“Tell me,” you ordered them both, but still you directed your glare at your father.  

“Yeah why don’t we tell her, hm?” Mary’s voice had grown a little stronger, recovered from the hands that had squeezed his neck for almost too long. Adrenaline was kicking in, numbing the pain in his head from the beatings and giving him the strength to get angry, to challenge the Grand High Mayor.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he defied. Mary just scoffed.  

“You tricked my mother, and took everything from her...” he spat. You looked back at Mary, confused and shocked. Your father just stood in silence, glaring.  

“How?” you asked, “Tell me everything. Now.” 

“You won’t like this...” he warned, never breaking eye contact to look at you.  

“I don’t fucking care, Mary. Tell me.” 

He took a moment, forcing a steadying breath to calm the rising nerves. He’d never wanted you to hear this, fearing it might just devastate you to know who exactly your father was, the kind of man he could be, and what he was capable of. You hadn’t needed to find this out, but this had all gone too far. He wanted nothing more than to pull the rug from under the Mayor’s feet, to make sure he knew that Mary knew everything, that he needed to be very fucking careful this secret never got out. Mary had him in checkmate, holding the secret in until someone came along who would hear him and believe him – someone with a higher standing in the town than himself and his friends.  

“My mom got clean when I was 15,” he began, “She’d stopped drinking, got herself a job that could keep us going while I was in school, and still working for Mr. Rogers on the weekends. We were living out in the Oak Ridge apartment complexes, and we were doing alright.” 

“Then in came a man in a dapper suit with a briefcase and a fuckin’ God complex, who convinced the landlords to sell up so he could flatten the building and build office blocks instead. He fucked over all the residents, all hard-working people, by flashing compensation to the landlords who just handed out eviction notices. But my mom owned our shitty little apartment outright. She’d just managed to club together the money for the deposit, to get herself a mortgage and have a place that was just ours. She wanted stability, and she didn’t want to sell up. She was the last one who refused...”  

Your father’s eye twitched as he readjusted his stance, like suddenly he was incredibly uncomfortable. “You don’t actually believe this fucking scumbag, do you?” he asked you, interrupting Mary.  

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and miraculously, he did just that.  

“So he... He charmed her. He bought her pretty things, took her to fancy places out of town, told her everything she’d ever wanted to hear... He told her he loved her,” Mary’s voice cracked at that, at the hurt of somebody lying to his mother when that had been all she’d ever wanted, “He seduced her, and told her he’d run away with her and give her the life she’d always wanted with him... if she’d just... sign on the dotted line...”  

You felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he taken advantage of Mary’s mom, their situation, all for his own gain, but he’d cheated on your mother, gone behind his own family’s back to manipulate a damaged but healing woman and ruin her life. Your head span with overwhelm, purely disgusted by what you were hearing. You knew your father wasn’t a good man, but you had no idea he was such a monster... 

“When she signed the deed over, he dropped her and left us both on the streets. He left us with nothing; no money, no home. We had to move into the Quartz motel, and she was heartbroken. She started drinking again, more and more because of what YOU did,” Mary snarled at him, pointing his finger as he raised his voice. “She was too depressed to get back up again, and I had to pick up the pieces. I had to quit school, work full time and give everything up when I was fucking 16 years old just to keep us afloat. She never recovered, and it didn’t matter when I got us this shitty little apartment and finally moved us outta the Quartz, her body gave up.” 

Mary pushed you to one side in his rage and stepped up to your father. You stumbled and caught yourself on the counter, too stunned to do or say anything about it as the truth sunk in. Mary got in his face again, pointing his finger directly at him and screamed, “It’s because of YOU she almost fuckin’ DIED. You piece of SHIT! YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HER!” Mary slapped his hand against your father’s chest, who just stood there and took it, glaring at Mary as if he were still that same kid.  

You shook yourself from your own little trance and pulled Mary back to you by his arm, turning your back on your father and holding Mary’s cheeks to soothe him, to calm him down as he broke down at the truth. Mary stood there and sobbed, letting you wipe the tears as you shushed him, whispering apologies to him as if any of this had been your fault. But your heart broke for him...  

How could your father have ever been that callous? You thought you’d known him, that he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it seemed he was. You were aware he leaned more towards right wing politics, and no, you didn’t agree with him. And you’d known some of his associates were bent and unethical in their ways, but you’d never known he was as corrupt as Mary was telling you. All those whiffs of under the table deals you’d gotten over the years were true. He was a crook... A liar, a cheat, and abusive fucking monster.  

“You don’t seriously believe this shit, Pumpkin?” he asked, using a damn pet name of all things to try and get you back on side. You span around to glower at him, rage bubbling up inside you. 

“Don’t you fucking ‘Pumpkin’ me, you arrogant letch!” you screamed. “That explains why you kept disappearing all the damn time, spending your evenings and weekends anywhere but at home. I guess now I fucking know where you went... You missed half of my sweet sixteen, for fuck’s sake! Sped off right after the cake and didn’t come home for two days. Is that where you went? Is that where you always went? To take advantage of a decent woman who only wanted to be loved? To give her kid the BEST FUCKING LIFE POSSIBLE!?”  

“I never went anywhere near his slut of a mother!” he yelled back. 

“Oh, please!” Mary interjected, “You fucked her, and then you fucked her over.” 

“You LIAR!” Your father lunged at Mary again but you stopped him, forcing him back with a push that took all of your strength, all of your anger. He didn’t try it again, instead focussing his anger on you now. 

“You gonna let him manipulate you like this? Lie to you? He’s just trying to come between us, Pumpkin, to keep you away from me. He'll fucking use you and dump you for the next girl who shows him any attention. You’re just some petty fucking revenge he’s taking out on me... He’s USING YOU!” 

“Sounds more like something you’d do...” you growled at him. You had made your choice already, long before tonight. Your place was at Mary’s side, now more so than ever. Fucking revenge. As if Mary would have lied to you all this time... There was no way? 

Your father straightened himself up, dusting his shirt off as if there were something on it, but it gave him a moment to collect himself, to make himself seem the prim and proper one.  

“If you choose to believe his lies and stay with him, then that’s your stupid choice,” he told you as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, not even affording you the decency of eye contact. “But know this; you choose him, and that’s it. You will have nothing. No money, no home, no future. I’ll make sure neither of you work in this town. I will cut you off completely.”  

He thought he had the upper hand, that his words would scare you into submission and force you to come home with him. He seemed to forget the heated words you’d exchanged the night of the dinner at the Town Hall...  

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear last time we spoke... I don’t want to live under your fucking thumb anymore. You told me to leave once before, and what, now you’ve changed your mind? You want to play happy families, and drag me back into the life you forced me to live? I want my own life, and now? I want it as far away from you as I can possibly get.”  

Your father stared at you, his jaw grinding in anger. He’d lost control of you, and he hated it. You were unravelling his perfect ‘family man’ façade that had won him all those elections, tearing down the perception the town had of him as this kind, caring man with a beautiful family.  

As you glared at each other, challenging the other to speak first, heavy footsteps got closer as if someone were running down the hallway outside the apartment and soon, Forrest ran into the apartment clutching a baseball bat and ready to swing. He stopped short at the scene in front of him, not having expected this at all... Mary, beaten and bloodied behind you, squaring up to your father, the Mayor...  

Forrest knew everything and quickly connected the dots, keeping the bat raised and ready in case your father tried anything at all. But now he was outnumbered, and his pride wounded. 

“You’re making a big fucking mistake, madam,” he warned. “You’ll end up a low life like these idiots, and laying in a hospital bed just like his mother.”  

“You need to leave,” Forrest told him firmly. “You got another witness now, sir,” he warned, sarcasm dripping from the honorific.  

Your father straightened up and turned, taking a few steps to stand at the edge of the kitchen where Forrest backed up to give him the room to leave, bat still raised. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to see you reach for Mary’s hand, holding his cheek gently in yours as you took a good look at the bruises and blood that covered his face.  

“You should get out of town before morning,” he began. “I will pull every string at my disposal to make sure you will never find peace here. This is my town, and this?” he waved his finger around, “is a dangerous neighbourhood. Especially without a deadbolt.” He nodded towards the front door that he’d bust open. 

“Get out,” Forrest reiterated with a look that could have burst him into flames if he had the ability.  

Without another word, your father turned and left, slamming the front door that only bounced back open with nothing left to catch.  

Forrest lowered the bat with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead from the stress. You focussed all of your attention on Mary, checking he was okay. He certainly wasn’t... He’d taken two beatings in one night and was covered in a litany of injuries that needed attention.  

Without saying a word, Forrest dropped the bat on the floor with a clatter and rushed into the bathroom, pulling out an old first aid kid from under Mary’s sink and rushing back with it while you gently guided an exhausted Mary to his couch, forcing him to sit back.  

As you patched him up with band aids and gauze and fed him a glass of water, no one dared to speak another word. After everything that had happened tonight, the silence – however brief – was welcome. But eventually, one of you had to break it.  

“We should get you to a hospital, Mare. You might have a concussion, or a bust nose or something’,” Forrest reasoned. Mary shook his head. 

“I’ll be good, don’t think anything’s broken.” Neither you nor Forrest argued with him. “Fuck, what the hell are we gonna do?” he asked, sinking further down into the couch beside where you knelt on the cushion, hovering over him.  

“He’s just trying to scare you both, right? He’s pissed, just wants you both out but what the fuck can he really do?” Forrest asked from the floor, where he’d picked up the broken picture of Mary and his mom and set it on the coffee table. Mary stared at it, biting back the sting of tears.  

“Anything... he can do anything. He’ll make good on his threat, his security don’t ask questions.” You chewed on your thumbnail anxiously, trying to think of your next move.  

“I’m sorry...” Mary mumbled, looking down at the picture on the table with shame in his eyes. 

“For what?” you asked, shuffling closer to him and gently turning his chin towards you, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”  

“He’s cut you off because of me,” he sniffled, keeping the tears in his eyes at bay. “I’ve fucked your life up for you already...” 

“Don’t you dare,” you told him firmly, “you listen to me. I chose this, I needed to get away from him and I did. This is a blessing, we’ll be okay-” 

“How the hell are we gonna be okay? We can’t stay here anymore, we got nowhere to go and the money I make at the shop isn’t gonna keep us both afloat for long...” he panicked, but you hushed him with a finger to his lips. 

“We’ll figure it out. Money’s not a problem...” Mary looked confused, as did Forrest, the pair of them staring at you. “I’ve... I’ve been saving. Funnelling money away for a while. I knew someday I’d wanna get out and well... I opened a bank account as soon as I was old enough and just kept throwing my allowance into it. I got a trust fund when I was 18, he thinks I spent it. I didn’t, it’s been stashed away for years. We can get a place Mary, we just need somewhere for now.” 

Mary blinked at you dumbly, “You... You want that?” 

“What, to run away with you? Are you kidding?” You ran your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long strands that were clumped together with dried blood. “Haven’t I already done that?” you asked with a soft smile.  

Mary gawked at you, smiling a little himself before he leaned closer to you and planted his bust lips onto yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. Forrest coughed from the floor, bringing the two of you back to reality.  

“That’s great and all, but... where the hell are you gonna go for now?” he asked. Mary processed his question for a second, thinking it over. 

“Well, it’s not exactly a ‘best case scenario’, but... I have an air mattress back at the shop? It’s just a storage unit but it’s outta town. Sometimes I’d work late and be too tired to drive home so I’d crash there. No one really knows where it is, I never have clients come to the unit.” 

“It’ll do, while we look for a place in the city,” you told him. You didn’t care where you stayed or what you slept on, as long as it was safe – as long as Mary was safe. 

Forrest nodded, getting up from the floor and starting to gather some of the mess from your father’s rage. “Better get a move on then... Grab what you need, I’ll help you move it in my van too.” 

Before either of you stood up, Mary sat upright and turned to face you. “You sure about this, doll? Like... really? I can’t expect you to use that money to set us both up.” 

“Oh, shut up...”  you smirked, swatting his shoulder lightly. “You really having second thoughts about taking my dear daddy’s money and running off into the night?” 

Mary’s eyes glinted with a mischievous sparkle, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Well, when you put it like that...” He leaned in as you giggled, welcoming another slow, tender kiss that felt like a triumphant win given the events of the night.  

From across the room, Forrest rolled his eyes, picking up a small pillow and throwing it at the both of you to break you up. When you both yelped and looked up at him, he simply widened his eyes and shook his head, tapping at an imaginary watch on his wrist as if to say ‘hello? Get moving!”. You stood from the couch, reaching your hands out to Mary who used your strength as leverage to sit upright, his whole body aching and protesting after all the damn fighting tonight. Forrest was, of course, right. You needed to pack up what you could quickly, and get the hell out of town.  

So much had happened tonight, and so much had been said that couldn’t remain just a fleeting exchange in the heat of the moment. Revelations of the kind of man your father truly was had to be put to the back of your mind for now, to be dealt with and talked properly about in the coming days. For now, you couldn’t focus on it - the wound too painful to acknowledge until you were out of harm’s way. You couldn’t think about the truth, or what that meant in terms of your relationship with Mary. The thought that perhaps you were just Mary’s retribution couldn’t take root in your mind, lest it grow into genuine suspicion. There was no time to let doubts creep in. Instead, you dove into packing with Forrest, shoving clothes and essentials in whatever bags or boxes you could find to busy your mind. 

But Mary; he stayed put, fiddling anxiously with his rings. Neither you nor Forrest questioned him, figuring after two pretty rough beatings tonight he could sit this one out. But it wasn’t that that held him back...  

His own doubts were seeping in, an anxiety burning in his chest. He’d unveiled a huge part of himself tonight, something he’d never intended for you to know. He’d never wanted to hurt you with this and now that he had, he had to force down the guilt that came when he’d seen the look on your face as the truth spilled. His disdain for the Mayor hadn’t ever been as simple as hating the face of the town that hated him. There was so much more to it than that, but he’d never wanted to make that your burden.  

Part of him now was terrified. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps – maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but someday – you might think he chose you for this, like some sick revenge on the Mayor. Even he had accused Mary of it, claiming he was using you... Taking his only daughter and defiling her, corrupting her just to get his own back. That night back in the dive bar had started as a bet, yes. The thought had indeed crossed his mind that it was ironic he’d got to fuck you after your father had fucked over his family. But you were so much more than that...  

He was in too deep now. He loved you. Now more than ever, he was afraid he might lose you over this. He prayed that you didn’t think that, that your father’s own accusation had fallen on deaf ears.  

But for now, he just needed to get you both out of town. As long as you were safe, he’d take whatever consequences came his way.  

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not. 

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord. 

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts. 

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd. 

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same. 

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to. 

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot. 

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?" 

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't. 

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off. 

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his. 

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it. 

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With  Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a... 

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant. 

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak. 

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop. 

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me." 

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable. 

It goes as quickly as it came. 

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you. 

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right? 

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark. 

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates." 

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination. 

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same. 

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again. 

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones." 

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" 

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream." 

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude. 

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy," 

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts. 

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate. 

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through. 

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Saturday

A/N: So I sneezed, which is why this is out before the RSA series chapter lol. But I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this series I can feel it. Word Count: 4.7K (Wow, around the same as the last part) Warnings: Period mentions, Blood mentions (Drawing blood) She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Azul/Reader (Poly), Jamil/Reader (Poly), Platonic relationships with Floyd, Jade, Ortho, and Crewel. Enjoy! Start, Part 1 (Here), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Savanaclaw), Part 3.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 4 (Diasomnia pt.2), Part 5 (Pomefiore), Part 6 (Scarabia)

Jamil, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stood outside of ramshackle, some of them sitting on the wooden steps. Waiting as patiently as they could for Crewel to give them a final order. No more than twenty minutes had passed before Crewel opened the front door. He looked their group over, coming to some sort of choice before he smacked the palm of his hand with his crop, “Octavinelle pups, you stay. The rest of you go on with your day.” “Wait, what!?”

“Sensei!”

“Why does he-”

Crewel smacks his palm again. The crack somehow perfectly balanced with the harsh shush he gives them, quieting the protesting group instantly. His glare softens at seeing their crestfallen faces, “Yuu will be in contact. I need to gather up the needed potions and resource materials. But for now, They’re resting and it would be best to have someone in the house with them. Both to get them whatever they need and to keep unwanteds out. Ergo, the Octavinelle mutts.”

Jamil frowns but doesn’t speak up. He knew that he would probably have damage control to do in Scarabia. Najma most likely called Kalim in confusion from his call, not entertaining the thought of actually waiting on him to explain his bizarre question. Kalim would have only half the story and no context which was worrying enough, so he was clearly panicking and amassing the other Scarabia students for a witch hunt. He should stop at Scarbia before going back to basketball practice…

Deuce steps forward, imaginary puppy ears drooping as he mutters out, “Is Yuu at least okay? I didn’t see much, but it looked like a lot of blood…”

Sighing, Crewel walked down the stairs, gently patting Deuce on the head as he passed, “They’re fine, pup. I’m going to gather the Shroud boy and then prepare a proper medical report. As far as we should be concerned, this is completely natural for Yuu, if a bit painful.” He reached into his coat, pulled out his pipe kit and started to fill it as he walked away, “But for now, Azul, Floyd, and Jade are to look after them until I come back. You other pups are to return to your scheduled activities and tell no one about this.”

Ace looked to the side nervously, thankfully unseen by anyone before he nodded and started to make his way down the path behind Crewel. Deuce sighs but nods, calmed by the info that Yuu was okay at least. He jogs down the path after Ace, none of them are really surprised when muffled yelling could be heard a little down the way.

Azul looked out of the corner of his eye, catching Jamil giving him an intense glare. He knew Jamil was upset at the turn of events, the very fact Azul was picked over him would be enough to anger the Scarabian student. Let alone being picked by their lover’s pseudo-father figure as their keeper. He turns entirely to him, smiling and opening his mouth to pacify his lover-in-law before Jamil interrupts him.

Jamil turned his back on Azul, walking down the path to get back to campus. He quickly scooped Grim into his arms, ignoring the monster hissing and fighting his grip, “Just make sure they eat something high in iron.” That was all he said before he was also gone from view, walking past the row of trees acting as a fence of the property.

Silence passes the three students before Azul squeals, smiling wide and pumping his fist, “YES! He trusts me! You both saw that! He gave me his faith that I would tend to our lover. It’s only a matter of time before I can talk him into transferring!”

Floyd rolls his eyes, walking back into the house with a snickering Jade behind him, “Either you take care of my Shrimpy or they’ll kill you themselves…” he mutters under his breath, pout turning into a frown as the scent of blood hits him harder inside.

Jade’s own mirth decreases at the smell. He hums looking around the dorm. Yuu wouldn’t want the windows open, not to mention the smell would simply travel over the campus. The last thing they needed was Malleus smelling Yuu’s blood in the air. Seven could only think of the disaster that would bring. He looks up the stairs, only half listening as Azul enters the dorm to bicker with Floyd.

“-fact you would insinuate I wouldn’t take care of my pearl is insult enough, Floyd.”

“Ehe~? I just said Shrimpy wouldn’t let you slide with shitty service. You scared of a little blood Azul~?”

“I will dock your pay-”

“I’ll go sit with Yuu, keep them company.” Jade smiled over his shoulder, already walking up the stairs. He pauses halfway up the stairs, tilting his head at their stares, “Unless I’m allowed free range of their meal?”

Floyd instantly perked up, rushing to the kitchen whining with a glare at his brother, “No way! You’ll make some weird mushroom thing that’ll make Shrimpy even sicker!”

Azul stays for only a moment before he follows Floyd, giving Jade one last look, “Do make sure my pearl is in good condition. If you can wake them up, ask if they would like a bath.”

“Will do.” 

Jade parts with Azul, walking onto the second floor and toward Yuu’s room. He rested his hand on the doorknob and breathed in deep. Yuu’s blood was interesting, he’s always found it to be since he first smelled that foreign flora that no one could place. But that didn’t mean he wanted to smell it so strongly. He took in another deep breath in hope if he smelled it thoroughly enough the tightness of worry would loosen in his chest. Once calm he creaked the door open, knocking on it gently as he peaked his head in, “Yuu, I’m coming in.”

A simple groan answers him. That was acceptance of entry enough for him. He closes the door behind him and walks to sit in the armchair, moving it just a foot or so closer to the bed. Yuu had rotated since he last saw them. Now lying on their front with the blanket uncovered to their calves, arms wrapped around a pillow and eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the brief moments of their eyebrows creasing in pain, Jade would think they were perfectly fine.

A few minutes pass before Yuu opens their eyes, vision slightly hazy from pain, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jade smiles, leaning forward to poke their cheek in greeting, “I’m guessing whatever is going on is quite painful?”

“Very much, yes.” They groan, snuggling into their pillow, “Periods are a bitch.”

“Azul said something about that. ‘Period’. That’s what it’s called?” When Yuu confirms, he leans back into the chair, humming under his breath. Now that things had calmed down, Jade couldn't help but call the whole scenario interesting. Finding differences in biology was always a fascinating venture, “Tell me about it.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda gross and like…as you saw, pretty bloody.”

Jade chuckles, raising a hand to cover his mouth coyly, “I already said I want to know! Please don’t tease me in such a way!” He preens, feeling a small wave of pride at hearing Yuu laugh.

“You’re so weird…Alright.” Yuu angled herself to look over to Jade, raising an eyebrow, “What do you wanna know?”

“Is the bleeding just the first step of it? Do you gain internal injuries to produce the blood? Is the pain a result of-”

“I’m gonna just…stop you right there…” Yuu took a moment, trying to not laugh again, not wanting to change their towels yet, “So…Periods are weird because I feel like I'm injured but it’s all natural because of hormones are whatever.”

“Your hormones make your internal organs stimulate injuring themselves?” he takes a moment to look around the room. Standing up to grab a notepad and pencil from Yuu’s desk before returning to the armchair, "We have basic health classes in middle school. But I've never heard of hormones causing internal bleeding."

“Eh…more like the hormones jumpstart a refreshing process? Not so much internal bleeding.” 

Jade smiled wide, his pencil poised to write down every word they said, "Do tell.”

Azul texted Crewel to bring an iron supplement potion along with the pain potions. Yuu didn’t have any food besides snacks and her childish cereals, how Floyd managed to find enough items for a seafood alfredo was nothing short of a miracle by Azul’s standards. Sure it wasn’t high in iron like Yuu needed, but it would be warm and something for her to eat.

They were still worried. How could they not be? Their dear friend was a floor above them basically bleeding out from an intimate area that shouldn’t be bleeding. Crewel’s behavior had calmed most of their nerves, Yuu strangely wouldn’t lie to Crewel nearly as much as she would any other teacher. And Crewel wouldn’t be half as calm if something had actually happened. But as Floyd had said to him, ‘It still felt gross’. All of them forced to twiddle their thumbs and wait for Crewel or Yuu to give them all the facts instead of just dismissing their horrific theories.

Floyd scooped the pasta dish into a bowl, as Yuu preferred it, shoving a fork in it and walked past Azul. He didn’t bother to listen to Azul tell him to stop and wait for Yuu to get up from her nap or call for them. He didn’t want to. The only reason he cooked instead of Jade was because his brother couldn’t be trusted in a kitchen alone without shoving mushrooms into something. At least not while Azul was as distracted as he was. But he was just as worried as the others, Yuu was his Shrimpy. He’d share with his brother and Azul. But as far as he was concerned he was doing just that, sharing. Shrimpy was his to look after for as long as she hung around him. And he was already in a bad mood from earlier thinking he had failed her.

“Floyd, Yuu might still be sleeping, we shouldn’t bother them.” Azul scolded him, trying to keep his voice down while making sure it carried a harshness.

“Don’t care. I wanna check on Shrimpy…”

Azul kept quiet before he sighed. He pulled out his handkerchief, if Yuu was still sleeping he could cover the bowl so they could eat later. It would be lukewarm at best, but it’d be clean and ready for Yuu when they woke up, “Fine. Let’s go check on them…”

Floyd didn’t bother to knock, opening the door one-handed and ignoring Azul’s groan behind him, “Shrimpy~, you awake?”

Yuu rolled over, smiling with an edge of weariness, and waved, “Hi Floyd~.”

“Shrimpy!” Floyd nearly dropped the bowl onto the bed sheets, moving to hug and squeeze his best friend. The scent of blood was still strong but just knowing that his friend was okay was enough to keep him in a positive mood. Pulling away, he passes the bowl properly to them, “You doing alright?”

Yuu smiles as Azul moves quickly to place his handkerchief onto her lap, a small comment on the bowl being hot. She kept eye contact with the cecaelian until Azul turned away with a blush. But, she does place the bowl on her lower stomach, the heat helping more than the boys knew, “Thank you for the food. And no, I’m in pain.”

Floyd’s relaxed expression instantly changes, dropping into a frown and downward brows, “Why? What happened to make you bleed like this Shrimpy? If we were in the ocean you’d be a chum magnet…”

Jade looked up from his notes, “Muscle tension.”

“Huh?” Both Azul and Floyd turned to him in confusion.

Jade taps at the notepad, showing the lines of neat handwriting with various questions sprinkled around it, “Yuu’s body is physically pushing the blood out by contracting their pelvic muscles. The involuntary spasms are causing some intense muscle cramps.”

Azul frowns, his hand moving to press on their stomach, almost trying to feel the sensation, “When will it stop? Losing this much blood can’t be good for you…”

Jade looked over his notes, sighing at his findings, “Yuu says this lasts four days normally for them.”

“Four days?” Both Azul and Floyd exclaimed, worry evident in their voices.

Yuu smiled, leaning against their pillows, “Seven is the standard.”

Azul whips his head back to Yuu, eyes wide and glasses nearly falling off his face, “Seven!?”

“How do you stop it?” Floyd looked the most distressed out of all of them, simply looking at Yuu’s lap with poorly veiled concern.

“Oh, Azul, you’ll love this.” Jade beamed, eyes reading over his writing, “This is apparently happening because Yuu didn’t get pregnant.”

…

Floyd turned to look at Azul, voice deadpan, “Azul, hurry up and knock Shrimpy up so we don’t have to deal with this.”

The scandalized look on Azul’s face makes Yuu burst into laughter, blood be damned. The cecaelian stuttered out a rambled form of scolding and excuses on how he couldn't 'Knock Them Up' and how it was no one’s business what he and his lover did in the bedroom. He only grew more flustered seeing the smiles on the twins' faces, knowing they were internally mocking him and his distressed state.

He snaps his fingers, a golden contract appearing beside him. Gripping it fiercely, he points to the four names signed at the bottom, "In any case! Per our official ‘Quad Agreement’, only Draconia is allowed to impregnate Yuu and that's not even in effect until they’ve both graduated!" With another snap, the scroll was gone, leaving Azul huffing and crossing his arms.

Yuu quiets their laughter, reaching out a hand to hold Azul’s, " Aw~. Are you mad you can't give me an octo baby?"

"I'm mad because you're in pain and the one way to stop this is something we can't do for years!" Azul does loosen his arms, both hands coming to cradle their outstretched one, "You've been acting odd all week before this whole bleeding mess even started. We were worried…"

Floyd pouts, resting his head on Yuu's shoulder, uncaring of how far he had to bend, "You punched me for trying to give you a piggyback ride, Shrimpy. Really hurt my feelings."

"You had seemed quite lethargic the past few days." Jade gave a worried smile, tone clear in just how concerned the past events had made him.

Yuu looked at all of them in shock, looking at the slowly cooling bowl of pasta before they covered their mouth. The room was silent until Yuu closed their eyes and tried to fight back the whimper threatening to leave their throat.

"...Yuu-"

"You guys care so much about me…so much…" Yuu lets go of the bowl, both hands fanning at their face as their eyes well up with tears, "And I've been such a bitch to you." Their voice cracked and slid into a high-pitched wail as the tears started to fall.

Jade’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he quickly shared a panicked look with Azul, " O-oh, oh no."

The cecaelian babbled, stuttering under his breath and hovering his hands over Yuu’s body. He wasn’t sure if Yuu wanted to be physically comforted, or even touched, “Yuu? What’s wrong, are you in more pain? Do you need me to call Crewel!?”

Floyd hesitantly pats at Yuu’s head, not wanting a repeat of being sucker punched in the face the last time he touched an upset Yuu, “There, there Shrimpy. Just eat your food…”

Still crying, taking shaky breaths while gathering a collection of noodles and seafood on their fork, “You guys are so nice to me. And I’m a bad friend…”

Jade was subtly leaning away, pressing his back deeper into the chair as he eyed Yuu with mild suspension, “No…You’re a perfectly good friend to us, Yuu.” Hormonal changes would explain Floyd’s notice of Yuu’s scent being 'off'. He assumed the different levels had only affected their body as they had stated. But it seemed their emotions were also being affected. A moody Floyd is something he grew up with, he knew every tell Floyd could give. A hormonally moody Yuu was new and dangerous territory as far as Jade was concerned.

Even with their reassurance, Yuu’s tears wouldn’t stop. The three males grew more uneasy, simply watching their friend bleed on her bed and eat lukewarm pasta while she softly cried. They shared a look between the three of them before Azul stepped forward, a nervous smile on his face while he gently caressed her hair.

“It’s…it’s ok my pearl.”

Yuu looked up, sniffling pitifully before pressing her head into his hand, “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you…”

Azul chuckles, pressing a kiss to their cheek before pulling away, “It’s ok. I will admit, I do like when you’re a bitch.”

The sweet air was gone in a second. Yuu’s crying stopping as though a switch was flipped. They glared up at Azul, “Did you just call me a bitch!?”

“...” Azul looked to the side then back to her, pulling his hand back, “I-”

“So you think I’m a bitch!?”

“No?” The confusion in his voice was clear. He looked at the twins who were just as puzzled, the two eel-mers quickly shrugging at his silent question as to what he did. 

They also had no clue how to proceed. Yuu would normally either let them in on, or at least make their goal clear when they toyed with Azul. But this sort of rapid-fire mood change was not in their MO. It was even more so than Floyd could keep up with.

Yuu turned back to their pasta, tears coming back full force as their anger disappeared, “You’re lying to me…”

“...Would you feel better if I thought you were a bitch?”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

Hours later, Floyd opened the door, disheveled and pouting at Crewel and Ortho, “Knifejaw…Hurry up and fix Shrimpy. They’re really mean like this and I’m sick of it.”

Crewel raised an eyebrow, walking into the dorm and waving a hand to send Ortho up before him, “Are they? More so than normal?” He said it with a jovial air, teasing his student since his own moods were the things of nightmares.

“Yes. If I felt like it, I would beg. I can’t handle them like this…”

“...”

Well, that was concerning… Floyd followed Crewel back up the stairs. Opening Yuu’s bedroom he realized that Floyd wasn’t kidding. Next to a standing Ortho Yuu sat on the bed, now cocooned in one of their blankets in Azul’s lap. Tear tracks on their cheeks and angrily sniffling between hand-fed forkfuls of pasta. Azul was sweating, oozing a nervous energy as though he were defusing a bomb and not feeding his lover. Jade sat in the far corner, chair pressed against the wall as far back as it could be and furiously writing notes.

Ortho beeped, eyes showing he was smiling under his mask, “Body scan complete! No external injuries are to be found!” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yuu and resting his head on them, “I’m so glad you’re ok, Prefect Yuu!”

Floyd huffs from the doorway, glaring at the display, “Oh, he can hug you but I get punched if I try?”

Yuu glares, eyes just peaking through Ortho’s flaming hair, “I could never hit Ortho, he’s baby.”

“Prefect Yuu is right, I am baby.” the smug tone was just barely heard through Ortho’s normal frequency of cheer. Looking up his bright yellow eyes meet Yuu’s, “Oh! Just so you know, Ace told the rest of us what was going on in our group chat. Though Crewel-Sensei told me that no one was supposed to know. In his defense though, the timestamps show Ace gave the information before Crewel-Sensei gave the order to not tell anyone.” 

Yuu looks over to their phone on the nightstand, groaning at the wall of texts they’re sure is waiting for them, “God damn it.”

Sighing, Crewel waved his hand, “This is very cute, but Ortho you’re here for medical purposes. Let’s not get distracted.”

“Right!” Ortho stands up straight, holding out a hand as his other arm morphs to produce a syringe. “Prefect Yuu, may I have your arm to take a blood sample?”

Even though it looked like that was the last thing Yuu wanted to do, they managed to remove their arm from the blanket cocoon to place in Ortho’s waiting hand. Looking away while Ortho set to work finding a vein.

Crewel walked to the bed, grabbing a potion from his coat and uncorking it in one fluid movement, “How are you feeling, pup?”

“Like I’m in pain. The same as two hours ago. What kind of fucking question-” A fork full of pasta and sauce was shoved into their mouth, cutting them off from cussing out their teacher/father. Azul smiled timidly when Yuu’s glare snapped to him. Muttering through their food as they chewed, “Don’t you ever fucking try to silence me with pasta, again.”

Waiting until Yuu had swallowed and taken a breath, Crewel shoved the opening of the potion bottle to Yuu’s mouth and forcibly made them drink it, taking care to not justle their arm while Ortho drew blood. He adored his pup. But he was not going to sit idle and let them bark at him like they had the right, “That’s nice sweetie. Take your medicine, you’ll feel better.”

He only let up once the flask was empty, pulling away and placing the glass back into his coat. Yuu’s glare slowly softens, tense body finally relaxing in Azul’s nervous hold. They sigh, dropping their head into the crook of Azul’s neck, nosing into the flushed skin before pulling away to rest their cheek on his shoulder, “Sorry…about threatening your life and stuff. Forgot how bad cramps were…”

Azul, slowly wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling into their hair, “It’s…ok? So long as you’re feeling better now. Were you truly in that much pain?”

Floyd hums from the doorway, folding his arms, “I guess I can give you a pass then. I don’t like being in pain either, it’d make me just as crabby as you’ve been…”

Jade nodded from his corner, but made no move to come closer, “And it’s been nearly 6 hours since the supposed start of all of this. Does the pain really last the whole cycle?”

Yuu nods, “Yeah…I normally take pain meds when I realize it’s started so I don’t feel the worst of it. I take another dose either daily or just when I feel the first dose wearing off. But I didn’t have any potions in the house so I was gonna nap it off until Sam got my order.”

“All done!” Ortho spoke up, the vial of blood being placed in a secondary pouch for safety. Morphing his hand back, he placed his hands on Yuu’s lower stomach, tingles of something pulsing from Ortho’s fingers as he performed another scan, “In the most scientific phrasing you can, tell me what’s going on so I can add it to your file.”

Without missing a beat, Yuu answered, “My vagina is internally peeling and the liquidated lining is being pushed out.”

…

Ortho closed his eyes and stood up straight, arms resting at his sides. Turning around he walked out of the room, brushing past Floyd and closing the door behind him.

“...” Azul looked at Yuu, the horror from earlier that day returning to his face full force, “Your what is what now!?”

The sound of Jade’s pencil scratching at the notepad starts up again, muttering under his breath about needing more paper. Rushing to the desk and flipping through notebooks for a clean page.

Floyd simply looked sick by the door, the visual refusing to leave his mind.

“You know…” Crewel chuckled under his breath, more annoyed than mirthful, “That would have been a wonderful nugget of knowledge to have two hours ago.”

“I would have loved to not be in pain for half the day, but we don’t all get the raisin butter, do we?”

“Yuu.”

“It is really that different here?”

“Does blood come gushing out of female anatomy for a week? No, no it doesn’t. Yes, it’s different, puppy.”

Yuu sat quietly, looking down before raising their gaze back to Crewel, “I should probably learn more about the biology of this place…”

Crewel shook his head, annoyance clear in his expression while he pulled out folders from his bag, “Yeah you really should.” muttering under his breath about a ‘Dumb adorable dog’ as he slapped the papers on the bedspread, “So to start, there is a similar process-”

Floyd, opens the door, “Yeah, I’m leaving I’m bored and kinda freaked out.”

“Bye, Floyd! Sorry for punching you again.”

“Bye, Shrimpy~! Don’t bleed out!” He slammed the door behind him.

Jade sighed, standing from the armchair, “I should make sure he’s not doing anything too destructive. Best of luck to yourself, Yuu.”

Yuu waves to him while he leaves the room. They look to Azul, raising an eyebrow in question, “You wanna leave too?”

Azul mused for a moment. Female health classes weren’t something he was required to know, nor wanted to know. Anatomy in the Coral Sea was extensive enough, adding on surface world versions couldn’t be too different in hindsight. He might need the info later on in his life, maybe for a deal. Maybe to use it for a creative writing class, would Yuu find it distasteful if he wrote about their period in a horror setting?

“Azul?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Fine.” Crewel smacked his crop in his hand, twirling it to make the papers float and act as a PowerPoint, “Since you scared away the Shroud boy, I’ll have to do it this way.” Pointing toward a digraph of a uterus he spoke, “Luckily enough everything seems to be the same hardware-wise if your previous medical scans are anything to go by. Though, because you don’t have magic in your world, your bodies evolved a more… physical process.”

“Are you seriously telling me you bitches don’t get periods because you have magic?”

Azul slowly lifted a forkful of food to Yuu’s mouth, shakingly offering it like a sacrifice. He found that food was an easy way to calm their seemingly blind rage. He’d have to ask Jade for his notes later since he was too busy trying to keep Yuu and Floyd from fighting each other. He softly breathes a sigh of relief when Yuu lets him stuff the food into their mouth.

Crewel watched the exchange silently before continuing, “Yes…The process here is done normally after a day at most. The body’s natural magic will flare up and revitalize the uterus lining instead of…removing it.” He waved his crop, a photo of a body and various systems replacing the first example, “As I’ve told you before, everyone in Twisted Wonderland has magic naturally in their body’s cells simply from the magical byproduct of our world. So even if someone can not do magic, their body can still store magic to perform such cycles. It’s why scarring is so rare. Seeing how with modern medicine and the body’s cell restorative magic, healing has reached an almost perfect standard.”

Yuu was quiet, looking over the visual examples as Crewel continued his impromptu lecture. Leaning forward, they sighed out for so long it had morphed into a cry. They simply pushed away from Azul, ignoring him when he tried to comfort them. Turning away, they landed face first into the mattress and cried into their pillow. Through their sobs, muffled by the cushion they yelled, “This fucking sucks! I can’t even bitch with anyone else about how much this hurts!”

Azul looked at them in worry, barely noticing the red smears on his pants, “My pearl? Do you want pasta? Pasta makes it better right?”

“Azul, I’m getting real tired of you trying to feed me. I’m not a fucking wild horse you can soothe with delightful seafood pasta!”

…

Crewel raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the offered bowl in Azul’s shaking hands, “So do you not want the pasta-”

“Yes, I want the fucking pasta!”

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .012

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE: TBH a while ago I considered putting titles for these chapters but then I realized I am pretty, pretty bad at titles. Would you guys want titles anyways?? For convenience I would still probably have the numbers be the main thing to click on but for AO3 and the top of the page it would be labeled???

I broke down the votes on tumblr for the poll combining the votes of the tumblr poll and here :D! Here’s a link: here

I know links are not. really usable on ao3 though so I’ll copy and paste the breakdown in the bottom note.

The tldr version is: 1) Johnny 2) Bi-han 3) Liu Kang 4) Tomas 5) Raiden 6) Kenshi 7) Kuai Liang 8) Kung Lao

I’ll reveal what these votes are being used for when we get to the part when this was important LMAO <3 ty all for voting!!

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO TRIES TO FIGURE CERTAIN THINGS OUT

Today was the first day in a while that you did not awaken to see the sun.

Opening your eyes, it felt like a dream to awaken to a room lit up with the soft glow of the crystal lamp. For a moment, your heart raced. Your brain panicked at the unfamiliar feeling of waking up in a spot that wasn’t your room or the Wu Shi academy. Then, you felt a sense of calm fall over yourself as your brain remembered that you were simply in Outworld for the tournament.

You sat up, feeling your body slowly come to life. Joints popped, muscles stretched. You drowsily rubbed your eyes as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. After a deep inhale, you forced yourself to get up. A yawn left your lips as you walked over to the small closet you had unpacked your extra clothes into. You undressed, and as you did so you took a moment to pause as you noted the mirror hanging on the wall right next to the closet.

You hadn’t noticed it until now.

Swallowing your nerves, you turned so your back was to the mirror. You didn’t really have mirrors in the Fire Temple. You supposed it could have been chalked up to a lack of vanity of those living there, you never really questioned or cared. But all that mattered was that you rarely saw the mark on your back. 

It was a scar centered right between your shoulder blades. It was shaped as if someone had struck you with a leopard fist. Then, thin lines spread out from the mark in all directions, stopping conveniently just before it would be exposed with the clothes you wore. It was as if it were like veins and arteries and your scar was the heart. You let out a sigh as you reached back to trace the lines before gently brushing the main scar.

It felt rough compared to the rest of your skin, it was like comparing gravel to dirt. It was probably from the lack of care you put into it, but you had a feeling no matter how much care you would have put into it, nothing would cause it to get any less rough. The mark was notably lighter than the rest of your skin, the edges of it slightly pink before it faded into your regular skin color. 

No one knew you had these marks. At least, you assumed not, you’ve never shown anyone you had these. It took you long to find out you even had these marks. It was only until one night you had stayed over at Madam Bo’s and noticed the mirror she had hung in the guest room you had been staying in. You figured it wasn’t important to tell anyone, especially when you didn’t know the origin of it. It’d only serve to make you seem more suspicious.

Your fingers brushed the mark again. You’ve always assumed this was from your current life, before the memory loss. The last reminder of your past before it was all wiped away when you awoke in those fields near the Fire Temple. Your lips pulled downwards into a frown. You’ve never put much thought into who you were before you lost your memory.

Did anyone know or care who you used to be?

You huffed, knowing the answer. It was doubtful that anyone did. Maybe this wasn’t even from this life, maybe it was from your past life. You wouldn’t know from your memories, they never included details of scars or anything of the sort. You shifted your weight as you considered it. No, maybe it wasn’t, you concluded. You don’t know how you would even retain a scar from a past life.

You tore your eyes away from the mark and tugged your clothes on. It was too much to think about for something that was probably so insignificant. You turned to look at your back in the mirror once you were dressed again. 

It was concealed once more. Out of sight, out of mind.

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you needed fuel for today. Where would you even find food? You pondered over the food you could potentially get, and that’s under the assumption that you even had time to eat. You stood, staring at the door for a moment pondering over this new found dilemma before realizing you were wasting more time by thinking about it. You shook your head and walked out of your room.

Unlike your room, the rest of the palace was fairly open with windows and spots where the light could filter in. The palace felt like it was bathed in a soft glow of light. It felt almost like a dream to stand among the light. 

How lucky you were that you could be here to witness this majesty in person. You took a moment to close your eyes and just bask in the atmosphere of the palace. Just standing here made you feel regal. It made you consider how the palace looked on the outside, was it just as beautiful as it was on the inside? You felt like you understood why the royalty enjoyed lavishness, just a bit. Who wouldn’t enjoy waking up to this view?

The tapping of heels caught your attention, snapping you out of your reverie. Loud, commanding and with purpose. You turned to look over, down the hallway to see who the source was. You blinked as you recognized Princess Kitana walking down the hall. You stared for a moment, thinking of how funny it was that you encountered her again like this.

Your heartbeat got louder again, and you recognized the feeling. A memory? Again? As the world faded away you could only question why Outworld was unlocking so many memories for you. 

You opened your eyes to see a crowd of people around you. The faces of the people you saw felt hazy in your mind. You could vaguely recognize them, but it felt all too peculiar. Glancing to your right, you noted how you were once again standing next to Raiden and Liu Kang. It seems you were by their side more often than you had expected.

“Are you alright, Lord Raiden?” The words fell from your lips as you watched the uneasy look on the thunder god’s face. You saw him raise a hand to his head and your eyebrows raised. You crossed your arms and glanced to Liu Kang and noted his own worried look. 

“Strange visions.” Raiden muttered, his gaze looking off into the distance. You heard the little crackle of glass. Raiden grabbed his amulet, something that made your stomach twist and turn at the sight, and you all saw the fractured glass. 

“Your amulet!” Liu Kang exclaimed. Your breath hitched upon seeing the cracks. 

“It is nothing.” Raiden dismissed, though you could hear the hint of worry that lingered in his tone. “The tournament begins.” He continued, turning his gaze to the front as he placed the amulet back upon his chest. Liu Kang followed his example, turning his attention to the proceedings. Your gaze, however, stayed on Raiden for a few moments more.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach. Father would have probably called Raiden out on his lies. Should you follow in his footsteps? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Perhaps not, he was closer to the god than you were. Taking one last glance at the cracked amulet, you took in a deep breath. Then, you turned your attention to the front.

Monks walked in from the left and right sides before the fighting arena. From behind them, you spotted the Outworlders walking in. An old man, a tarkatan, and two Edenians. You blinked as you locked eyes with the Edenian dressed in blue.

Princess Kitana. 

Your eyes narrowed, giving her a challenging glare. The princess, in return, seemed to steel her own resolve.

No matter what this tournament throws at you, be it princesses, tarkatans, or sorcerers, you were determined to help Earthrealm win.

“Is something interesting, Earthrealmer?” Kitana inquired, snapping you out of your rather short memory. A perfect eyebrow raised as she came to a few feet away from you. You blinked, mulling over the sudden question before you realized that she must have found it odd that you were staring. You forgot you even were staring, too lost in thought.

“I was just thinking about how I encountered you again in this hallway, odd isn’t it?” You replied, lying. There was a moment where Kitana returned the stare, her face showcasing she was a bit perplexed by your answer. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for the answer you provided. It was rather mundane and casual. Were you performing a faux pas by being too casual with royalty?

“I wouldn’t consider it so odd, I take this route all the time.” Kitana replied, entertaining your conversation. You felt relief flood through you after her words, realizing you had not tarnished both your and Earthrealm’s reputation. That, and she had not caught on to your lie. A small, polite smile appeared on her face, the very same one she had shown you yesterday. It was all too perfect, too practiced in your opinion, but you would rather see that smile than a disapproving look. “Would you like to accompany me to the Great Hall?”

“It would be an honor.” You replied, sending her a smile of your own. Yours was less practiced, just a bit more honest. You, after all, didn’t have as much practice with sending polite smiles as the princess did. You only could hope it was enough for her. She nodded, seeming to be pleased by your response. You joined her side, a familiar feeling for something you had only done once.

Though the memory was short, your mind raced with the small details you remembered. This wasn’t your first tournament. You had fought in at least one other before in your past life. Though from the memory it seemed much, much more severe. Then, there was the other detail that was immediately nagging at you. The amulet. 

Liu Kang had called it Raiden’s amulet. Was it mere coincidence that in this life he wielded the very same amulet? You chewed on your cheek as you mulled over the question. Liu Kang had mentioned how Raiden had been a natural with it. Had that been simply a statement of skill, or was it a tease of how he actually used to wield lightning and had an amulet like that?

No. That was impossible. Liu Kang was simply a demigod, how would he know anything of a past life? He had even speculated that your visions were of another world, not of a past life. 

You were just overthinking it, surely. And yet, even with this confirmation in your head, the dread building inside you did not abate. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the fact that you didn’t even believe your own thoughts or that other nagging feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“How confident are you in your student?” Kitana inquired, peering over to you, breaking you away from your thoughts. Her eyes scanned you, as if she could glean how well the training went from your attitude alone. Or maybe, she was trying to analyze that pondering look you had. Her lips pursed. You smiled at the inquiry, feeling a surge of pride. You pushed the thoughts you had away, trying to lift your spirits.

“I’m very confident in Raiden.” You replied, hands clasped behind your back. Both from the pride you held in Raiden and the position, your back straightened a bit more. “He was a lovely student. He was very diligent in his training and very receptive to feedback. Not to mention, he was very adaptive.” You sang his praises, knowing very well that you and the others would have to hype Raiden up since he was far too humble.

“I see.” Kitana hummed, seeming to mull over your words as if it were like a fine wine which needed a review. “I hope we can see if he lives up to your expectations, then.” She commented. Not necessarily antagonizing, but you could sense the challenge within her words. You nodded, not taking the slight rivalry personally. It only made sense.

“I can assure you that he will.” You countered, indulging a bit in the challenge. An eyebrow raised at your words and a glimmer appeared in her eyes. It reminded you of the very same look she sent Johnny Cage last night, it was pure amusement. You smiled a bit wider, holding back a chuckle. “I would not underestimate him despite what his humble nature may lead you to believe.”

“We shall see.” The princess spoke after a beat. “I hope your high praises weren’t for naught.” She told you as the two of you arrived to the Great Hall. Her words hung in the air, though polite you could tell she was still very much rooting for the downfall of Raiden. Again, understandable, but you did have to commend Kitana for her attempt to be cordial. 

The two of you had arrived rather early, so only a few people were around. Not only that, but it seemed that most seemed to be milling about trying to shake off the drowsiness that clung to them like a wet blanket. Had it not been for the conversation with the princess, you felt like you also would suffer from the same condition. With a nod, Kitana walked off, leaving you to your own devices.

“I see you have become somewhat familiar with princess Kitana.” Liu Kang spoke as you walked over. For the moment, your small group composed of the fire god himself, you, and the two former farmhands. You nodded at his comment before letting your gaze drift across the group.

Liu Kang, as usual, was pristine. After all these years you had no idea whether the fire god even slept or not, and if he did, you’ve never seen it. He always seemed ready and prepared. You couldn’t deny that you were at least a little envious of it. Raiden was prim and proper too. Not too surprising, considering how he was rather diligent in his routine. You could sense the nerves radiating from him though, and you had a sense that his nerves were the main cause of his alertness. Kung Lao, on the other hand, seemed to still have a few traces of drowsiness left.

“I wouldn’t consider it as me becoming more familiar with her.” You corrected the fire god, crossing your arms. You pursed your lips as you considered what you would call it. “She just entertained some conversation, I’m certain she was simply being polite rather than actual interest.” You said, shrugging. You didn’t mention how she was probably more interested in the way you were lost in thought around her. Liu Kang’s eyebrow arched at your statement, but he seemed to not continue his line of thought.

A member of the royal house staff walked by, offering some breakfast styled hors d'oeuvres to you. You smiled and grabbed some for the group. You offered the small portions to the group. Both Liu Kang and Raiden refused. Luckily for you, Kung Lao was more than eager to eat the portions you didn’t want. It seems he’s not as tired as you thought.

As you bit into the food, you felt a bit better and your worries melted away for now. There was still that annoying nagging voice whispering in the back of your head trying to make you remember something, but now it was much more quiet. It was like you placed a tarp over it, muffling it’s presence.

Maybe you were just hungry and over exaggerating everything while you were famished. The voice, faintly, yelled at you that you weren’t, but you kicked it away. You would have time to think about it later. You didn’t want to worry others by being oddly distant during the tournament. You wouldn’t know how to excuse yourself properly.

Soon enough, Kenshi joined your side. It seemed he took the extra time to make himself presentable as you could not see a hint of sleepiness from him. You nodded towards him and pointed out the hors d'oeuvres to him. He nodded to you in acknowledgement before slinking off to grab some for himself before he rejoined the group.

“Feeling better?” Kenshi inquired, peering over to you. His voice was discreet, trying not to clue in the others on your conversation. You looked at him, raising your eyebrows as you tried to interpret his question. When you continued to stare at him, he let out a small sigh. “Your headaches yesterday.” He told you, and you let out a small “oh” at the realization. “You seemed better at the banquet yesterday.”

“I am feeling better, I suppose I just took the whole interrealm travel worse than the rest of you.” You said, which was not entirely wrong. It was a little ironic though, you reflected, how you a supposed Edenian struggled the most in Outworld. You paused for a moment as your mind lingered on his last comment. He had noticed how you were at the banquet yesterday? Last you recalled, he had been eating at an entirely different table. The attention he had paid to you made you feel…touched. Your smile grew just a bit more. “Thank you for worrying.”

“It’s nothing.” Kenshi dismissed, nodding. His lips curled into a soft smile before it fell as he set his eyes upon something just past you. Raising an eyebrow, you turned to look at who or what had caused him to lose his little smile. 

Ah. Johnny Cage.

“Man, I know we woke up early at the Wu Shi, but did we really have to wake up at the crack of dawn for this?” Johnny said as he joined your little group. You watched as he expertly snatched a few breakfast hors d'oeuvres from a passing staff member. He shouted out a causal thank you before turning to the group. “A man like me needs some beauty sleep, you know.” He complained before popping some food into his mouth.

“Empress Sindel would like the tournament fights to happen earlier in the day so the rest of the day is free for you all to explore and mingle with others.” Liu Kang explained, eyeing Johnny Cage. His hands folded together neatly. “I too, encourage the rest of you to explore Sun Do and its wonders. Just remember to not get too drawn in.” 

“Got it, chief.” Johnny Cage nodded, though his eyes were clearly somewhere else already. You sighed and sent him a glare to get him back in line. “Hey, I’ve been sticking to my word, teach!” His hands flew up into the air. “I’m allowed to admire the merchandise, aren’t I?” 

“I think you’re doing more than just admiring, Johnny.” Raiden pointed out, looking over to Johnny. The rest of the group seemed to agree, leading to the actor rolling his eyes. 

“Everybody’s a critic…” The American mumbled as he sulkily turned away from you guys. You let out a small laugh as you pat his back to comfort him. You received a pout in return, though you could tell that his pout was more so on the playful side.

After a bit more of a wait, the princesses made their entrance with the Empress. Much like before, the crowd parted to allow them to cross. Silence hung in the air so their footsteps were more pronounced. Once they took their seats and got settled, Sindel stood up once more.

“Welcome back to the tournament.” Sindel announced, her arms spread with a cordial smile on her lips. You watched as Raiden stepped up to the front of the crowd, singling himself out. “You proved to fight well yesterday, young man.” The Empress said, turning her attention to look at Raiden. You watched as her eyes narrowed just slightly. “Let’s see if you can continue to impress.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “General Shao, whom have you chosen as our next competitor?” 

“Your Majesty,” The General began, walking out from the side. Your lips pressed together as you focused your attention on the man. You still felt uneasy around him, it was the mixture of unsettling memories and the attitude he showcased yesterday before the fight. “I have chosen Reiko, my second in command.”

From the hallway, you spotted a figure emerging. The man, who you assumed was Reiko, marched forth. He looked more like he was going into war rather than into a friendly tournament. You wondered silently if that was the attitude of all the soldiers in Outworld or if it was just him. You recognized him as the man who stuck to General Shao’s side during the banquet last night. 

“As a boy, Reiko was orphaned during the Katallah War.” General Shao announced as Reiko continued forward. “Though captured, his spirit remained unbroken. He scratched, clawed, and survived. After the war, I took him in. Molded him into the perfect soldier. Few others are as well versed in the ways of war.” 

Your eyes went back to General Shao and you had to restrain yourself from raising your eyebrows. General Shao didn’t strike you as the type of person to take someone in, nevermind even being the fatherly type. Your eyes returned back to Reiko as you wondered if he had a fine childhood after being taken in.

He certainly seemed like a hardened soldier now.

Coming to a stop a few feet away from Raiden, Reiko turned away from him. Instead of greeting his opponent, he began to shadowbox, demonstrating his forms and skills. And here you thought Johnny was flashy. Raiden did not appear to be cowed by the little show which was a relief to you. After a spinning kick, the man finally turned to face Earthrealm’s champion.

“In whose army have you served?” Reiko interrogated, staring Raiden down. An attitude of being unimpressed rolled off of him in waves. You crossed your arms at this, narrowing your eyes just a bit. You could tell he did not take your student seriously, not even in the slightest. “In what wars have you fought?”

“I have done neither.” The former farmhand admitted, his softer tone contrasting with the second in command’s harsher one.

“Then you are woefully unprepared, Earthrealmer.” Reiko sneered. He lifted a hand to point directly at his opponent. “This will be your last battlefield.” He declared. A mutual understanding seemed to be in order as both of the men settled into fighting stances. Reiko bounced in his with a sense of barely restrained energy while Raiden was much calmer, much like how you had taught him.

Sindel called out for the fight to begin, leading Reiko to charge forward. His strikes were fast and aggressive, you could tell from the intensity behind them he was aiming to end this quickly and brutally. You were suddenly grateful for the training you had given Raiden as you watched him anticipate this and go more defensively.

You winced as you watched Raiden, at one point, get grabbed by the soldier and slammed into the ground. You had to admit, Reiko was ruthless and knew how to use his strength well. He was a grappler, something that you hadn’t trained your students well against. You could only hope that Liu Kang taught him good counters.

Still, despite the initial worry, Reiko seemed to lose steam against Raiden’s defensive tactics. This allowed the champion to gain the upper hand, turning the tide and turning the momentum of the battle against the soldier. It didn’t take very long after that occurred for Raiden to emerge victorious. 

“Felled by a simple farmer.” Raiden spoke as the soldier laid defeated upon the ground. Your lips curled upwards at the small taunt. Reiko deserved that for underestimating the man. The electric user turned around to face the Empress and bowed. You watched as General Shao huffed upon seeing his second in command fail.

“Congratulations on another victory, young man.” Sindel commended, though you could sense an underlying sense of irritation behind her words. It seems she thought that Reiko would be capable of conquering Raiden. She stood and addressed the crowd this time. “We shall adjourn once more at first light tomorrow.” 

Much like yesterday, the crowd dispersed quickly. Though this time, you could see how a few more people lingered just a touch longer to stare and whisper about Raiden. It seemed he was making waves already.

“And that’s another victory under your belt, Thunder Lad!” Johnny celebrated as the champion rejoined your group. Though he had a smile that told you he was grateful for cheers, you could have sworn you saw a flash of irritation at the nickname. You let out a silent chuckle at it. You recalled him mentioning how he hated that name, but you didn’t think it was that bad.

“Indeed, you are doing well.” Liu Kang spoke, nodding. “Many seem to be pleased at the display of strength you are showing.” A pleased smile was upon the fire god’s lips. Looking at the group, he gestured to the hallway. “The day is free for you all to explore and mingle with others. Although not a banquet, Empress Sindel will be offering dinner once more tonight.”

You all nod, looking towards each other and beginning to discuss their various plans. Then, you felt a hand settle on your shoulder. You look over to see Liu Kang looking at you. The same pleased smile was present on his lips, though you could sense something else lingering there.

“May we speak privately first?” Liu Kang inquired. Your eyebrows raised. As the question processed in your head, you felt a small sense of dread begin to build. He didn’t appear to be upset or overly serious, but the idea that Liu Kang needed to ask you to speak privately made you worry. What could he possibly need from you?

“Certainly.” You reply after perhaps a bit too long of a silence. You and Liu Kang waved to the group before walking off towards the outside exit. You both made your way towards a quaint bench in the garden outside. It was quiet here, peaceful. You swallowed your nerves as you sat down next to the fire god. You put on your best smile, hoping it was not obviously nervous. “What did you wish to discuss?”

“I just wanted to check if you were feeling alright, first.” Liu Kang responded, a gentle look on his face. You nodded, and it seemed that the god was pleased by the response. “Good, I didn’t get a chance to ask you after you went to get air yesterday.” You remembered that clearly, mostly because you had been only slightly avoiding him. You didn’t want to make too much of a fuss, but then again, here you were. It did feel nice to know that the fire god had still wished to check up on you.

“I’m alright, Lord Liu Kang.” You replied, your hands folding together as you relaxed just a touch more. “Is that all you wished to ask?” You inquired, tilting your head to the side just a bit. You had a feeling it wasn’t, seeing how he wished to speak privately. You doubted he would ask to speak alone if it were just that.

“No.” He said, confirming your suspicions. You straightened up a bit more, bracing yourself for the other question he was about to send your way. You saw him pause for a moment as he looked at you, observing your reaction. He leaned in a tiny bit more and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I wanted to ask again, are you having visions again?”

You hated how your body betrayed your thoughts. Immediately you stiffened up and you were certain your face contorted into a look of nerves and shock. You looked away as you forced yourself to relax, looking over the peaceful garden. You had basically given away the answer by body language alone, so you figured there was no point in lying about it this time.

“I am.” You confirmed, still not looking at Liu Kang. You were, for the time being, afraid of looking at him. You don’t know how many of your guarded secrets you’d let out if you told him. “It’s mostly memories of a different looking Outworld.” Your fingers drummed on your knee as you stared straight ahead, looking at the wonders of the garden. “It’s so…jarring.”

“I see.” Liu Kang said after a moment, seeming to take in your words. Before he could speak again, you decided to cut him off.

“Do you think an Outworld like that exists, one that is filled with more bloodshed and tyranny, or is it simply visions?” You inquired, testing the waters a bit. Maybe, just maybe if he thought so too, you wouldn’t be thought of as crazy if you did tell him. You turned your head just slightly to see his reaction. 

He was deep in thought, his lips just slightly pursed as he seemed to mull over your words. His eyebrows were furrowed the tiniest bit. After a moment, he shook his head, and your heart sank. 

“It is…unlikely.” Liu Kang spoke, the last word hanging in the air. You looked away from the god, closing your eyes. Perhaps you were truly alone in thinking that a past life existed that you lived. His hand covered yours in a comforting motion. You took in a deep breath, feeling your insides churn. Liu Kang probably misinterpreted your expression of unease from your visions. “Do not fret, that Outworld does not exist.”

Anymore, you finished in your head.

“I know.” You said, uncertain whether your words were lies or not. Were you just being crazy by believing that you were seeing a past life? Not even Liu Kang thought it had existed. Still, despite your uncertainty you felt the comfort of his hand. His hand squeezed yours gently, as if trying to anchor you.

“I am sorry that you are plagued with these visions. If I could, I would remove them from you.” Liu Kang told you, his words feeling like a soothing balm. Even though his words were meant to be comforting, a stupid part of you whispered in your head telling you that you didn’t want that. You couldn’t be getting these memories for no reason.

You’d figure out the reason alone if you needed to.

“Thank you for the sentiment.” You told him, opening your eyes and sending him your best smile. He smiled back, his smile much warmer than yours. You envied it, how could he look like the sun? You could feel your smile grow a little more, and you felt your face heat up for a reason you didn’t quite understand at the moment. You just felt warm. It wasn’t too odd, you supposed, seeing as Liu Kang was the fire god, so you pushed the odd, light feeling away. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” You asked after doing just that. 

“Yes.” Liu kang told you with that same smile. After one last squeeze he released your hand. He stood up, seeming to be content after your small conversation. “I will let you explore Sun Do now, it is truly a prosperous place.” He nodded at you, looking at you fondly for one more moment before walking off. You sat there a moment longer, letting the conversation sink in a bit more.

You sighed as you leaned forward and rested your forearms on your thighs. You folded your hands and pressed them against your forehead, closing your eyes. You didn’t know what to make of the conversation you just had. The memories…visions…whatever they were, they didn’t feel fake. They felt too lived in, too real. 

Perhaps a past life was beyond comprehension for even a god. You doubted Liu Kang would lie to you if it were real, especially about something you’ve had for so long and was so important to you. As you continued to sit there deep in thought, you barely registered the footsteps that was headed your way until you noticed a shadow fall upon you.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” You blinked as you registered the man standing in front of you as Rain. You sent him a perplexed look, but nodded to indicate he should go on. A friendly smile appeared on his face. “You were very intrigued by the prospect of the Imperial Academy, yes?” He inquired, and you slowly nodded. “Would you like to accompany me to see it tomorrow after the fight?” 

“I would be delighted.” You said without even thinking. A grin appeared on your face and for a moment you forgot about your worries, too excited over the idea of seeing a school full of magic. Your answer seemed to please the High Mage, and he nodded with satisfaction.

“Good. Perhaps you may learn a bit to further your own abilities.” He said.

“I suppose if there was a place to help learn my limits and how to push them, it would be a school dedicated to magic.” You said, nodded. The smile on Rain’s face remained. It was quite nice how you found someone who seemed enthusiastic over magic. 

“I shall see you tomorrow then.” He told you. Then, after that moment, he disappeared into the gardens. You were left feeling a bit happier. You let out a small sigh as you got up from the bench. You’ve had enough of sitting out here for now. That, and you supposed today would be a good start to finding gifts for the Lin Kuei trio.

You walked back to the Great Hall, intending to go to Sun Do through the entrance. You stepped in only to be surprised to see Raiden still standing there. He appeared to be milling about. Once he spotted you, the former farmhand seemed to light up and made a beeline for you.

“You’re still here?” You remarked. Your eyebrows raised as you scanned Raiden, trying to perceive the reason why he stuck around before he spoke. You watched as his smile turned just a tad more shy and there was just a barely perceptible dusting of pink along his cheeks. 

“Yes.” Raiden confirmed, nodding. He seemed to pause for a moment to consider his words. His head tilted downwards, his hat brim obscuring his face. Then, another moment passed before he lifted his head to show his face which seemed a touch more confident. “I wanted to wait for you to go see if you would like to go explore Sun Do together.” 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You replied, laughing a bit in surprise. You crossed your arms as you looked at the man. You were touched at the fact that he had wanted to wait for you. “I’d be honored to accompany the Earthrealm champion, though.” You told him, teasing him just a little bit. The smile on his face only seemed to get brighter at your words. “Maybe you can even help me.”

“With what?” Raiden inquired, now walking by your side. You both made your way down the hallway side by side. 

“I planned on buying some gifts for Bi-Han, Tomas, and Kuai Liang.” You explained, and in turn the farmhand nodded. “It’s not everyday that one gets to travel to Outworld, after all, and since they didn’t get to come I figured it would be nice to give them some gifts.” 

“Why don’t the Lin Kuei participate?” Raiden asked, a thoughtful look on his face. Your steps faltered for a moment as you considered his question. Why didn’t they participate, you tilted your head, considering the question. You’ve never quite thought about it.

“I guess I don’t know.” You replied after your little moment. Your footsteps resumed at their pace. “It has probably something to do with the tournament rules, I suppose.” You carded a hand through your hair. “I’ve never really questioned it.”

How much else have you never questioned? There was so much you’ve never really taken into account. Maybe you should start questioning things. It wasn’t good to be ignorant, after all.

Sun Do was still as pretty as ever. Banners, lanterns, and other decor lined the streets. Music filled the air and many of the citizens laughed and danced along the streets. Vendors shouted out their wares, and you listened in to see if any of it would be of use to you. You grinned as you passed by them all.

“It’s very lively out here.” You mused as you turned to look back at Raiden after a while of walking. To your surprise, he was gone. You stopped and scanned the crowd to look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frowning you made your way to the side to see if you could find him better. After a few minutes of searching, you sighed as you failed to see him.

“May I help you?” A voice asked. Stiffening up, you turned to see a Naknadan woman standing within the store. She peered at you with wide eyes as she put away various weapons with her arms. At first, you were about to dismiss it, then you looked closer at the store. It was a weapons shop. You took a moment to look around, then noted the collection of karambits lined along the wall.

“Ah, yes.” You said as you eyed the collection. You stepped forward to get a closer look, observing the fine craftsmanship that went into every single one. It was then that you found it. A karambit with the blade a silver white. On the handle were intricate designs etched into almost akin to smoke. It was as long as Tomas’ personal karambit too, so he wouldn’t have to adapt. The safety ring was gold. “How much is this one?” You inquired, gesturing to the blade.

She told you the price, giving you a sunny smile. You reached into your bag, grabbing the money that Liu Kang had given you prior to the trip. She peered at you curiously, inquiring what the blade was for. Enthusiastically, you told her that the blade was a gift for a friend.

“Would you like for me to engrave something on it? I can engrave it upon the safety ring.” The lady asked. You lit up at the idea, smiling. With one arm, she plucked the blade from the wall and placed it upon a table. Then with a few other of her arms, she grabbed various tools from another table nearby. “What would you like?”

“Have strength, Tomas. From,” You spoke your name. The Naknadan woman nodded. Using another arm, she grabbed some glasses and placed it upon her face. You watched with awe as she precisely engraved the message you had said onto the ring. Then, she delicately placed into a velvet lined box to which she wrapped up and handed to you. “Thank you.”

“I hope whoever you gift that to will enjoy it.”

“I’m certain he will.” You said, turning to exit the shop. To your delight, you spotted Raiden standing outside the shop, looking puzzled and searching around the crowd. Making sure to keep your footsteps light, you snuck up upon the man. With a small smirk you placed a hand upon his shoulder, making him jump. “It seems I have a knack for sneaking up on you.”

“Yes…Yes you do.” Raiden said as he recovered from the little scare you had provided. You let out a laugh, squeezing his shoulder. After his recovery, he peered at the box you held in your hand. “Where did you wander off to?” 

“Well, after I noticed I had lost you in the crowd, I stepped to the side to try and look for you.” You told him before turning your head to look back at the shop you had stepped out of. “I happened to step inside there and happened to find a gift for Tomas.” You explained, lifting up the box and showing it off.

“I suppose that us splitting up was a good thing, then.” Raiden mused as he looked curiously at the box you held. He sent you a bright smile. “Would you like to continue to tour around Sun Do?” He asked you, and you nodded in return. You took your hand away from his shoulder and put away the box. As you turned back, you saw Raiden looking at you before he cleared his throat and turning away.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked. raising an eyebrow at the odd way he had reacted. 

“Oh, well…” Raiden trailed off, still looking away before he looked at you once more, forcing himself to look you in the eye. Then, gently, he took your hand. For a moment, you wondered if he used his amulet on accident, because you felt electricity surge through your veins. In your surprise, your face heated up. “I thought it’d be best if we held hands, just so we don’t get separated again.”

“I guess that’s pretty smart.” You said, still feeling your face flush at the unexpected contact. You looked away, from him as you cleared your own throat. Surely he must have accidentally used his amulet, that’s why you were feeling so odd. It’s not like you haven’t held anyone else’s hand, so why did this feel so…different? You felt his hand squeeze yours softly as he tugged at it. 

“Then let’s go.”

The rest of the day exploring Sun Do was quite fun. Despite all of the exploring you did all afternoon, there was still plenty left to discover. You decided you would have to spend a few more days to check it all out, especially since you had not found gifts to give both Bi-Han and Kuai Liang just yet. There were plenty of things you could have given them, surely, but it didn’t feel right.

Dinner went quite well as well. The food, though not as bountiful as the banquet, was still quite delicious. You had witnessed Kung Lao in action, he devoured enough for multiple men alone. That night, you returned back to your room quite satisfied. 

It wasn’t until later when you crept back out into the dead of night. Tanya, once more, assisted you to the Hanging Gardens in a dutiful way. With a raised eyebrow, she inquired whether you always stayed up this late, or was it just the travel? With a friendly smile, you admitted that you struggled going to sleep. With a satisfied hum, she nodded and let you roam the garden in peace.

“I’m glad you can remember our little arrangement. I would have been quite disappointed to have missed out on hearing another one of your entertaining stories.” Mileena remarked as she noticed you walking over. She sat on the same bench that you had sat on yesterday. With a smile, you noted how this evening she did not seem upset as she was yesterday. 

For a moment, you wondered what had happened to her that made her so upset. Then, you remembered that it was out of line to ask her that sort of question. 

“I would hate to disappoint you.” You replied as you took a seat beside her. You tilted your head up to observe the sea of stars above. The sky was so clear here, and you didn’t think you could get over the view. It was just so…beautiful. After basking in the sight, you turned to look at the princess with a smile. “Was there a particular story you would like to hear about?” You asked, mentally trying to remember all the sorts of movies your students had shown you.

“Do you have any stories of royalty?” Mileena inquired after a few short moments of thought. You hummed, closing your eyes as you thought through the movies you had seen. What story was worthy enough of a princess who was to be the empress one day? You tilted your head as your fingers drummed upon your knee.

“Well, perhaps this one will suffice…”

Mileena was very taken in by the story you told her. She listened carefully at your retelling, only stopping you here and there to ask for clarification. You supposed it was fair, since there were some cultural differences you forgot to account for at times. Still, it was pleasing to see the princess be so enraptured by the story.

“You are quite the storyteller.” The princess remarked as you finished your tale. You grinned, pleased as one should be when complimented by royalty. “Tell me, where did you hear these stories from?” She asked, she leaned just a touch closer to you, but she still kept a considerable distance from you on the bench. 

“In Earthrealm there are many other storytellers, I enjoy listening to their own tales that they share. They tell them far and wide, allowing for others to hear their stories as well.” You explained, not certain how to explain movies to the princess. “I only pass on their tales, just as they would have wished for.”

“I see.” Mileena took in your words, nodding. “Perhaps in the next tournament Earthrealm hosts I shall be able to listen to these stories from the other storytellers you speak of.” She said, seeming to be intrigued by your explanation.

“Johnny Cage, one of the ones here with the rest of us, knows many stories himself.” You told her. You held back a laugh at the face the princess made upon the name Johnny Cage. You wondered what he must have said to make her react that way. 

“I prefer listening to you much more than…him.” She admitted, her nose still scrunched up at the mention of the actor. She stood, stretching before looking back over to you. “Your stories continue to entertain, Earthrealmer. I would enjoy listening to you again.”

“And I would be honored to tell more of them to you, princess.” You told her, feeling quite pleased by the fact that your retelling of movies was enough to entertain royalty. “Would you like to meet back here tomorrow night?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.” Mileena confirmed, nodding. She sent you one last smile, one that was more genuine than the ones you’ve seen from her when she had to present herself as princess. “Sleep well, Earthrealmer.” She told you, then disappeared off into the night.

“Sleep well as well, princess.” You called out to her, taking a few more moments to sit in the gardens. You sighed as you thought of the things you’ve learned and experienced today. Outworld was proving to be more than you had initially expected.

What would await for you tomorrow?

part thirteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[sinnabarmoth]

Worthy of Devotion (3/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: Reader learns more about Rafayel and can't help asking some more personal questions. Meanwhile Rafayel is learning new things about human peculiarities both funny and concerning.

Content Warnings: Self worth issues caused by religious trauma.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

~~~

The next day was more of the same. You woke up, made yourself from breakfast and started cleaning a new part of the temple. You had decided to work on the bedroom this time. The main issue was all the dust and you ended up tying a handkerchief around your face to help keep yourself from sneezing.

You had also finally entered the attached bathing room. Yesterday you had just availed yourself to the communal toilets on the main level since that was where you had spent most your day. The bathing room was in much the same state as the bedroom, covered in a fine layer of dust. The main problem was the large tub in the center of the room. In any other circumstance it would have been lovely, the large basin cut into solid marble, you could fit at least four people inside easily. But over the years a layer of moss and fungus had sprouted inside, coating the marble like a carpet. That took a lot of scraping and shoveling and scrubbing to get clean.

You were knelt in the center of the tub, trying to get the green ring stain out of the marble when Rafayel wandered in. “There you are,” he sat at the edge of the tub. “Keeping busy?”

“Someone has to repair this temple and I’m the only one here, so yes.” you wiped the sweat from your brow but only managed to smear more dirt and grime against it. “I assume you’re here to continue working on the journal?”

“Yes. But you are going to need to clean yourself up first. You’ll end up dirtying the pages with hands like that.” he picked up one of your hands and inspected the grime caked under your nails. “In fact, have you bathed at all since coming here?”

“I have rinsed…” you muttered, “But I haven’t really had the time to--”

“Up. Now.” he pulled you up and out of the tub. “You are not doing any more work until you’ve bathed. To be perfectly honest, you smell rather bad too. I let it slide yesterday because we were working but there is no excuse for this now.”

“Alright. I’ll go down to the baths--”

“What are you talking about? You just cleaned this one, use it.”

“If I use this one then I have to carry buckets of water up here to fill it. It’s just easier to go to the baths downstairs.”

Rafayel rolled his eyes and reached towards the head of the tub. There was a pipe over the basin but you saw no pump with which to call up water from. Behind the pipe was a large smooth gem that he put his hand over. He muttered something foreign to your ears and suddenly water began to fill the tub. Even more than that, steam was rising from it.

“But how--”

“A water gem.” he pointed to the gem behind the pipe. “Very rare. They provide unlimited water with the activation of certain phrases. “Calidum, for hot water. Frigus, for cold water. To get it to stop, say finis. Try it.”

You put your hand on the stone. “Frigus?”

There was a pause in the spray of water and when it returned you felt it was ice cold. You touched the stone again. “Calidum.” Another pause and hot water came out again. “Finis.” The water stopped. “Wow. Do you know how useful that would have been to know an hour ago when I was carrying buckets of water up here to scrub the floors?”

He smiled. “Well now you know. There should still be some soaps around here somewhere. Clean yourself up, I will be back.”

“Thank you.” You started the water again, going back and forth with the cold and hot to get it to a nice temperature and then sank in. When was the last time you had an honest to goodness hot bath? It was always such a hassle back home to get a hot bath all to yourself.

You let yourself relax, the feel of the hot water easing the pain in your joints and relaxing your muscles. Yes, you needed this. After a while of just soaking and enjoying the bath you picked up a rag and the soap and started cleaning yourself in earnest. You shouldn’t have been surprised by how nice the soap was but it still caught you off guard to smell something so pretty and floral. It smelled like plumerias and a whiff of coconut.

You were rinsing the suds away when the door banged open and Rafayel strode in again. You ducked under the water up to your neck, covering your body with your arms. “I’m still in here!”

“I figured you would be.” he didn’t seem perturbed by your nakedness or the clear panic you were exhibiting. “I brought fresh clothes. Those rags you’ve been wearing need a wash, if you still want to keep them that is.”

“Yes, thank you. You can leave now.” you curled into yourself, trying to hide your body more the closer he got.

“You’re awfully jumpy. What’s got into you?” he cocked an eyebrow up at you.

“I’m naked!”

“So?”

You swallowed back the urge to scream. “So I don’t want you seeing me naked. Please.”

“I assume this is one of those human peculiarities.” he shrugged. “The nude form is very natural, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You especially have a rather delectable form, from what I glanced when I came in at least.”

You were going to drown yourself in this tub. “Thanks. But I’d rather not wander around naked so freely. So can you please leave now so I can dry and dress?”

“Yes yes, I’m going.” he left the room. “We’re going to add these views on nudity to the book I hope you know. It’s ridiculous that you humans are so preoccupied with it.” He shouted from the bedroom.

“Got it.” you sighed, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. “Gods give me strength.” you muttered.

“Strength for what?” Rafayel shouted again.

“That prayer wasn’t for you!” you snapped. So he really could here your prayers…great. You needed to be careful about what you said now.

After you had drained the tub and dried yourself off you picked up the bundle of clothes that Rafayel had left for you. It was a pair of loose pants and shirt made out of the same linens that he wore. There were little shells embroidered along the sleeves and a wave design along the thigh of the pants. They were simple working clothes, easy to move around in and lightweight.

When you left the bathing room you saw Rafayel packing more garments into the standing wardrobe. He turned back to you and smiled. “There, that looks much better.” he walked up to you and pulled you close. You froze as his face was buried in your hair. “Smell much better too. Now we can work without you smelling like dirt and sweat.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” you protested. Your resentment covered the sheer panic of his sudden embrace.

“It was. Come along, mudskipper. Time to get writing.” he pulled you to the sitting area of the bedroom.

“First I’m a grouper and now I’m a mudskipper. If you’re going to keep comparing me to fish can’t they at least be cute? Like an angelfish or even a starfish would sound nicer.”

“How about a clownfish?” he deposited you in one of the chairs.

“Do you enjoy mocking me?”

“What? Do you not think clownfish are cute?” he tossed you the book and sat down in the chair opposite you. “Now, where were we?”

You flipped open the book with a roll of your eyes. “Let me see, we had just finished discussing how the title of Sea God is passed down through generations and I have a note here about partners to the Sea God. I think we left off talking about unions and the powers that romantic partners had if any.”

“Right,” Rafayel cleared his throat, “It varies from person to person, some gods chose to have a partner with which they could entrust helping to rule over the Lemurians, in that way it was very strategic. Others were more driven by their desires and chose partners with their hearts. Sometimes partners are equal rulers with similar ruling authority, sometimes they are figure heads, but there is no set in stone responsibilities for the partner of the Sea God.”

“Interesting.” you started writing everything down. “And what about children? Is there any chance that progeny of the current Sea God may be chosen as the new god or is it entirely up to chance?”

“It is entirely up to chance. Children of current gods do not automatically inherit their parent’s title. I only know of one recorded instance in which one of the children of a past god was selected as the inheritor.”

Your pen paused. “Rafayel, do you have a partner?”

His eyes widened a fraction before he shook his head. “No. I do not.”

You didn’t know why but your heart did a pitter patter in your chest hearing that. “Then, do you plan on marrying for strategy or for love?”

“I don’t really have any plans right now.”

“Alright, let me just write that down. Current god, Rafayel, is not one to plan for the future.”

“Hey! You can’t write that down!” his face turned pink.

“I’m the one with the pen so--ah!” you held the pen back as Rafayel tried to grab it. “You’re the one who tasked me with writing this book so I get to write my findings!”

“No, you write what I tell you to write. Now give me the pen.” he made another swipe for it but you leapt out of your seat. “Are you disobeying me, clownfish?”

“Of course not. I would never dare disobey my god.” you handed the pen to him. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

“But I will be taking this.” you grabbed the book and took off out the door.

“Oh! I see how it is! My sweet clownfish is actually a slippery little eel!” he took off after you.

There was a part of you that screamed that you shouldn’t be doing this. Everything you had learned, everything you had been raised as told you that you shouldn’t have been disobeying and teasing your god like this. If any of the priests or priestesses could see your behavior you’d be put on floor scrubbing for a year, maybe ten. But they weren’t here. None of them had actually completed their pilgrimages. None of them had spoken to Rafayel. According to what they taught you, and according to your god, you were more worthy than any of them. No one was here to say otherwise. You could do whatever you wanted. And you felt like having a little fun, and the fact that it was at the expense of a god made it all the funnier.

You were flying down the stairs, a wide smile on your face as you ran. You could hear Rafayel gaining behind you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be caught or not.

You glanced over your shoulder to see how close he was and your foot hit a chunk of fallen ceiling. Your body pitched forward, gravity helping send you down the last couple of steps.

“Watch it!” you were caught by the waist and tugged backwards with force. You were tipping back instead and you landed with a thud on the stairs, Rafayel cushioning your fall. “Ow.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” you rolled off him. “Are you okay?”

“No. I think this is it for me. I’m weak, this is the end.” he threw an arm over his eyes. “The light shall need to choose a new Sea God now. I am to descend into the abyss. Tell my people I died heroically, saving one of my acolytes.”

You could tell he was being dramatic but you saw the way he winced as he sat up and the rock that he had landed on was painted a deep crimson at the point.

Rafayel looked at you, the humor on his face disappearing. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he waved a hand in front of your face, “Say something, you’re starting to worry me.”

“You…you’re bleeding.” you murmured, horrified that he had gotten injured saving you.

“Ah that,” he picked up the rock and tossed it away to a corner. “Don’t worry about that. I was only joking, I feel fine. A little sore between the shoulder blades but nothing to get worked up about.”

“I’m sorry.” you drew into yourself, pulling your knees close to your body. “I’m so sorry. You got hurt because of me. I’m sorry.”

“You would have gotten hurt worse if I let you fall. We really need to work on that balance of yours. You have about as much grace as a fish on a dock.” he smiled at you. When you did not return it he inched closer. He reached out as if to touch you and you flinched back. He eased away.

“You’re shaken from the fall. I get it.” he said slowly, as if trying to coax a skittish animal, “But I promise I’m fine. You don’t need to feel bad about it. Accidents happen.”

“I…I…” you glanced around and saw the book splayed out at the bottom of the stairs. You stood up, ignoring the pain in your foot as you hobbled down and recollected it. “I need to go.” You set the book on the bottom step and limped out of the temple.

“Where are you going?” Rafayel raced after you. “Your foot is scraped, if you get sand in it it will only make it worse.”

You ignored him, your body taking you down the steps and onto the beach. You kept going until you got the shore where the ocean lapped at the sand. You waded into the water up to your knees. The salt burned against your wound but you didn’t retreat, the pain helped to ground you. Staring straight ahead your vision tunneled as it tried in vain to see past the horizon line.

You hurt your god. Actually hurt him. And for what? Because you wanted to tease him a little? What right did you have? Was this a divine punishment? Fate reminding you of your place? A mortal poking fun at a deity like he was an old friend. No. There were lines for a reason. You couldn’t cross them. No one was ever meant to cross them.

“Come back inside,” you heard Rafayel’s voice behind you. “Your foot needs tending.”

“I shouldn’t be in there. I don’t belong in that temple or on this island. I’m not worthy. I need to leave. I need to--”

“By the tides, not this again.” Rafayel groaned and with an ease that surprised you he hefted you out of the water and started carrying you back to the temple. “Here I thought you were finally done with all that aggrandizing. One little tumble down some stairs and suddenly you think you need to throw yourself into the ocean. Those charlatans on the mainland really messed with your self worth in the name of worshiping me, didn’t they?”

“What--what are you--” you stammered as he marched you back into the temple. “Please! Put me down. I don’t--I can’t--”

“Shush.” he brought you into the kitchen and set you down on the table. “Stay there.”

“But--”

“Stay.” he pointed and left out the back door. He came back with a bucket of water and grabbed a clean rag out of one of the drawers. Dunking it into the water he grabbed your injured foot and started dabbing away at the blood and sand. “And here the day was going so well. I finally got you to take a bath, we were having a nice chat, then we took that little tumble and it was like it reset you. You had better not start calling me Your Radiance again, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have ran though. It’s not my place. I shouldn’t have done it and then you wouldn’t have had to help me and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and--” you went silent as he glanced up at you, that spark of blue flame alighting his eyes once more.

“Did I not say yesterday that you are allowed to feel whatever you please in regards to me? You can feel guilty if you wish but your guilt doesn’t get to erase the fact that you also feel comfortable with me. I like that you play. I don’t want you to stop on account of this one accident.” He patted your wound dry and tore a strip of fabric off of his sarong, wrapping it around your foot. “Understood? Don’t make me have to make it an order because that will go against everything I am trying to accomplish here.”

“What is it you want to accomplish?” you asked.

“I want to create followers that want to follow me out of devotion, not fear. If I can’t get you to not fear me, then what hope is there for the others?” he handed you the wet rag. “I know I can’t undo everything you learned, especially not in a day. But we are not going to spend this time with you too scared to say anything out of turn or show any displeasure. I may be your god but I do not control you. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“No. Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?”

You took a deep breath. “I understand what you want from me.”

“Which is?”

“To be devoted to you out of desire, not obligation or fear.”

“Good.” he turned around and you could see the wound in his back where the rock stabbed him. “Now, could you be so kind as to help clean this for me?”

“Yes. Of course.” You wiped at the blood trickling down his spin and pressed the rag over the cut to staunch the bleeding.

“Rafayel?” your voice felt as if it was a thousand miles away from your body.

“Yes?”

“You talk of being a god worthy of devotion, but do you not have any requisites of your followers? Is there nothing to make us worthy of your blessings outside of wanting to worship you? It seems unfair that you hold yourself to such a high degree but not us.”

“You wish to know what I think makes my followers worthy of my blessings and spared of my wrath?” he thought for a moment. “They have to be kind and honest. They cannot spread fear in hopes that it will gain me more followers or larger offerings. To be worthy, their actions and words must come from their souls. A sand dollar offered by a child that believes in me out of trust is worth more than all the gold shoveled onto a dais by fearful priests. Chasing you through the halls as you try to play keep away with me is more precious to me than this self loathing you carry about inadvertently causing me injury.”

“I understand.” A smile started to creep its way back onto your face. “I like this version of you far better than the one I learned about on the mainland.”

“Nice to hear it.” he glanced over his shoulder. “Almost done back there?”

“Oh right.” you had forgotten what you were doing for a moment. You removed the rag from his back. You were shocked to see that the wound had completely disappeared, gone as if it never existed, save for a small pink spot between his shoulder blades. “What…how did that happen?”

“I’m God of the Seas, water is a natural healer to me, be it fresh or salt.” he rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his back flexing as he did. “Now, how about we do something relaxing for the rest of the day? No cleaning, no writing, something simple.”

“Like what?”

“Want to learn how to play a Lemurian board game?”

“Sure.”

“Alright,” he glanced around the room. “Right, I need to go get one. Stay here, don’t go tripping over anything else, I will be right back.”

He left to dive back into the sea while you stayed sat on the kitchen table. You picked your foot up, inspecting the makeshift bandage over your foot. He could have gone and found actual bandages but he tore off part of his clothes just to dress your wound. Either he thought very highly of your foot or very little of his clothes. You ran a finger over the gold embroidery, contemplating.

It would take him some time to return so you carefully stood up and limped back out to the staircase. The book was still resting on the top step along with the pen that Rafayel had dropped. You picked up both and cracked open the book, penning a new note near the back.

“The god Rafayel wants more than anything for his followers to follow him out of love rather than fear. I think this shows more than anything that he cares for us more than the priests of old would have had us believe. He is a kind god,” you bit back a mischievous smile, “and he likes it when you tease him, so if you are reading this you should do it a lot. He really does like it. Just be ready for him to tease you right back.”

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 9

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N: lil treat for everyone since it's been so long since i posted this fic

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire

All it had taken was the muzzle of a handgun stuffed into the poor fed’ saps mouth- gagging on the metal pushed to the back of his throat (before he pulled the trigger)- for Keegan to acquire the necessary materials (a donor radio) to repair his radio (Merrick was pissed).

Not only did he get a reaming that had to of ranked at least in the top four of his current reaming tally- he’d counted a least twenty-five times Merrick had broken some kind of communication guideline. But at the same time- who was going to complain? They were doing the dirty work- Merrick could cuss Russ out over the radio until the batteries died and he doubted any brass would give a shit as long as the papers came across their desk marked as a success. 

He’d conveyed over to the Ghosts that regardless of his time spent there no, he was not injured (a blatant lie)- ‘just about as banged up as usual, sir.’, the objective hadn’t been reached yet (it had gotten more complicated, and it didn’t help he’d been down for… he really didn’t know how long. Asking would give it away.), and there was a surprising amount of federation presence in this valley (which signaled exactly what they were worried about). 

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was Merrick calling his bluff. He’s used to getting away with it- 

“You’ve been on a path of self-destruction since he died, Russ.” “I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Merrick.”

“I need to know you aren’t a liability in the field.”

“When have I ever been? Just give me the file.”

Merrick paused, that twitch of the vein in his neck he’d always had when anyone managed to raise his blood pressure ten points. “Don’t make me regret this Russ.”

He didn’t linger on the fact that this was probably exactly what he was worried about regretting. That much so that when he’d watched Kick no so subtly kick Hesh and Logan out of the back of his bush plane and into the landing zone he’d nearly contemplated slinking back into the woods and just not coming out. But that damned dog would find him- he was sure of it.

He didn’t though.

Logans arms wrapped around him, pulling him forward and into a tight hug. “I’m so pissed at you right now-”

Keegan's ribs groaned in response, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze and letting out a strained, quiet “Ow.”

His arms immediately retracted, scanning him up and down for visible wounds. Hesh lingering in the back, scanning the treeline with Riley at his side. He quirks a brow, glancing over at him. “You good?”

“Nothing a few hundred hours of sleep won't fix. You both didn’t need to come out-” And babysit me, you fucking pricks went unsaid. He turned, marching his way back on track- he's fulfilled the list of items that needed to be carried out before returning to you.

Soft hands, kind eyes.

Soup.

His stomach grumbled, much to his dismay.

“Where’rya headed? Towns the other way.” Logan piped up after twenty minutes of navigating the forest in silence. 

“Not headed to town. Headed up the valley.” His reply was blunt- and had he been in any sort of a better mood he’d had filtered his words to come out less like a baseball bat to the teeth.

“I think what we’re getting at is where.” Hesh bluntly replied- matching Keegans tone. Glancing back behind him to make silent conversation via eye contact with Logan.

It was going to be one of those hikes, wasn’t it.

Sure a shit hope not.

“Base of operations. Unless you want to be sleepin’ in the woods for the next month. Shut your trap and get a move on.” Keegan had been reasonably bitchy, withdrawn into himself. It really hadn’t been that long since they’d buried Ajax. There was a far away look in his eyes more times than not, a certain glaze that hadn’t gone away. Either outright ignoring Logan most days, locking himself in his room.

Merrick had grabbed Logans shoulder, pulling him back from knocking on Keegans door not to long before he’d been sent off to these woods. 

“It’s not the right time.” He’d offered.

Give him time to mourn, in his own way.

He’d wanted to bite back- like we were given time to mourn? Like we were able to shut ourselves out?

He didn’t.

“How far?” Hesh asked.

“Keeping low? Two day hike.”

One and a half days, then. 

---

A lot of people don’t realize just how quiet the forest is at night. The lack of sound out in the sticks- when the birds have gone to sleep, when the bugs and frogs aren’t nearby. The occasional hum of a mosquito just to add a whining hum into the silence.

“Be a doll and check these for me, would you?” Keegan mused to no one in particular- pulling his vest off and pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders and into his lap. “Infection check.”

At least a bit of his baseline humor returning- “Anything for you, honey.” Logan joked back. Crossing the two steps over to him and kneeling down. Both he and Hesh shared a glance at the remnants of black and purple bruises splayed out across his ribs, back onto his shoulder. “What happened?” Tentatively pulling the bandage back to see a deep, angry gash next to his shoulder blade. “And who patched you up- you can’t reach back here, let alone patch yourself up.”

Hesh knew the bruises looked worse than they were- or at least hoped. Neither were strangers just to how much of a pain rib injuries could be- let alone lingering ones not treated properly.

“I had brunch with the locals. And the bandage fairy, kid, who else?”

“Seriously-” Hesh but into the conversation- frustration rising up in his throat. 

“A Civ. Pulled me out of a ditch and licked my wounds.” He grumbled, as if the admission of it was like waving a white flag in failure- admitting that he did need help.

“I’m doing the op alone. I don’t need backup.” He tossed the folder back onto the briefing table. “That’s final.”

“Must’ve been pretty bad to down you.” Logan offered, trying to lighten the tension of the conversation.

Keegan's silence was answer enough. A silent admission- neither would press him on it. They both knew better. It was better to let it lie, for the time being. 

----

One thing they can’t turn off as soldiers, especially after time spent in no mans land-  is the light sleep. It’d saved their asses many times before, he’d agree. Fully alert, glancing to see Logan & Hesh, eyes open and on the same page as him.

Gunshots-

One thing you can’t hide, with the silence of the forest, it the piercing sound of gunshots. Even far away-

Rifle, most definitely. Multiple shots- rapid succession in a varying frequency. Not someone holding down the trigger of a full auto rifle. Multiple separate hands pulling triggers. 

“Seven.” Logan spoke, hushed down and slipped into the role of soldier.

There are probably a number of times Keegan would be able to count on his hand that he’d truly felt dread. Fear creep into his hindbrain and claw at the back of his throat as his time as a Ghost.

“We need to move now.” Keegan all but croaked out, tone evening at the end and assuming the role of Sergeant, and nothing else. All three were up and moving in step, silence. No fire to put out- the light and smoke are too risky in their situation. 

They both heard fear in his tone as they quickly, guns drawn, ran toward the sound of the gunshots. 

Keegan wasn’t going to barge in, middle of the night under the cover of darkness to startle you out of your skin. His grandma taught him better manners than that- better to show up in the morning when he knew you’d be making breakfast and grovel then. 

He knew he left on bad terms, but he was sloppy, he realized. The last time he was running in this direction it was away from a group of Federation scouts.

Was this to blame on him? Did he lure them to your home?

Your sanctuary?

Why had they waited so long, had they been stalking in the periphery the entire time he laid there? Were they expecting to find him within your doors- not you, oh God, he stares up to the sky for a moment, eyes narrowing on the bright sliver of moon in the sky.

You’d be in bed- and men would be there.

He shut his spiraling thoughts down, locked them deep within himself in that little box he’d refuse to open. Not now- maybe never.

He’d never forgive himself.

The sound of his breath, the occasional scrape of Riley’s nails against bare roots. The synched footwork of the three men breezing over the landscape and into the clearing he knew. Just above the incline would be your home nestled between the trees. Hidden from eyes for so long.

He saw the flashlight attached to a rifle, along with a corpse casting a bright streak of light into the field. Gunshot wounds would always be one of his least favorite things- the obliteration of flesh with buckshot no matter how often he saw it would always make something curdle in his gut. 

Even if there was satisfaction of knowing that it was likely you were the one that pulled the trigger.

Good Girl.

He was broken out into a sprint, passing the corpse without a glance and running into the house through the doorway. Feed crunching broken glass beneath him- the thick, tangy smell of blood hitting his senses- rifle raised.

The house had been ransacked, broken glass and furniture tossed.

He knew Logan had assumed a shadowing position behind him, Hesh not far behind and ensuring no one snuck up on them from behind. Riley an alert presence watching his back.

He peeks from over the beam, a direct line of sight- line of shot to where the blood splatter and corpses piled to your bedroom. Navigating the living area with ease- practiced and knowing that a pile of magazines and books layed around that corner. 

He payed no mind to the sound of paper rustling when Logan's foot caught it.

“Kitchens clear.” Logan muttered, moving back in step. 

He clears the hallway, knowing not much is laid ahead and signaling Logan ahead as he stops over the bodies and into your room. The gore splattered from what he assumed to be a well placed twelve-gauge shot coated the right side of your wall, covering cabinet to ceiling. 

The beds sheets hastily pulled back. Drops of blood misted against the comforter and pillow. The bedside table drawer thrown open, something pulled out from under the bed. You’d tried to run.

“House is clear!” Logan called, footsteps nearing his own from the hallway. 

Hesh staged himself in the doorway, a knowing glance to the shattered glass against the wooden flooring. He wouldn’t step in with Riley- there was no need for unnecessary injury. Not with a cleared house and nothing but corpses amongst them.

Keegan was frozen, bile raised in the back of his throat as he stared at the bloodied cotton torn between the two men's hands. Logan's eyes lingered too, a grim, knowing expression washing over his features. 

The angle of the shot, he followed through the house, implied you’d gotten to the front door. Implied you’d been able to kill three of them before you disappeared. Whether that of successfully escaping, running into the woods to hide or captured- he tried not to even will that option into existence. 

That you’d peaked out from behind the beam, killed the men huddled in your doorway, and ran to escape.

He needed to find you.

Now.

He was moving- brain on autopilot and a vile monster curling over his skin. The cold, calculated and methodical practice of a Ghost meshed with the anguish and rage bubbling up inside him. He’d pulled a shirt from the ground of your bedroom, no blood splattered against the cotton.

He remembered it, you wore it the first day he was cognizant enough to remember you spoon feeding him soup.

“Riley!” Keegan bit out, completely detached. Logan flinched at the bite in his words, the emotion, devoid and removed from the obviously distressed man in front of him. Arm outstretched, passing the shirt to Hesh before marching towards the body laying in the grass to investigate.

“Seek.”

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 6: First Make Up

You and Joel come to an understanding. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-5 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Angst. Smut, alcoholism, child neglect (mentioned, not thoroughly described.) No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Last Thursday

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. 

Shit. 

“It’s so good to see you!” His smile was broad and looked genuine, not that you really bought it. He hugged you and your arms hung limply at your sides for a moment before you lifted a hand and patted him lightly on the back. “Missed you like crazy!” 

He pulled back from you and looked you up and down. 

“Why don’t you look happy to see me?” 

Because you weren’t. 

“Just shocked,” you said. “What are you doing here?” 

“I can’t just stop by and see you when I’m in town?” He was damn near pouting. You tried not to roll your eyes. He was 53 goddamn years old and he was pouting. But that wasn’t a surprise, you were pretty sure he’d stopped maturing at 18. “You can come see me whenever you’d like, don’t need to call or anything, not that you ever do…” 

“Oh, that’s rich,” you snapped before the glint of the sun off the glass door of your office building caught your eye. The client you were taking to lunch was heading right for the reception desk. You closed your eyes for a second and sighed. “Look, I don’t have time for… whatever it is you’re showing up here about.” 

“I can’t just come to see my best girl?” 

He was all but pouting again. 

“We both know that’s not why you’re here,” you said. “Sit here, in the lobby, until I get back from this meeting. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t touch anything, we can talk about this when I’m done.” 

“You really think I’m going to make that big a mess in, what, an hour?” He raised his eyebrows at you. You glared back. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I mean it, Dad. Just… Don’t fuck something up. Please.” 

“Angel,” he took your shoulders in his hands. “It’s going to be different this time. I mean it. Go to your meeting, I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

Different this time. Sure. That was the chorus you’d heard again and again, every three years or so when he popped out of the woodwork and managed to track you down again. This time he had his shit together, this time he had a job he was just about to start, this time he was sober and going to stay that way. And every time he managed to blow at least part of your life up. 

You heard your name being called from reception and you pasted a smile on your face, heading to greet your client, trying not to think about the fact that your dad had managed track you down yet again. 

The lunch went surprisingly well, considering the fact that your brain was busy running through every damn scenario possible for why your dad had decided to show up and every way he could find to fuck your life up this time. 

To his credit, he was sitting on the couch in the lobby, scrolling through his phone when you got back. He didn’t even notice you come in. You went to reception and Norah, the woman working the desk that day, confirmed that he’d sat there quietly for the two hours you were gone. 

You sighed. Maybe he was going to make an effort this time. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. 

“Alright,” you said and he looked up from his phone and smiled. “I have a few more things to take care of today, think you can behave yourself while I work?” 

“You realize you’re the kid and I’m the parent, right?” He asked, getting up. 

“Don’t know why that should start now,” you muttered, leading the way to the elevator. 

He didn’t say anything back. Which you reluctantly gave him credit for. You’d been trying go goad him into it, antagonize him and push him into snapping so you could wash your hands of him. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let you.

You pulled out your phone when you got to your desk, your dad settling into a chair in the corner, pulling out his own phone and silently returning to it. You watched him for a moment. 

To say your relationship with your father was complicated was putting it pretty fucking mildly. He’d never been in your life in any meaningful way. He came and went like the seasons did, eventually even adopting a similar regularity. 

He cropped up every three years or so now and, since the last time you saw him had been before you moved to Seattle, you were due for him showing up and running roughshod over your life. 

In past visits, he’d emptied your bank account, invited some “old friends” over who ended up being random men he’d met at a bar who then trashed your apartment, showed up to an event at your office so drunk that he threw up on another guest. 

Every time, he claimed he wanted to see you. Spend time with his “best girl” (only girl - he had no other children and no woman would have him for longer than a few days), catch up on everything he’d missed when he was busy fucking around, moving from couch to couch until wore out his welcome, burning every bridge at every job he’d ever had. 

No, you didn’t trust your father as you could fucking throw him. And you sure as hell didn’t want him anywhere near Joel. 

That relationship was too new to bring him into the shit show that was your family, the stuff you tried so hard to hide that you all but lied about even having family to begin with. When talking to Joel about it, you’d just shrugged and said “No siblings, my parents have been gone for a while, no other family to speak of.” 

You knew what he’d assume with the word “gone.” The same thing everyone else did: that they were dead. They weren’t. They were very much alive, they were just dead to you. Your mother was in Wisconsin, your father was… wherever the fuck he happened to be at the time. Which, right now, was Austin. In your office. And you had the sickening feeling that, if he actually knew Joel existed, he’d find a way to ruin it. 

You sighed and texted Joel. 

“So sorry, something came up at work. Can’t see you tonight.” 

It technically wasn’t even a lie. Something had come up. And that something had come up at your work. 

It still felt like a lie, though, and it turned your stomach to lie to Joel. Even though you knew the best, safest option was to keep him far, far away from that part of your life. Your phone buzzed. 

“Shit happens. I’ll miss you. Tomorrow night?” 

Fuck, you wanted to be able to see him tomorrow night. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment. You wanted to be able to say “Yes, absolutely, I’m going to need you to fuck whatever is about to come up with my dad out of my head so I don’t go insane. Also, I think I’m falling in love with you but let’s talk about that later.” 

Instead, you set your phone down again. 

You answered a few emails, sent the details of the potential contract you’d secured with the client at lunch over to that department, reviewed some copy that your team was slated to present to clients early next week. Your dad sat in the chair, not saying a word, just as you asked. You stalled as long as you could before you turned in your desk chair to face him. You put your head in your hands for a moment, pressing your fingers into the hollows over your eyes before you sighed and folded your arms in front of you. 

“Alright,” you said. “What are you doing here.” 

He put his phone down on the small table and smiled a little at you. 

“Meant what I said before,” he said. “Missed you, Angel. Wanted to see you, spend some time with you…” 

“How did you even know where I was?” You cut him off. 

“I called your mom last week,” he said. “She said you’d moved here, that you had some fancy job down this way. She was real proud of you…” 

“So that’s why you’re here?” You asked, brows raised. “Think you can get something out of my ‘fancy job’?” 

“No, Angel, of course not,” he actually looked hurt by it. As though he hadn’t stolen thousands from you just six years ago. “Look, I know that I haven’t been the best father.”

“That’s an understatement.” 

He ignored your comment. 

“But I’m doing better now,” he said. “I really am. I was in prison for a bit…” 

“You what?” You demanded, sitting forward in your seat. “Jesus Christ, Dad, what did you do?” 

“Same shit I usually do,” he smiled a little, sheepishly. “Staying with a friend and I… uh… helped myself to some of the cash they had lying around. They weren’t thrilled with that so they called the cops.” 

“Shit,” you sat back in your chair and closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, before looking at him again. “So what happened, did you have a good attorney?” 

“Nah, just a public defender,” he waved you off. “She was a nice lady but didn’t exactly have much time for my case. I pled out, got myself two years…” 

“You could have called,” you said. “I could have helped you, I went to school with some people who became pretty fucking good attorneys…” 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said. 

“Never stopped you before.” 

He ignored that, too. 

“It ended up being good for me,” he said. “A blessing, really. Being inside forced me to actually sober up. For real this time. Haven’t had a drink in 27 months.” 

You raised your eyebrows.

“Good for you,” you said, not even sarcastically. 

“Got my GED too,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “I know it’s late in life but I want to try and do something right. Get a real job, actually do something with myself. Maybe pay you back, even though I know it won’t make up for all the shit I’ve put you through over… well, your whole life.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“So are you just out or are you on probation?” You asked. 

“Probation,” he said, wincing slightly. “Actually told my probation officer that I’d be staying with my kid…” 

And there it was.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You can’t just…” 

“I know,” he said. You ignored him. 

“Remember that time, when I was 10 and Aunt Sue dropped me off at your place for what was supposed to be your weekend?” You snapped. “And you and all your buddies were so off your ass drunk and high that I ended up going to a neighbor’s house to see if they had food because I hadn’t eaten in two days? Because I sure fucking do, if you think I owe you something, that I’m going to baby sit you because you knocked my mom up…” 

“I don’t,” he said quickly. “I know that. I do.” 

“Do you?” You asked. “Because it sure seems like you think you can just come in here and fuck up my life on a whim and you think I’m just going to let you!” 

Your email dinged and you sighed, going back to your computer. One of your copywriters had a question about a client and you tried to focus on reviewing the creative brief before responding and going back to your dad. You took a deep, calming breath. 

“What is it you want.” 

“What I’d like,” he said slowly. “Is to stay with you for a little bit while I find a job. It’s OK if you don’t want that, Angel, it really is. But I’d like to get to know you. Actually get to know you. But I’ll call my probation officer and tell him right now that I’m going to need another place to go, it’s OK. He’ll help me figure it out, he’s a good guy. I’m not trying to be your responsibility. It’s a little late to try to be your dad. But I’d like to be something to you.” 

You just looked at him for a moment. He seemed so… genuine. Actually sincere. And he didn’t smell like liquor or look strung out. 

You sighed. 

“Alright,” you said. “You can stay with me for a bit. Just through the weekend to start, no promises after that.” 

He smiled. 

“I’d really like that.” 

You took your dad home with you that night, picking up tacos on the way to your apartment. You’d gotten a two bedroom place, at least. Not because you ever had guests - you never had guests - but because you worked from home sometimes and you wanted the office space. At least the couch you’d bought for that room was a sleeper sofa. 

You texted Joel again while your dad was in the shower, hating that you weren’t going to see him tomorrow, either. But if your dad was actually doing well, actually going to try and be a functional adult you could have a real relationship with, you owed it to him to try. 

Still. 

You didn’t trust him. Not yet. Especially not with something like Joel. 

 It was kind of surreal, having him in your apartment, doing anything but looking for a way to fuck you over. Consciously, you knew that’s not what it had always been. He’d often started with good intentions. You knew he didn’t set out trying to steal from you or embarrass you in front of your coworkers. He just didn’t know how to function in the life you lived. No one from your childhood did. He’d try, for a few days, and then he’d fall back into old habits. 

But this time was different. Or seemed different, at least. You hoped it was different. 

You watched a movie with him - Spaceballs, something he loved to watch with you on the rare occasions he was around enough to do things like watch movies with you when you were a kid - and he told you a bit about everything that had happened in the three years since you’d last seen him. 

For a change, he seemed genuinely interested in what you’d been doing since then, too. He’d never even known that you were in Seattle - something that you found oddly comforting but strange all at once. Strange that this person who made up half of who you were was so distant that he didn’t know where you’d lived two years of your life. That if something had happened to you, he wouldn’t have known. Something had happened to him. You hadn’t known that, either. You weren’t sure if you regretted that or not. 

“I do have to work tomorrow,” you said as you wound down for the evening. “Do you have a plan or anything you need?” 

“Just wanted to look for some jobs,” he said. “If I could use a computer? The phone makes it hard to fill out applications. Don’t think I’ll need to go anywhere.” 

“Sure,” you said, trying not to look surprised. “You can use my laptop, no problem.” 

You set up a profile for him on your computer and made sure yours was password protected. And you reset the password so it couldn’t be something he would know - Joel0926. Just in case. 

Joel texted you before you woke up - “Good morning, Beautiful. Hope your day isn’t too rough and that you’re taking care of yourself.” - and you wanted to tell him everything. All of it, all about your dad, all about where you came from, all about what you’d gone through to make it this far. 

But he liked the person you’d made him think you were. What if he didn’t like this other version of you? What if your dad just took off in a few days and you risked blowing up everything with Joel for nothing? 

 “Thanks,” you wrote back, with a heart emoji. You sighed. He deserved better than this. But you weren’t sure how to give that to him, not right now. 

All day at work, part of you was worried that you’d come home to find your apartment trashed or everything with any value gone with your father nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he was in your kitchen, cursing quietly. You frowned and followed the sound, a slightly burned smell on the air. 

“Dad?” You frowned, setting your tote bag on the counter as he bent over the oven. He jumped a little before straightening. He smiled sheepishly. 

“Hey Angel. How was your day?” 

“Fine,” you said. “What are you doing?” 

“I… well…” he looked down at a glass baking dish that was more blackened than anything else. “I figured you’d probably had a long day and since you’re letting me stay here, thought I’d try to cook and I found a recipe online but I haven’t really cooked before…” 

You went over and looked down into the pan with an almost amused frown. 

“What even is it?” 

“Well… I was gonna try and make a deep dish pizza,” he said. “You like that, I think, right? You went to school in Chicago, right?”

You smiled a little. 

“How about I just order us pizza?” You said, having to swallow past a knot in your throat.  

He looked relieved. 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Probably smart.” 

You helped him apply for jobs through the weekend and were almost surprised to be settling into a pattern with him early into the next week. It was an odd role reversal, teaching your dad how to function in the real world. The one where people had jobs and bills and didn’t hop from friend’s place to friend’s place instead of having an actual home address. 

But you weren’t confident enough to actually tell Joel any of it. You were still dodging him. Telling him about your dad opened the door to telling him about everything else from your younger years, things you’d worked hard to not have to share with anyone. Next week. If your dad was still around, still keeping his shit together, still trying to be in your life, then you would tell Joel. And, if he still liked you, you’d tell your dad about him. 

Though that seemed like a big if. 

Wednesday, you started questioning things. 

Joel wasn’t texting as much. Not that you blamed him, you’d barely responded to him at all, not sure what to say but not wanting to lie to him. But you missed the texts. They were the bright spot in your day. You missed him. You wanted to go to his house and drag him to his bed and ride him until you were both sweaty and exhausted. You wanted to kiss him in a noisy bar that smelled like stale beer while you were tipsy. You wanted to call him on your way home from work so you could vent to each other and, by the time you came home to him, just hold each other until you had to move to figure out food. 

You missed him because he was the first person you’d been close enough to that you might need to tell them about all of it and that terrified you. So maybe you were looking for problems when you got home after work and found your dad on the couch, watching sports. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

“Hey,” you sighed, dropping your bag by the door and stepping out of your heels before you flopped on the couch next to him. He hugged you and kissed your check. You frowned. “Have you been drinking?” 

“What?” He laughed, looking at you like you were crazy. 

“You smell like alcohol.” 

“Angel,” he laughed. “It’s 5:30.” 

“So?” 

“No,” he said. “I haven’t been drinking. I did use some Listerine a little while ago, ate some sour cream and onion chips, didn’t want to knock you out with my breath.” 

“OK,” you said, still skeptical. “How was your day?” 

“Good,” he said. “I think I have an interview for next week, can you help me respond to the recruiter? I’m shit at writing things and not sounding like an idiot.” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “Do you have job interview clothes?” 

“What d’you mean?” He frowned, looking over at you. 

“I mean you can’t show up to a job interview in jeans and a t-shirt, Dad,” you said. “Do you have like… a button down and khakis at least?” 

“Don’t exactly got much,” he laughed a little. “Sure it’s fine, just a factory job…” 

“We’ll go shopping when I get off work Friday,” you said. “I’ve got a late call with the west coast team tomorrow, I’ll be at the office late.” 

“Honey, I can’t afford…” he began but you cut him off. 

“I can,” you said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

There was a knot of guilt in your stomach after accusing him of drinking, after he was making such an effort. But you checked the levels on your liquor bottles before you went to bed all the same. 

But by Friday, you were feeling good about how things were going. There was a routine in your life, one that involved your father for the first time ever. It looked like he was serious about settling down in the area, applying for jobs and setting up interviews. Besides Wednesday’s blip, things seemed stable and you couldn’t stay away from Joel any more. 

When he texted you Friday morning asking how things were going and if you’d be free again sometime soon, you took a deep breath and texted back. 

“Hoping by Sunday,” you said. 

By Sunday, you’d feel like telling him about your dad and everything else was worth the risk. Unless everything blew up. In which case, who cares. 

You just hoped he’d still be interested, especially after you’d all but blown him off all week.

You took your dad to the mall that night, him modeling the dress pants and button downs for you, coming out of the fitting room looking a little unsure but a small smile on his face all the same. 

“Feel like we should be doing the reverse of this,” he said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “If I’d done what I shoulda done years ago, I could have taken you shopping when you were a teenager and you could have showed me shit like prom dresses and I could buy you something you needed, not the other way around.” 

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged and smiled a little. “I’m just glad we get to do this now.” 

He smiled and kissed your temple. 

“Me too, Angel,” he gave you a squeeze. “Me too.” 

You went by H-E-B on the way home to get a few things for the weekend and started to go grab a bottle of wine and a six pack when you stopped yourself. Your dad laughed a little. 

“Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t drink,” he said. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” 

“You’re sure?” You frowned. 

“I’m sure.” 

So you got the beer and a bottle of red wine - one from the winery Joel had taken you to on your first date, something that made you smile - and got steaks. Getting to see Joel again soon, your dad lining up a job interview, things actually going well between the two of you for the first time in your life. It felt like a reason to make something nice. 

Your dad went to put his new clothes and shoes away while you started dinner and you decided to make yourself a cocktail. It was going to be a good weekend. You could feel it. 

You made a Tom Collins and had just melted butter in your skillet to baste the steaks when you took your first sip. 

It was watery. 

So watery it didn’t taste like there was liquor in it at all. 

Your hand shook as you set the glass down and you went to the liquor cupboard and took out the gin. You sniffed the bottle and smelled almost nothing. No familiar burn or hint of pine. You took a sip straight from the bottle to test it. It didn’t matter that you were putting your lips on it. You knew you wouldn’t need to save it. 

It was water. Straight water. 

You clenched your jaw and swallowed past the burning tightness in your throat. You weren’t about to cry. Not in front of him. 

“Hey Angel,” he said, coming out from his room in sweats. He froze when he saw what was in your hands. “Oh, shit, I…” 

“Thought you were sober,” your voice shook. “Thought you wanted me in your life.” 

“I do, Honey, I really do, but…” 

“But you just couldn’t keep yourself from getting fucked up every day?” You were going to cry. You were going to cry in front of this fucking asshole because you cared. He’d made you actually care, you’d fallen for his bullshit yet again and it was your own goddamn fault. “Jesus Christ, were you really going to go get a job working with heavy equipment and show up every day drunk off your ass until you killed someone?” 

“I know my limits,” he was defensive. “I know what I can handle and sometimes I just work better with a little alcohol in my system, that’s all I’ve been doing, that’s…” 

“This was damn near full when you got here,” you slammed the bottle on your counter. “You’ve been here a week. A fucking week and you drank through an entire fifth of gin, that’s not a little alcohol, Dad, that’s getting hammered every goddamn day.” 

You pulled the pan off the stove and threw it in your sink with too much force before turning off the burner. You leaned against the counter for a moment, your fingers pressed so hard into the granite it seemed like they should be denting it. 

“I want you gone,” you said. 

“Angel…” 

“I mean it,” you spun to face him. “I want you out. I don’t care where you go, I don’t care if you end up back in fucking prison because you lied to your parole officer, I don’t care if you drop dead. I want you gone, I never want to see you again, I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

You shoved past him and went to your room, locking the door behind you. You curled up on your bed and let yourself cry. 

You wished your father had never found you here. You wished you’d been smart enough to not fall for his shit this time around, You wished you didn’t want a connection with him, want just a shadow of what Sarah had with Joel because being on your own in the world with no ties to anything hurt almost as much as suffering your family’s bullshit did. 

But, most of all, you wished Joel was here. You wished you could curl up against him and that he would hold you while you cried. You wished he’d tell you that you weren’t fucking stupid, that it made sense that you wanted a relationship with the man who’d done nothing but fuck you over your entire life, that everything was going to be OK and that he cared about you in spite of it all. 

You heard your front door close and you stayed on the bed, hoping that he’d actually listen to you and not come back. You’d need to get the locks changed, check the browser history on your laptop to see if he’d gotten into any of your bank accounts or credit cards, look through your apartment and make sure he hadn’t stashed drugs somewhere and forgotten about them. Fuck, why had you been so stupid? 

The sound of the crash outside jerked you out of your head. It was loud enough that the building shook a little, the endless horn after the crash impossible to ignore, and you got up, going for your front door. 

Outside, outlined by the setting sun, was your car wrapped around a lamp post. 

“Dad!” You yelled, running for the smoking heap of metal. He was slumped over the steering wheel and you ripped the door open, checking his pulse. His eyes fluttered open as you did, looking confused. 

“What…” 

“You decided to steal my car this time,” you said. 

“Oh, shit, I…” 

“Save it,” you snapped as a neighbor ran outside, cell phone pressed to her ear. 

You ended up at the hospital with him most of the night. By the time the police were able to test him for alcohol, it was all out of his system. He hadn’t had a drink since you’d picked him up to go to the mall that evening. You weren’t sure if you should be grateful or if you wished he’d failed the test so he’d end up back in prison and far away from you. 

He was mostly fine, just a little banged up and a broken nose from the airbag. Your car was totaled. 

In the back of the Uber to your place after hours in the ER, you looked at him. 

“You’re gone,” you said. “By noon. Otherwise, I call the cops and you can deal with them.” 

He just nodded down at his hands. 

The next morning, you ordered him an Uber to the bus station. He tried to talk to you but you just sat on the couch, holding your coffee cup, pretending you were alone. 

“I know I fucked it all up,” he said, standing in your doorway “But I really did like spending time with you this week. I…” 

Your phone dinged, saying the driver had arrived. 

“Your ride is here,” you said, not bothering to look at him. 

“OK.” 

He stood there and you felt his eyes on you for another moment before he turned and left. You sank back into your couch and rested your forehead in your hand for a moment, trying not to cry. Again. Because fuck, this man did not deserve it. 

And then there was the knock on your door. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you set your mug down so hard that coffee sloshed over the side and onto the table. You stalked toward the door, cell phone in your hand. You were going to call the cops on him this time, you really fucking were. “I swear to God if you forgot something you’re not coming back in…”

But it wasn’t your dad standing there. 

“Joel,” you fought the urge to throw your arms around his neck and cry against him. He didn’t really look like himself, he looked upset. Hurt, angry, something. You frowned. “What are you…” 

“Can I come in?” His voice was strained. You just nodded. “Think we need to talk.” 

*** 

Your place looked the same. 

It was strange, almost. Like there should be some indication of this other man here, something different about it but it was the same. 

“Can I get you anything?” You asked. Your voice was thick. “I have coffee…” 

“No thanks,” he said. “Don’t know how long I’ll be stayin’.” 

“Oh,” you deflated a little. “Alright… What did you want to talk about? Because…” 

“I thought we were on the same page,” he said, cutting you off again. He felt like a dick doing it but he had to get this out, if he didn’t it felt like he was going to burst with it and if he stood here too close to you for too long he wouldn’t do it. He’d just kiss you and wind up in your bed and be stuck in this sickening limbo he’d been trapped in for a week now. “I really did. We never talked about it, not really, but I thought…” 

“I thought we were, too,” you frowned, looking confused. “I don’t…” 

“You said you deleted your dating apps,” Joel said, his voice becoming a little heated. He took a breath. “You said you weren’t fucking anyone else, sure made it sound like you weren’t lookin’ for anything else, like you wanted to actually see where this would go, what this could be and… fuck, I believed that! 

“You made me think it was OK to feel something for you,” he pressed on, standing in your living room with you in front of him, your arms crossed over your body and you looked so small, curving in on yourself like you were trying to disappear. And so much of him wanted to just grab you and hold you and tell you that everything was going to be OK but how could he promise that if you couldn’t even fucking agree on what you were to each other. “So I let myself feel it, I let myself start to fall in love with you and then you go fuckin’ silent on me. You don’t text me first and what you do send is basically nothin’, you never call and then I see you at the mall after you tell me you’re too busy to see me with some guy wrapped around you and that same fuckin’ guy is leavin’ your apartment this morning! I mean, fuck, if I was just some damn fling for you that’s fine but could you at least tell me? Not act like I meant somethin’ to ya?” 

Joel was out of breath, his hands on his hips. He couldn’t look at you, not when you looked so sad it was like someone had hit you and he was still so mad, anyway. 

“That was my dad,” you said softly. 

Joel looked at you. 

“What?” 

“The man,” you closed your eyes for a second before you took a deep breath and opened them again. “At the mall, last night. Leaving my place this morning. That was my dad.” 

“You said your parents were dead.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I said they were gone and they are, from my life. Except when my dad pulls this stunt where he crawls out of the woodwork every few years.” 

He just stood there, staring at you for a moment. 

“Want to sit down?” 

He nodded and followed you to the couch. He sat down first and you sat on the opposite end of it, as far away from him as you could be. 

“You knew I thought they were dead,” he said slowly. You nodded. “Why.” 

“Joel…” 

“You have to help me understand this, Beautiful,” his voice was calmer now. “Why would you let me believe a lie, I don’t…” 

“Because I’m trash, OK? I’m trash, Joel, that’s why,” you snapped. 

He frowned, shaking his head. 

“You’re not…” 

“Yes, I am,” you said, voice calmer. “Trailer trash, if you want to get technical about it, since I grew up in one. My dad knocked my mom up when she was 15 and he was 17, they were 15 and 18 when I was born. He took off right away and I grew up with my mom and one of her sisters because she was the only person in the family who didn’t disown my mother for getting pregnant at 15 and letting the dad run off. 

“They were shit parents. It’s not really their fault, they were kids, they didn’t know what they were doing but they were really bad at it. I started taking care of myself before I can really remember, I couldn’t rely on anybody. My dad was in and out of my life even then, he decided real quick that his fucking friends and alcohol and drugs were way more important than I ever was. I tried, for a long time, to matter to him. To both of them, really. But I couldn’t so… 

“I figured out that the only hope I had for not ending up like them was school. So I buckled down and did everything I could to be the best fucking student I could be. I took every AP class I could so I could get all the college credit I could manage before leaving high school, I got As in everything and I managed to get into a really good school.” 

You squared your jaw, determined, and kept going. 

“But good schools aren’t cheap and I had scholarships but they didn’t cover everything and it’s not like my parents were good for any of it. I didn’t want to take out loans. So I did the only thing I could find that would pay for the rest of school and pay the rent while letting me be free for classes during the day and I danced all four fucking years I was in school.” 

“Danced?” Joel frowned. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I was a stripper, Joel,” you said. “I’m not ashamed of it, it kept me fed and out of debt, but I’m not about to put it on my fucking LinkedIn. And it’s because they were there for none of it, they didn’t do a damn thing to help me or support me or anything but every few years my dad shows up and finds new ways to fuck me over. He wiped out my savings account once, trashed my apartment with his buddies another time. This visit he had a pretty good con going, showed up to my office acting like he had his shit together when, really, he was doing the same fucking thing he always does, which is drink and fuck his life up. And when I found out, he stole my fucking car and wrapped it around a lamp post. Because he’s trash and I am, too…” 

“No, you’re not,” Joel said firmly. 

“Joel…” 

“You’re not,” he said. You were looking at him like you were about to cry. It made his chest hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why didn’t I know any of this?” 

“Because everything that I am now?” You said. “Everything that you know and like about me? That’s all invented, I made it all up. I had to build myself from the ground up after I got away from that life. You liked the me that I built, Joel. The me who reads classic books and has an understanding of film theory and went to Northwestern. Why on Earth would you like the version of me who knew how to make ramen when she was four because that’s what she could reach in the cupboard or the me who took her clothes off to pay for college?” 

“Because I like you,” he said gently. “Don’t really care which version, so long as you’ll let me spend time with you.” 

All the hurt and the anger that had been swallowing him was gone now. In its place was this need to take care of you, to be something constant in your life in a way no one had been for you before, in a way you so desperately deserved. 

You shook your head. 

“That’s sweet, Joel,” you were choked up, eyes watery. “Really, it is, but you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean,” he moved to the middle cushion of the couch. “The person you are now? The one who laughs at crappy movies with me and doesn’t know shit about wine and finds the best restaurants in town? She wouldn’t exist without the girl who had to figure out how to feed herself or the young woman who was so determined to get an education she worked her ass off to make it happen.

“I wasn’t jokin’ when I said I was falling in love with you, baby, and that means all of you. Even the parts you don’t like, even the parts I don’t know yet. I’m fallin’ for the whole package and I’m fallin’ pretty hard so I’m really hoping we’re on the same page on that.” 

You nodded quickly, tears actually falling now. 

“Yeah,” you said, still nodding. “Yeah, we are. We really fucking are.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you against him, your face going into his chest as you cried against him. 

“I’m so sorry,” your voice was muffled by his shirt. “I should have just called you and talked to you, I was so scared of losing this, losing you, I just hid it all and I almost let him ruin the best thing that’s happened to me in so long and…” 

He shushed you.

“Don’t apologize,” his hand made a slow, gentle pattern from the crown of your head down your back, smoothing your hair down, tracing over your spine. “I’m sorry for assuming the worst, I’m sorry for making you think that anything about you would make me want to leave. I’m sorry for not just tellin’ you what you mean to me.” 

“Yeah?” You sniffed a little, pressed yourself closer to him. 

He kissed the top of your head. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because if I’d just told you how I felt about you, you wouldn’t have been dealing with all this on your own. I could have helped. I want to help. So please, Beautiful. Let me help.” 

You looked up at him from your place against his chest. 

“Can you just hold me for a while?” You asked quietly. “I really missed you.” 

He kissed your forehead. 

“Of course, baby,” he said quietly. “I really missed you, too. So damn much.” 

You shifted so that you were all but on his lap and he held you close, just feeling you against him. It hurt to think about you so many years ago, having to go through shit on your own because none of the adults in your life stepped up to take care of you. It was hard to not picture Sarah as a little girl, what she would have looked like trying to fend for herself when she was four or five.  

It hurt, too, to realize that you’d been so alone this past week. That he’d been thinking about you and wanting to see you but hadn’t been someone safe for you to come to. He kissed the top of your head again, making a silent promise to himself that he’d never let you feel that way again. That he’d always be the person you came to first, with anything, even if all he could do was hold you through it. He wasn’t going to let you do it all alone, not anymore, not again. 

Your tears eased and you adjusted, nuzzling against him, your nose trailing over his throat. 

“Feeling better?” He asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded against him and pressed a long, gentle kiss to his neck. “Yeah, I am…” 

You kissed his neck again, your lips against his skin for a few seconds, your breath warm and soft. He groaned a little. 

“Don’t know if that’s such a great idea, Beautiful,” he pulled you back from him slightly and you frowned, your brows knitting together. 

“Why not?” 

“Just…” he adjusted himself so you wouldn’t see him starting to harden in his jeans. “Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a week and…” 

“But I want to,” you separated from him enough to pull your top up and over your head, casting it aside on the floor and leaving you in a lace bralette. “Please, Joel…” 

He wasn’t about to argue too much. He nudged you back on the couch so he could pull your pants and underwear off before he pulled his own down. Before he could even get them fully off you were on his lap, straddling him and pulling at his shirt until it was over his head and on the floor. 

Joel slipped his hands to your waist and slid them slowly, gently over your skin, exploring you, feeling you, until he reached the bralette. He pulled that up and over your head before tossing it to the ground and leaving you bare before him. 

“Fuck, beautiful,” he breathed, looking you over before kissing you deeply, his tongue teasing into your lips. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you started grinding slowly against his lap, your wet slit brushing against his cock and making him shudder with desire. “Fuck, I wanted to talk with you so bad this week, Joel. You were all I really wanted and…” 

“You’ve got me,” he said quietly, kissing you again. “Don’t have to do it all alone ever again, Beautiful. Promise you don’t.” 

You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before you rose up enough to notch his head against your dripping, grasping entrance. You dropped your forehead to his and your eyes met his own as you slowly, surely, sank onto his cock. 

He moaned as you took him completely, fighting to take deep, steady breaths. You felt so damn good around him and he couldn’t help but look down to see where the two of you were joined, his cock disappearing into you. The sight of you taking him into yourself, the way your body made room for him, how you felt around him made him acutely aware of just how close he was to you. He was a part of you like this and it felt like this was how it was supposed to be, you and him together. 

His hands ranged over you, up your back to pull you tightly to him and you gave a ragged, desperate little gasp. 

“I’ve got you, Beautiful,” he held you tightly to him as you held him inside yourself. “I’ve always got you.” 

You started to move over him then, every thrust of your hips delicious and slow, like you were savoring how he felt. You started to tighten around him and he groaned a little. 

“Missed you, Joel,” you breathed, your pace increasing. “So, so much.” 

You rode him and he was so lost in you he wasn’t sure how long he was clutching you to him, he was too far gone to notice. All he knew in the world was that you were his, that he could feel you so close it almost hurt, that he always wanted to be able to be with you like this. 

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, pressing yourself flush against him, dropping your head to his shoulder. “Fuck, Joel, you feel… I’m gonna come I can’t…” 

“Come on, baby,” he pressed his fingers into your flesh. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you, want you to come for me. Come on my cock, baby, want to feel you, let me feel you.” 

You came with a strangled cry and stilled as your pussy fluttered around him. He fucked you through it, thrusting up into you three more times before the force of your orgasm was too much and he pushed himself in deep, moaning as he filled you. 

He held you like that, your bodies joined and aligned, for a while. Eventually, he relaxed his hold on you and you sat up a little, his cock softening within you. He reached a hand up and threaded his fingers in your hair, his palm against your cheek. 

“Next time somethin’ happens, how about we just talk it out,” he smiled a little. “Like this a whole lot more than not seeing you.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, Joel,” you smiled. “Next time, we’ll talk.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Soooooooooo

I felt kinda bad leaving that cliffhanger out there two weeks in a row BUT now we have them on the same page :D and stuff is out there :D :D and they can move on to figuring out whether or not to tell Sarah :D :D :D

Don't forget that you can follow me and subscribe on my updates blog where I'll only reblog each new chapter once so you're not spammed.

I hope you all enjoyed this angsty little interlude in this story. I know I did! Thanks for being here <3 Love you!

Taglist: @fanficismydrug

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 8 (Captain Price Fic) - Whiplash

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments)

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in updating. I wanted to make sure I did proper research on how an actual OPS (operation) goes down, so I could make the scene as realistic and detailed as possible. I tried to break it down so it's easy to understand and hopefully paint a vivid picture. Apologies if it’s a bit long, but HERE is a little bit of a spoiler; if you stick with it, there’s something funny at the end, so be patient! Or, if you're not feeling patient, just skip to the bottom and get your laugh. 😂 Thanks for reading! ----------

Y/N couldn’t ignore the progress her team was making. Their drills were faster, sharper, and far more coordinated than before. It was such a stark improvement that even they started teasing her about it.

But Y/N knew exactly why.

Price was relentless. Every drill, every scenario, he dissected her tactics with ruthless precision. A gap in her perimeter? Exploited. A hesitation in her decision-making? Targeted. Overreliance on sweeping and clearing? He turned it against her without hesitation.

It wasn’t just a training exercise anymore—it was personal.

Her team noticed too. While they kept things professional, the pattern was clear: Price wasn’t just testing the squad; he was laser-focused on her. The way he singled her out made her grit her teeth, though she kept her expression neutral. Giving him the satisfaction of a reaction wasn’t an option.

Still, his determination forced her to adapt. After every drill, she analyzed his methods, shored up the weaknesses he’d exposed, and adjusted her approach. Sometimes, she even managed to outmaneuver him, claiming small victories.

But those victories were fleeting. Every time she won, he came back harder, forcing her to lose twice over. It was infuriating, a game of tug-of-war where he refused to let her gain any ground for long.

And yet, she refused to back down. If Price wanted to play this game, so be it.

That afternoon, after the morning drill and a quiet lunch, Y/N stayed in her cubicle. She avoided the rooftop entirely, certain Price would be there, ready to disrupt her peace. Instead, she sat at her desk, pretending to focus on paperwork while her thoughts churned.

Always one step ahead, she thought, her jaw tightening. The frustration simmered as she replayed the challenge in her mind.

She hadn’t cared much about winning or losing before. Her focus had always been on her team—protecting her people, completing the drills, and moving forward. But now? With this ridiculous deal hanging over her head, the thought of losing felt unbearable.

Her hand hovered over the edge of her desk as an idea began to form. If Price won, she wouldn’t owe him anything—not really. She’d play along until her reservist ended, then disappear. Block him, ignore his calls, and ghost him completely. It would be clean and final. No date. No follow-up. No Price.

A flicker of satisfaction tugged at her lips. If he thought a few drills and some clever teasing were enough to wear her down, he had another thing coming. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of winning—not in the way he wanted, at least.

I’m a woman of my word, she mused, leaning back in her chair, but that doesn’t mean I’m playing by his rules.

Her plan solidified with each passing second. She wouldn’t engage. She’d leave him on read, let his messages pile up unanswered, and ignore his calls entirely. Let him deal with the frustration of being left in the dark.

He’d think he’d won—that his persistence and charm had paid off—but she’d pull the rug out from under him. No explanations, no closure. Just silence.

She smirked faintly at the thought, her resolve hardening. Price might be relentless, but so was she. If he wanted to play games, she’d make sure he left empty-handed.

With a quick glance at the clock, Y/N straightened in her seat, readying herself for the next round of drills. If Price thought he could push her into a corner, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

----------

Y/N had managed to win two rounds of drills, narrowing the gap between their scores. One more win, and she’d even the playing field—or lose and be stuck honoring that ridiculous date. Or not. Disappearing was still an option, and her mind was already spinning with plans on how to make that happen.

The next day, however, brought an unexpected twist. There were no drills. Instead, the entire unit was called in for a counter-terrorism operation. The situation was serious—real, not simulated—and the urgency was clear. They needed to act swiftly, decisively, and most importantly, quietly. Resolving the threat before the media caught wind of it was critical.

Y/N was already gearing up when she noticed Price’s absence. For once, he wasn’t on base, and the thought gave her a small measure of relief. She didn’t know when he’d return—not that it mattered. By the time he did, she’d be gone, fully immersed in the operation.

Her focus sharpened as she prepared for what lay ahead. There was no room for distractions, no space for personal frustrations. The mission came first, and she intended to give it her all. If Price did show up later, it wouldn’t be her problem. She’d be in the field, doing what she did best.

One more drill can wait, she thought, strapping on her gear. For now, the stakes were higher than a petty competition. ----------

The operation unfolded like clockwork. Three teams, each with their assigned roles, moved into position with precision. Y/N and her team touched down on the rooftop helipad, the unmarked helicopter disappearing into the distance as soon as they disembarked. The air was brisk, and the city below carried on, blissfully unaware of the chaos lurking within the office building.

"Alpha One moving," her teammate reported over comms as he and another operator headed toward the fire exit on the rooftop, preparing to descend.

"Alpha Two in position," came the confirmation from the second half of their helipad team, who were securing their entry through the service access point.

"Alpha Three ready," Y/N whispered into her mic, her voice calm despite the slight tremor of nerves beneath the surface. She secured the rope to an anchor point on the rooftop, double-checking every knot.

Her smaller, lighter frame made her the ideal choice for the rope descent. Her teammates, though strong and capable, weren’t the ideal for this kind of maneuver. She, however, was.

“This isn’t a roller coaster at the theme park,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the rope and edging closer to the drop. At least here, she had control over the outcome.

The snipers’ voices crackled in her ear. “Targets confirmed on the ninth and tenth floors. Two on nine, three patrolling ten.”

“Copy that,” Y/N replied, her hands tightening further on the rope.

One of the snipers added, “We can’t fire clean. They’re grouped too tight. If we take one, the others will know before we can cycle the next round. It’ll blow the whole op.”

Y/N understood immediately. The targets’ close proximity and overlapping patrol routes made it nearly impossible for the snipers to eliminate them without alerting the rest. This wasn’t about precision—it was about timing, speed, and silence.

“That’s why you’ve got me,” she said, her voice dry but focused.

With a deep breath, she stepped backward over the edge and began her descent. Feet pressed firmly against the glass exterior, she moved smoothly downward, her body angled and controlled. Each step and slide was deliberate as she relied on the rope for balance, her rifle secured but ready.

“Ninth floor, second office from the left. Two targets,” one of the snipers reported.

“On it,” she replied, her voice steady.

Pausing her descent, she angled her body, flipping upside down with practiced ease. Her rifle was in position within seconds.

“Hold fire,” she murmured to the snipers. “On my mark. We take them together.”

There was a pause on the comms, followed by quiet acknowledgments from the snipers.

“Three… two… one… mark.”

Y/N fired simultaneously with the snipers stationed across the building. Her silenced shots punctuated the air as the figures behind the glass dropped in sync, their bodies hitting the floor soundlessly. The timing was flawless—no alarms, no panicked shouts.

“Clear,” she reported, resuming her glide downward.

“Three on the tenth floor,” the sniper advised.

“I see them,” she confirmed. Adjusting her position, she fired again with precision, her gloved hands steady. These targets were more spread out, but her silencer and sharp aim ensured they never knew what hit them.

By the time Y/N reached the designated floor, her teammates were already in position inside. One of them used a tactical glass-breaking tool to create an opening—a compact device designed to shatter glass with controlled force.

The sharp hiss of pressure and the cracking sound of glass breaking told her it was time. “Alpha Three, you’re clear,” her teammate signaled.

With a firm grip on the rope, Y/N swung herself inward, using the momentum to land softly inside the room. Her rifle was raised immediately, scanning the surroundings.

“Let’s move,” she ordered, her tone clipped and commanding. The team fell into formation, sweeping the next room with silent precision. ----------

The team moved swiftly through the first room, shots ringing out with practiced precision. Each movement was calculated—one target down, then another, each takedown happening in rapid succession. There was no time to waste.

Y/N and her team cleared the space, checking corners and eliminating threats as they went. Her focus was unbroken, the mission at hand consuming every ounce of her attention.

One of her teammates, a seasoned operative, gestured to the hostages huddled in the corner. “Move them out,” he instructed.

Another member of the team guided the hostages to the fire exit, his pace quick but measured. He ensured they stayed low, ducking behind furniture and moving out of view of any potential threats.

With the hostages safely on their way, Y/N and her remaining teammate moved to the next door.

“We wait for Alpha Four,” Y/N murmured, her eyes locked on the hallway.

“Understood,” her teammate replied, his voice steady but taut with anticipation.

They crouched in place, every sense heightened. The seconds felt like minutes as they waited for the others to arrive.

When the confirmation came through their earpieces, Y/N nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, they moved toward the door. Y/N placed her hand on the breach tool, signaling to her teammate to prepare for entry. The device was positioned, ready to take down the door with minimal noise.

She took one last breath, steeling herself for the next phase. The countdown to breach was about to begin. ---------

As Y/N reached for the breach tool, the door to the next room shuddered under the pressure of a sudden, violent blast. The force hit her with unexpected power, sending her flying backward, crashing into the wall. For a moment, everything blurred—her body rocked from the impact, her breath knocked out of her lungs.

The blast had come from within the room—an ambush. The terrorist inside had anticipated their entry, and the door wasn’t just locked. It was rigged.

Her team reacted instantly, diving for cover, weapons raised. Gunshots tore through the air, deafening in their intensity. Y/N barely registered the chaos as her teammate, seeing her vulnerable position, lunged forward. He grabbed her, pulling her by the shoulders and dragging her to safety behind a nearby stack of crates.

“Move, move!” he shouted as they hit the ground. Y/N’s ears were ringing, her vision still fuzzy from the blast.

But they couldn’t afford to rest. The package—the critical asset they’d come for—was still inside with the terrorists. Y/N shook off the disorientation, forcing herself to her feet, gun in hand.

“We can’t let them escape with it,” she said, voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

Her team nodded, their focus sharp. The mission hadn’t changed. They would break in, neutralize the threat, and secure the package. No matter the cost.

Shaking off the lingering disorientation, Y/N pushed herself up and sprinted down the hallway. The terrorists had moved fast, carrying sensitive intel—information that couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Her helmet was long gone, knocked off during the blast, and she’d removed her balaclava to breathe more freely, the cool air filling her lungs.

Ahead, she spotted one of the terrorists. Without hesitation, she launched herself at him, her legs wrapping around his waist just below his ribs. In one fluid motion, she twisted, using her momentum to drag him down. Her arms circled his neck, tightening into a vice-like grip as she forced him into submission, cutting off his air supply.

He struggled, but it was too late—Y/N was already in control. His attempts to fight were futile as she held him firm, waiting for the rest of her team to catch up and secure the situation.

She charged forward, her body tense with adrenaline, as bullets suddenly ricocheted off the walls behind her. She barely registered the sharp pain in her shoulder, a bullet grazing her as she sprinted toward the fire exit. No time to stop, no time to think about the wound.

"Alpha Three, need backup, gunmen on my tail. I’m moving downstairs!!" she radioed, her breath ragged as she darted down the hallway, dodging the shots.

She had the package now, but the danger wasn’t over. With one hand clutching the precious intel, the other wrapped around a handgun, her knives still tucked securely at her side. The snipers were watching the glass, waiting for her signal.

"Alpha Three, abort! We’ve spotted a gunman on your floor," came the urgent call from the sniper. Too late.

The blow came suddenly—her face met the force of a backhanded slap, throwing her off balance and sending her crashing backward. Her head snapped against the floor as the terrorist lunged for his weapon, intent on shooting her and taking the package.

Reacting on instinct, she threw one of her knives, striking his palm and forcing the gun from his grasp. In a blur, she kicked it further out of reach, but the terrorist was quick. He pulled out his own knife, and the fight became a brutal, fast-paced melee.

The two exchanged strikes, the blade swiping past her face as she deftly evaded. His next move was swift—a stab aimed directly at her face. She blocked his arm with everything she had, forcing the blade away, and used her strength to push back.

With the force of the move, he stumbled, losing his footing. She seized the opportunity, maneuvering him to the ground beneath her. She quickly pulled out her own knife, aiming for a decisive strike—but he wasn’t finished yet. He pushed against her with all his strength, trying to keep her at bay.

In a savage moment of desperation, she sank her teeth into his arm, catching him off guard. He screamed in pain, his body jerking in response. But she didn’t stop. She pressed the knife deeper into his chest, her grip tightening as she continued to bite down, her teeth locking on his flesh. His eyes widened in shock and terror, but it was too late. With a final push, the blade buried itself in his chest, immobilizing him in fear and agony.

"Alpha Three, all clear. Package secure. Target down," she said, her voice strained, the metallic taste of blood lingering in her mouth.

The target had passed out from the pain—he wasn’t dead, though the knife had found a critical spot in his chest. The wound was deep, agonizing, but not fatal.

"Alpha Two, clear. Floor's secure. Charlie One and Two, you better fill me in on what you saw later," her teammate radioed, nodding toward the snipers.

There was a brief pause before the snipers spoke. "That was… well, quite savage, Inspector," they said, their tone a mix of admiration and surprise, trying to lighten the mood. They’d just watched her take matters into her own hands, witnessing the raw brutality of her actions up close.

----------

After the operation, she was rushed for medical attention. The bullet wound on her shoulder wasn’t just a scrape; it was deeper and more severe than she had initially thought. Blood oozed steadily down her arm, soaking the sleeve of her uniform, while the sharp, relentless pain made every movement unbearable. Her face, where she had taken a hard hit, was swollen and already blossoming into ugly shades of purplish-yellow, the throbbing ache a constant reminder of the brutality she’d endured. She had pushed herself to the limit, and her body was now making her pay for it.

Meanwhile, the unit worked quickly to secure all footage from the building’s CCTV. Keeping the operation under wraps before the media caught wind of it was critical sending it to MI5 afterwards. However, there was no escaping the evidence of her altercation—particularly the moment she’d bitten down on the terrorist’s arm to drive the knife deeper into his chest. One of her teammates, with a mischievous streak, managed to pull a clip from the drone footage and building cameras, which vividly captured her throwing the man down, the brutal bite, and the finishing stab. Within thirty minutes, the clip had made its way into the team’s group chat, where it had already earned the title of the "Savage Knife Fight."

The memes came pouring in. Someone photoshopped her face onto a snapping alligator turtle mid-bite with the caption: When the ‘snap’ in Snapping Alligator Turtle isn’t just a nickname. Another showed her lunging at a cartoon terrorist with oversized reptilian jaws, complete with a knife clutched in her teeth. By the time she’d finished getting patched up, the entire office had unofficially reaffirmed her title as the “Snapping Alligator Turtle” of the unit—a nickname she’d earned long ago thanks to the infamous joke patch on her uniform sleeve.

The patch itself was an inside joke from her team—a snarling cartoon depiction of a snapping alligator turtle, emblazoned with the words, “Fast? Not when you’re dead.” The twist? It was supposed to reference to her as a tortoise, not a turtle, as she was affectionately nicknamed the “Snapping Alligator Tortoise.” Her team loved pointing out that no such tortoise exists, making the name both a playful jab and a nod to her relentless tenacity in the field. After the knife fight? That patch felt less like a joke and more like a badge of truth, cementing her reputation in the most savage way possible.

The Chief smirked when he saw the latest round of memes circulating. “Looks like you’ve lived up to your patch again, Inspector,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe of the medical bay.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a wry smile. “My other arm couldn’t push him down, so I had to do what I had to do,” she replied, her tone dry as ever.

The banter and jokes didn’t bother her—not really. If anything, they were a reminder that she’d done her job, even if she had to bite her way to the finish line.

----------

Earlier, the medic had to cut through the sleeve of her uniform to tend to the wound on her shoulder. Now, her dominant arm was heavily bandaged and barely functional, leaving her to manage everything with her non-dominant hand. It made simple tasks—like typing or clicking a mouse—frustratingly slow and clumsy.

To make matters worse, the painkillers she’d been given contained something that left her drowsy and sluggish, further slowing her progress. Every few minutes, she caught herself blinking too long, the haze of exhaustion tugging at her focus.

Her unit had urged her to go home and rest for the day. “You’ve done more than enough,” one of them had said, practically pleading. But she’d waved them off, stubborn as ever. “I’d rather finish the paperwork now,” she’d replied flatly. “No point in letting it pile up for tomorrow.”

So there she sat, struggling through the reports with one arm out of commission and her body fighting to shut down. Her movements were slow but deliberate, her determination unwavering. If nothing else, she refused to let a stack of unfinished paperwork get the better of her after the day she’d had.

The office phone rang, cutting through the quiet murmur of keyboards and low conversations. Her colleague in the next cubicle picked it up, his expression shifting from casual to mildly alarmed. He glanced over at her, hesitant.

"Uhhh… Commander Price is asking for you," he said, dragging out the words like he was delivering bad news.

Her fingers froze above the keyboard, and she immediately tensed at the name. For a moment, her tired brain tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, she finally looked up.

She was in no mood for this—not with her dominant arm out of commission, her painkillers making her feel like she was one wrong blink away from passing out, and her shredded sleeve making her look like the Hulk mid-transformation.

With a deadpan, drowsy expression, she replied, "Tell him I’m busy. Really sorry." Her tone suggested she was anything but. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned back to her painfully slow typing.

Her colleague hesitated, but then dutifully repeated her words into the receiver. A sharp click sounded as the line disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment, then placed it gingerly back in its cradle, casting her a sidelong glance.

"You know he’s not gonna buy that, right?"

"Not my problem," she mumbled, squinting at the screen. "He can wait like everyone else."

About 10 to 15 minutes later, her colleague, now holding a freshly filled mug from the water cooler, burst into the office at full speed.

"Y/N! Commander Price is in the hallway! He’s heading this way!" he blurted, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

She froze mid-keystroke, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You’re joking," she muttered, though the look on his face confirmed he was very much not.

Her drowsiness evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, panicked burst of energy. She shot up from her chair, looking around like a trapped animal. Hide! Where to hide?!

Her first instinct was the file closet, but one glance at her injured arm told her there was no way she could wedge herself in there. Desperate, she looked at the desks, considered crawling under one, but quickly dismissed it as undignified.

"Think, think, think!" she hissed, spinning in a small circle like a malfunctioning robot.

Finally, her eyes landed on the fire exit. Without a second thought, she bolted for it, ignoring the confused looks from her colleagues. She flung the door open and dashed down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time despite her bandaged arm screaming in protest.

By the time she reached the first floor, she was breathless but didn’t stop. She ran straight through the lobby, past a bewildered colleague who barely had time to call out, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she replied, not breaking her stride.

And then she was out the door, vanishing into the afternoon like a fugitive fleeing a crime scene.

----------

After bolting down the fire exit like her life depended on it, she burst into the parking lot, deciding to make a break for the mess hall building. Maybe she could catch her breath and grab a drink before Price found her again.

Unbeknownst to her, Commander Price was already in the mess hall. Spotting her sprinting toward the door, he leaned casually against the frame, waiting like a predator lying in ambush. As soon as she was close enough, he straightened up, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Boo,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably teasing.

She froze mid-step, her breath catching as her eyes snapped wide open in disbelief. “No… NO.”

Without a second thought, she turned on her heel and bolted back the way she came. “Not today, Price! Not with my luck!”

Her panicked retreat was as chaotic as it was ill-planned. In her frenzy, she failed to notice the police van reversing directly into her path. By the time the warning beep registered, it was far too late. She collided with the front of the van, the impact sending her sprawling across the hood.

“FUCK!” she screamed, rolling with dramatic flair across the windshield before tumbling off the side and landing with a graceless thud on the pavement.

The van screeched to a halt, and the driver jumped out, his face pale. “Inspector! Are you—oh my gosh!! are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, though the way she cradled her now definitely broken arm told a different story. Groaning, she flopped back onto the pavement, glaring up at the sky. “Just… give me a minute to die in peace.”

By then, the entire parking lot was in an uproar. Unit members spilled out of the building, drawn by the loud thwack of human-meets-vehicle. Captain Price, who had witnessed the entire debacle from the mess hall entrance, was already sprinting toward her, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine worry.

Kneeling beside her, Price’s gaze flicked from her arm to her face, his tone softer but still laced with teasing concern. “Bloody hell, darling. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? First running like a lunatic, and now this?”

She glared at him through the haze of pain, her voice sharp despite her discomfort. “Don’t darling me, Price. If it isn’t obvious, I didn’t want to face you!”

His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk she’d come to dread. “So, you admit you were running from me?”

Her eyes narrowed further, venom practically dripping from her gaze. “I blame you! If you hadn’t ambushed me, I wouldn’t have been running!”

Price raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. “Would it help if I carried your paperwork to the hospital?”

She let out a frustrated groan and shot him a rude hand gesture with her good arm as the non-emergency ambulance pulled up. The medics began loading her onto the stretcher, her scowl deepening with every second.

“Gosh, I hate you,” she muttered, closing her eyes as if willing herself to disappear. “This is all your fault.” her scowl growing darker with every jostle.

The medics prepared to shut the ambulance doors when one of them turned to Price. “Commander, do you want to ride along? She might need some support.”

Her eyes snapped open, fire practically shooting from her gaze. “NO! I said, keep that man away from me!”

Price, now thoroughly entertained, leaned closer with a grin. “See you at the hospital, love.”

The doors shut, muffling the beginning of what sounded like a creative string of curses.

The parking lot fell into stunned silence before one officer snorted. “Honestly? That might’ve been the best entertainment we’ve had all year.”

Another officer grinned. “Oi, Captain! You better follow her! She’s gonna need someone to carry all that pride back!”

Encouraged by the cheers and laughter from the unit, Price gave a mock bow, climbed into his car, and started the engine.

By the time she spotted his 4x4 in the ambulance’s window, her angry groan could probably be heard in the next postcode. “I swear, if that man follows me into the hospital, I’m filing two injury reports—one for my arm and one for my sanity!”

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite it being a bit on the longer side. I tried to get into all the messy, chaotic details. 😅 And just a heads up, it’s going to be a little harder for her to run away from Captain Price now, especially considering she’s injured. But we all know she’ll try, anyway. 😂 Thanks for reading, and as always, feel free to drop your thoughts below!

Edit: On to the next chapter!!-------->

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?���

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

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