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coco-loco-nut · 2 days ago

Text

Bookworm

pairing: carlos x reader

summary: Carlos never expected to feel insecure about your book boyfriends, but maybe that’s part of dating an author

masterlist requests open

———————

It was a common occurrence for fans and media to find you in the corner of the garage with your laptop or a book. It makes for a great reading environment once noise canceling headphones are on. Fans are always eager to see what book you are reading during the weekend, and you talk about it on social media. It was a surprise to most people when you started dating Carlos, most authors don’t date famous athletes. Fate had other plans.

Carlos truly doesn’t mind that you don’t quite care for racing, he’s just happy that you tag along and don’t complain about it. He honestly respects that you have no interest in racing but still show up to support. You are always happy when he does well and empathetic when he doesn’t, but you couldn’t care less about other drivers.

“Baby,” Carlos stands in front of you, trying to get your attention to no avail. He doesn’t mess with your book, simply waiting for you to look up. You notice his shadow, but you have to finish the page to finish the chapter, he can wait a minute.

“Sorry, what’s up?” you slide one side of your headphones off to better hear Carlos.

“I’m going to go to the drivers parade, wanted to check in before I do,” he smiles, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Have fun, and good luck,” your tender smile melts his heart. He can’t wait to surprise you after the race, he’s been researching some of your books and bought a couple for the flight home. Carlos even asked your brother about books you used to love.

“What book is Y/n reading?” Lando asks as Carlos settles beside him. Lando secretly loves your socials, getting to get to know you more. He also thinks it’s funny when you reply to fans who ask about what inspired certain scenes in your books.

“Iron Flame. The next book released few months ago and she finally got around to the first one and this one,” Carlos smiles, he loves his bookworm.

“I’ve heard a lot about that. Has she ever called you Xaden? You and him both have that dark fluffy hair,” Lando asks, pulling out his phone to look up fan art. Charles approaches his teammate, silently joining the conversation.

“No,” Carlos honestly never thought about the male characters in books. He’s heard of people having book boyfriends, but you never brought it up so he brushed it off. Carlos peers over Lando’s shoulder to take a look.

“I see like a semi resemblance. Oh, I remember her reading this one too,” Lando pulls up more pictures of popular book boyfriends. Carlos feels something spark in him, a twinge of jealousy.

“It’s a good thing she reads for the plot then,” Carlos looks away, plastering on a fake smile and a wave for the fans. Lando barely contains his laughter as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“The plot? That’s what she said? She enjoys the smut,” Lando shakes his head, waving to a group of fans yelling for him.

“But she doesn’t write that,” you are a young adult fantasy and adventure author, sure there is an element of romance, but that doesn’t mean anything, right?

“So? She’s an adult, she can enjoy it. Don’t you notice when she gets really quiet and nonchalant when reading? Like no reactions or not even a smile?” Charles asks, watching Carlos nod. “That’s a smut scene she is enjoying, do yourself a favor and read it,” Charles suggests.

The color drains from Carlos’ face.

“Logan,” Carlos calls to the unsuspecting American. Logan approaches, unsure why he is needed and a little concerned. “Do you know what your sister is reading?”

“Yeah, some popular book. What about it?”

“It has,” Carlos lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening in, “smut.”

“And?” Logan arches his eyebrow, not seeing the problem with the inclusion of sex in books.

“I don’t know,” Carlos is at a loss for words. What if you like what you read better than him? What if he is suddenly inadequate?

“Look, it’s just a book. She writes romance books and I am ninety percent sure you are what she bases it off of. Especially since every male love interest has your hair,” Logan points out causing Carlos to blush.

“Right, thanks,” Lando snickers at Carlos’ sudden shyness and Logan’s clear discomfort talking about his sister’s relationship.

“I’ll, um, send you a list of books she loved growing up. She left them at home and always talks about rereading them eventually,” Logan exits the conversation. As soon as the parade is over, Carlos orders the books and a new bookshelf for next day delivery so he can surprise you.

Back in the garage, your hair tie has found a home as a bookmark and your computer rests on your lap. Carlos watches you furiously typing away, undoubtedly working on your next hit.

“Are you going to say anything or just stand there watching me like a creep?” you tease, not looking up from your computer.

“I love watching you work. Sometimes you do this cute thing where you bite your lip when working on something really intense, and how you have to hold yourself back from telling me about it because you insist on not sharing until you finish the book. Even when it drives both of us crazy,” Carlos steps closer, wedging himself beside you to get a peak of your book.

“No peeking,” you laugh, throwing a hand out to cover the screen. “I’ll give you a hint,” you smile as Carlos perks up. “It’s a highly requested sequel to a book that was very much inspired by you.”

“Logan was right,” Carlos muses.

“What does my brother have to do with this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos shrugs, placing a kiss on your head. You are, in fact, a little worried about it.

“That’s not ominous at all,” with a shake of your head you set the computer off to the side and put your full attention onto your boyfriend.

Carlos wraps his arms around you, enjoying the bit of peace before the race. When his fans are confused why you even go to races when you aren’t a fan of the sport, it’s these moments that you answer with. You enjoy your time with Carlos, supporting his passion like he supports yours, and sneaking off to annoy your brother.

“How sweet, it’s time to go, Carlos,” Charles takes a photo of the two of you almost asleep. It had only been two minutes. Carlos sighs, untangling himself from you as he begrudgingly stands up.

“The quicker you drive, the faster you can cuddle again,” you remind him, standing with him. It’s time for a coffee refill anyway and to visit Logan before he heads to his car.

“Or I can DNF early and get my press out of the way,” Carlos’ joke falls flat as you and Charles give him a displeased look.

“Have a good race, I’ll be here waiting for you,” you give Carlos a quick kiss.

“Where’s mine?” Charles jokes.

“Mate, no,” Carlos glares at his teammate.

“Good luck,” you disappear from the garage. Sneaking into Williams, you grab Logan’s gloves and stand inconspicuously on Alex’s side. Despite spending a lot of time in the Ferrari garage now, you make sure that your brother is still supported.

“Y/n!” Logan yells, and you try to stifle your laugh. In that moment, you not notice Logan sneak up on you and then it’s too late. He snatches the gloves back and stares at you.

“What?” you giggle.

“I can’t believe you write books for adults, you are literally a child,” Logan sighs, somehow he is the youngest.

“Shut up,” you stick your tongue out at him. Logan pinches your tongue, unamused at your antics.

“Doesn’t Carlos need you to bother him?” he asks, letting go and crossing his arms.

“No, I just wanted to see my brother, but I know when I’m not wanted,” you pout, pulling the card that always wins.

“Okay, okay. Thank you for seeing me before the race. Yes, I’ll be safe. No, I won’t reconsider my career,” Logan softens. He doesn’t take your presence for granted, it’s nice having family around.

“You’ll do great, maybe you’ll even beat Carlos,” you nudge him, feeling the clock tick down.

“Thanks,” you have half a mind to ask him to elaborate on what Carlos said, but that can wait until after the race.

“Bye, Lo,” you wave goodbye, heading back to your designated spot in the Ferrari garage.

“What are you reading today?” one of the engineers asks. You run a mini library with some of the team, loaning out books for them to read on flights.

“It’s called Onyx Storm, it’s the third book in this series. How are you enjoying the book I gave you?” you ask eagerly in return.

“Haven’t started it yet, picked up one of your books at the airport,” he says, making you feel a little embarrassed.

“Really? Which one,”

“Starlight,” it takes ever ounce of will in you to not die of embarrassment. That is one you wrote at the beginning of your relationship with Carlos, and he was the biggest influence on the book.

“That’s a great choice, I love that one,”

“You love all of your books,”

“That is true, it’s like picking a favorite child,” you chuckle.

“I do have one question about it,”

“It has nothing to do with Carlos and me, the manuscript was mostly finished when we met,” you lie, one that you’ve held to since publication. You wrote the book in a week, the fastest you ever wrote before. The publication turnaround makes the lie believable.

“You get asked that a lot?”

“Yeah, it was the first romance I published after meeting him so it is a natural question,” you shrug it off.

“Well, I really enjoy it. I’ve got to go, but I can’t wait for the book you are working on now,” the engineer gestures to the computer waiting for you. You grab your dedicated pair of headphones so you can listen to the race as you type away.

Carlos is practically bouncing when you return to his apartment after the weekend.

“Is everything okay?” you ask warily. He didn’t win the race so you slightly confused why he is eager to get home. Especially with what Logan told you. You spent the flight thinking of how to confront Carlos about his insecurities and how to help him about it.

He got a friend to set up your new bookcase in your office-slash-reading-room before you returned home. Carlos is really proud of his work.

“Close your eyes,” Carlos instructs as you step inside, carefully setting down your luggage. His hand covers your eyes as the other keeps a gentle-yet-firm grip on your waist to guide you.

“Why am I scared,” your nervous laughs accompanies the shuffles of your feet walking through your home.

“Don’t be, almost there,” a door clicks open and you are led inside. “Surprise,” the warm hand covering your eyes disappears and your eyes open, scanning the room. They immediately land on the bookshelf and you run over to it.

“Oh my god, when did you do this?” you gasp, running your fingers across the spines before you pluck a book from the shelf. You loved these books in elementary and middle school. You role played them during recess before you had any idea what role playing was. It’s honestly a little embarrassing looking back on it.

“Yesterday, Logan told me you loved them growing up,” Carlos smiles warmly as you act like a kid on Christmas.

“He told me you were feeling a little insecure when comparing yourself to the male characters of the books I’ve read,” you broach the subject tentatively, searching his reaction before choosing how to proceed.

“I was, but your brother reminded me that you write me into everything you’ve written since meeting me. I also know that I’m the real thing,” Carlos sounds sure of himself.

“So it’s nothing to do with the books I read having sexual elements to them?” you raise your eyebrow, trying to sus him out.

“Nope,” he pops the p, acting nonchalant.

“Well, in that case I should probably warn you that I had a huge crush on Prince Maxon Schreave and Firestar back in the day, like, a huge crush. You know, I think Maxon was my introduction to writing. My first fanfiction revolved around him,” your voice may have a teasing lilt to it, but you are dead serious.

“Seriously, mi amor? Maybe I should return those then,” the anxious undertones in his voice support your theory as he moves to take the books.

“Touch them and you die,” you threaten and Carlos immediately backs off. “I have you now anyway, you are who I write my fanfiction about now,” you do a complete turnaround, leaving a speechless Carlos alone in the room as you walk into the living room, book in hand.

“Wait!” he chases you, needing to find out what you meant.

“I meant what I publish, obviously,” you tell half of the truth. You will DIE before Carlos finds your burner accounts that are so well hidden it takes three secret email accounts to reach the one you use to login and post.

“Right. Well, maybe I will read one of the books I got you,” Carlos retreats to grab a book before laying beside you on the couch and promptly falling asleep on your lap.

“Goodnight, Carlos. Hello, Maxon.”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine

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peachylynnie · 2 days ago

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house edge

word count: 3.5k (making up for my absence) synopsis: in which sylus finally talks to you, alone. contains: pt 3 of blackjack, pt 2 of ace, sylus x fem!reader (non mc), moderately obsessive sylus, LOT'S OF TENSION, the twins appear, alcohol consumption, cursing, weapons, violence (death, mentions of suicide), and references to gambling. a/n: house edge refers to the odds advantage in the house/dealer's favor. haha this totally isn't late haha. i'm back in school and wifi sucks so this took awhile. i still hope you enjoy. reblogs and comments are always appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged for the rest of the series. tagged: @sprout341 @miffysoo previous chapter | lads masterlist | next chapter

before he can savor that addictive look on your face (he couldn't care less about the cards), sylus' phone rings.

"tch," he clicks his tongue, ready to decline whoever's interrupting his moment with you.

however, his brows furrow upon reading who's calling.

the twins.

sylus curses under his breath as he stands up. he can't reject their call. he's made it clear to them that they should call only when it's important.

"i'll get back to you on my wager soon, gentlemen," he says as he strides towards the door, ignoring sherman and his lackey's frantic attempts at a compromise. "sweetie," he nods at you, brings the phone to his ear, and steps out of the lounge.

as sherman and his lackey lunge for sylus' cards to search for signs of foul play, you frown at the door he just closed.

this guy. he's no ordinary guy. of course, you knew that when your handler stationed you here. he's the head of onychinus for fuck's sake, the infamous person who runs the infamous faction that runs the infamous n109 zone. but seriously? anyone in their right mind would stay after seeing the hands on the table, especially after a whole night of losing. your handler emphasized that despite how much the rumors about him vary, they all point to him being a cunning man, capable of bringing a rival faction to their knees in less than a day.

it’s not like he’s a gambling addict either. you’ve seen your fair share of them, and they all have this crazed look in their eyes. but no, this fucker gave you the most smug look before tapping the table. it's almost as if he knew he was going to win.

"hey, we need you at the bar," your one-day manager calls for you. "lounge's closing in five minutes."

"yeah," you exhale a deep breath. you need to calm down. it’s bad enough you lost your composure (in front of the head of onychinus of all people). for now you’ll focus on what’s important: no longer the commission but getting out of here. as soon as the last cup is put away, you’ll ring for transportation and book it.

"goodnight gentlemen," you step away from the table. sherman and his lackey stand up in pursuit. "i would advise against any attempts at violence," you say as politely as you can. "this is a lounge, after all. one that is closing too. have some tact, will you?"

and with that, you walk towards the bar, paying no mind to their insulted faces. if they still decide to follow you, you'll use your evol to the max. you can’t afford to care about anyone who’s within fifty meters anymore. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing your chances of escaping sylus qin. did you see that nod? he's nowhere near done with you.

luckily, you don't hear footsteps chasing you. once you reach the bar, you quickly scan the lounge before collecting the empty glasses.

all seemed well for a moment. there were little signs of your one-day manager assigning you more tasks. there were many signs of sherman and his lackey waltzing out. most importantly, there was every sign of you finishing your task, meaning you could soon leave without running into a certain silver-haired man.

however, there were no signs of sherman's gun on the table.

♢♢♢♢♢

it's raining by the time sylus leans back against an alleyway, a hand in his pocket and a foot against the wall.

"speak."

"hey boss!" luke and kieran greet simultaneously through the phone.

"you'll never guess what we found out," the older chirps.

"idiot, he's the one who sent us here," the younger reminds.

"what did you just call me?!"

"cut to the chase," sylus snaps. "i'm in a hurry right now." he is very much in a hurry right now, damn it. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing his chances of seizing you, having you. he needs to get back to the lounge as soon as possible. he needs to see you, talk to you, squeeze out of you that enticing look you had on your face less than five minutes ago.

"woah there, boss. is everything okay? you sound tense," luke asks.

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge. "yes, everything is fine, luke. thanks for asking." he glances at the rain-covered window across from him to see if you're still at the table. he frowns when he doesn't see you. "did you confirm what i asked you to?"

"yes," kieran answers, earning a grumble from his twin about his stolen thunder. "there are no authentic protocores here at sherman's warehouse. actually, there are no protocores here at all."

"seems like he was trying to strike us a deal with nothing," luke pipes in.

"how disappointing," sylus chuckles drily. "not surprising, though."

"should we go after him, boss?" the twins excitedly suggest at the same time.

"no need," sylus peels himself off the wall and moves over to the window for a better view. "i'll take care of him myself," he assures as he wipes the glass. he's delighted to find you at the bar drying a glass while sherman and his lackey make their way towards the exit, which leads right into the alleyway he's in. "in fact, i'll take care of him right now."

and with that, he hangs up the call. right on cue, sherman and his lackey step out of the lounge, their faces twisted with frustration from all the losses they experienced tonight. however, their faces immediately morph into fear upon seeing the head of onychinus.

"gentlemen," sylus smirks as he pockets his phone. "i just heard something very interesting."

in a blink of an eye, bloody, inky wisps wrap around the two men's necks and slam them into the wall. the very wall the feared man was leaning on moments ago. how unfortunate.

"w-wait," sherman chokes out. "let's t-talk about t-this."

"what could there possibly be to talk about, sherman?" sylus mocks with crossed arms. "surely not the fact that you tried to deal me not even fake protocores but none at all?"

one would find it difficult to determine if the two men were going pale from the lack of air or the abundance of fear. perhaps both. how unfortunate.

"no matter," sylus shakes his head. "let's talk about my wager instead, shall we?"

the air shifts as his evol tightens around sherman and his lackey's necks. the crimson and ivory tendrils rampage faster and faster, signaling for a brutal execution to come, a signature move every bastard in the n109 zone is aware of. however, the dreaded crushing and disintegration of flesh never comes. seizing this chance, sherman desperately searches for something in his pocket.

“looking for this?”

his eyes widen upon seeing his gun in sylus’ hand.

nobody, not a single one of you, noticed him swipe the gun before leaving.

“now, about my wager,” sylus cocks the gun. “how about your lives?” he aims at the drenched forehead of its owner. “surely it’s the least both of you can do after trying to trick me.” he places a finger on the trigger. “again.”

before sherman can open his pathetic mouth, sylus pulls the trigger, a glorious bang ringing through the rainy night sky. he doesn’t give the lackey a chance to mourn. instead, he gives him the same fate as his employer: a bullet lodged deep into his skull. not a single one of them was worth his evol.

wiping the blood off his cheek, sylus tuts. “felled by your own gun.” he releases his evol. “how unfortunate.”

after chucking the gun on the floor, he approaches the entrance of the lounge. he doesn’t have time to clean up the corpses. he’ll just escort you out another way (yes, this man plans to accompany you wherever you go after tonight). unable to hide his frenzied smile, he grips the door handle and steps in.

♢♢♢♢♢

the brief pitter-patter of rain let in by the door should’ve been your first sign to hightail it out of here. the silver-haired man who’s currently seated at the bar with an elbow planted should’ve been your second. the red hungry eyes trailing over your figure most definitely should’ve been your third.

but you’re too busy drying the glasses with your back turned. big mistake.

“a glass of gin fizz, please.”

you still.

“make that two, actually,” he adds.

you don’t turn around. you don’t dare to. instead, you slowly grab the last glass, prepared to put it away.

“i’m afraid the lounge is closed, mr. sylus,” you counter gracefully.

the man chuckles, leaning back in the stool. “surely this lounge can make an exception for the head of onychinus.”

“of course!” your manager dashes out of the employees' room, eager to earn the lounge additional funds. “what are you doing?!” she scolds you with what she thinks is your name. you’re thankful you have an alias tonight because the idea of sylus knowing your identity turns your stomach, which you’re sure is what he’s trying to do by ordering two glasses past closing time. “pour him a glass of gin fizz!” she instructs and dashes back into the employees’ room. you resist the urge to curse when you hear the employees’ entrance lock, meaning she clocked out for the night, meaning it was just you and sylus. couldn’t she have just made the drinks herself if she wanted the additional funds that badly?

exhaling deeply, you use the glass in your hand to scoop up some ice. no point in resisting. last thing you want is for your handler to nag you for not cooperating with the client’s staff, especially when you already gave up on the commission. might as well just get this over with.

“i wouldn’t scoop the ice first if i were you, sweetie,” sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. “it’ll dilute the alcohol.”

you don’t say anything. you just grab a bottle of gin and pour it into a jigger. your customer scoffs.

“are you ignoring me, sweetie?”

you pour the gin into a shaker and squeeze some lemon juice.

“if you’re upset about something, then you should tell me.”

you take out the simple syrup from the fridge and pour it into the jigger.

“how about this?” he starts.

you add the syrup to the shaker along with three ice cubes.

“i ask you a question, and you ask me a question.”

you equip the shaker with its strainer and start shaking it violently.

“aren’t you curious as to how i won?”

you freeze. only now do you feel the chill of the liquor from the shaker.

“go ahead, sweetie,” sylus coaxes, thrilled to finally have your attention. “ask. i know you want to. your face back there said it all.”

placing the shaker down, you open its lid, pour its contents into the ice-filled glass, add a generous amount of soda water, turn around, and slam the glass in front of sylus.

that’ll shut him up for a minute or two.

but it takes everything in you not to gasp when you look up from the glass.

since when was it raining outside? he’s seated with his shiny, silvery hair messily slicked back, beads of water slowly dripping down his face and neck, his drenched button-up suit clinging onto his chest and forearms for dear life, and his ruby-streaked blazer not only hanging from his broad shoulders but also adding to the puddles forming beneath the stool.

you make a mental note to inform your handler that the head of onychinus is NOT some old, short man with a face only a mother could love, like some of the rumors say.

enjoying your gaze on him, sylus tilts his head teasingly. “well?”

you can’t back down. it sounds like he won’t either until you talk to him. pinning your hands on the counter, you lean in. “why did you hit? you knew your chances were low, even after looking at my cards.”

he doesn’t answer immediately. it’s your turn to expect something from him, want something from him. it’s the least you could do after driving him in circles the whole night. besides, he wants a closer look at your face; commit it to memory in case you even think about leaving without compensating him for the absolute torture you put him through.

after taking a slow sip from the glass, sylus asks, “ever heard of gambling addicts, sweetie?”

you squint at him. “yes, but you aren’t one.”

“oh,” he quirks a brow. “so you know of me?”

“everyone in the n109 zone knows who you are, mr. sylus.”

“yes, but you aren’t from the n109 zone, miss dealer.”

you tense. although the shift in your shoulders was incredibly tiny, it was taken hostage by his eyes. he’s impressed by how controlled your reactions are.

but now it's his turn to ask.

standing up from his stool, sylus leans in dangerously close and whispers, “what brings you to the n109 zone, sweetie?”

you don’t answer. but you don’t back away either. sylus likes that. he likes what’s happening right now. when was the last time he felt this ecstatic from a conversation? even though your answers were cryptic, he was able to conclude that you come from a place or are in a position where his existence is made aware, and probably in certain detail too, given your insistence on him not being a gambling addict. when was the last time he had a gin fizz that tasted this good? he’s delighted the serving he had at the previous table was also made by you (how does this psycho know that). and most importantly, when was the last time he felt threatened? something is unsettling about the way you won every single game tonight, with a look of indifference too.

by chance, are you an evolver?

“i assure you, i am from here, mr. sylus,” you answer with a small smile. it doesn't reach your eyes. removing your hands from the counter (he frowns when you do), you turn around to make another glass. hopefully his previous request for two will serve as a distraction. “you’re welcome to look into my name, but i’m sure the head of onychinus has better things to do than to worry about some dealer.”

sylus laughs. he actually laughs. although it isn’t loud, the intervals as to which his rich voice seeps through are enough to convey that your lie hasn’t convinced him. “sweetie,” he shakes his head endearingly and sits down. “because i am the head of onychinus, everything and everyone in the n109 zone is subjected to my worrying, including intruders who use fake names.”

you spin back around, your eyes full of alarm. how does he know about your alias? no, how does he even know you’re not from here? from the beginning, that’s what he’s been insisting on. there’s no way someone as busy as him could know about every single person residing in the n109 zone. at least, that’s what your handler said (oh how wrong she was).

“do you truly expect me to believe that is your name?” sylus repeats your alias with scorn. it’s an injustice to your frame. “it doesn’t suit you. you need to pick better names, sweetie.

what the fuck. he’s convinced you’re an intruder because your alias doesn’t suit you?! this guy. this guy’s not sane. that’s it. now you really need to get out of here. glaring at him, you snatch his glass and dump its contents down the drain. damn it, you wasted too much time. he got you. he got you good. he never intended to uphold his “a question for a question” deal in the first place, given his bullshit answer about gambling addicts.

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through gritted teeth. “now excuse me, mr. sylus. the lounge was supposed to close fifteen minutes ago.”

sylus licks his lips. he can almost taste the frustration in your face and voice. it’s intoxicating. that’s the second time he’s forced a reaction out of you. how much more until you beg him to stop?

“of course, miss dealer,” he concedes mockingly. "allow me to escort you out.”

“that won’t be necessary,” you hiss. “my car is right around the alleyway.”

“still,” he blocks you from exiting the bar. “it’s dark and raining outside. it’s the least i could do to pay for the drink.”

“money will do,” you frown.

“i’m afraid i’m all out, sweetie,” he smiles. “you did quite the number on me, after all.”

you scoff. not only is his smile shameless, but so is his lie. you may not be from here, but you know damn well it’s going to take an eternity of games to even leave a dent in the head of onychinus’ bank account. you glance at the clock. you should have called for transportation by now. technically, you still can, but you need to be outside. and it doesn’t look like he’ll let you go anytime soon unless you accept his offer.

“you can walk me to the alleyway,” you sigh.

“not to your car?”

you scowl at him. don’t push it.

sylus chuckles and steps aside. when you exit the bar with a huff, he can’t help but think you look like a cat, a cute little one who scratches when agitated. perhaps kitten will be what he calls you next.

after turning off the lights, you step out of the lounge. only to freeze in your tracks.

corpses.

corpses of the two people involved in your commission. narrowing your eyes, you notice a bullet wound in each of their foreheads. you scan the ground, searching for any traces of the murderer. however, your blood runs cold when something catches your eye. sherman’s gun. you crouch to pick it up. did he kill himself? no, that doesn’t explain why his lackey has the same wound.

“ah,” sylus interrupts your thoughts. “i forgot to escort you out the other way. my apologies, kitten.”

he knows violence doesn’t faze you as it normally would for any other outsider. still, he didn’t want you to see this kind of violence since there’s a substantial difference between witnessing an arm get crushed and witnessing the glassy eyes of lifeless bodies.

though, he supposes he worried for nothing since you’re being eerily quiet with your eyes fixated on the gun.

skillfully, you unload the gun. no bullets left. you exhale deeply. from the looks of it, sylus killed them since he knew the bodies would be here. furthermore, he used sherman’s gun, which initially only had two bullets, given the lack of bullet marks in the alleyway. you just happened to miss the sound of gunfire since you were too occupied. but if that’s the case, that means sherman and his lackey died quite the unfortunate death where the former’s gun was their undoing and no one could’ve heard them, which means… your evol. it did its job. too good of a job.

“at least the commission is complete,” you murmur.

sylus furrows his brow. “you, what did you just say?”

for a moment, all that is heard is the downpour of rain and the distant rumbling of thunder.

you pull out your phone and press a contact. “delilah, open it now.”

“what?”

you sprint down the alleyway, not bothering to acknowledge his confusion.

sylus immediately chases after you, his legs moving like never before. shit, you completely took him by surprise. what was that phone call? no, what did you mean by a completed commission? and why do you know how to unload a gun? clenching his jaw, he prepares to teleport to the end of the alleyway, determined to intercept you. he’ll be damned if he lets you escape.

although he blinks to the end of the alleyway, you make a sharp turn, evading his outstretched arm.

“tch,” sylus clicks his tongue before continuing his pursuit. however, you make another turn around the corner, giving you three seconds out of his sight.

by the time sylus turns around the corner, you’re gone. not a single trace of you left behind. but what infuriates him more is that this is a dead end. not a single way out but the way he got here. he slams a fist in the wall, ignoring the blood that seeps down and the deep cracks in the bricks. using his free hand, sylus pulls out his phone and dials his most recent contact.

“luke. kieran. get me access to the cameras surrounding this lounge,” he spits the lounge’s name. “now.”

♢♢♢♢♢

you breathe rapidly as you fall onto the floor, your throat burning and your ears ringing. you’ve never run so fast in your life.

“welcome back,” a smooth voice says your name. your actual name.

you look up to face your means of transportation, delilah.

“what the— did it rain over there?” an acute voice asks.

stella, your handler enters your vision.

both of them reach out a hand for you to take.

you begrudgingly accept and swiftly walk towards the door, eager to give yourself a fucking break after all that happened today.

“what’s the rush?” delilah asks with a yawn. “don’t tell me you failed the commission—"

"how was your first time in the n109 zone?” stella interjects, warning delilah with her eyes.

you pause before turning the knob.

“never send me there again.”

#DUNDUNDUN #*dodges a tomato*#i'm sorry this took awhile #*dodges another tomato*#despite how long it took me to write this #i had fun with sylus' dialogue #sylus x reader #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace #lads fic #lnds fic #lads #lnds #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader

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mercurygray · 1 day ago

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Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

#writing advice #asked and answered

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wvffles · 3 days ago

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ohhhhhhhhh goshhh 😩 the anticipation continuessss

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.” “She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

so real lmaoo

her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around

the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

i would get so violent are you kiddingg meeeee

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

mine’s breaking too dean 😔 i’m just glad he’s trying to ‘fix it’ somewhat immediately instead of just letting her leave like that.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

yeah my heart is definitely broken 🥺 i’m glad they didn’t end things off with hostility and got to have that bittersweet moment at least 😔

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

…

Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.”

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes.

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list.

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you.

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?”

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you.

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far.

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp.

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel.

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand.

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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kangaracha · 2 days ago

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 27

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

Christmas flies past you in such a hurry that you feel like you hardly get to hold onto the joy of it at all - and it is joyful, as bright and as happy as the first one you can remember.

There's the morning in your apartment, sipping coffee and scrolling mindlessly on an internet where, for once, you don't see a single word that twists inside your gut when you read it. Then there's the preparation at work, and the livestream, full of lighthearted games and gift exchanges and you laughing at Felix as he drops the packets of chicken in his box all over the ground, disbelief still painted across his face. And then there's dinner, all together as a family, and the more personal gifts that you didn't give on camera, and the lively talk that carries all of you into the evening without anyone noticing.

You've had good days and bad days in Korea. You're relieved to get to the end of the day and realise that this is one of the better ones.

Your gifts are small and few, but meaningful, different groups of boys pooling together to give you something they truly thought you could use. Headphones, an expensive dress you'd eyed once on a shopping trip, hats to hide under in the airport. Small things you needed but hadn't gotten around to buying, things you'd been doing without until you had the money to invest in them. Your gifts to them had been much smaller, just like your budget; your biggest gift was their dinner and the evening you'd spent cooking it alone. The favourite thing you received was their faces after they'd eaten.

Still, it flies by too fast. You blink, and the day is over, and suddenly you're sitting in the corner of their couch paying minimal attention to the movie playing on the TV and waiting for the clock to finish ticking its way down to midnight. In the other corner, Jisung sits enraptured by the plot, soaking in every moment of the dramatic romance, the Christmas disaster and the miracle you already know is coming right at the end. Even with most of your attention on the conversation happening at the table behind you, you can tell what's about to happen; but you're not here to ruin his night. You're just...soaking it in. Enjoying it.

You're happy.

"What are you watching?" a voice asks behind you, hands leaning heavy on the back of the couch despite the flapping and shushing of Han's hands.

You turn to answer Chan in his stead, finding him leaning there comfortably while he eyes the scene playing out on the TV. "Rom coms," you tell him in a voice that is only just hushed to an acceptable level. "They're supposed to fall in love at some point."

"They are in love," Jisung argues, his eyes leaving the screen only to glare at you. You wonder if he's aware his cheeks puff out with indignation when he does that, completely ruining the effect. "They're just too dumb to realise."

"They're going to get together at the Christmas Ball," you tell Chan, and ignore the way Jisung grumbles about spoilers as he turns back to the movie. "It's so cheesy."

"You didn't want to watch Love Island," Jisung cuts in before Chan can reply.

"I said we should watch Home Alone."

"I told you, I wanted some drama."

"Home Alone is drama."

"Go away then, if you don't want to watch," he huffs in mock exasperation, the laugh that huffs from the back of his throat when you stick out your tongue at him betraying him.

When he turns back to the screen, Chan's hand taps at your shoulder. "The others are walking home now," he says, leaning down as if to mutter conspiracies between you. "Do you want to come with us?"

"With us?" you repeat, though you're already lifting yourself off the couch, stretching out tight muscles as you stand. "Where are you walking to? You're already home?"

"I'm just walking," he answers. "It's a nice night."

You glance at the heavily curtained window. "It's snowing."

"And?" he says. "Snow's nice. We never see snow."

"You should try winter in Melbourne," you snort, amused by the light dancing in his eyes. "So cold it might as well be snowing. Worse than snow, actually."

"You'll be fine walking in the snow then."

A yawn interrupts your put-upon sigh, and all of the effect it would have had. "I just have to grab a coat on the way down," you acquiesce, watching the other boys pulling their coats on by the door.

"Just borrow one of mine." Without waiting for an answer, Chan turns on his heel and disappears into the hallway. You trai after him slowly, meeting him on the way back out his bedroom door, coat in hand. "Try this," he says, and thrusts in at you.

You don't know where your apprehension comes from. Maybe the intimacy of borrowing clothes from someone - maybe just from coming face-to-face with the abject kindness that drives him to offer it to you without a moment's hesitation. It clogs up in your throat anyway, whatever it is, threatening to turn your face red.

You have to force yourself to take the jacket, pulling it on with robotic movements. It hangs loose on your frame, the shoulders drooping sadly down your arms, but it is soft and warm and long enough to cover your hands, disguising your lack of gloves.

"This too," Chan says, and pulls a beanie straight down over your head, covering your eyes. You squawk at the sudden blinding, fighting your sleeves. By the time you have it straight on your head, your hair flat again beneath it, he is dressed too - and still laughing at you, his smile too wide to be innocent. You slap his arm hard enough to bruise. He doesn't even do you the mercy of rubbing it.

"Cute,' he says as you walk back down the hall.

Only the chance of public ridicule stops you from hitting him again. "I nearly fell over."

"Never," he insists. "You would have been fine anyway. The jacket goes all the way up to your ears."

"Give me one of Han's next time," you grumble, even as you pull the coat closer around you.

Chan's smile is beatific. "You think Hannie ever does laundry?"

"Disgusting," you say, with a face to match, and then you walk right into the group gathering by the door before he can expand on that thought anymore.

"What's disgusting?" Seungmin asks.

You wave him away. "Han Jisung," you answer. "It's a long story."

He accepts it at face value, nodding it away. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead, head inclined towards your clothes.

"Walking you home, apparently." You pause, glancing at Chan. "I was bullied."

"Are you saying goodbye to the others, or are you coming back?" Chan asks sweetly, ignoring every word you said.

"I'm coming back," you sigh. "I have to see the end of the movie."

"But not the middle?" Seungmin snorts.

"It's a bad movie," Chan advises, and then follows him out the door. You walk with them, cramming into the elevator once the rest of them are in. It's snug, with six of you, and too warm for the thick coats you're dressed in - but just as you start to sweat, you step outside into the frigid night and forget all about the elevator and its false summer, instead hudding down into your collar for warmth.

"Do you miss home yet?" Felix asks behind you, watching you grabbing at the warmth still left in your body.

You slow a little to let him catch up, eyes on the backs of the boys walking in front of you. "Just the summers," you answer wryly. "Winter sucks."

Felix laughs, pushing his beanie further down with one hand. "I like it," he admits. "Snow on Christmas? Come on."

"What's the point when it's too cold to go out anyway?" you throw back. "At least in the summer you can go out for Christmas. Go swimming or something."

Felix's mouth twists thoughtfully, his eyes getting that faraway look that says he's thinking of some other place than the wide street you're walking down. "Now I want to go to the beach," he sighs. "Mum said it was so hot in Sydney today, it would have been perfect."

"It rained for a little while in Melbourne," you say, and he laughs. "I think it was nice though. My grandparents flew over for the first time this year."

Felix glances at you in surprise. "You have family in Korea?"

"They live in Busan," you explain. "I don't really know them very well. They came for the In Life concert, didn't you see them?"

"No?" He puts on a show of helplessness, his hands spreading wide. "You didn't come and introduce them?"

"No?" you answer. "They took me out to dinner, and then we had filming or something on the day after, so they went home."

Felix blows out a sigh, shaking his head again. "You could have invited us to dinner. I want to meet your family."

You wave him away. "It's not a big deal," you insist. "Seriously, I hardly talk to them. I saw them for like, the third time ever last Christmas, and they told me to go back to Australia and get a medical degree instead of trying to be an idol."

"I hope Christmas with us was better than that."

"Nearly as good as going home," you say, and grin wildly at the offended look on his face, his mouth curving into a perfect 'O'. "My mum taught me how to cook lamb over the phone in the middle of her day, you know. What did you do for me today?"

"I didn't try to help you with the lamb," Felix throws back, quick as a whip. "And I told you how nice it was, so many times."

"True," you admit, and listened to the sound of his laugh rising in the still air. Your eyes turn upwards, to the shadow of his building towering over you. "Are you saying this was better than going home to Sydney then?"

Felix's mouth twists. "No," he says, very slowly, as you join the others at their door. You try to bite back your smug grin, a thousand retorts springing to mind that you've run out of time to say. Not that Felix looks like he's won anyway, his face wry as he turns to the others' conversation rather than trying to continue this one.

"Lixie," Seungmin says as you complete their circle, saving him from crushing defeat. "Minho wants to go to Jeju in summer."

"Do we have holiday time in summer?" Felix asks.

"We'll just run away," Minho answers, and offers nothing more than a stone-cold poker face to indicate if he is joking or not.

"Or," Seungmin tacks onto the end. "If we're being serious, we'll just ask to film something."

The look Minho gives him would be withering, if you didn't know that it was only an empty threat. "I'm being serious," he insists, and only cracks a smile when Seungmin rolls his eyes and Chan places a hand on his shoulder, barely holding in a laugh.

"I would love to go to Jeju," Felix says wistfully, and then turns to you. "What about Y/N?"

"She doesn't get a choice," Seungmin says. "Forced vacation."

"Why am I being forced?" you ask. "I can choose to go on vacation."

"Vacation to the company doesn't count," I.N puts in, and enough of them snigger that you don't bother arguing with them.

"Fine, okay," you sigh, ducking your head and waving a hand. "Merry Christmas, goodnight now. Nice to see you."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Seungmin says smugly, his hand ruffling your beanie before heading inside. The others follow; Minho with a smile, I.N a small comment where they can't hear. Felix hugs you, and then throws his arm around Chan's shoulders for a moment and gets dragged into hugging him too before he can disappear, I.N closing the door behind him with one last wave.

Suddenly, the street seems very wide and quiet, the night stretching out around you with nothing to break it apart.

"Can I walk you home?" a voice asks by your side, and you turn to see Chan standing beside you still, one hand outstretched in offering.

"Weren't you always walking me home?" you answer; though you take his hand anyway, savouring the close of his fingers around yours even through the sleeve of your jacket.

"I wouldn't want to assume anything," he says, and bites back a grin. Your hand thumps his shoulder, just hard enough to make a sound. "Don't hit me, it's Christmas. I'm being polite."

"Mhm." You nod, your hand falling back by your side. He squeezes the fingers of your other hand, only enough to make you aware of his grip. "You're always polite, of course. Never making fun of me."

"Never," he agrees readily. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth turning upwards. "What other girls?" he questions, as innocent as anything. In the half-light between street lamps, you think you can see his ears turning red, and you struggle to hold back a laugh.

"What about all the ones you're going to see tomorrow?" you say; and maybe the others were right, when your thoughts turn immediately from Christmas back to work, to the looming performance and the fans that oversee it.

"Oh, them?" Chan looks off high into the distance, as if mulling over the thought. "I can be mean to them. It's totally different. You can be mean to them too, if you want."

"They only just started being nice to me like, this morning," you tell him. "Now isn't the time to start playing games."

"Really?" His eyes light up, the playfulness of his smile vanishing.

You nod along, unable to stop the wry smile that is plastered to your face. "In the livestream comments," you say. "I mean, there was still the whole awards boycott thing going around, but...I don't know. People were actually acting like I'm a part of the group? It's like, a Christmas miracle or something."

He falls silent for several seconds, his eyes silently studying your face. You can't quite meet the intensity of his gaze, your own eyes dropping to your entwined hands, swinging between you as you walk. He's thinking hard about something; time passes, your footsteps crunching in the snow and the buzz of car engines on a nearby street the only noise that permeates the air between you, and still he doesn't speak.

"What are you looking at?" you ask when you can't bear it anymore, your gaze creeping up to meet the corner of his and then focusing on the road ahead of you instead.

"Nothing." With a jolt, he suddenly realises he is staring and glances away, searching for anything else to look at. "You seem happy, that's all."

It takes you a moment to answer, carefully considering the emotion that wells up in your gut. "I am, today," you answer. "It...I don't know. The performances this month have been good, the fans were happy today. It feels like something might change now."

"Good," he says, and smiles - small, but more soft and genuine than the amusement that had shone loudly from his face earlier. "I've been worried about you."

A scoff chokes itself in your throat. "I know," you manage to say, around the stone that lodges itself there. "I've been worried about you worrying about me."

His feet stutter in their tracks, his grip tugging on your hand as he saves his balance. "What are you worried about me for? Don't do that."

"Someone has to, don't they?" you say. "I see you spending all that time looking out for me, I feel like I should at least try to give it back."

His head ducks, shy. "You don't have to do that. I like taking care of people."

"Didn't I tell you to stop worrying about me like, six months ago?"

"Something like that. I didn't listen."

"You shouldn't break your promises like that."

Chan squeezes your hand hard, his knuckles bumping against your hip. "You promised to stop practising so much too, you know."

The accusation stirs a memory of a conversation, much clearer than the one you'd been trying to dredge up. It's funny; you remember, just that short time ago, talking about things like debut and the company - and now you can't fathom feeling those same nerves anymore. The fear of being dropped from the company, the pressure from fans, the expectations set upon the group and therefore you as proxy...all of those are fears you're still familiar with, but a fear of Chan himself? When he lends you his jacket and walks hand-in-hand down the street, so slowly that it might take you all night to get home if you continue like this?

Never. Not again, not not that you know him properly. There's no one you would trust more in the world than him.

"I think we should forget about those promises," you announce. "I like my job. And I like you caring about me too."

"Really?" he asks, and you think, from the way that he eyes you, that you need to give the other boys a piece of your mind. Too many jokes about old age, one too many acts of pushing him away. Maybe you need to give him a piece of your mind too - for letting himself believe, even for the moment of doubt that flickers over his face, that you wouldn't really mean it.

"Yes, really," you reply, and try to refrain from the tiraded of emotion that threatens to spill out afterwards, all in the wrong tone of voice. "It's been really hard lately, you know, with everything - I mean, it's fine, but still. You're always there. I like that. The others are there too, but - even in the middle of the night, you're always there. It's nice."

As if on cue, your building appears in front of you as you finish speaking, looking out from between its neighbours. "How are we ever going to go to bed on time if we both like talking in the middle of the night?" Chan asks, pulling you to a stop before you can head for the door.

You find yourself shrugging, eager to linger. "Do we have to fix it?" you ask. "We're doing it right now, you know."

His mouth quirks. "Maybe tomorrow, then," he proposes. "Or we can just spend the rest of our lives only talking at midnight."

"I don't mind," you say with a shrug. "Midnight is a good time. Two AM is even better."

"I'll think about it."

He looks around, searching for something else to comment on, some way to keep the conversation going even when it feels like you have run out of things to talk about (except that you haven't, because you never could, because talking to him is so easy no matter what). In the corner of your eye, your door looms, calling you back to the warmth of his apartment and the quiet dark of your own - but his hand doesn't leave yours and his feet don't move, and even though you know it is stupid to be standing around like this in the snow, you can't bring yourself to let it go and bring on the end of night so suddenly. It's been such a nice day, and the walk home so warm, that you don't want to let it go, not until every second has been squeezed out of it.

There's still the movie, you remind yourself, thinking of Han sitting up there above your head watching, but your mouth doesn't say that. Instead, it asks, "Do you want to walk down to the corner store?"

You only realise later that Chan doesn't ever stop to ask why, or to complain about walking even further in the snow. In the moment, his smile consumes you, his feet automatically turning towards the store; and then again, you are immersed in your own world, stealing five more minutes from a night that cannot go on forever.

But for just this one night, you are happy. For just one night, you have something that is all yours.

Him.

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@keepswingin

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angellayercake · 24 hours ago

Text

Banchetto: Dolce

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Fromaggi e Frutta | Masterpost

Thank you all a million times for your patience with me!! There are only two chapters left now and I really hope that all your interest and support will be rewarded but that is for later. This chapter is dedicated to @dolceterzo it should have been your birthday present but I still wanted to thank you for all your support and loveliness. You are so patient and kind with me even when I probably don't deserve it so I really hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

The dough needs to rest to get the best results so you prepare ahead of time. The base is typical flour, sugar, butter and egg yolks but the flavour comes in here also, adding cinnamon, cocoa, a pinch of salt and a sweet wine. The butter mixes into the combined dry ingredients breaking up every lump into a fine crumb. The eggs and marsala combine to form a soft dough which after kneading must be rested and refrigerated.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Fuck me.’ Although barely a whisper it comes out of you unbidden and you both freeze staring at each other in shock. The world continues turning, the television continues blaring the day time show you had been pretending to watch, the blankets change from comfortably warm to uncomfortably stifling. His stillness is almost unnerving as he tries to process what you just said.

It may have not been what you were planning to say when you opened your mouth a moment ago but your demand wasn’t entirely unprompted. The morning had been unseasonably cold, something Terzo had taken as a personal offence, by the time you had reached his quarters the fire was roaring and he was sequestered under, in your opinion, an excessive amount of blankets. After bringing him his breakfast he had insisted you joined him.

‘I can't feel my toes, cara mia! What if my fingers are next?’ He cries mournfully, wiggling his fingers under the blanket. You wait him out, holding his plate and coffee mug out patiently until he relents with a dramatic huff. He wriggles until his arms are free of the blanket and takes them from you, pouting all the while and muttering to himself as he takes a bite out of his toast.

‘It is as if I woke up in the Arctic.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘See if I spend one more winter in this frozen place.’ Another larger bit of toast. ‘I should be in the Bahamas or somewhere nice. Warm.’ You watch him fondly as he finishes off his breakfast, grumbling all the while.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you this morning Terzo?’ He gives you a sidelong glance refusing to give up his frown just yet but there is a twinkle in his eye you know means his mood is already lifting.

‘I fear there is but one thing that will save my fingers and toes.’ He almost keeps a straight face but the corners of his lips give him away lifting as he tries and fails not to be amused by his own idea. ‘You must join me here cara mia, share your body heat so your Papa doesn’t freeze to death.’

‘And that is the only way to save you?’ You have no plans to refuse him, there is nothing for you to do for a while anyway and it would take a stronger person to refuse an opportunity to snuggle with this ridiculous man.

‘The only way! You would not let me freeze to death would you?’ He looks at you pleadingly as you take the plate and mug from him and set them on the side table.

‘No I would not, I would miss you too much.’ He lifts the blanket with a much more genuine smile, until you don’t move quite fast enough for his liking, a scowl overtaking his face as watches you step out of your shoes before he hurries you under the blankets before too much cold air can get it. And so you found yourself held as close as you could possibly get, under the guise of helping him keep warm. He was pressed against your back, chest to thigh, your neck pillowed on one of his arms which was now looped around you, his hand caressing your shoulder through the fabric of your jumper. His other arm laid against your thigh as he had wandered his fingers down the side seam of your skirt, before resting on the curve of your hip.

As impatient as he may have been with you he clearly appreciated your forethought, wasting no time intertwining his feet with yours. Even though you had both unspokenly acknowledged his thorough exaggeration you are momentarily shocked by the chilly temperature of his toes even through his socks.Before long your shared body heat does the job creating a cosy and relaxed bubble where the two of you can while away the morning. You are content, and so is he for a time but whether it had been his plan all along or whether he just couldn’t help himself, his wandering, fidgeting hands become a distraction.

The hand that had been resting on your hip gives him away first slowly bringing the hem of your skirt up your thighs inch by inch until you can feel his warm fingers against bare skin. You let him continue, unable to conjure even one reason why you should stop him. The anticipation builds as you wait for him to make his next move. Fingers creeping teasingly slow across the top of your thigh while you feign interest in the day time telly that was playing out quietly across the room. If someone was to ask you to explain what was happening you wouldn’t have a clue but you do so enjoy these little games the two of you play together.

He stops just shy of your underwear, tracing teasing circles against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The barest pressure of the side of his finger skims you through your underwear as he strokes you and it takes all the will power you possess not to squirm and grind down for more. It feels like forever as he keeps pushing and pushing. Giving you nothing but the barely there back and forth of his fingers. Even though you can’t see it like this his smirk is palpable as your wetness starts to seep through the infuriating material that bars you from his touch. How could you be blamed for your patience finally snapping?

The few seconds since you spoke stretch like hours as he gapes at you, fingers still poised between your legs. You catch his eye over your shoulder trying to gauge his reaction but as you shift you feel the tell tale bulge against your ass. From your forwardness or his teasing you aren’t sure but his obvious arousal gives you the confidence you need to try to spur him back to action.

Stuck in this awkward position there is only one thing you can think to try. Moving deliberately as you hold his gaze you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against his bulge. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hips twitching towards the friction and his grip tightening on your shoulder.

‘Terzo,’ you say, not even trying to suppress the whine in your voice. ‘Stop teasing and fuck me.’ You grind your hips back against him again to punctuate your words and it is only the combination that seems to crash him back to reality. He takes advantage of how you have twisted to look at him, kissing you clumsily. He misses your lips entirely on the first try, his shock and eagerness overwhelming his usual self control. When he finally captures your lips he doesn’t relent, lapping at your lips determinedly until you open for him then shifting trying to untangle himself from your limbs and the blankets.

‘You are sure?’ He questions, showing an unexpected hesitance as he hovers over you, his hand still warm against your thigh and still not offering you more than a tease of pleasure. It’s not that you had been deliberately waiting. You knew from experience there was no right time and it’s not even something the two of you had discussed. It had been an unspoken arrangement to allow your relationship to progress and in this exact moment you knew you needed him now. With your voice now caught somewhere in your throat you can only nod frantically to reassure him before pulling him in for another intoxicating kiss.

His fingers firm up against you finally dispensing with the teasing touches and instead exploring, checking if you were ready to take him. He finds the wet patch again easily, not even needing to find your entrance, you can't help but grind down against his hand confirming what he must already know, you need nothing but him inside you as soon as possible.

Your patience wearing thin you find his waistband, thankful he had yet to change out of his lounge pants so you can impatiently push down and free his cock. It takes some manoeuvring, becoming slightly awkward in that way that first times tangled in blankets tended to be. There is barely enough room for him to twist between your legs and it's too hot considering you were both still mostly dressed but you don’t want to stop. He attempts to slide your knickers down your hips but he is already between your legs and the thought of him moving away from you instead of closer, closer, closer, in order to remove them has you slap his hands away.

With little effort you pull the gusset to the side, hooking your calf around the back of his thighs to pull him close enough to line up the blunt head of his cock with your entrance. His hips jerk forward the moment he can feel your wet heat but you hiss, the slick still not quite enough to soothe the initial stretch. He pulls back blinking at you owlishly.

‘Did I hurt you?’ His worry overtakes him and he begins to pull away bracing his knees on the sofa cushion beneath you. You shake your head, tightening your legs around him, enjoying the soft give of his hips against your thighs.

‘It’s ok,’ you sound breathless but you don’t care, only able to focus on getting what you want. Inelegantly you spit into your hand, the only quick solution coming to your mind. Prepared for his reaction this time, you swipe over his cock anticipating how he thrusts into your palm and hoping the cursory improvised lube will be enough because you need him now. You barely have to line him up before he is taking over, pushing into you in one hurried thrust. Gasping into each others mouths you stare, still somewhat wide eyed and surprised that you are suddenly fucking.

The stillness breaks you first but trapped as you are between the tangled blankets and his welcome weight on top of you you can hardly take control. You wiggle your hips to no avail so resort instead to baring down, squeezing him tight inside you his reaction almost instant snapping out of his lust induced daze only to give you a smirk.

‘Quanto è impaziente la mia ragazza,’ he says, brushing his nose along yours until he can press a kiss to your cheek that might almost be considered chaste if his cock wasn’t buried to the hilt inside you. He trails kisses down your face to your jaw, nuzzling at the joint until you give in with a sigh, tipping your head back to offer your neck up to him. He sucks and nibbles at your skin as he finally, finally moves, the pull out agonisingly slow despite the relief that he was moving at last.

It feels indescribably good as you move together, not frantic and fast as you might have imagined it, and you imagined it a lot. Not too slow either, just right. Good. He loses purchase once, twice before giving up on holding any space between you, resting his soft body against yours. It is your turn to wrap yourself around him craving to feel every inch possible pressed against you even as you curse the layers of clothes you hadn’t bothered to remove.

Next time, you think with a thrill, certain as you are there will be a next time, you will make sure you can feel all of him. A shudder wracks through your body, mostly from the way he is grinding his hips, rubbing back and forth against your gspot in a way that has the beginnings of your climax curling in your belly. But also the thought of the future of feeling his soft skin pressed against yours, tickling hair and beads of sweat. Now you had a taste you weren’t sure you could wait.

His lips find yours again as your bodies move together, kissing you deeply until you can hardly tell where you end and he begins. A shudder passes through you after an especially deep roll of his hips, your whole body tensing as your orgasm starts to build. He breaks the kiss with a grunt, resting his sweat-dampened forehead against yours.

‘Cazzo!’ He groans. ‘Sto per venue.’ He seems as if he is speaking to himself, pleasure glazed eyes blinking at you slowly. His eyes regain focus locking onto yours and you feel that pleasurable shudder run through you again.

‘I need to feel you cum on my cock mia cuocoina.’ His hands grip your hips holding you still as he starts to fuck you harder, his precise thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His upper body covers yours, his comforting weight and more deliberate attentions making your breath come shallow and fast until your head is spinning. You grip his shoulders tightly needing something to ground yourself as. WIth a growl he shakes off the blanket, kneeling back so he can fuck in to you even harder. You would miss his closeness if you didn’t feel so connected by his burning gaze and iron grip on your hips, pulling you back to meet his every thrust.

Even without the blankets the heat between you is stifling as you both hurtle towards your climax. You can’t even speak, barely lucid enough to keep breathing when his thrusts begin to stutter and lose rhythm. His thumb finds your clit rubbing barely in time with his thrusts but it's enough and you cum with a gasp, your hands gripping his waist like your life depends on it.

‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK!’ He moans as he rides out the pulses of your climax. He throws his head back with a groan pushing as deep inside you as he can as his orgasm overtakes him, his thrusts shallowly matching the pulsing of his cock. He pants for breath above you, his cheeks pink from the exertion but a smile creeps over his face that you can’t help but match.

‘Fuck,’ you sigh, still feeling light headed with pleasure. As you look at him you feel a rush of feelings you still don’t quite want to put a name to but you push aside those thoughts for now to focus on the moment. Using what little strength you can muster you open your arms and he eagerly accepts, his exhaustion already creeping up on him.

‘Fuck,’ he murmurs into your chest as he settles in your arms. Your fingers wind your way into his damp hair, smoothing the strands from his forehead so you can drop a gentle kiss in its place. He sighs contentedly, his eyes drifting closed. The telly continues playing the unwatched mid morning drama but nothing could pull your attention from the man falling asleep in your arms.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The rolls themselves can be made ahead as well. The dough rolled out thin and precise circles then carefully wrapped around cylindrical mould. Your oil should be hot and ready, maintaining a steady temperature for the quick work that is ahead. It takes but a minute for them to cook perfectly crisp, golden brown and bubbling on the surface. While still warm remove them from the mould and place on paper towels allowing excess oil to wick away and when cooled you can carefully package them away.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It’s not even that the two of you have become insatiable now. You still cook him three square meals and all that entails and you still head to your own room at the end of each day. He still attends to his reduced duties in a timely manner. It was just now when he looked at you with darkened eyes and lascivious smirk it went further than the flirtatious innuendo it used to end with. Though the tension had been delicious you can’t be anything but thrilled with the turn of events.

This time your only warning was the sound of him entering the kitchen to find you leant over the table in the middle of the kitchen finishing some preparation. He says nothing, only squeezing your hips firmly before easing his hand up your spine encouraging you to lean forward. In anticipation you slide your chopping board out of the way until you are bent over the surface as he cups the back of your neck with another more gentle squeeze as if asking for your permission to continue. With the small amount of room he has given you to manoeuvre you turn your head to the side and you can see him at the corner of your vision. As you nod though your head knocks the chopping board and you suspect your food prep needs to be moved to a much safer place before he continues.

‘Papa, the food,’ you say, hoping he understands what you are trying to communicate, struggling to put together a more elaborate series of words in your current state.

‘You stay exactly where you are.’ His commanding voice makes you shiver and you give thanks to Satan that he understood your meaning as he slowly walks around the table. One at a time he moves the chopping board and bowls off the table. Your field of vision doesn’t allow you to see exactly where and you dare not move, knowing without seeing that his eyes are locked on you checking for any signs of your disobedience.

‘Are you happy now?’ He asks when what you can see of the table is clear.

‘Yes Papa.’ He circles back around the table resuming his position, one large hand on your hip and the other gripping the back of your neck, pinning you in place.

‘Now where were we?’ He presses his erection against your ass, groaning at the little friction he is allowing himself.

‘Do you know,’ he starts, his conversational tone so at odds with the way he is touching you. ‘How many times I have imagined you like this?’ The hand at the back of your neck starts to move, caressing across your shoulders then down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake. Both hands settle on your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly until you gasp. He grinds his cock against you again, the hard ridge of his arousal catching you perfectly. You are already so wet when he pulls back your skirt is stuck to you and he lets out a long slow breath when he notices. He lifts the hem of your skirt up revealing you to his gaze.

‘Puttana,’ he mutters, freezing in place for just when he realises that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear this morning. ‘Cazzo,’ the sight of you wet and ready for him to take must chip away at his self control, he grabs your wrist twisting it to the small of your back and directs you to hold up your skirt for him.

‘All spread out over this table just for me.’ He has barely even touched you but your breath comes in pants as you listen to him opening his trousers, the pop of buttons, the click of clasps clasps and the hurried unzipping of his fly. You feel the heat of him before he even touches you but instead of fucking into you like you need he pushes the head of his cock between your thighs. His breath stutters at the sensation of your pillowy thighs squeezing his cock as he slowly thrusts. The sensation only makes you more desperate as he takes his pleasure from your body without giving you anything in return.

‘If I had known how desperate for me you were before,’ he says, slowly, softly, making you wait even for his words when he finally, finally angles his next slow thrust upwards. The tip of his cock gradually pushing through your folds and nudging at your clit with the same slow precise rhythm of his carefully chosen words.

‘That every time I had the urge I could have bent you over.’ His every action seems designed to drive you mad with want. He finds your entrance with ease, the pressure just enough to make you clench in anticipation but yet not enough to give you any satisfaction. ‘And fucked you.’

You aren’t quite used to it yet, the delicious stretch, the perfect angle of him. He must be watching himself fuck you, pulling out infuriatingly slow before thrusting back in, knocking th air from your lungs each time. His self control doesn’t last for long though, the tight wet heat of you pulling him in over and over again until he is pushing into you hard and fast. The heavy table creaks at the onslaught and you are sure to have bruises on your hips where he is pressing you into the edge but it feels too good for you to consider stopping for a second.

It’s not long before you sense him getting close, leaning over you for support, his soft stomach pressing your hand into your back. For a moment you find yourself again wishing you had taken the time to pull off each other's clothes so you could feel his bare skin against you, the soft scratch of his chest hair, but there would be time for that. Next time you promise yourself yet again, as you feel your orgasm washing over you.

You stare through the table top, your head buzzing, somewhat detached from reality. His final thrusts jolt through your body as he joins you in bliss, his strength seeping out of him as he collapses against your back. The world comes back into focus with him panting against the back of your neck, the welcome weight of him slightly less welcome this time now you are pressed against the kitchen table.

‘Terzo, the table is quite hard,’ you inform him, attempting to push yourself into a more upright position.

‘Oh! Mi dispiace,’ he says hurriedly lifting himself off of you. You grab his wrist before he can get too far though turning to face him.

‘I’m going to think about that every time I am preparing food now,’ you tease him with a smile, drawing him in for a kiss.

‘Mmmm but I was already.’ You giggle as he kisses you, languid and warm until his rumbling tummy makes you break apart with laughter. You both look down at his complaining stomach, then back up at each other, laughing even harder.

‘I think I better finish off this meal,’ you say, righting your dress. ‘Before we get any more complaining out of you,’ you joke, giving his tummy a gentle poke. He swats away your hand before flopping into one of the chairs just out the way, watching you get back to work with a dreamy expression.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The filling is as important as the dough being one of only two components and can be flavoured to your preference. Generous spoonfuls of ricotta and mascarpone are whisked together with sugar and candied fruit peel added to taste. The mixture is ready when it is light, airy and just sweet enough. Spoon into a piping bag and you are ready to assemble the final product.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Terzo are you busy?’ You ask knocking on the door frame. He had mentioned craving something sweet earlier so you were hoping he would have the time to indulge both you and himself. You held the tray of cannoli behind your back, admiring him as you waited for him to finish with his work. He is once again wearing his glasses as he sits at his desk, reading over some documents. Though his brow is creased in mild frustration at whatever he is reading, his expression lifts as he acknowledges your interruption, a smile crossing his face as he drops the documents on the desk and spins his chair to look at you properly.

‘Not any more,’ he says, eyes raking you up and down over the rim of his glasses. ‘What can I do for you cara mia?’

‘I have a surprise for you,’ you reply coyly, slowly making your way towards him.

‘A good surprise?’ He questions. You are almost insulted, when have you ever given him a bad surprise?

‘I would like to think so,’ you say, not willing to give away the surprise yet especially while he is questioning your motives.

‘Ok then, come and surprise me.’ He pats his lap beckoning you closer. You take a few steps closer then with a flourish present him the plate and his face lights up.

‘Cannoli? For me?’ His face lights up in delight and you think that you want to make him happy like this everyday for the rest of your life but you push that aside for later.

‘You said you were craving something sweet,’ you say instead.

‘Ah mia cuocoina always making sure I am satisfied.’ He reaches for the plate but you wave his hands away a sudden idea coming to you on how you might satisfy him even further. Placing the plate on his desk just out of his reach you settle sideways across his lap leaning against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist holding you close and he presses a kiss to your cheek murmuring in thanks.

‘Let me taste,’ he demands but this is one time where you have no intention of following his orders. You pick one off the top of the pile and hold it to his mouth forcing him to lean forwards to take a bite but just when the treat is within his reach you pull it away.

‘No teasing cuocoina’ he says sternly.

‘You didn’t say please,’ you remind him sweetly.

‘Please. Now.’ he rolls his eyes at you as he says it, barely humouring you and yet expecting you to obey. You hold the treat towards him again but at the last second eat it yourself. He watches you in shock as you moan exaggeratedly at the taste, licking the escaped cream from your fingers and your lips.

‘Cara mia why would you tease me this way?’ He asks as if he isn’t the worst tease you have ever known.

‘You didn’t say please,’ you repeat. He did say it technically, but he didn’t mean it and you were enjoying watching his frown lines deepen the more you wound him up.

‘I did,’ he says indignantly.

‘You need to mean it,’ you say, reaching for another one and sucking the cream from inside first before popping the outer shell in your mouth.

‘Please mia cuocoina! Ti prego, per favore, please!’ He looks pleadingly between you and the plate as he begs and as much as you want to give in and let him taste you decide to push him a little bit further.

‘Show me how much you want it.’ He drops his pleading act in an instant the terrible man, his eyes darkening and a smirk pulling at his lips now he has figured out your game.

‘If you insist.’ In a moment he is fully in control, his hand finding the back of your head to keep you in place as he shows you exactly how much he wants it. He kisses you fiercely, tongue delving between your lips searching out any left over flavour of the treat. He pauses to catch his breath and you take your chance, twisting in his lap and helping yourself to another. You lean back against his chest, tipping your head back against his shoulder and letting him watch you delicately lick the cream from inside before eating the pastry in two bites.

‘You are an insufferable tease mia cuocoina,’ he growls it into your neck, nipping at what he knows is a weak spot for you as he watches you eat.

‘It takes one to know one.’ You are being childish, you know that but you are having fun. It’s not very often you get under his skin and you want to stretch it out for as long as possible.

‘I thought this was my surprise.’ And even despite his grumbling you can feel him getting hard beneath you.

‘I decided you need to earn it.’ You push even as you tip your head offering him more of your neck to torture you in return.

‘Oh.’ You’re in for it now you can tell by the sound of his voice but you couldn’t be happier. He slides his hands down your waist and over your thighs, spreading your legs and bracing you either side of his lap. ‘I see how it is.’ He unbuttons your habit slowly working from the hem up to your neckline peeling back the material. He sighs in satisfaction when he sees your underwear, delicate purple lace with sparkling gold embroidery.

‘I like this,’ he comments as he slips his hands into the cups of your bra, teasing your nipples with controlled pinches and flicks of his fingers.

‘Have another,’ he tells you, pinching your nipples sharply when you take a bite. This is his payback, you realise when he doesn’t relent, alternating between massaging your breasts and stroking your nipples, surprising you with hard pinches everytime he thinks you have got too comfortable. You need more, more of something but he offers you nothing, spreading his legs inside yours so you can’t even grind down or press your thighs together to get some relief. He pushes you until you are whining with every breath, every part of your body except your voice screaming please.

‘Not nice is it mia cuocoina.’ He sounds so smug you almost want to scream except this is what you wanted wasn’t it? You should have known you could never beat him at his own game.

‘Ok ok,’ you give in, reaching for another cannoli and holding it to his mouth and finally let him take a bite revelling in his moans as the flavour fills his mouth.

‘So good,’ he groans, accepting you surrender as he finally reaches into your underwear circling your clit deftly working you until you are again writhing in his lap. Clearly having run out of patience himself he pushes you forward against his desk giving him just enough room to fumble with his trousers. He takes your hips encouraging you up just enough that he can find your entrance with his bared cock and as soon as he does he pulls you down until you are once again seated on his lap but this time full with more than just cannoli.

Before either of you move you offer him another; he eats it messily, licking spilled filling from your fingers before bracing your hips and helping you ride him in his seat. You are both so worked up you find your rhythm easily bouncing and grinding in his lap the sweet taste of dessert on your tongues. His hands roam your body squeezing and caressing before he finds his way back into your underwear stroking you in time with your movements until your legs start to feel like jelly.

When you can no longer coordinate your movements he lifts you up bracing yourself against the arms of his chair so he can fuck up into you. His angle is perfect, hitting you over and over again in exactly the right spot that has sparks flying across your vision. Your arms start to shake but you focus every bit of strength you have left to staying exactly where you are, his legs are shaking too and you know he is just as close as you are.

With one last thrust he pulls you back down into his lap, moaning as he cums inside you, losing himself in his pleasure. You can feel the pulses of it as he finishes not quite enough to tip you over the edge but intensely satisfying all the same. After a moment he comes back to himself finishing you off with his fingers and moaning along with you as you cum around his spent cock.

In a daze you look down at yourself, almost fully dressed aside from your open habit and curse yourself once again for you rushed fucking. Next time, you swear to yourself, next time you will insist on doing things properly. He nuzzles against your neck now, soft kisses where before there were sharp nips.

‘Have I earned my treats now?’ He asks sweetly, starting to button you back up without letting you move an inch away from him. He had more than earned his treat, as many as he wanted so you feed him another without any further resistance, pausing between each to kiss the taste of cream from his lips.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

At the last possible moment you want to fill them, as you want to serve them straight away. Placing the nozzle into the centre you fill each roll generously ending with a flourish in the shape of your favoured piping nozzle. Coat the end with your topping of choice then set on your serving dish. Before long you will build a rhythm, fill, top and display. Fill, top and display until every last one is cream filled. Finally dust with a fine layer of sugar and they are ready to be devoured.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You had been trying to leave this time, you really had. Admittedly it was getting harder and harder as time went on. Many weeks ago he had started walking you to the door each night, long before even your first proper date. Lingering conversations had become lingering touches which had all culminated in tonight.

He had you pinned up against the door both your wrists grasped in one hand against the hard wood. The leg you weren’t wobbly balancing on was hooked around his hips keeping him close, your underwear already dangling from your ankle. At some point he had managed to undo his trousers, the loose belt buckle digging into your hips where he was pressed up against you and somehow his fingers were buried inside you twisting and stroking perfectly despite his arm being trapped between you.

He was kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck, probably leaving terrible marks but you couldn’t care less. Lost in his muttering against your skin. How irresistible he finds you, that you are a temptation he would never resist, how he can’t bear to be separated from you without the scent of you on his fingers or the memory of being inside you. It’s pure filth but from him, in his melodic Italian drawl it sounded like the most romantic poetry you had ever heard. Overwhelmed with pleasure you clench down on his fingers always needing more, more, more of him.

‘I need you now,’ he groans, pulling away from your neck and withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and wanting and even more desperate. He fumbles between you trying to line himself up, his quiet speech turning from seductive to frustrated. It doesn’t quite work, aborted thrusts not hitting home. He tries again standing on his toes, trying another angle which fails again. There is no deliberate tease this time, not when you are both this heated, this desperate. One last time and when he doesn’t hit his mark you both feel the tension snap.

He snarls, losing patience entirely he grips your hips firmly and moves. One minute your feet are firmly on the ground the next he has lifted you clean off the floor encouraging you to wrap your legs around him. Your now free hands grip his shoulders as he lines up again. With gravity now on your side you sink down on his cock and for a blissful moment you enjoy the fullness of him inside you after the drawn out torturous wait that is until he tries to move.

A concerning yelp escapes from him at his first thrust, his leg giving out beneath him. Somehow in the tumble you find your feet steading him where he is knelt before you both fall to the floor. All your frustration turns to worry in an instant as you rub his shoulders as soothingly as you can manage.

‘Terzo are you ok?’ His forehead rests against your stomach for a moment before he offers up his hand asking without words for some help to get to his feet.

‘I forget sometimes, I am no longer a young man,’ he says wryly as smooths his hair looking anywhere but at you.

‘It's ok.’ you say reassuringly. I like you exactly as you are.’ You press a kiss to his nose and wrap your arm around his shoulders once again. His lips start to pull up at the sides and he finally looks at you.

‘Si, you do,’ he says before shifting his weight to his leg with a wince, his expression becoming more serious.

‘Do you think?’ He hesitates. ‘Maybe it would be more sensible to take this to a bed, si?’ It is your turn to hesitate wondering if he is really suggesting what you think he is. This has been another one of the two of your unwritten rules. You had never stayed the night with him always returning to your own rooms a reasonable time after serving his dinner. Yes that time had stretched longer and longer but it was a line neither of you had ever broached. Until tonight.

‘Would you like to spend the night with me?’ He asks, seeming to sense you needed him to properly state his attentions and as he does your heart starts beating faster. The rush of your feelings is overwhelming all of a sudden. This was real, not that you had doubted him for a long time but this felt like a bigger step, a bigger declaration then any of the other things that had happened before and it was just for the two of you.

‘I would love to spend the night with you.’ He kisses you softly, taking your hands in his. He leads you towards his room, pausing every few steps, unable to keep his lips from yours for long, as you manage to dodge around the armchairs and side tables in his sitting room. Realising you finally have your chance to feel all of him you eagerly reach for his collar unbuttoning his shirt in between kisses pushing it from his shoulders to puddle on the floor. Your knickers are long gone, abandoned back in his office but he doesn’t hesitate to pulls your dress over your head and your bra removed not long after his dexterous fingers make quick work of the clasp.

The dining table proves a difficult obstacle but you take advantage, pushing him against the edge so you can pull his vest free of his already open trousers and finally get to run your hands over his bare chest. He moans as you scratch your fingers through his chest hair, his hands resting on your ass pulling you ever closer. After another moment he spins you away from the table walking you back and towards his room.

You find yourself pressed against a door once again, the cold wood contrasting his warm softness against your bare skin. He fumbles for the handle even less inclined to interrupt your kiss now he is so close to finally getting you where he wants you. The door opens and you are through. You had been in here a few times before but never like this never with the intention and invitation to stay.

He breaks away from you stepping towards the foot of the bed watching you as he shimmies out of his trousers so he can lie back on the bed gesturing you closer and you don’t need to be asked twice. You crawl over him revelling in feeling all of him. The soft hair of his chest against your nipples, the give of his soft stomach, the way your thighs spread to accommodate his hips and his beautiful face watching you with such fondness and desire. All it takes is a guiding hand and a shift of your hips and he is finally inside you again.

This feels like more than sex, then lust as you move together, the closest you have ever been. You had been avoiding it for a long time putting a name to the way you feel about him but it’s undeniable. You love him. You love everything about him. The more you have got to know him, the real him, the harder you have fallen. It wouldn’t matter if you were told to stop working for him tomorrow, you would want to make sure he was happy and looked after and being with him like this only makes that stronger.

‘I love you,’ you whisper against his lips not wanting to hold it in for a second longer.

‘What?’ He blinks at you in confusion, like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

‘I love you Terzo.’ You say more firmly giving him no room for doubt. He stares at you for a moment longer. Then he kisses you so passionately he takes your breath away. WIth a surprising amount of grace he rolls you over, wrapping you securely in his arms beneath him. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. He shows you exactly how much you mean to him with his attentive kisses and reverent touches. By making love to you in a way you had never experienced before until you were left with no doubt at all that he felt the same way as you. And later, as you fall asleep in his arms for the first time you can’t help but dream about the perfect future you are certain is laid out for the two of you.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

#papa emeritus iii x reader #papa iii x reader #terzo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fic #terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #banchetto #my writing #hi hello it's meeee

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sturnsblogs · 2 days ago

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 5: The Weight of It

Chris didn’t go straight home. He should have—his body was exhausted, his head was pounding, and his heart felt like it had been put through a shredder. But instead, he found himself driving aimlessly, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

Avery’s words kept circling in his mind.

“You don’t just accidentally say someone else’s name unless you’re thinking about them.”

He had tried to tell her it wasn’t like that. That it had been a slip of the tongue, nothing more. But the look in her eyes had told him she wasn’t convinced. And the worst part? He got it.

If Avery had called him another guy’s name, he would’ve lost it too.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking through the quiet. When he pulled it out, Aiden’s name flashed across the screen.

Aiden: Yo, where you at?

Chris exhaled sharply before typing back.

Chris: Driving.

Aiden: So I heard you called Avery the wrong name…

Chris shut his eyes briefly, already feeling the secondhand embarrassment.

Chris: It wasn’t like that.

Aiden: Okay, then what was it like?

Chris hesitated before typing:

Chris: I don’t know. It just slipped out. I wasn’t even thinking about Y/N, I swear. But now Avery thinks I am, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Aiden’s reply came almost instantly.

Aiden: Come over. We need to talk.

Fifteen minutes later, Chris was slumped on Aiden’s couch, running a hand down his face as he recounted everything that had happened.

Aiden listened, tossing a football between his hands. When Chris finally finished, Aiden sighed. “Damn, man. You really messed up.”

Chris groaned. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Aiden gave him a look. “I mean, I get why she’s mad. If she had called you some other guy’s name, you’d be pissed too.”

“I know,” Chris muttered. “And I don’t blame her. But I don’t know how to convince her that it wasn’t some deeper thing.”

Aiden was quiet for a moment before leaning forward. “Then tell me this: do you love Avery?”

Chris’s head snapped up. “Of course I do. I love her so much.”

“Okay,” Aiden nodded. “Then why do you think Y/N’s name slipped out?”

Chris sighed. “Because—because I was thinking about how much things have changed. Not because I want Y/N back, not because I have feelings for her, but because she was my best friend for so long. And now I barely talk to her. It’s weird, Aiden. I hate the way things ended.”

Aiden studied him. “So you miss the friendship.”

“Yes,” Chris admitted. “But I don’t miss her the way Avery thinks I do. I wouldn’t trade what I have with Avery for anything.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “I just don’t know how to make her believe that.”

Aiden tossed the football up. “Then show her.”

Chris frowned. “How?”

Aiden shrugged. “Tell her everything you just told me. Don’t just say ‘I love you’—prove it. Make her feel like she’s the only one that matters to you.”

Chris nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

Aiden smirked. “I always am.”

Chris rolled his eyes but pushed himself off the couch, grabbing his keys. “I need to go fix this.”

Aiden clapped him on the back. “Go get your girl, man.”

Chris drove straight to Avery’s house. He still didn’t know exactly what he was going to say, but he knew one thing—he couldn’t lose her over this.

When she opened the door, she looked surprised. And then wary.

“Chris.” avery said softly

“I love you,” he said immediately, stepping forward.

Avery blinked, arms crossed. “Okay…?”

Chris exhaled. “Avery, I swear to you, what happened earlier—it wasn’t because I have feelings for Y/N. I don’t. I love you. And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t enough, because you are.”

Avery’s expression didn’t change. “Then why did you say her name?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “Because I was thinking about how much my life has changed. How much I’ve changed. Y/N was my best friend for years, and now she’s barely in my life. It’s weird. But that’s all it is, Avery. I don’t want her back. I don’t wish things were different. Because if things were different, I might not have you—and I wouldn’t trade us for anything.”

Avery swallowed, her arms tightening around herself. “You really mean that?”

Chris stepped even closer. “With everything in me.”

Avery studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, she sighed, her expression softening.

“I love you too,” she admitted. “But, Chris, I need to know that I’m your priority—that I don’t have to worry about someone else taking up space in your head.”

Chris nodded immediately. “You are my priority, Avery. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

Avery hesitated before finally stepping forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. Chris exhaled in relief, holding her tightly.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she murmured against his chest.

“Me neither,” Chris admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

And for the first time that night, he finally felt like things were going to be okay.

A/N- He’s so stupid. 😄

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @mylittled0ve @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo

CHAPTER FOUR

TAGLIST TO MASTERLIST

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #chris sturniolo angst #angst #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets fic

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yutahoes · 21 hours ago

Text

Small World

I might post this here so I can have the energy needed to finish (or even continue) this fic.

characters: single dad! soccer coach! widower! Yuta x female! single mom! fashion designer! divorcee! Y/N (with son! Jung Sungchan, son! Shotaro Osaki, daughter! Sachiko Osaki (OC), daughter! Sakura Nakamoto (OC) word count: 6k words genre: probably chaptered, fluff summary: Who says one cannot fall in love once again? warnings: single parents au, period talk, maybe aegist and sexist comments here and there, minor character death, sexual harassment, a little mutual pining, aged up and aged down characters

This is just a little fic that has been sitting in my drafts since 2022. Heavily inspired by the movie Blended and the Heart over Height NCT Show Content. I don't know if I'll ever write again, but the concept is very close to my heart, that I don't want to waste the story. If anyone reads this, please let me know what you think. Should I continue this or not?

Heavy flow. Regular flow. With wings. Without wings. Sanitary Napkins. Tampons. Pantyliner. Why are there so many choices?

Yuta groaned in annoyance. What does Sachi use? Why didn't she stock up on these things when they did their groceries? Why does she have to get her period tonight? But he should be relieved, right?

At least his daughter isn't pregnant.

He sighed in obvious distress, too loud that the woman beside him just glanced at him cautiously. He lightly apologized, bowing his head in embarrassment. What is he doing in front of feminine products? And why can’t he make up his mind?

A sigh disturbed his thoughts. His gaze fell on the woman beside him, who was looking at the magazines while sighing. Yuta groaned at the same time as the woman, which surprised them both. "Do you need help?" they asked simultaneously before lightly stopping when they realized they had said the exact phrase.

The woman smiled, stepping to the side where the feminine care products were. "First day period?" Yuta nodded as she reached for the heavy-flow pads in front of him. "She's still using pads, right?"

Yuta hissed before shaking his head, "I'm not sure. Her brother usually does this for her, but he's in camp." He blurted out, then realised he might have been giving too much information. "But she's eighteen. I hope that helps."

"Yeah, here." She handed the package of heavy-flow sanitary pads with wings. “You should also prepare a hot compress since she'll be aching all over."

"I'll remember that," Yuta said with a smile, taking a mental note of what she said. “How about you?" Yuta glanced at the object beside the feminine care products and was confused at how the items in this convenience store were placed. "Magazine?"

She looked embarrassed at first but then sighed. "I accidentally ripped my son's magazine." She then showed him a piece of ripped glossy paper. "In my defense, I'm surprised he's reading this stuff." Oh, Yuta nodded his head, he gets it now.

"How old is he?" He asked, taking the ripped paper and feeling it using his fingertips.

"Eighteen." The same age as his twins? No way, she looks too young to be a mother of an eighteen-year-old. "They're already growing up, aren't they?"

They are. He thought it would be easier. But the generation is entirely different.

Yuta handed her a men’s magazine, the same magazine from which the piece of ripped paper came. "This still has fewer nude pictures compared to the others. He's still fine." The girl giggled, taking the magazine before thanking him.

Once lined up for the counter, Yuta realized how awkward this was. He was carrying a sanitary napkin while she was carrying a men's magazine. The woman might have felt uncomfortable, so she suggested switching items before the teller rang their items. Once outside, they immediately changed the plastic bag and paid the other what they owed. "Do you live near here?" Yuta started, and that made the girl stop in her tracks. Wait, that was weird to ask a married woman. "I mean, it's dangerous to be walking this late."

She smiled. "My car is parked there." She pointed at a black Toyota, which surprised Yuta. She must be wealthy. "Do you want me to give you a ride?" she asked while locating her keys inside her purse.

Yuta shook his head, claiming that he lived nearby. "By the way, I'm Yuta Nakamoto. We just moved here from Japan."

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Welcome to the neighborhood, Yuta." She introduced, shaking his hand.

Her hands were so soft. So delicate. She is gorgeous and smiles a lot. Her voice sounded so melodious, and her perfume smelled good. Is this how deprived he is of a female? But God damn it, she's a married woman with an eighteen-year-old son. Why is he fantasizing about her all of a sudden? This is weird.

"You look so happy, Dad," Sachiko, his eighteen-year-old daughter, commented while checking the sanitary pads he had bought for her.

Yuta shook his head, laughing at himself. “The convenience store here is just so funny.” The younger one gave him a weird gaze and nodded. A sigh escaped his lips as Sachi was out of sight. Why was he so ecstatic meeting an attractive married woman in the convenience store? He might be crazy.

—-

"Mom, I'm back!" Sungchan shouted as he entered the door of their house. He put down his duffel bag before instructing his friend to sit on the sofa. "Mom, are you home?" He could hear shuffling from the second floor, and Sungchan smiled. She is home.

The younger guy smiled when the older woman appeared from the mezzanine floor. "Channie!" She quickly ran downstairs, holding her heeled shoes in one hand and her handbag in the other. The taller guy wrapped his arms around his mom for a hug. "Why didn't you call to tell me you're coming back?" she asked while ruffling his hair. “You look thin. Is your dad not feeding you well, my Channie?"

He gave a nervous laugh before gesturing for his friend. "Mom, this is Shotaro Osaki. We met at camp." The younger Japanese guy stood up and greeted the older lady before she looked at her son in confusion, "What camp?"

"Summer camp," Sungchan claimed as a matter of fact. "Dad is on a cruise with his girlfriend so he sent me to summer camp. He said you knew."

"That fucking bastard," she whispered, then lightly glanced at Shotaro, who looked surprised. "Sorry.” The older woman whispered while smiling at their guest before turning to her son again, “But I'm glad you're alright, and you met a new friend."

The younger boy smiled at his friend. "Can Shotaro stay for the night?” The older one nodded, putting on her earrings. “Are you going out?" he asked, then glanced at his mom's black dress. "A date?"

She shook her head, then sat on the couch adjacent to where Shotaro was seated to put on her heels. "I'm meeting a client," she claimed, then took out her wallet and gave Sungchan some cash. "Just order food if you want. I'm not sure what time I'll be home." She then glanced at Shotaro, smiling. "And please, feel at home, Shotaro. We have a vacant room upstairs. Just ask Sungchan where it is."

The younger nodded, whispering a 'Yes, Mrs. Jung,' which made her laugh awkwardly. Y/N had to remind Sungchan of things, like putting his clothes in the laundry area so she could wash them tomorrow and closing the TV once they're done with video games. She laughed again when Shotaro bid farewell, mentioning Mrs. Jung when she went out the door. "Mom hates being called that."

"Your mom is hot," Shotaro exclaimed, making his friend look at him in surprise. "I mean, is she really your mom?"

"Sadly, yes, " the taller one claimed while starting the video game. “She was only sixteen when she gave birth to me." Shotaro was surprised. She was so young. If his twin sister got married and gave birth at that age, their dad would probably throw a fit. Luckily, she's past that. "Do you like my mom?"

"What?" Shotaro exclaimed, eyes wide. "No. That's weird." His friend gave him a teasing smile. "It must be nice to still have both your mom and dad."

Sungchan shrugged. He is luckier than some kids, but he wishes his parents would be together like other teenagers’ parents his age. Whenever his mom and dad are in the same room, it’s as if they don’t know each other. It's not like they never fell in love. And that is why he is scared to pursue what he calls love. “You still have your mom and dad, right?" he asked while pushing the joystick buttons in the game he and Shotaro were playing. "The ones who came to camp."

The Japanese guy giggled and shook his head. "They are my grandparents," he claimed, almost defeating Sungchan in the game. “My mom died when I was eleven, and my dad is busy with his work."

"Oh," Sungchan claimed. That's why Shotaro said that statement. Come to think of it, he is indeed luckier than most teenagers his age. "Are you an only child?"

Shotaro shook his head, claiming he has two sisters: a twin and a younger one. Sungchan stopped. A twin sister? "Do you want me to introduce you to Sachi?"

The other guy laughed, shaking his head. "I'll just imagine you with long hair. That would be weird, Sho." The Japanese guy chuckled, laughter echoing through the whole house.

Shotaro has a nice laugh. And he’s the first same-aged friend he had who doesn’t want to bang his mom. Hopefully, Shotaro would be his friend in the long run.

—-

Y/N was nervously seated inside a posh restaurant while waiting for her client. A politician and his wife are celebrating their sixty years together and throwing a small wedding party. The older woman was a darling when she came into Y/N’s boutique to check her designs, even claiming she fell in love at first sight with a blue sequined gown from her collections. A dress that she even tailored for the high-paying client. And now, she can't wait to show the older woman her upgraded design. After all her sleepless nights to finish this design, it all comes to the final pitch to the politician’s wife, so it must be perfect.

Her hands shook as she fixed the folder with her designs on the vacant chair beside her. “Hi, I’m your waiter for today, " she heard someone say before she whipped her head to where the person was standing. Her eyebrows scrunched at the familiarity. “Hi,” the guy smiled warmly before lightly chuckling, “Do you perhaps remember me?”

A giggle escaped her lips as the man she met at the convenience store poured water on her drinking glass. “Yuta? Am I right?” she muttered slowly, making him nod while smiling. “You work here?” He nodded, claiming that it was only for part-time work. He handed the menu before excusing himself when a table by his station asked for napkins.

Yuta was shaking his head, smiling to himself at the thought that he saw her again. How small is this neighbourhood for them to bump like this? She looked prettier than when he first saw her. Maybe she’s here for a date. A sigh escaped his lips. Why does it matter to him? She’s married. “I saw that,” Johnny, his co-waiter, claimed. He feigned innocence by asking what it was, but the taller guy just smiled, “You’re flirting with that hot girl on table ten.”

“I’m not,” Yuta claimed as a man entering the restaurant took their attention. He made a beeline to table ten, and the woman greeted him while standing up. Is that her husband? But he looked way older than her, with a balding head and a potbelly stomach. When she sat down, and the older man moved the vacant chair near her, Yuta made his way to the table he was stationed at.

“I can move my things, Mr. Castro,” she claimed, quickly taking her things from the vacant chair, but the older man stopped her. “Let the waiter do that. It’s his job.” The side of Yuta’s lips turned up. What a prick. Y/N just gave Yuta an apologetic look before he moved the vacant chair next to hers and moved the other chair, with her things, far from her. What does this man want? “We’ll order later.”

Yuta hated these kinds of customers the most. From what Johnny supplied, he is a politician with a high office in town. Everyone knows that he’s married, so going to the restaurant and eating dinner with a younger, hotter woman raises a few eyebrows.

And honestly, Yuta doesn’t want to think of the worst thing possible. But is she the mistress of a politician? But what about her eighteen-year-old son? Is she cheating on her husband with this politician? Or is the son the politician’s child? Is she not married? But she has a wedding ring on her finger. Yuta shook his head. This is hurting his brain. And why is he too bothered about it?

“Aren’t you going there?” Johnny asked, gesturing at table ten. Yuta glanced lightly at the man, who kept talking animatedly, and the woman, who looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think they’re here for a date.”

Yuta made his way to the table, asking what their orders were. The older man ordered the steak, and a salad for the lady, which startled the waiter. Is she only eating a salad? And why is he ordering for her? Upon closer inspection, he saw the woman moving farther from the man. His hand was on her lap as she smiled timidly at him.

Wait, is she being assaulted by this man?

Yuta kept his eyes on the people talking at table ten, making Johnny lightly nudge him while asking him what was wrong. “She looks uncomfortable, isn’t she?” There was obvious fidgeting in her actions, and how she was trying to move away from the older man made Yuta assume something was happening. “I’ll try to get her out of there. Could you ask her privately if she needed help?” Johnny only nodded as Yuta made his way to the table.

The politician glared at the waiter when he stood before their table. Both customers' eyes were on him. “Ms. Y/N,” he called, startling the woman. The manager wants to talk to you about your credit card,” Yuta continued, making the girl look at him confusedly. “It kept on declining.”

“I can pay for the…” the politician claimed before the girl stood up while shaking her head. “I’ll talk to the manager. Thank you.” She declared, standing up with her handbag while rushing to Yuta’s side. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Castro. I’ll just settle this real quick.”

The older man shook his head. “I can just pay for the meal.”

The younger girl shook her head. “I don’t want your wife to misunderstand,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll just call my husband to pay for the meal.”

The older man stood up, “We could discuss your idea later. I’ll tell my wife to call you.” The girl apologized once again before watching the politician exit the restaurant.

Knowing he was out of sight, Y/N sat back on the chair with a heavy sigh. “Are you alright?” Yuta asked, which made her nod, staring at the well-decorated table. That was so scary. “Do you need something? I could call someone.”

But she shook her head, “I’ll just take the steak he ordered, and please cancel the salad.” She claimed, breathing heavily as if trying to keep her composure. “And do you have something alcoholic that would let me drive back home?”

Yuta smiled. “I’ll check.” He took the used glass and placed a new set of glass and a plate in front of her. “I’ll be back with your order, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Yuta.” She said with a warm smile. The guy had to smile back, grinning when he turned his back on her.

“You look like a teenager with a huge crush.” Johnny teased.

Dinner was terrific, except for the little incident that happened. Y/N was now unsure how to approach Mr. Castro and his wife. But to be fair, he was the one making indecent moves on her. Her brother might be right; she should stay away from high-end clients.

The steak was tender and very juicy for its price. The virgin piña colada almost tricked her into thinking that she had a drink that night. It was a great meal, and the servers were very courteous. Maybe she’ll bring Sungchan for dinner here sometime.

A tall guy was operating the counter, but her eyes looked around for the familiar face that saved her that night. “I’m sorry, we don’t accept tips,” the man claimed, handing back her change. But they deserved it after what happened tonight.

The girl only smiled. “Then can you just please tell Yuta I said thank you?”

He smiled wide and nodded. “I’ll let him know.” She had to look for the waiter again, but in the end, she just left the restaurant.

Maybe she’ll just come back and have dinner here some other day.

Then, she could thank Yuta personally.

—--

“Yes, dad, I’m fine. I’m going home tomorrow morning.” Shotaro whispered on the phone just as a car engine could be heard. It’s probably Sungchan’s mom. Should he wake his friend up? “Take care on your way home, dad.”

The door opened as Shotaro put down his phone. Sungchan’s mom looked at him in confusion, and he greeted her with a bow. “You cannot sleep?” she asked, but Shotaro smiled while waving his hands. The room Sungchan offered was very comfortable. He claimed it was his uncle’s room whenever he visited them.

“I called my dad.” The older one nodded, placing her keys on the table. “Sungchan is already asleep.”

The girl smiled after glancing at her son’s room and nodded. “Did he buy you dinner?” He answered that they ate pizza, making the older person apologize. Wait, why is she sorry? “My son and fast food,” she claimed while shaking her head. “I’ll cook an edible breakfast for the two of you tomorrow. What would you like, Shotaro?”

This is very embarrassing. “I’ll leave early in the morning to head home.”

“Have breakfast here first; I’ll make fried rice.” He nodded, thanking her quietly. Sungchan said his mom worked in fashion retail. Does she always stay at home? It wasn't that long since Shotaro lost his mom, but it feels like he doesn’t have any idea what mothers usually do. “You should take some rest.” Shotaro nodded as he started walking upstairs, leaving Sungchan’s mom on the couch, focused on her phone.

The house feels warm even if only two people are there. Maybe that’s why he eased up on Sungchan the first time they met. He’s a very warm person, different from other cold guys their age. After spending his days with his sisters, bonding with a male his age was nice. Hopefully, Sungchan would be his friend in the long run.

—-

“You’re late!” Jungwoo noted as Y/N started putting down her binder and handbag on the table. She started apologizing while reasoning out that she had to prepare breakfast for Channie and his new friend. “Sungchan is back? Already?”

“He said his father sent him to summer camp.”

“I thought they’d spend time together.” But the girl just sighed, shaking her head. “Then what’s wrong? Did he suddenly change?”

Again, Y/N shook her head as the events earlier that morning replayed in her head. Shotaro was showing her pictures of the performance they had on camp, even surprising her that her son can sing and dance. Sungchan was even sharing that a lot of family members came and he even took pictures with Shotaro’s grandparents. When she asked why he didn’t invite her, his only answer was “I did invite dad, I thought he’d just message you.” And Y/N felt bad.

If only they were still together.

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for your falling out. You were both so young when you got married.” Jungwoo claimed, making the other sigh. “Besides, I always knew you’re too good for each other.”

Y/N had to breathe hard. She shouldn’t think much about it. They had been divorced for years now, she doesn’t even remember why she fell in love with him in the first place. She’s just thankful that he’s still active in their son’s life and co-parenting Sungchan without bothering each other.

They had obviously moved on from each other, but it’s still awkward being in the same room at once. Besides, she still considers the what if of their relationship. What if they’re still together? What if they truly loved each other? What if he chose her over his career?

The side of her lips curled up watching Jungwoo talking to two girls: a teenager and a young kid, about the dress on display. “I’m sorry, we don’t make dresses for kids,” he claimed, making the young girl pout.

What if they have another child? A daughter, perhaps?

Y/N smiled at the two girls, “Do you like the dress on display?” She pointed at the floor-length pastel rainbow dress by the shop window. The young girl nodded, claiming that she loves the color of the dress. “I can make you one.”

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called.

“But he said you don’t make dresses for kids.” The older of the two girls claimed.

The older woman nodded, “But I am the designer and maker of the dress, I can make you a dress if you really want it.” The kid’s eyes sparkled, making her grin. “Let’s go inside so we can talk about the design you want?”

Jungwoo was shaking his head as he headed to the counter, Y/N following him while the two girls settled on the lounge. “You have a lot of orders, why would you take that?”

The girl smiled at the two girls’ way. “Call it a passion project.”

“You just really want a daughter.”

“Sungchan will get mad at you if he hears that.” She said with a laugh.

Y/N was gracious in interacting with the young girl. This was her dream from the start, to open a boutique and design dresses for young girls. But the market is so cutthroat that when she got alimony money from the divorce, her brother insisted on making a boutique for older women who usually pay more. She was just sketching the dress, even considering the input of the kid who wants glitters by adding shining sequins on the body of the dress. It feels great to be working with someone who knows what she wants, unlike the other customers who can’t seem to make up their minds.

“How much will the dress cost?” The older of the girls asked, fiddling with her thumbs. “Dad gave us a specific budget for my sister’s dress.” Oh, Y/N thought that they’re mother and daughter. How adorable is it to have two daughters in a family.

The younger grinned, “It’s my seventh birthday.”

Y/N had to smile, “Don’t worry about it. It’s my gift for you.” The younger had to gasp, surprise written all over her face. She’s so cute, Y/N thought. There’s no doubt, daughters make the world brighter. “I’ll make sure that you’ll have the perfect dress for your party...” She trailed off, turning to the older for their names, but the young kid chimed in,” I’m Sakura and this is my sister, Sachiko.” Are they Japanese? She had been meeting a lot of Japanese people lately.

“I’m Y/N,” the older said with a smile. “When are you needing the dress again?”

—----

Sungchan was just amazed at how small the neighborhood was when they reached his friend’s new house. Shotaro didn’t even know where their new house is and just followed the shared location set by his dad. Once again, the person who has lived in the neighborhood all his life was startled when a young man went out of the house and his friend called him dad. He looks so young. Are parents this young already? Then maybe there isn’t much of a deal with his young mom. “Dad, this is Jung Sungchan. We met at camp and he lives in the same neighborhood.”

“You are so tall,” the older man claimed with a laugh. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto, Shotaro’s dad.” Sungchan lightly glanced at his friend. Isn’t his full name Shotaro Osaki? Why is his dad’s surname Nakamoto? “I can’t believe you got a friend before Sakura.” The guy mentioned laughed.

“Where are Kura and Sachi?”

“They went to the mall,” Yuta answered while checking his phone. “They bought clothes for Sakura’s birthday.”

Shotaro shook his head, making Sungchan confused. “We’re doing it this year?”

Yuta nodded, “What Sachi said made sense, it’s a new environment for your sister. This is her chance to make new friends.” Then his expression was gloomy, that startled Sungchan. “Besides, it’s been seven years already. We should at least celebrate Sakura’s birthday.”

The younger one nodded, “Is there anything else that I can help you with for the party, dad?”

“I still haven’t found a venue nearby for the party.”

Sungchan lightly glanced at the father-son before muttering, “I know a place.” Shotaro looked at him in question before he continued, “The neighborhood has this great clubhouse where they frequently host parties.” He then glanced at the older of the two, “I know the homeowners’ president, we can talk to her and reserve the clubhouse for Sakura’s birthday.”

Yuta nodded, “Thank you, Sungchan.” The mentioned guy grinned, making his friend smile widely.

He is very lucky to meet Sungchan.

—-------

“What do you mean you don’t want me to drive you to school?” Y/N asked dramatically. Sungchan just took a bite of his toast, staring at his mom deadpan. “It’s your first day.”

He nodded, “It’s nothing serious, mom. I just want to ride the bus with Shotaro.”

But the older girl pouted. “I always drive you to your first day classes, though.”

“That was when I was younger.” The disdain on the older’s face can be seen immediately, which made Sungchan chuckle. “It really isn’t a big deal, mom.” He whispered, “Shotaro is new in town and I want to show him the academy.” The older woman just stared at him. “Please, mom.”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N nodded. “And it’s not because of those puppy eyes, you’re too old for that.” Sungchan laughed, hugging his mom from behind. “When did you become taller than me?”

“I’ve always been taller than you.” He claimed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “It’s because I always ate with your love.”

The older rolled her eyes. “You’re exactly like your dad, it’s annoying.” She started getting some cash from her purse. “Additional money for your bus rides and eat some snacks with Shotaro.”

His hug got tighter. “I’m sorry but you know I love you, right?”

Y/N had to smile at that. Although Sungchan had grown taller, he’s still the same sweet little kid she took care of for years. “I know, I know. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.” The younger guy smiled widely, taking the cash she gave and his bag while muttering an ‘I love you’ as he ran outside their house.

She sighed once she was alone. Y/N was well aware that her son is growing up, but when did it all happen? He doesn’t want her to drive him to school. He drank her coffee instead of the glass of orange juice she prepared for him.

Y/N heavily sighed. She badly missed it when Sungchan was still a young boy.

“You should start dating,” Jungwoo claimed, drinking his iced coffee while watching her stare at the rainbow dress for the young client girl. What? All of a sudden? “It’s not too late to have a child once again.” Y/N shook her head while laughing. That’s not it. She does miss taking care of a young child, but she doesn’t want to go through the whole childbirth again. That was the hardest time of her life. “Or maybe just date a single dad.” The thought made her stare at Jungwoo in surprise. What the hell is that idea?

Y/N shook her head. Jungwoo is so weird.

—

Y/N had never seen a party with this many kids before. Sakura may have invited all the kids in the neighborhood just for her birthday party. How cute. Maybe her parents are incredibly wealthy for pulling this party for her. “Y/N,” the president of the homeowners greeted her with a wide grin on her face. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Is this the party you were talking about?” she asked, and the older woman nodded. “The birthday celebrant is a client in my boutique.”

The other woman fixed her hair, “The dad is such a handsome guy. You should definitely meet him.” Y/N chuckled. She had already found it weird that the president had been bugging her to go to this children’s party. This was what it was all about? So they could talk about the handsome new dad in the neighborhood? Truly, the married women in this place are a different breed that only makes her laugh.

“Mom!” she heard Sungchan say, running to where she was. Shotaro, who was following close behind, even greeted her. Wait, why is Sungchan and Shotaro here? “What are you doing here?” She should be asking him the same question. “This is Shotaro’s younger sister’s birthday.”

Wait, it clicks now. Sakura is Shotaro’s younger sister. No doubt she’s been meeting a lot of Japanese people in town lately. Then it only means that Sachiko is also Shotaro’s sister. That adorable girl. Maybe that’s why Sungchan is hanging out so much with his new friend. But wait, is this how small the world is that she’s discovering this in one birthday party?

Maybe, the world is indeed small. When Shotaro called for his dad who was greeting the guests, Y/N almost gasped at the man smiling at her. Yuta is Shotaro’s dad? Yuta is Sakura and Sachiko’s dad? Yuta is the handsome dad that all the married women in the neighborhood wanted to meet? “You know each other?” It was the president of the homeowners who asked that question. Both Sungchan and Shotaro were staring at them in curiosity.

“We bumped into each other a couple of times before,” Yuta answered curtly, making Y/N nod. “It was nice to see you again, Y/N.” The other smiled, greeting him the same way as he greeted her before he excused himself to greet his children’s grandparents.

Sungchan gave his mom a questionable stare that made her glare. “What?” But he just shook his head, laughing to himself. Weird kid.

The party is really amazing, Y/N had to note. If she was a kid, she would have a blast. Maybe their family is very wealthy to afford this huge rainbow unicorn themed birthday celebration with the younger kids in the neighborhood. The food came out and the bouncy house designed on one side of the clubhouse is such a haven for the kids. When the clown came, the children’s squealing was heard all over the place. He started entertaining the kids with games, making the adults laugh at the antics of everyone in the party.

“You really made Sakura’s dress?” Sungchan asked his mom, seated next to her. He had been munching on the ice cream for a while now. The older woman just nodded, staring at the birthday girl as her sequined dress glittered against the lights of the venue. “It’s really pretty.”

The girl grinned. “Do you want me to make one?” The teenage boy laughed wholeheartedly.

There was a shift in the kids as the clown changed the game to the traditional ‘Bring Me’. It was light things at first: a coin, a tube of red lipstick, and even car keys. The kids were very chaotic, making the older women on the same table as Y/N laugh.

“Now,” the clown started making the kids silent for a moment. “I want you to bring me the prettiest mom.”

Sungchan lightly nudged Y/N, “Mom, I should bring you there.” The older woman just laughed at her son. "Then maybe I can get those huge lollipops." Y/N laughed so loud that it made Sungchan chuckle. Her son might be crazy.

Sakura came running towards their table and Y/N thought that her mom was there. Maybe one of the women in the same table as hers was Yuta’s wife. Come to think of it, she had never seen her in the party. “Auntie,” The birthday girl called, holding her hand. “Come on.” Y/N was just surprised. Why her? Shouldn’t it be her mom? But she only stood up and let Sakura drag her to where the clown is.

“I said prettiest mom, not prettiest sister.” The clown corrected.

Y/N had to smile at that. What is this weird scenario? “I am a mom.” She corrected, leaving the host surprised. When he asked where among the elementary school kids is her child, she pointed at the tall guy on the side waving his hand. He even exclaimed how young she looked. “I get that a lot.”

“Do we agree that she is the prettiest mom out there?” He asked the crowd who only cheered on her but Y/N shook her head. There’s no way. There are other moms of these little kids who are prettier than her. Surely, the birthday girl’s mom is way prettier than her. “Do we think she’s the prettiest mom, Sakura’s dad?”

Yuta looked surprised at the mention of his name before standing up and giving a thumbs up. The man seated next to him has a wide smile on his face and Y/N remembered him as the tall guy from the restaurant. The clown gave both her and Sakura a giant rainbow lollipop which she handed to her son as she returned to her table. “I told you you’re the prettiest mom here,” Sungchan whispered, removing the wrapper of the lollipop.

That was weird.

But what’s weirder is, where is Sakura’s mom?

The kids were playing on the bouncy house and Y/N watched as Sungchan towered over them with his height. Sakura had forced him to watch her play in the bouncy house. Will her son like it if he gets a younger sibling? But Y/N prevented herself from laughing by biting her lip. As if she’ll have another child.

“Y/N,” she heard someone call before that person sat on where Sungchan was sitting earlier. Yuta. “I haven’t thanked you for making Sakura’s dress. She loves it so much, she might sleep wearing it.” The girl chuckled. She was glad. It was the first time that she made clothes for younger girls, so it makes her heart happy that her effort is appreciated. “I’ll pay you for the dress.”

The girl shook her head. “It’s my gift for Sakura.” Her gaze then fell on Sachiko who was standing next to Sungchan and talking to Shotaro. “I even offered Sachiko if she wanted me to make the same dress but she declined.” It was Yuta’s turn to laugh, as expected of his eldest daughter.

“Sachi hates dresses.” Y/N nodded. She looked very laidback in her jeans and shirt but it perfectly suits her. She's very pretty. “Maybe because she grew up always pairing with her twin brother.”

The girl’s eyes widened at that. “Shotaro and Sachiko were twins?” Her gaze was on Shotaro then at Sachiko. “Oh yeah, they look alike.” Yuta chuckled which made her gasp. “Oh my God, your wife is amazing, Yuta. How did she give birth two times in one night?”

There was a faint smile on Yuta’s lips which Y/N caught. “She is.”

“Where is she?”

“The thing is,” he started then breathed heavily. “She died giving birth to Sakura.” Y/N had to cover her mouth in surprise. What Sachiko said back in the store made sense, that she wants this birthday to be perfect for her sister.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled. “That must be tough.” Yuta chuckled. “But this birthday party is amazing, Yuta. The best I’ve ever been.”

A laugh erupted on Yuta’s lips that surprised Y/N. He’s so carefree. It looks good on him. The married women in the neighborhood were right, he is handsome. “Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered then held his hand high. She gave her a high five but he interlocked their fingers together. “Thank you for making Sakura’s birthday special.” She grasped his hand, shaking it. “And I think I’ll be seeing you more often.”

What? “Why is that?”

He lightly glanced at the bouncing house where Sakura is talking to the crouched Sungchan. “Because I think my Sakura has a huge crush on Sungchan.” Y/N had to giggle at the observation. That is so cute.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be an evil mother-in-law.” Yuta laughed.

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nct yuta #nct yuta nakamoto #dad yuta #yuta x y/n #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff

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ancha-aus · 2 days ago

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Bitty Surprise - Chapter 3 - Pov Nightmare

It is Sunday! and that means the weekly chapter update! We are back with the bitties <3

Third Chapter!

First Chapter: [Here] AO3 link: [Here]

*---------------------------------------------------*

Nightmare chuckles as he looks at the list Cross and Killer gave him.

Cross rubs his hands together as he stands by the exit “And remember slow movements. We have only just managed to get him to agree to some soft pets after all these weeks. And first the fruit! Only after he ate some fruit some cookies. And make sure to leave double the amount so he can put some aside for his friend and-”

Nightmare puts a hand on Cross’s shoulder and he immediately stops. Nightmare gives him a reassuring smile “I know Cross. I have helped set up the routine remember? And this is not the first time I visit him.”

Almost two months had passed and they had settled into a nice rhythm. Throughout the week Cross and Killer would manage to visit Axe, they had managed to come to an agreement for the nickname after about two weeks, at least once or twice a day. Sometimes the two go together and they then spend quite some time in the shop. Some days they can only manage a short visit. Other days they can’t go together and then one goes in the morning and the other near the end of the afternoon.

Nightmare wishes he could spend more time with their bitty but he has his work to help the balance still, not to forget his responsibilities for the universes he rules. Through ruling is a bit of an overstatement as he mainly just owns the property. Either way, usually the balance doesn’t need a lot of maintenance. Normally it goes well but some days it shifts into either direction. It helps that Dream is now also actually alert and aware and helps with the balance.

Even if Nightmare wishes Dream would stop looking at him with only regret in his soul. Even if he wishes Dream would just be willing to see his side instead of just believing himself to be correct as he is trying to increase positivity.

Well it isn’t something he can fix. Dream won’t ever be able to accept that this is who Nightmare is now and not that he is just some corruption from the apples. Nightmare has peace with it…

It doesn’t matter.

What matters now is his new… family. Cross and Killer are his family now and he is happy they decided to stay with him. Nightmare is honestly not sure what he would do with himself if they decided to leave.

Yes he knows it is slightly sad how dependent he is on the two but neither seem to mind and both seem to actually enjoy living with him.

But he is getting off topic. Today is an unusual day as it is Nightmare will be the one who visits the store alone. Nightmare had finished all of his work earlier this week and Cross and Killer had agreed to do the maintenance for their tenants. All just to enable Nightmare to spend some quality time with their bitty on his own.

He truly appreciates both of them more than he can express correctly into words.

Which means that today it will just be Nightmare and Axe. Nightmare is actually looking forwards to it. He has packed the food for Axe and a good book for himself.

He is going to spend some time interacting with the bitty and when it seems like Axe is done Nightmare will go to the park to read until it is late enough to try again with Axe.

Killer pulls on Cross’s arm “We are going to be late. It is fine. Boss got this, he kept us both alive after all.”

Cross blushes and sputters before shooting Killer a glare.

Nightmare chuckles “Have fun on your mission.” Then as an afterthought “If you find any interesting books please take them along.”

Killer grins brightly “Got it boss!” and he pulls Cross with him “Say hi to Axe for us! And tell us what he thought about the present!” and Killer tugs on Cross’s arm.

Cross huffs as he takes out his blade. He shoots Nightmare one more look but visibly relaxes when Nightmare nods at him. Cross makes a slice in the air and a portal opens. Nightmare watches them go through together and the portal mends itself shut again.

The castle is immediately too quiet.

Nightmare quickly grabs the bag he had prepared; holding the food, presents and his book, and leaves himself.

Nightmare arrives early in the neutral universe and he takes a breathe of relieve. Isolation isn’t as tempting and reassuring as it used to be.

It is very early still but Nightmare doesn’t mind. He quickly finds the same bakery as before and enters it. A quick conversation later and he managed to place an order for some fresh cinnamon rolls for Killer and some of those cube croissants for Cross. All of which Nightmare will be able to pick up later on his way home. Nightmare also takes a fresh assortment of macarons, he has taken an liking to them himself and Axe seems to enjoy them.

Nightmare is rather picky about his food. He does not enjoy the activity of chewing and most textures. These work as they are rather light but have strong flavours for him to enjoy.

With that done he makes his way to the park to read the first chapter of his book. It is an interesting tale about someone having lost their memories and going on a mission to retrieve them. Nightmare reads for some time until the sun has risen far enough to imply the store would be open.

Nightmare packs up his book and makes his way to where Axe lives. He hopes all has been going well for the bitty. There have been people in the store before that said rude things about the tall bitty and his wounds.

Nightmare can admit he is curious himself but aside from the first time that Axe pointed to the wound he hasn’t referred to it again. So none of them had mentioned it either. Nightmare knows how annoying the questions about his tendrils get and won’t subject Axe to similar questions. He will tell them when he wants to and that is fine.

He gets to the bitty store and opens the front door.

Lambert, the child of the store’s owner and future owner, looks up from a list they are making. They smile brightly at Nightmare “Nightmare! It is great to see you again!” a curious look over his shoulder before their emotions turn hopeful “You… are alone today?”

Nightmare nods “Indeed I am. I was hoping to spend more time with Axe. I brought a few things we thought he might like.”

Lambert smiles brightly as they lay their list to the side and rush to his side “Of course! Honestly I am so surprised with how quickly you are bonding with him.” they walk towards the right cage together “It is amazing to see!” Lambert plays a bit with their wool as they keep glancing at Nightmare.

Nightmare still isn’t used to having others be… happy to see him. Much less the very specific interest Lambert feels near him. Nightmare tries not to encourage it, he isn’t interested in such things… At least not from Lambert.

They get to the right cage and Nightmare feels himself smile “Hello again Axe.”

Axe sits in his usual spot near the window but does fully turn around, still sitting cross legged as he stares at Nightmare. A small smile starts to grace his face but then Axe sees Lambert and Nightmare feels the familiar annoyance and irritations return.

Nightmare turns to Lambert “I got it from here, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. If I have any questions I know where to find you.”

Lambert stares before blushing and smiling “Of course! Yes! Obviously!” they wait a moment longer before pointing over their shoulder “I should… do my job… have fun!” they smile brightly at Axe “Have a good day and be good little guy!” and Lambert leaves.

Nightmare turns back to Axe and chuckles at the insulted look he aims at Lambert. “Do they still annoy you?”

Axe focusses on him and takes a moment before shrugging as he looks down. He is holding a small piece of very soft wood and an even smaller needle of some kind.

Nightmare pulls over the barstool they had moved into this corner and sits on it, it makes sure he is still on eye level with Axe but now he doesn’t have to stand “What are you doing?”

Axe blinks up and raises his two hands. Showing the wood and needle, or is it a very tiny knife? Nightmare studies it. It seems parts have been carved away, interesting.

Nightmare nods as he focuses on Axe “Are you wood carving?” Axe nods and Nightmare smiles “A present of your friend? Renegade?”

Renegade had been a name that Killer thought of for Axe’s mysterious partner in crime, as Cross called him. None of them had actually seen the second bitty but tiny presents kept being exchanged between the two and all the food was being eaten so they knew the other bitty was visiting. They had decided on the name Renegade because this bitty was someone wild and rejected the way things used to be for bitties. Or that is how Killer had explained it. Axe hadn’t shown any objection to the nickname for his bonded and so they kept it up.

Axe shoots him a look at his question but nods.

Nightmare smiles “That is very thoughtful of you. What are you making at the moment?”

Axe feels unsure and embarrassed for some reason but eventually pulls over an old looking cut out of a bunny. And now that Nightmare can see the reference he can see the ears starting to take shape. Nightmare nods and tells Axe as much.

Axe looks away and a tiny blush appears at the comment.

Nightmare frowns “Did no one compliment your carvings before?” the movement is practised and skilled. There is no way that Axe hasn’t done carvings before.

Axe shrugs and points to the window. Meaning that Renegade did.

Nightmare smiles “Well, I am sure that with Renegade liking them that is all the proof necessary to prove they are good.”

Axe dugs his skull even more and more embarrassment fills the air.

Nightmare can’t help but chuckle as he turns to his bag and searches it “Talking about you, your friend and presents.” He pulls out two tiny presents. Carefully packed by Cross. He turns back towards Axe. He raises his hand towards the cage opening and pauses “May I?”

Axe looks curious at the packages before nodding. Nightmare slowly opens the cage and lowers the two presents inside. Once the packages are down he returns his hand. He doesn’t lock the cage again as he is still planning on giving food and snacks later.

Axe keeps a careful eye on him until his hand is all the way back by his side before he rises to his feet and walks over to the two presents. Axe frowns at the packages before looking back up at Nightmare.

Nightmare smiles “The one with the red ribbon is yours. The one with blue is for Renegade but we all understand if you want to check his present beforehand.”

Axe frowns but grabs Renegade’s present first and opens it carefully. Taking great care to not rip the paper or the ribbon. He folds away the paper and sliders open the matchbox they had used to conceal the present.

Axe stares in shock as he pulls out the bright blue hoody. And afterwards some pants and a warm red scarf.

Nightmare makes sure to keep his voice quiet as he speaks “We weren’t sure what size your friend is so we went for the standard size. If it is too small please tell us so we can switch it. We also figured Renegade would like some clean clothes with him roughing it up outside.”

Axe rubs the soft cotton carefully before folding it back into the matchbox and closing it, after which he takes the time to fold the packing paper back around the present and tying the ribbon again. It isn’t the same quality as it was before but it is still damn good.

Axe stares for a long time at the present. He feels confused and Nightmare is unsure about what exactly. Axe then turns to the his own present and opens it. Again with the same careful and controlled movements.

It is strange to see someone this tiny move with the care that Axe is, as if he is afraid of breaking something.

Axe finishes unpacking his present and retrieves the outfit they had picked out for him. Nightmare had notices the Axe always wore the same dirty shirt. They wanted to give him a comfortable, warm and clean outfit. Something nice to wear.

They didn’t go for anything too complex or restricting. The jacket they picked for Axe is a neutral blue, matching with the one for Renegade but instead it was filled with pure white fluff to isolate the material and keep him warm.

Nightmare knows that a headwound messes with one’s ability to regulate their warmth and with it becoming autumn they just want to make sure Axe is warm.

Axe studies the new outfit before quickly disappearing into this small hideout. Nightmare watches him disappear inside before he turns to the food he brought along.

Nightmare takes out the cut strawberries and bananas. He takes care to carefully open the cage and leaves the offering inside before removing his hand. Best to give it now before Axe returns, this way Nightmare won’t stress him with moving his hand into Axe’s space again.

Axe returns wearing the new clothes and Nightmare smiles “It fits you very well, you are a very handsome bitty.”

Axe blushes again and hides his skull in his little hood now.

Nightmare chuckles “I am happy you like it. I brought strawberries and banana today. I also brought some macarons but only after your fruits.”

Axe pulls a face and rolls his eyes. Familiar annoyance but he walks over towards the food and starts to eat, only after he carefully separated the offering into two different portions.

Nightmare watches him for a moment and Axe just ignores him. Nightmare waits until Axe is finished before asking a question that has been nagging him “Does Renegade not find enough food outside?”

Axe pauses before shooting him a frown. He shakes his skull before tilting it. Clearly confused.

Nightmare frowns “It is just. You always make sure to have a portion for him ready. I was wondering if that was because you thought he wasn’t eating enough or afraid he didn’t get enough.”

Axe frowns as he looks down at the food he prepared. Then he shrugs. Probably unable or unwilling to answer the complex answer.

Nightmare watches him for a moment before smiling “It isn’t bad in anyway of course. It is sweet you try and help him and take care of him. I am sure he appreciates your efforts a lot. I was just worried myself, that is all.” he doesn’t want to accidentally make Axe doubts his actions.

Axe waits a moment before nodding again. Afterwards he gets up and starts moving the dish with fruits over to the window spot along with the present for Renegade.

Nightmare watches him work for a moment before pulling out his book and picking up his reading again. It is nice to just have someone living and moving nearby as he reads. It is why he loves having the other skeletons in the castle as he works.

Makes him feel less alone.

A small tap on the bars and Nightmare looks over to see Axe right by his side. Axe notices he has his attention and points at the book. Nightmare blinks as he looks at it “It is a new book I started. I am still early in the story. It is about a person who lost all their memories and is on a journey to reclaim them and learn who they were. They have found another person to travel with who is looking for history on a tragedy that happened to their hometown. They are now traveling towards a mysterious labyrinth that is supposed to hold the answers.”

Axe looks considered and nods before looking away.

Nightmare frowns “If you want to, you can read along.”

Axe looks up, thinks for a moment before nodding. The next move surprises Nightmare as Axe just scales the side of the cage and uses just arm strength to get to the cage opening. He hangs on one hand and arm and pushes his hand between the bars and unlocks the small locking mechanism from the inside before holding the bar with both hands. Next he swings back and forth and just kicks the door open and afterwards he swings himself through the hole and climbs out.

Axe stands next to Nightmare, on the outside of his own cage, looking at him and waiting.

Nightmare blinks “I… I didn’t realise you could do that.”

Axe blinks and looks back at the open cage before shrugging. He takes a few steps over and sits on the side of his cage, his little legs hanging off the side of it before looking curiously at the book and back at him. Just waiting.

Nightmare changes the hold on the book a bunch and waits until he gets some kind of sigh that Axe is comfortable reading. Nightmare ends up getting a thumbs up.

The two of them read like this for a while. Nightmare taking a long time before turning each page as Axe just gives a thumbs up each time he is done reading. Axe is a slow reader but Nightmare isn’t surprised. He doubts the bitty gets a lot of chances to read things as books are slightly too big to just have in his containment. Maybe Nightmare can get some kind of small reading tablet for the bitty. Make it easier for him to read in peace.

Nightmare makes a mental note of it.

It is nice-

“Oh no! Wait! No!” Lambert rushes over and grabs Axe. Axe hisses and immediately bites which Lambert ignores as they place Axe back into the cage and locks the mechanism.

Nightmare frowns “What was that for? He was comfortable.” He places the book to the side and looks Axe over.

Axe just sits on the ground of his cage looking very annoyed as he glares at the ram monster. He feels unhappy and annoyed but luckily he seems unharmed.

Nightmare glares at Lambert “What was that for?”

Lambert looks up and rubs their hands “It is just Bitey- sorry sorry Axe tends to scare some of the other bitties if he is out and about. Not to forget that he very quickly gets a headache if he strains his eye too much and that happens with reading. It is better if he just… doesn’t you know?”

Nightmare frowns and he feels disappointment and more frustration from Axe. Nightmare tilts his skull and makes sure to look unimpressed “I hardly see the issue. Axe is very capable and seemed to enjoy the light reading we had been doing. He was also still on his cage and not anywhere closer to the other bitties than he has been.” A glance confirms that Axe looks up hopefully at him.

Lambert frowns as they look over before rubbing their hands “It is just… okay. I think I need to share a few details about Axe.”

Axe freezes and glares at Lambert. Very very unhappy.

Lambert doesn’t seem to notice “It is… about his skull situation.”

Nightmare frowns “It seems rude to talk about someone else’s health. If Axe wishes to share what happened to him he can share it when he is ready. I am not in a hurry to learn.” He is not going to betray the fragile trust he, Killer and Cross had been building with Axe.

Lambert looks apologetic “Sorry but… well… my dad said you kind of have to know so… if you can just come with me please?” they rub their hands “I figured it could wait a bit longer but if you are going to remove him from his cage you need to know.”

Nightmare thinks about telling Lambert about the fact that Axe can get himself out but thinks better of it. If Lambert doesn’t know that it may be because Axe doesn’t let them know.

Nightmare looks over at Axe “I am sorry, I will be back real soon.” He puts down the bag on his stool “Do you mind keeping an eye out on my things while I go with them?”

Axe looks up and nods his acceptance.

Nightmare follows after Lambert and they go to the counter. Nightmare frowns at Lambert “Yes? What did you need to share?”

Lambert thinks for a moment before taking a deep breath “Axe isn’t from this facility originally. He, and we think his bonded, were from a terrible place. Some cops busted the place and freed about fifty bitties all in terrible health and conditions. The exact numbers didn’t match with the numbers we got but we always figured that some went to other safe houses and recovery centers.”

Nightmare frowns “I assume his skull got injured there?”

Lambert shakes their head “No… that came later… it is just… Axe was brought to us with about ten other bitties. To rehabilitate and heal from their abuse.”

Nightmare frowns “Then I don’t see the issue?” Axe was clearly healing and getting better. Especially if his past abuse was by humans or monsters and he was now willing to interact and be near Nightmare.

Lambert rubs their face “He was always… bitey and aggressive which we knew why. The thing is, he had always been locked away and alone. We thought he didn’t have a bonded.”

Nightmare blinks “Wait, his bonded wasn’t with him?” Renegade hadn’t been with Axe?

Lambert sighs “Even the police reports never spoke of having a bitty near Axe. We thought he wasn’t bonded and so, after some time to heal and relax we gently introduced him to other bitties as that is what normally has to be done. It had looked promising at first! Axe would mostly just… ignore other bitties. He just didn’t bother with interacting with other bitties. But…

He would hoard food.”

Nightmare frowns still not seeing the problem. Axe still did that.

Lambert sighs as they look down “The other bitties didn’t like it… we hadn’t… we thought it was fine. We just gave more food and all the bitties ate enough so we didn’t think it would be a problem that Axe had a small food pile he would defend. We figured he had been starved a lot and just wanted him to feel secure…”

Lambert looks into the direction of the larger cage with many bitties.

“There was one night, and there was a loud commotion. Bitties screaming and yelling.”

Nightmare frowns as he turns fully “But they hardly ever make noise?” Bitties would normally talk to normal sized monsters and people but Nightmare had noticed most of them preferred to be quiet. Past abuse would also explain why Axe was quiet, his past owners probably didn’t allow him to speak or communicate.

Lambert nods “It is how my dad and I knew something was horribly wrong. We rushed downstairs and found a horrible scene. Axe was on the ground of the bitty housing, his skull cracked and bleeding, a large needle stolen from somewhere in the store nearby. And… another bitty, one wearing a piece of cloth with a tie used to cloak the bitty. The bitty had been stabbing another bitty repeatedly in the chest, neck and head. The other bitty wasn’t moving anymore.”

Nightmare blinks but listens.

Lambert rubs their face “We immediately removed Axe to get him to a healer and tried to catch the wild bitty, but he was slippery and immediately managed to twist out of our grip and made a run for it. We never even got to confirm what type of bitty he is.”

Lambert sighs “After returning from the healer we moved Axe into a solo container to not risk hurting him anymore and we looked at the security cams and found something shocking. Axe had been asleep and the bitty that had been killed had been the one to initiate the attack. She had climbed out of the cage and stolen a needle from our tools. Then she had climbed back in and gone straight to Axe and stabbed him through the skull.”

Lambert crosses their arms “The thing is… in the background, the whole time, you could see a tiny figure near the window, watching the other bitty go about the store. The second she got a weapon he had been working on unlocking the top window near the ceiling to get inside.”

“As she had stood over Axe he had gotten inside and went straight for the cage. He was only seconds too late to stop the attack.”

Silence around them.

Nightmare frowns “I don’t see the issue… Axe was attacked and his bonded tried to save him. Seems like rather good partner behaviour to me.”

Lambert raises their voice “A bitty was killed!”

Nightmare crosses his arms “It was a form of self-defence. Especially if they went through hell together and have been bonded since their last imprisonment. Or, Axe was only imprisoned and his bonded was still wild but still went to spend time with him.” a thought “Where were they originally from?”

Lambert thinks for a moment “A country over.”

Nightmare nods “So either, they were a bonded pair from the same hellish place… or, Axe’s bonded is a wild bitty originally from a completely different country, who willingly followed Axe all the way here to still be with him.” he tilts his skull “That are the two most likely options I see at this moment and to me that just tells me how much they care about one another.”

Lambert groans “Axe being out of his cage makes all the other bitties nervous! He caused the death of one of the bitties!”

Nightmare shakes his skull “No. The bitty who died attacked first. She started a fight with a sleeping unaggressive opponent.” He crosses his arms “She would have killed Axe if she had the chance.”

Lambert crosses their arms “I know it is just-”

Nightmare continues “And just because she was already popular in the bitty settlement and Axe wasn’t it would have gone over well. She would have probably not even received much punishment would she? It would have been seen or written off as her trying to defend her colony and community from a food scarce. All while ignoring she killed a hurt and traumatised bitty that should have not been thrown off the deep end or been left in a container with bitties that seemed to dislike him.”

More silence around them.

Nightmare stares Lambert down “I will continue to help Axe and make sure he is healthy. His health, both physical and mental is my concern foremost.” And he nods “Thank you for the information but it hardly changes anything.” And he turns away and walks back to Axe.

He gets to the cage and his stool and takes a seat. He doesn’t see Axe right away and that is fine. “I apologise for taking as long as I did.” He looks into his bag and concentrates on his magic. Axe feels insecure and ashamed. The poor guy no doubt heard most if not the full conversation.

But more curiously.

A curiosity not his own, from very high.

Nightmare keeps his face aimed downwards towards his bag but lets his eyesight find reflective surfaces.

He is very lucky.

Because he can see a very tiny cloaked figure near the top of the window. Near the ceiling window, a similar one to the one that Lambert had spoken about.

Nearby and guarding his partner it seems.

Nightmare thinks for a moment before taking his chance “Lambert told me how you got your wound.”

More shame and frustrations from Axe and clear worry from Renegade.

Nightmare makes sure to keep his voice calm “I am sorry that happened to you. That after you got to a seemingly safe space that you were hurt, especially after showing so much trust by sleeping and resting near them.” he considers his next move before going through with it as he feels his first set of words positively affect both bitties “And, I am happy to hear you have such a good bonded who immediately moved to defend you when you needed help. Those type of people can be rare to come by. I am happy you both have each other.”

That seemed to have been the right words as he feels disbelieve from two sources before Axe rushes out of his hiding hole and stares hard at him. Still distrusting and nervous and in shock but so hopeful.

Nightmare smiles “I mean it. I understand that you both are worried, especially after all that happened. But if either of you need something you can ask us and we will do our best to get it to you.”

Axe keeps frowning at him before nodding and disappearing back into his shelter. It seems like that was it for Axe for today. Nightmare risks another glance towards the ceiling window but it seems that Renegade wasn’t there anymore.

Nightmare ends up opening the cage to leave a few more macarons before rising to his feet “I will be gone for a little while but I will be back in the afternoon again.”

A small chirp answers him that he was heard and Nightmare walks out of the store for now.

Today had already been very successful.

“…”

“… Do you think he was serious?”

“I don’t know… He seems truthful…”

“…”

“I don’t like you being outside…”

“I don’t like being near big ones…”

“I know… sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault…”

“…”

“… I… I would understand…”

“…?”

“If you… wanted to be… with them…”

“Bunny…”

“I know… they would be good for you…”

“Bunny.”

“and they like you…”

“Bunny…”

“I just don’t want to… ruin this…”

“You won’t.”

“…I always do…”

“You won’t… please meet them?”

“…”

“Only if you want…”

“I don’t know… I just… I don’t know…”

“It is okay…”

“…”

“I love you…”

“love you more.”

#utmv #bittysurprise #bittysupriseau #nightmare sans #horror sans #Also in case it was confusing.#Axe/Horror is from a bitty fighting ring.#Dust/Renegade has always been a wild bitty #we good? :D #Bad Sans Poly #In the making and as endgoal :D

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playedcrowd5610 · 19 hours ago

Note

I just finished chapter 10 of 'Falling Stars' and OPTIMUS, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? AHHH! Why don't you listen for once? You're pissing me off!

(Sent with love. I really adore this fic. But Damnit OP! You keep making things worse.)

Optimus POV of Bolted Down - from Falling Stars.

(You can also read this chapter on Ao3)

Optimus was standing next to Ratchet when suddenly, the scanners attached to Starscream started beeping erratically. Ratchet’s Optics widened as he rushed to the table side to check over the systems. The Seeker was waking up.

One second, Starscream was deep in recharge, and the next, he was frantically yanking at the restraints on the berth, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to free himself. His ventilations were uneven and harsh. Metal screeched as his claws raked against the berth, his normally smothered field flooding with distress.

Optimus noticed some much-needed cables getting torn out of the lines in his arms, and he reacted instantly. His servo pressed down firmly against Starscream’s chest, trying to hold him still before he could risk any more damage. “Starscream, stay down.” He commanded.

Starscream froze as if only just registering Optimus’ voice. The calm only lasted for a second before his thrashing renewed, almost stronger than before. “Le–//t go/oo— ksrt. O—f me!” His broken vocalizer crackled out a burst of garbled static. Optimus winced at the sound.

“You’re about to undo all of the work I did to keep you online, Starscream!” Ratchet snapped as he hurriedly checked the medical equipment that had been jostled by the Seeker’s struggle. “If you rip out your spark support cables, I am not putting them back in for you!”

Starscream froze suddenly at the medic's words, optics finally flickering online as his gaze darted from the unfamiliar ceiling to the restraints bolting him down. “W–her— krrrrk — st,” Starscream rasped, his vocalizer sparking wildly as he tried to form words. His optics snapped up, locking onto Optimus with a mix of fury and terror. “Whe//re is—krt, he?” The seeker tried again, but Optimus still couldn’t understand.

Before Optimus could respond, a blur of movement caught his attention. He glanced at the door just as Danny came running in. “Starscream!” The human’s voice rang through the medbay. Starscream tried to rise off of the berth, and Optimus slammed him back down before he could hurt himself.

The Seeker made a snarling noise as panic flared again in his field. An overwhelming sense of ‘I’m in danger, help, stop, DANGER!’ Starscream tried to transform his servo into a blaster. Optimus’s optics widened at the weapon. It didn’t fully transform, but it was still an attempt at a weapon.

Danny ran closer; whether he was friends with Starscream or not, the Seeker was in a very volatile state right now and could hurt Danny with his thrashing or a blaster misfire. Optimus crouched down, snatching the fragile human up in his servo before he could get too close.

“Hey! Put me down!” Danny yelled, squirming in his grip.

Starscream’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His damaged vocalizer sputtered out a garbled, furious screech, his frame jerking violently against the restraints. “Rel–//se. Akkkk – hi-m.”

Optimus grimaced. The situation was spiraling out of control.

“Enough!” Ratchet barked. “If he keeps this up, his spark is going to give out. Hold him still, Optimus!”

Optimus pressed down harder, using his full weight to keep Starscream pinned. He didn’t like this—hated restraining an injured mech—but there was no other option. Starscream’s wild thrashing would only cause his own destruction.

Danny was still struggling in his other servo. “Stop it! He’s terrified!” He shouted, his voice cracking. “You’re making it worse! Let me go!”

Optimus adjusted his grip just slightly to prevent Danny from slipping free. “Starscream is disoriented,” Optimus stated. “He needs time to—” A particularly violent thrash cut him off. He ex-vented sharply, adjusting his hold. “—stabilize.” This was much harder with only one servo available. But he knew the second he put the human down, Danny would throw himself into danger.

“No, what he needs,” the human snapped, fury blazing off of him in waves, “-is for you to stop pinning him down! He’s scared out of his processor! You’re not helping!”

Starscream’s frame jerked violently, his optics flickering in and out of focus. The seeker’s trembling only worsened, his claws scraping futilely against the restraints as he arched against the berth.

“Optimus, please!” Danny’s voice was hoarse now. “Let me help him. You don’t understand. He’s not going to calm down until he knows it’s okay.”

Optimus hesitated, his optics narrowing. Starscream let out another pained hiss, his thrashing slowing as energon loss began to take its toll. If he was to lose any more, it could become deadly. He didn’t want to risk Danny’s life like this.

“Optimus, we’re running out of time!” Ratchet barked from the other side of the berth, tools in servo. “If he doesn’t stop moving, I can’t reconnect the cables. Either we let the human try, or Starscream’s going to offline himself!”

Optimus looked at Starscream, then at Danny, who was staring at him with an intensity that rivaled even his own soldiers. With a deep ex-vent, Optimus slowly lowered Danny toward the berth. “Starscream is unpredictable. Be cautious—”

Danny didn’t wait for him to finish, pushing himself out of the prime's hand before he even reached the berth. The moment he was free, he sprinted forward, clambering up Starscream’s frame.

“Starscream,” Danny said lightly, pressing a hand against the Seeker’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Danny. Look at me.”

Starscream’s frame shuddered, his optics struggling to focus. Optimus watched as Danny kept speaking, his voice steady despite the raw emotion behind it. Optimus kept his one servo ready to grab Danny if need be. “I’m here. You’re safe.” The human continued.

It was working. Starscream’s wild movements slowed, his ventilations still ragged but no longer frantic. His servo twitched, as if trying to reach for the human. “Starscream, no one’s going to hurt you. I promise. I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

Optimus remained still, observing as Danny leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against the Seeker’s chest plating. “It’s okay,” Danny whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Starscream’s tension finally gave way to exhaustion. His optics dimmed, and his frame sagged against the berth. Optimus slowly lifted his servo from where it was pressing against the seeker's chest. Starscream didn’t try and rise off the berth again.

Ratchet wasted no time. He moved in swiftly, reattaching the loose cables, stabilizing Starscream’s energon flow with practiced efficiency. Danny remained at Starscream’s side, his small hand never leaving the Seeker’s plating. His voice dropped into a whisper, too quiet for Optimus to hear.

Starscream’s optics flickered once before going dark completely. Optimus ex-vented, finally easing back. The tension in the room remained, but the immediate danger had passed.

“Ratchet?” Danny’s voice was unsteady. “Is he…?”

Ratchet finished securing the last connection before answering. “Fallen into recharge, but stable.”

Danny exhaled, relief flowing over his body, but he did not move. His fingers ghosted over the Seeker’s plating. “This should’ve never happened.” Danny’s voice was low, bitter. His shoulders tensed as he turned to look at Optimus, his eyes burning with emotion. The Prime met his gaze steadily, already anticipating the human’s ire.

“You!” Danny’s voice snapped. He surged to his feet, fists clenched. “You didn’t listen to me! You almost got him killed!” He yelled at Optimus.

Optimus’s optics narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm, he didn't want this situation to escalate any further. “Danny, I understand your frustration, but—”

“No, you don’t understand!” Danny cut him off, stepping closer. His voice cracked, raw with emotion, as he gestured toward Starscream. “How many times do I have to convince you? How many times do I have to defend him before you stop treating him like he’s out to kill me?”

“Starscream is unpredictable. My priority is your safety—”

“My safety?” Danny’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “I don’t care about my safety! You think I’m scared of him? After everything?” It staggered Optimus, how much the human claimed to not care about his own well-being when it came to defending others.

“Danny,” Optimus began, voice even, but Danny wasn’t finished.

Danny’s chest heaved, his glare unwavering. “Don’t you ever dare try to keep me away from him again. I don’t care what kind of logic or excuses you throw at me. I won’t let you.”

Optimus observed him carefully, weighing his next words. Optimus knew the danger Starscream could pose. He had seen it countless times in the battlefield, and he still was not convinced that Danny fully understood the ramifications that came with that. But the Prime could also clearly see how much the human cares. And given Starscream's reaction to simply hearing the boy's voice, it could very well be possible that Starscream has changed in some way. But until the Seeker can prove his lack of intent to harm anyone, Optimus will be putting the lives of his Autobots and innocent people first.

“I will take your words into consideration.” Optimus decided on. He can't promise he wouldn't defend Danny again, that he wouldn't keep him from harm's way again. But he can try his best to honor the human's wishes.

Danny narrowed his eyes up at the mech. “You better,” he muttered, turning his back on him and returning his focus on the unconscious Seeker.

Optimus ex-vented quietly, casting a glance over the two of them before looking back to Ratchet, who simply shook his helm.

Notes:

This chapter can technically be considered canon, as it is only an alternate POV. But I may go over some statements again later in the real fic. I wrote this because a lot of comments from that chapter got mad at OP, and I wanted to word it differently to show how in character it is for him.

Danny is also very clearly biased, no matter what he says. And the Autobots have never seen him interact with a human other than Agent Fowler that one time where Starscream literally tortured him with an electric prod, and he also kidnapped June (Which to her was a traumatizing experience, and Starscream threatened to kill her).

Anyway, here's the chapter. I also did a few calls with my beta, who is like the number one OP fangirl, so we tried our best to get the Optimus-isms right. <3

#danny phantom #crossover #transformers #Haunting the Nemesis #Optimus Prime #Alternate POV #answer #Transformers Prime #DP x TF #Starscream #all the truma #everyone is going through it #omg #Falling Stars #Untold Adventures

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ladykailitha · 6 hours ago

Text

Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 7

This is the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and then it's done.

This is bittersweet for me as it was the start of this trilogy that got me my start in the fandom in the first place. I wouldn't be the person I am today without it. But on the other hand, I have seen the amount of notes for this story drop like a stone so that there is only a handful of dedicated followers that want to see it to completion. This is for them.

In this we have the most metal concert of all time, Eddie comes to the rescue, Gareth gets his revenge, and Nancy gets justice for Barb.

Also cliffhanger. Sorry!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Eddie walked into his bedroom and saw that the vines hadn’t even touched his sweetheart. “It’s like she was made for another world,” he breathed.

The other three stood behind him and watched as he reverently took it off the wall.

“Are you ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world?” he asked turning to them.

“You sure you want to do that song?” Janice asked. “It’s only been out three weeks and that solo is an absolute bitch.”

“You bring the vocals,” Eddie replied with a grin, “and Brian and I will bring the noise.”

Brian rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure ten minutes is going to be long enough, man. They might need extra time.”

“I’ve got my walkie talkie,” Dustin said, holding it up, “I say we keep playing until they tell us the bastard is dead.”

“I don’t think I want to be bat food,” Janice said shaking her head. “We don’t know how long it’s going to take for the bats to get used to the noise and try a different tactic. I would hate like hell to be standing out in the open when they decide we’re food.”

Everyone agreed, forcing Dustin to back down on his idea. He thought for a minute and then snapped his fingers.

“We record it!” he said with a grin. “That way the bats are still focused on the sound, but we don’t become bat food!”

Janice rubbed his head. “That’ll work. Let’s do this!”

They all jumped up for a high twenty and then got to work setting up what they needed for the distraction. Once they were all set up, Brian started in on that opening rift and Eddie got a chill. A good one, for the first time since Chrissy died.

Then Eddie came in on his part and the demobats who were in the sky aimlessly, suddenly turned to the sound with a singularly of a hive mind.

Janice came in on the vocals and the bats swirled around them in confusion. They didn’t know what the noise was or how to handle it. Which considering that music was the key to breaking Henry Creel’s power over people. It made sense that it would confuse the rest of the denizens of the Upside Down.

They finished the song and Dustin gave them the thumbs up that it had successfully recorded. They all hopped down from the roof and into the trailer.

Some of the demobats started attacking the trailer and the speakers. Then suddenly the music cut out.

Dustin was already up the rope ladder and into Eddie’s trailer in real Hawkins and Janice was on the rope ladder about half way up. She stopped and looked down at Eddie and Brian in fear.

“Shit!” Brian hissed. “If they figured it was a recording and cut the power, we ain’t got time for fuck all.”

Eddie looked at the handmade spear and shield in his hands as the demobats started attacking the trailer trying to get in. “I can lead them away. Give you guys more time to get help and Steve and them more time kill the bastard.”

Janice looked up at Dustin and then back at Eddie. “Fuck that shit. You made a promise fly boy, and I’m going to make sure you keep it.” She looked back up at Dustin. “You got anything up there that can start a fire down here?”

Dustin looked up. “Uh, I think I saw a gas canister for the generator. What’s the plan?”

Janice just grinned and then finished climbing all the way up the rope ladder and landing right side up. Dustin and her got the can as Eddie and Brian just looked at each other shrugged.

She tossed the can to Eddie, who caught but barely. “The bastards don’t like heat? Then let’s make this gate too hot to use.”

A grin spread out across the older boys’ faces as they finally caught on. Brian spread the gas as Eddie guarded his back, taking out any stragglers that made it through. They both hurried up the ladder and just as the demobats broke through Eddie lit his lighter.

The lighter fell to the ground and the flame touched the fumes, cackling in the air, then it hit the floor, igniting the gas with a roaring fwoosh!

Eddie threw himself away from the gate as the whole place went up in flame. Soon the air was filled with the screams of the dying bats. He got to his feet and pumped his fist.

“Hell yeah!” he cried. “Take that, bitches!” Then he turned to his friends. “Right, let’s crank up the heat in this place. Make sure they stay the fuck out!”

Dustin and Brian went around turning on the space heaters, while Eddie went to go crank up the internal heating.

Eddie looked around and with the fire below and the heat in here getting hotter by the second, he’d had made it as safe as he could. He shook his head.

“We’ve done all we could,” Brian said, giving Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now, it’s up to them to kill the bastard.”

“I think our first port of call,” Janice said, putting her hands on her hips in a Steve like move that brought a smile to Dustin and Eddie’s lips, “is the Creel house. Make sure no one gets at Max before she finishes him off in the Void.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Dustin said, “I’m really worried about Jason and his thugs finding them. They have been popping up in places they shouldn’t be and that frightens me.”

Max shivered in her jacket as Lucas, Erica, Gareth, and Wayne kind of shuffled around her uncomfortably.

“Stop acting like it’s my funeral!” she snapped the third time Lucas wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Lucas’s eyes went wide and he stumbled over himself to apologize. Wayne and Gareth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

Then it was time. Lucas gave Max’s hand a squeeze before taking the headphones and Walkman from her. He took two steps back and Wayne instantly wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Gareth gave him a nod.

“I’m just putting this out there,” Wayne said gruffly, “I don’t like you being used as bait. But even if we waited that week for Nancy’s number to come up instead, there is no guarantee that he’d wait that long.”

Max nodded. “I know. I’m the only one this could wo–” She was cut off as her head snapped back.

Her eyes turned milky white as she began to rise from the ground. But before Lucas could spring forward with the Walkman, the doors burst open to reveal Jason, Andy, and Chase.

“Oh my God!” Jason cried. “You’re sacrificing her? What is wrong with you Hellfire assholes? Don’t you see what this is doing to our small town?!”

Wayne held up his shot gun and leveled it Jason. “There ain’t anything of the sort happenin’, son. In fact the opposite is going on. So I’m going to need you boys to mosey on out of here, before I do something I regret.”

“Lucas,” Chase implored. “Can you see what they’re doing to you, to that girl? Is this the side you really want to be on.”

“We didn’t torture someone!” Gareth screamed, gripping his wounded hand tightly.. “You nearly broke my hand. I don’t see any of us Hellfire kids doing that! You’re all psychopaths!”

Jason lunged forward and grabbed Erica by the hair and pulled her to him. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at her head. “You guys so much as twitch and I’ll blow this girl’s head off.”

Lucas looked up at Wayne. “But Max! I need to turn on the Walkman or she’ll die!”

“No more talk of witchcraft!” Jason bellowed causing everyone to wince, even his teammates. “You’re going to stop this voodoo or whatever it is right this instant!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Eddie drawled from behind the basketball team members. “I knew this lot was unhinged. But taking a little girl hostage really takes the cake for you assholes.”

Jason tried to whirl around but suddenly there was another earthquake and Erica threw herself away from Jason. Eddie socked him in the jaw, causing the gun to skitter out of reach. Andy lunged for it but Gareth kicked him in teeth.

“That’s for my hand, you asshole!” Gareth screamed as Andy howled in pain and clutched his face as blood spurted everywhere.

Once Erica was safe, Lucas dived for the Walkman and ran over to Max, putting the headphones over her ears.

Jason tried to get past Wayne to try and rip the headphones off Max’s head, but Wayne hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun as he tried to pass. He crumpled to the ground in a heap. Chase tried to run but was caught by Janice and Brian.

“Come on, Max,” Lucas pleaded as he held her tight, the music of Kate Bush pouring through her ears as he rocked her back and forth. “Come back to me. Please...”

Dustin and Erica helped Brian and Janice tie up the members of the basketball team while Eddie and Wayne watched over them with guns. Eddie had picked up Jason’s with his handkerchief and was waving it at them (the basketball team not his friends), while Wayne kept the shotgun leveled at them in case they got any bright ideas to do try something stupid.

The boys were then taken to another room in the house and locked in with Brian and Wayne standing guard, the kids not wanting to leave their friend while she was still unconscious.

Then Max came to with a sharp gasp, her eyes turning back to their sparkling green. Lucas sobbed in relief as the others congratulated each other on a job well done.

Now all they could do was wait to hear word from the Vecna Killing crew. And hope.

As they walked the path that would lead them to the Creel house, Nancy fell instep with Vickie.

“You know,” she said with genuine curiosity, “I was ultimately surprised that you decided to join us. With you wanting to take on more ‘human’ targets.”

Vickie blushed and ducked her head. “Well, if everything goes right with the other two, there won’t be any human targets.” She hefted the shotgun. “But what this bad boy is good for is tearing through shit. And if the vines are connected to this Vecna guy like you say they are, then hitting those isn’t going to feel very good.”

Nancy chuckled. “That’s certainly true. And double the numbers certain won’t hurt anything either.”

Once they reached the house, Jeff and Robin stayed outside the house in case the bastard tried to make a run for it or tried to call bigger bad guys to his aid. Robin had a bag of Molotov cocktails and Jeff had a tire iron and a torch to burn the house down once Vickie, Marty, Steve, and Nancy were clear.

Robin had opted to stay down and guard the retreat when she saw how many vines there were and knew that the likelihood of being able to pass through them without a lot of help was pretty much non-existent.

Steve gave her hand a squeeze and the four of them made their way through the vine filled house. It’s like playing the Devil’s hopscotch. One wrong move and they were dead.

Steve and Vickie breached the door first and were immediately pulled to the side walls by the vines. Nancy went for the vines around Vickie with her ax while Marty shot at the vines next to Steve with his BB gun.

The vines shrieked in terror and pulled away.

“You cannot stop me!” Vecna roared. ‘There is no universe in which I don’t win. Max will die. The Gates will open and the world will tremble in fear at my feet!”

“Eat this!” Nancy snarled and fired her first flare.

Vecna screamed as he recoiled from the heat. Vickie and Marty kept his attention by unloading their weapons into the fleshy mass of his Upside Down form.

Nancy fired another flare as Steve lit his Molotov cocktail, both of them hitting him square in the chest.

“No!” Vecna screamed as some of the flesh tore away to reveal the human underneath. Henry blinked out from three-quarters of the shredded face. “I will win!”

The vines shot out again, but this time Marty and Vickie were ready for them. Vickie pulled out hairspray from her purse and Marty lit the aerosol on fire, creating a makeshift flamethrower.

The flame reached the vines and again they screeched and recoiled from the fire.

Nancy hit him again with another flare and Steve took out his bat. He twirled the bat, warming up his wrist. He licked the top of his lip and swung for Henry’s face.

There was a sickening crack and he stumbled backward toward the bay window. Steve hit him again and he hit the ground in front of Robin and Jeff.

Jeff lit his torch and shoved it straight into Henry’s face. His body began to seize as the fire spread over his body.

All six of them circled around the spasming form of Henry Creel. Steve held out the last Molotov cocktail to Nancy.

“For Barb.”

Nancy looked over at Steve in amazement, but quietly took the cocktail from him. She lit it on fire and tossed it on Henry. The glass shattered and alcohol and fire spread of the rest of Henry turning him to ash.

Lightning crashed all around them and the ground began to shake.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Marty said. “I don’t want to stick around to see what this place looks like without the hellscape, if there even is one.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me,” Robin said grimly. “This place is creepy as fuck with Vecna, I don’t want be here when they start redecorating.”

They went straight for Fred’s Gate. All around them the sky burned red, the ground shook, and the monsters screamed.

Steve started to lag behind, a pain growing in his side. He was close to the gate, but his vision grew fuzzy and dark with each passing moment.

He felt his knees hit the rough ground as someone screamed, “Steve!”

Then his world went black and cold.

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle @strangerfolks @easilyobsessedwithanything

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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quinny19 · 16 hours ago

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Rivals part 1

Hawks x Reader Rival-to-Lovers

Chapter 1: The Six Winged Hero ( hate at first sight)

Hawks knew the moment he saw you that he didn't like you.

Scratch that—he hated you.

Because there you were, standing in the middle of the Hero Public Safety Commission’s grand office, six enormous, pristine, feathery wings spread out behind you like some kind of celestial being. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the smug look on your face told him that you knew exactly how much this bothered him.

"Why the hell does she get six?" was Hawks' first thought.

The second thought? "I bet I can still fly faster."

The officials introduced you as the newest rising pro hero, a powerhouse with unmatched aerial speed, strength, and battle precision. A Seraphim-like quirk, they called it. "Seraph"—even your hero name was flashy.

Hawks plastered on his usual lazy grin, hands in his pockets. "Six wings, huh? Bit excessive, don’t you think?"

You blinked at him before tilting your head. "Oh, sorry—were you feeling insecure?"

His eye twitched.

And thus, the rivalry was born.

Scenario 1: The Speed Challenge (Because Everything’s a Competition)

It started with a simple mission—a joint patrol of the city. Should’ve been easy. Should’ve been peaceful.

But the moment you both took off, Hawks smirked. "Bet I can finish my patrol before you."

You, mid-yawn, stretched your arms. "Bet I can do it while half-asleep."

And you did.

Not only did you clear your patrol in record time, but you also managed to rescue a stranded cat, stop a runaway truck, and still arrive back at the agency before Hawks—while barely awake.

"Unbelievable," Hawks grumbled as he landed, wings twitching. "You weren’t even trying."

You gave him a lazy smile. "Maybe I’m just that good."

Mirko, who had been watching from the sidelines, burst out laughing. "Oh man, Bird Boy, I think she just flexed on you without even trying!"

Hawks scowled. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, rabbit."

Scenario 2: The Media Fiasco

The problem started when some tabloid snapped a photo of you and Hawks during a mission—standing a little too close, wings slightly overlapping.

"New Pro Hero Power Couple? Wings and Love in the Air!" the headline read.

Cue immediate denial from both of you.

"Absolutely not," you said, crossing your arms.

"In your dreams," Hawks scoffed.

But the internet? Oh, it thrived on the rumors. Fan edits, shipping hashtags, conspiracy theories about "secret dates"—it was a mess.

Endeavor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just ignore it."

Easy to say. Harder when the next press conference had a reporter boldly asking, "So, when’s the wedding?"

Hawks nearly choked on his coffee. You? You just blinked.

"Ah, well," you said smoothly, "Hawks would have to admit I’m better than him first. And we all know that’ll never happen."

The entire room exploded in laughter.

Hawks shot you a glare. "Oh, you are so dead."

Scenario 3: The Last Piece of Food War

It was supposed to be a normal lunch at the agency breakroom. Then came the last piece of takoyaki.

You and Hawks both reached for it.

A stare-down commenced.

"You take it, and you admit I’m the better flyer," you said.

Hawks smirked. "You take it, and you admit you like me."

Your eye twitched. "Nice try, Pigeon Boy."

"You blinked. That means I win."

You lunged for the takoyaki.

Hawks dodged.

Best Jeanist, watching from the corner, hummed. "Ah, the delicate threads of fate weave a complicated romance…"

Both you and Hawks turned to glare at him.

"Shut up, Jeanist!"

Scenario 4: Forced Partner Mission (AKA Hell)

When the Commission paired you and Hawks for an undercover mission, the entire hero community knew it was going to be chaos.

Disguised as a couple infiltrating a high-class villain gathering, you had to act the part.

"You two need to look natural," the handler warned.

"Define ‘natural,’" Hawks said, arms crossed.

"Like you actually tolerate each other."

Silence.

Then Hawks sighed, dramatically draping an arm around your shoulder. "What’s up, honey~?" he said in the most obnoxious voice possible.

You elbowed him. Hard.

"Ow—damn, woman!"

"Call me ‘honey’ again, and I’ll make you a flightless bird."

The handler groaned. "This is a disaster."

Scenario 5: The Almost Confession (But Not Really, Because Denial is Key)

It happened after a rough mission. You were both exhausted, sitting on the rooftop overlooking the city, wings slightly battered.

Hawks nudged your arm. "You good?"

You exhaled. "I’ve had worse."

A comfortable silence.

Then, quietly, Hawks muttered, "If you were my type—which you aren’t—you’d be almost tolerable."

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "If you weren’t so annoying, I might almost respect you."

Another pause.

Then—

"Nah," you both said at the same time.

A smirk tugged at Hawks' lips. "Bet I can heal faster than you."

You rolled your eyes. "Bet I can ignore you longer."

The rivalry continued.

But the unspoken warmth between you?

That was another battle entirely.

#mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #mha hawks #keigo tamaki #keigo takami x reader #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo takami #my hero acedamia #my hero academia

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stressed-burrito · 17 hours ago

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03.03.2025 // Day 3/15 of 15 Days of Productivity with @i-wanna-study and @lavhere ༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

⌛Maki's Productive Time: 6 hrs 25 mins

⌛Lav's Productive Time: 1 hr 47 mins

⌛Burrito's Productive Time: 8 hrs 👑

I made up for yesterday's slacking with solid study hours today. Phew. Locked in from 5 am like a menace. No clue how I managed to function on just 3 hrs of sleep (my body just naturally woke up at 5...even though I slept at 2???) Still, I got a good number of chapters in. That makes it 7/32 done 😭—which isn't a lot considering I need to finish everything by the end of the week, but progress is progress, I guess?

#burrito-maki-lav collab challenge #15 days of productivity #studyblr #neet 2025 #premed #study aesthetic #study motivation #studyspo #academic validation #chaotic academia #study blog #collab challenge

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nightlyrequiem · 2 days ago

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DIGEST

"Just the scattered remnants of a society frozen in its last moments."

Chapter 2. Rat King

AO3 Masterlist Previous Next

w/c- 5,724

Humanity has fallen, rotting monsters roam about freely, and you were bit. However, when the fever passes, you're alive and whole. For now. Soon the wound begins to fester, and you need to venture outside to get antibiotics or risk succumbing to an infection anyway. Though it turns out the dead aren't the only things you have to worry about.

A/N- Sorry for the wait! I had this sitting in the drafts for like a month. I think it would be cool to introduce different types of infected. Like the stages of infected in The Last of Us, or the variants from The Walking Dead. Also, this is the most words I've written for a single thing. Go Me.

Tags/Warnings: Tags Will Be Updated as Story Progresses, WLW, Dysfunctional Relationship, Gore, Apocalypse/Infection AU, No Use of The Word Zombie, Violence, Gore, Angst, Valeria is a Bad Person, Seizures, Mild-Body Horror, Horror, Thriller

Valeria wants to go back to Mexico. You thought she was joking when she told you, because Mexico is a long way away and safe transportation options have become very limited. But no, she wants to go to Mexico.

You curl your feet up under you. Feeling the familiar fabric of your couch. It's the last time you'll feel it. The thought saddens you. It was the first piece of furniture you bought yourself. When you first moved into this apartment all you had was a mattress and a dresser. Over time you had furnished your home all on your own, proudly bragging to your mom when you had your monthly calls. It was just furniture, but she acted like you actually finished college and got that welding degree you said you would get.

You and Valeria left the pharmacy for your apartment as soon as it got light enough out. She wanted the extra food you had, which was admittedly not much. You were still very weak but every time you tried to stop and rest Valeria was shoving you back to your feet. At one point she got so annoyed that she struck you in the shoulder with her pistol. Hard enough that hours later, you're still sore.

You rest up on your couch while Valeria loots your apartment. Bagging any food that hasn't spoiled or won't spoil for a long time. You had packed a few things on your own. You grabbed the little plush racoon on your bed and stuffed it into your backpack. It's useless, old, and torn in some of the seams. Bleeding out its stuffing. But it was your mom's when she was a girl, and it's been yours since you were one too. You weren't even thinking, you just saw it and grabbed it.

"Let's go." Valeria says. Jerking her head at you to follow. You get up and fight back nausea at the sudden movement. Valeria waits for you by the door. You step over your neighbor again as you leave. Shuddering at the memory of her teeth in your arm.

You walk in silence. Just the rustling of clothes and your bags making noise with your movements. The sun bares down on you mercilessly, making you sweat. Something clatters in a shaded alley next to you, startling the both of you. You freeze and stare off. Eyes searching along the dirt path and overgrown grass. Valeria roughly tugs your arm for you to keep moving.

You've never seen any of the... boogeys, as Valeria would call them, out during the day. You don't hear them much either. Not outside anyway. In the apartment, you could occasionally hear them shuffling around in the halls. It makes everything feel deceptively safe. The longer you stay in the sun the sicker you start to feel. You keep quiet about it, remembering how she treated you when you tried to rest last time.

You look back behind you at your apartment complex. Missing the brick and white columns already.

"If you bit someone, do you think you'd infect them?" Valeria asks. Her voice sounds unnaturally loud when there's no other sounds to compete with it, and she lowers it on the last few words, correcting her volume.

"What?" You ask. Furrowing your brows. You immediately smooth them out. Frowning it only going to make your headache worse.

Valeria looks at you. "Do you think you're still infected?"

"No," You say, confused. "If I was, I'd be dead by now." You think. Hope. The thought once again occurs that maybe you are dying, just doing it really slowly. The idea is distressing so you try not to think about. Out of sight out of mind.

Valeria reaches into her pocket and pulls out a granola bar, unwrapping it and shoving half of it into her mouth.

"What if you're asymptomatic though." She replies. Looking at you analytically. There's a gleam in her dark eyes that's making you uncomfortable. Like she's wondering what benefits that would bring her.

"I'm not asymptomatic." You respond. Stepping to the left so you can walk in the shade provided by a building. "I'm like, incredibly sick."

Valeria shrugs.

Valeria leans against the side of a building as you persistently vomit onto the sidewalk. Dry heaving and quivering in both disgust and discomfort. Your body aches are flaring up and you feel nearly blind from your headache. You feel like you're going to pass out at any second. It's a struggle to keep your body upright when your limbs are full of that numb disconnected feeling.

"We're almost out of downtown." Valeria says, not at all concerned by your sickly state or vomiting. She has, after all, seen worse. "We'll keep going until we find suitable shelter. We've got a couple hours of daylight left." She glances up at the sky.

Every step brings you pain. You try to plead with her into allowing you some rest time, trying to play into her humanity, but she has about as much of that as the infected do. You come across a nice house with a view of the river. One you've passed by many times before when life was normal. It's built on a hill, with stone steps leading up to it. It's painted a faded red colour. Valeria follows you up the steps and to the door. She makes you go in first, like always. You go in and creep around slowly. Checking all the rooms and almost freezing from the fear of not knowing what's inside. Though you (maybe) managed to survive being bitten once, you don't know if you'd survive again.

You stop by one of the upstairs bedrooms, getting a peak through the cracked door. The walls are painted a light pink and you see a shelf filled with toys. a child's room, you reckon. Pushing open the door you actually freeze this time. Crouched in the corner is a little girl. Subtly swaying. Her hair is thin, almost gone completely, just scabby patches of scalp left. The shirt she's wearing, blue at once point you think, is torn in places and darkened drastically at the shoulder with old blood.

You back away slowly, careful not to make any noises. Back outside with Valeria, you inform her of the little infected kid.

"Just the kid?" She asks. looking over at the towering downtown buildings in the distance.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Okay." She nods. "We'll stay here for the night." She decides. She grabs your arm and pulls you inside. Shutting the door behind you.

The first thing she does is go upstairs and dispatch the kid. Not sure if you can stomach it, you wait in the hall. You hear it some kind of high-pitched growling as Valeria disturbs it. There are a few thumps, more growling, then a grunt from Valeria. Everything goes quiet and Valeria comes out, wiping the bloody blade of her knife on her pants. She brushes past you and walks into the master bedroom. You stay rooted to the dirty floorboards. Staring into the child's bedroom.

You cautiously step inside and approach the body with morbid curiosity. As well as pity. She's so small. The bones in her hands and exposed shoulder jutting and sharp. You look around, spotting her bed. The covers have been pulled off and hung up between two shelves. A blanket fort, you realize with a sharp pang. you walk over and inspect it. It's been pinned to the two shelves using thick books that likely didn't belong to her. You bend down and peek inside. there are more blankets. And pillows. And a council of stuffed animals. There are smears of blood in one corner. You imagine her getting bit and not knowing what else to do but retreat into her blanket fort. Going to the only perceivable place she can think of. Holding her stuffed animals close as she bleeds. As she gets sick and her mind deteriorates. You wander who bit it her, if it was her parents. There's no sign of them, infected or living. You spot a fluffy notebook and grab it, flipping through the pages and seeing the barely legible writing most little kids have.

You leave the room and shut the door. Not before leaning down to whisper an apology into the little girl's ear. She has nothing to be afraid of now, at least.

Valeria pushes the heaviest furniture she can find, blocking up the staircase.

"We don't need access to the whole house." She explains. "I locked the doors and windows downstairs; this is just extra caution."

The sun sets over the river. Making the water look like it's on fire. You pretend this is your house and that you're just enjoying a simple sunset. Pretending that the yellow eyes of cars are flashing over the bridge.

"Come here." Valeria says, beckoning you into the master bedroom. With one final longing look out at the river you follow her into the bedroom. She pulls out a length of rope and looks at you.

You frown at her.

"No." You say. Stepping away. She steps forward.

"Yes." She replies firmly. "I don't want you running off in the night, or worse."

You stare at the rope dubiously. Vision swimming in and out. You're exhausted and want to lay down, you couldn't pose a threat to her if you wanted to.

"If something gets inside I'll be trapped." You argue, frowning at her and shuddering at the thought of not being able to run or fight back as a hungry infected tears you open. Valeria, completely unsympathetic, stalks forward and grabs your arm roughly. Fingers clamping around your tender bicep and making you flinch in pain.

You don't struggle too much. On account of your sever dizziness, headache, and overall weakness. Valeria securely raps the thick rope around you, tying down your arms. She forces you to sit and even ties your feet together. Something you think is completely unnecessary. You're learning firsthand that Valeria is a paranoid woman. The room is swallowed in darkness and she flicks on her flashlight. Flashing you in the eyes for her own amusement. She moves away from you and crawls onto the bed, rustling around with the blankets and laying down, turning off her flashlight.

Your back and ass ache from the position you're in. The noise of the awakened infected bleeds through the walls. Some cry out and sound like coyotes, some call out for loved ones.

"Can I have a pillow?" You whisper.

"No." Valeria answers. A disembodied voice in the dark.

"Please?" You ask. Voice pathetically cracking.

"Stop talking. I'm trying to sleep."

You try to ask a few more times, but Valeria stops responding to you. You shift around and throw yourself onto your side, grimacing at the loud thump you make. You try your best to fall asleep but it's not an easy task.

You simply lay there. In pain, and with the sound of dead people for ambience. You think Valeria may have finally fallen asleep, though you're not certain. It sends a pang of loneliness through you. When you were young, you had issues with not falling asleep first. Your parents would put you to bed at 8PM and you'd fall asleep within the hour. But sometimes you didn't. You'd lay there until the sound of the TV in the living room went silent and you knew your parents were asleep. It was those moments where you felt an indiscernible, overwhelming loneliness. You don't like being the only one awake.

The older you grew the less frequently you felt that way until you forgot about that feeling all together. Even after moving out on your own. It probably helped that you had many nocturnal neighbors. Now though, that feeling has returned tenfold and you can't help but cry a little. Soft tears that dry out your skin and leave you congested.

The harsh, unnatural sounds of the dead give way to the gentle singing of birds as the sun rises high and proud in the sky. The sky is a vibrant cerulean with a few wispy pale clouds. A gentle breeze sends ripples over the river's surface, disturbing the reflections of the sky and trees. A boot nudging you in the ribs rouses you. Your eyelids stick together, and you struggle to open them. You can tell by the headache developing behind your eyes and the scratchy quality of your throat that you're not in for a good day today.

"Rise and shine, Niña muerta." Valeria says. Bending down and helping you sit up. She makes a face at you. "You look awful. Smell awful too." She begins to saw at the rope with a little switchblade to free you. Accidently nicking your wrist.

Valeria doesn't help you to your feet. Choosing to watch you struggle on your own, using the wall for support. Valeria reaches into her pocket and takes out a bottle of anti-biotics. Rattling it at you like a cat toy. You reach for it, but she retracts her hand. She pops off the lid and shakes out two little white pills and hands them to you. They may as well be made of barbwire. That's what your throat thinks, anyway.

"Come on," She calls, clicking her fancy little belt back on. You ponder if she even has anything in all those little pouches.

You spot the little notebook on the floor and bend down, grabbing it.

"What's that?" Valeria asks

You look up. "It's the little girl's diary," You tell her. You stuff it under your arm.

Valeria wrinkles her nose. "Why'd you take it?"

You frown. "I don't know," You say a little self-consciously. "she was a little girl, and I don't think she should be remembered as a monster." You picture her running around her yard, her parents looking out the window. She was clearly loved, judging by her room.

"She's dead, I doubt she cares about how she's remembered." Valeria snorts. She gestures for you to walk ahead of her, done with talking now.

Valeria isn't in a very talkative mood. The silence is only interrupted by the sounds of your footsteps on the ground. You drag your feet. You chalk up your lethargy to barely getting any sleep last night. It feels like someone slipped bricks under your clothes. The sun beats down on you mercilessly, sucking up all your energy. Like reverse solar power. Valeria walks behind you, not as bothered by the light or heat as you are. When you start walking too slow for her comfort, she prods you in the back to keep you moving. Denying all your requests for breaks.

The city around you seems to swim as you observe it. If you didn't feel so ill you might even let yourself appreciate the architecture. Not that it's anything particularly impressive but you still admire the sight of the towering buildings in the distance. Your thoughts cut off when a dangerous, numbing chill settles into your limbs. The joining nausea warns you of an oncoming seizure. You know this feeling well. After being bit that was just your existing state. The chill, nausea, static vision. Then you'll collapse and be rendered unconscious for however long. Your reward for all that is waking up in a puddle of vomit with an extremely bad headache, and sometimes soiled clothing.

You don't say anything to Valeria though, even as you get progressively worse, and the dread of seizing gets heavier. You're just hoping that if you fight it hard enough the feeling will go away but you know it won't when your mouth begins to water.

* * *

Valeria watches you closely. She's been studying you since leaving the river house. Watching as your walk becomes more and more unstable. The delicate sound of your panting reaches her ears. It makes her a little nervous. Are you finally succumbing to your bite? Just as the thought floats through her mind your legs buckle and you collapse, convulsing wildly. It startles Valeria, who immediately lunges down, shaking you and calling your name. Your eyes have rolled back and your teeth are bared in a grimace. You make an awful choaking noise and she realizes your choking on your own saliva. She rolls you onto your side, not being able to do anything more than watch.

The twitching stops and you finally go still. Skin slicked with sweat and taking on a sickly pallor. she leans over you and shakes your shoulder.

"Hey." She says. "Wake up." She's never seen a seizure in person before and doesn't know if this is normal. In the movies, people just wake up like nothing happened. She checks your pulse to make sure you didn't just croak on her and relaxes a little when she finds your heartbeat. She looks up at the sun, squinting at its brightness. It's almost noon. Roughly. She looks around, what for she's not sure. Then she looks back down at you. She doesn't want to stay here, it's exposed and she's not sure for how long you'll stay unconscious for.

Carrying you probably wouldn't be too taxing. Food isn't exactly in abundance anymore. Valeria herself has lost a significant amount of weight. She doubts you've been eating any better than she has, not only that, but the infection must have been eating at you as well. She reaches down and grabs ahold of you, finding that she's actually struggling a bit. She relents that she won't be able to carry you and decides to drag you instead. She does you the curtesy of tucking your shirt into your pants, so she doesn't scrape your back raw. Something groans from under a car and makes Valeria go still.

She drops you and stands tall. Looking towards the abandoned vehicle.

"What the fuck is that?" Something calls out. It sounds human but Valeria is familiar enough with the unfeeling tone of the infected to know it's not. She unholsters her pistol and clutches it tightly. A part of her feels a little ashamed at how afraid the voice is making her feel. Valeria strayed up to the great white north to sniff out prospective business partners. Back then Ruberoculus was only a passing rumor. It was obvious to anyone with critical thinking skills that it would turn into something more but nobody was prepared for just how fast it spread. Valeria was only here for a week when the world went into a state of emergency and countries began closing their borders, effectively trapping Valeria.

She consequently ended up in the hospital for a minor flesh wound she couldn't patch herself. Having to share a room with six other non-emergency patients because the building was just so overcrowded. Probably the worst place to be when the pandemic reached its climax. Valeria worked hard to make herself strong and threatening so that she'd never have to afraid again, but when the alarms started blaring and that godawful red light began flashing, Valeria Garza froze with fear.

She had to fight her way out of the hospital. Up against hostiles that just wouldn't stay dead. She watched people tear open other people. The thing that disturbs her the most about the infected are their affinity for speaking. Mimicking human cries to lure out prey. A sallow, spotty arm suddenly reaches out from under the car. Its fingernails long and yellowed. Some missing entirely leaving just a blackened bed. Another, just as grotesque arm joins it. The wasting muscles flex as the thing pulls itself out from under the car. Revealing a sunken face and clumpy, greasy hair missing in patches. Bloodshot eyes meet hers and it screams. Valeria's heart kickstarts and she shoots in on instinct. The screaming is cut off abruptly and Valeria's ears are left ringing.

The area around her starts coming alive slowly. Growls and laughter echoing from the shadows. In the window of a building a face darts into view, watching with wide, glazed eyes before darting away. Valeria grabs you and hauls you off, dragging you down the street and zigzagging between cars. Going as fast as she's physically able to. A few boogeys venture out from the building. It's weird seeing them out during the day. These ones don't speak, instead rushing for her. Wobbling and stumbling but far too fucking fast for Valeria's comfort. She fires more shots, sending them sprawling into the cement.

Valeria learns two things today. The infected can go out during the day, and they're very attracted to loud noises. It feels like they're pouring out of every shadowy crack and seam. Running at Valeria and you. Valeria is tempted for a split second to leave you, make a run for it. You're already bitten; would they bother with you? Working on adrenaline and autopilot she grabs your ankle and drags you to a disturbed manhole cover, kicking it aside and throwing you down into the sewers. Your body lands with a loud thump and Valeria quickly crawls down after you, pulling the cover in place just as mottled fingers reach for her.

Breathing heavily proves to be disadvantage down here. Each lungful pulling in the smell and taste of sewage to coat her tongue and throat. Valeria pats herself down for her flashlight and turns it on, the great white beam cutting through the darkness. Little glowing dots dart around, followed by high pitched squeaking. She leans down to check on you, making sure the fall didn't snap your neck. You're alive and will probably be very sore when you wake up. If you wake up. Valeria's mouth forms a thin line. She spots the notebook beside you. She was a little girl, and I don't think she should be remembered as a monster. Valeria grabs it and slips it into your bag, pausing when she spots a stuffed racoon. She furrows her brows, wondering you if you took that from the girl's room too.

* * *

It's not until hours later when you begin to stir, eyes peeling open, nose assaulted by the rancid, potent smell of the sewers. Your head swims but you sit up anyway, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

"Ugh." You exclaim. Looking at the rat shit sitting in piles along the stone platform.

"You're awake." Comes Valeria's low voice. "Good." You turn to look at her. She pushes off the wall and approaches you, an agitated expression on her face.

"Why are we down here?" You ask, confused. Struggling to recall what happened. Bright lights, walking, the river. You know you must've had a seizure.

"You had a seizure, and the noise attracted the undead." Valeria says sharply, like it's your fault. she also fails to mention her trigger-happy finger had actually set them off.

You stand up and lean against the wall, feeling weak. Valeria gazes at you with no sympathy whatsoever.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave me." You say, eyeing her curiously.

"Don't try to twist this into me being kind to you," Valeria scoffs. "There's still some use I can get out of you that makes you worth keeping alive." She continues ominously.

"Okay." You shrug. Too tired and too in pain to argue. You wince at a sharp throbbing in your back. "Are we going to go now?" You ask.

Valeria doesn't reply. Instead climbing up the metal ladder and slowly pushes the cover away. Dim light of dusk falls through and spotlights you. You must have been out for longer than you thought. The idea of losing that much time fills you with dread.

Valeria climbs back down and sighs irritably.

"We can't go anywhere now. We're going to have to spend the night down here." She says angrily. Her form is tense and you instinctively inch away from her. She kicks the rungs of the ladder and curses loudly, her voice echoing off of the stones. You aren't too keen on the prospect of bedding down in a sewer either. Especially not with rats. Valeria's voice finally goes silent. You start to relax a bit when a noise jolts you right back into a stress response. A low gargling groan. Valeria's head whips to the direction the noise came from, reaching for her gun and resting a hand over the cool smooth metal.

The both of you fall silent and listen. Your ears ring from the effort of trying to distinguish the sounds of the rats and water to... other things. You cast a sidelong glance at Valeria, a look which she ignores. She suddenly doesn't feel like the biggest threat down here and you shift closer to her. Comforted by the fact that she has a gun. Something shuffles along, just behind the corner. You want to tell Valeria to turn off her light but you're too afraid of speaking. A bloated arm snakes into sight, the skin bubbly and charred. A hand clamps down along the wall. A third slaps down on the floor and pulls. A hulking beast lumbers into view, a horror of multiple bodies melded into one.

The beam of light shines onto one head, reflecting milky eyes and a gaping mouth of teeth. It cries out at the sight of the both of you. A shout of discorded screams. A second head stuck onto the shoulder watches with one wide eye from the side, jaw opening and closing, clacking it's teeth at you. The monster, surprisingly speedy stalks forward. Tripping over it's own, many limbs. It's blocking the only way forward. Terror squeezes you and threatens to overwhelm you. You could go up but you won't climb fast enough to escape and there's more infected running around above.

You imagine this thing crushing you into the ground with it's deformed body. Pulling you in like it's flesh is made of playdough and absorbing you, dooming you to join it. You're going to die down here, in the sewer. Valeria grabs her gun but you know she won't be quick enough. Without thinking you slam into her and throw the both of you off the platform into the still gray sludge in the canal. Barely missing being grabbed by swollen fingers. Sewage slimes to your face but you ignore it. Wading through it as the monster crashes down behind you.

Valeria hauls herself back up onto the platform and you try to join her. Your fingers, slick with sewage, slip off the edge. The infected draws closer, reaching out it's arms towards you desperately. You jump and scramble, trying to escape. Strong hands clamp down on your hands and pull you up. Valeria gives you no grace period, pushing you forward. Furious screaming follows you down the tunnel as you limp away. You look behind you, alarmed by the thing slithering back up onto the platform with barely any struggle. It's hulking body glistening.

It crawls after you like an animal. The way it uses it's many hands to move along it's stomach reminds you of a centipede. You and Valeria come up to a gate. She grabs it and shakes the metal bars.

"Fuck!" She hisses. You think you're going to be sick. You're not sure if it's from the infection, being covered in sewage, or the fear. Valeria turns and fires at the infected. Emptying her clip into it but it's not perturbed. You spot a broken pipe and grab it, trembling as you ready yourself.

You pull your arms back and use momentum to slam the pipe into the thing's head. You hear the harsh snapping of it's jaw when the bone shatters on impact. It squeals and jerks to the side. You don't hesitate to bring down the pipe onto it's hunched back. The charred, blackened skin splits open and begins to bleed. You try to swing again but it rears up and grabs the pipe, pushing you onto the ground. Saliva and blood drips down onto your neck and face.

"Help me!" You gasp, barely keeping one of the heads away. "Valeria! Do something please!" It stumbles away and growls wetly, the growl turning into a loud screech as Valeria digs a knife into it's back and rips downwards. The arms on it's back uselessly flail, trying to grab her. She knifes one of the heads. You crawl out from under it and blindly swing the pipe at it. It falls and you mercilessly beat it's head, cracking it open like a watermelon. Valeria grabs you and pulls you away.

"It's dead. Stop." She says hoarsely, very out of breath. You tremble, staring down at the lump of orgonic matter.

You and Valeria don't speak as you walk. Sticking close to one another, exhausted and sore. Wandering through the elaborate sewer tunnels you come across a gaping hole in the ceiling. The surrounding area destroyed and black with evidence of a fire. Valeria leads you away from it.

The night in the sewers comes to an end. You and Valeria emerge from a different manhole, greeted by the soft light of morning. You ignore the urge to crawl back into the dark and pull yourself up. Your back throbs with an almost excruciating pain. The sewage is starting dry and it's making you itch. You desperately want to get clean. By the set of Valeria's jaw you can tell she wants the same.

"We need to clean up." she says tiredly, echoing your thoughts. With no clean clothes, you and Valeria are forced to wander into a nearby store. There are a few dormant infected clustered at the back in the darkest corner of the store.

Cautiously, you and Valeria grab new, clean pieces of clothing as well as extras. Leaving before you alert the sleeping boogeys. Valeria makes you hold all the clothes.

"We'll wash up in the river." She says. "Do you know a quicker way down there?"

"No." You mumble. You didn't spend a whole lot of time over here. With a pang of regret, you realize you should've. You truly don't know what you have until it's taken from you. You and Valeria walk along the steep muddy bank. Finding a suitable place to wade into the water. You hesitate, wondering how you're going to do this. You look towards Valeria to see her stripping down without a second thought.

You look away, caught off guard. Then look back at her. She pulls everything off. You're surprised by how comfortable she is being nude around a stranger. You turn away politely, wanting to give her some privacy. You slump down into the dirt, listening to the sounds of her scrubbing herself clean with a balled up shirt. She walks out of the water and approaches you.

"Clothes." She demands. You turn, greeted by the sight of her crotch. Looking up quickly and hoping embarrassment doesn't show on your face, you hand her the clothes for her to pick from. It's your turn. You're excited to get clean, but you feel a little nervous about being naked in her presence.

It's a little hard not to, when exposed to her body. She clearly took great care in herself before the end. You pause.

"Don't look." You tell her sternly. Valeria rolls her eyes and turns away.

"Wasn't going to." She says flatly. you're relieved, and a little offended. you pull off your shirt, gagging at the smell. Your bra and pants following. You discard them on the bank and shuffle into the water, relieved by the coolness. You didn't realize how hot your body felt until stepping into the river. The muscles in your legs relax too, making it easier to move. You glide your fingers over the sparkling water, watching it ripple. You lean down and dunk yourself under. Pleasure washes over you. You resurface and scrub off the sewage, cleaning yourself thoroughly. You check over your wound, it's already infected but what if it's worse now?

You gently prod the edges of the inflamed teeth marks and hiss in pain. It's still tender and hot to the touch. You hope neither the sewage or the river water make it worse.

Valeria barks your name from the sand.

"you've been in there for twenty-minutes. Stop wasting time and get dressed!" She snaps. You're sorry to leave the river. This is the first time since being bitten that your body hasn't been in pain. Even the light seems more tolerable. Your skin prickles with self-consciousness as Valeria watches you wade out. You put on some clean clothes and try not to go too fast. Not wanting her to see how embarrassed you feel.

There's no time for rest. Valeria wants to cross the bridge. You're not sure how she plans on making it back to Mexico. Even if she had a vehicle, driving there would take over a day. You can't imagine how long it would take to walk.

"It's less packed up here." Valeria comments, looking around. There's more space between the abandoned vehicles.

"We should start checking them, see if any still have keys in the ignition." you suggest. Eager at the thought of getting out of the sun, even if it's just by getting into a car. you're tired of walking, too. This is the most walking you think you've done in your life.

"Yeah." Valeria mutters her agreement. Valeria walks towards a little white sedan and tries the door.

Unsurprisingly, they open. She looks around, fishing for keys.

"Will it still have gas...?" You ask uncertainly. Gas expires after a while, has it been long enough?

"Maybe." Valeria answers. "Assuming the owners left for another reason and not because they ran out." You slip up behind her, watching silently. She searches through the glove box and pulls out the keys. She looks behind her at you, smiling triumphantly. She crawls into the driver's seat and inserts the key into the ignition, pressing the start button. The engine purrs to life. Giving you and Valeria a shared moment of joy. You shove yours and Valeria's bags into the backseat and get in beside her. Settling into the warm, sun-bleached leather seats. Valeria sets the car into drive and expertly pulls out from between the two cars it was parked between, setting off towards the bridge.

#valeria garza x fem!reader #modern warefare ii #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x you

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bloodchapell · 2 days ago

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castle of sand — senku i. 7 : wishful dream

brief summary: all about the school festival

what to expect: implied s/h, underage smoking, emotional abuse (?)

your sword's note: chapter on the longer side, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available in my mistresslist

"Lucia, Lucia, my daughter, please talk to me." Taiju said with despair. He was somehow a really good actor. You were all on the school theater rehearsing the play, and Taiju and you were doing the scene in which you were crying after seeing your fiancé leave the dance with the commoner girl. It was all going well, your face was hidden in your arms by some cardboard fountain.

"No father, leave me at once..."

"Lucia, my child." Since the costumes were almost done, you were using the pink dress with gold accents and the heels, and you expected Taiju to be wearing his formal clothes with a coat. Following the stage directions, Taiju picked you up. As the previous rehearsals, it went flawless, but once you saw his face covered in a fake beard you broke in laughter.

"I am terribly sorry." You apologized as Taiju put you back on your feet, still feeling the pain in your abdomen from having laughed so hard.

Senku watched from the audience, having also laughed at Taiju when he saw him. The festival was only a week away. After he finished painting the mask you would wear for the dance, the homeroom teacher made Senku help with building the props that required precise measurements.

"I never knew you were so funny!" Taiju exclaimed once the school day was over.

"But I am really not." You shrugged.

"Yes you are!" Taiju said. "Look, this is our friend Yuzuriha, from the crafts club."

"Nice to meet you." The girl said and you greeted her. "You are Senku's friend right?"

"Hmm, not quite."

"More like part-time neighbors and full-time archenemies." Senku noted.

Taiju and Yuzuriha gave a look at each other (as if they were not in a worse predicament).

"I love your haircut, it really suits you." Yuzuriha ignored Senku and complimented you. "We are going to the mall after school, wanna come?"

"Uhm..." You looked at Senku without knowing what to do.

"She has never been invited to go anywhere, but she will go." Senku replied. "Go home and fulfill your Cinderella duties and we will wait for you, don't take long."

Senku, Taiju and Yuzuriha kept walking towards the apartment complex while you went to the store to get some ingredients for the food you were going to cook for your mom. After you bought the food, you stood by the alleyway and sat behind the dumpster. It was plain daylight but you felt that taking a smoke right there and then was appropriate, so you reached to your pocket and got the box and the lighter out. There was only a cigarette left, big sigh, by that point you already got the hang of smoking so you placed the cigarette by your lips with one hand and with the other placed the lighter by it to light it.

It felt nice, smoking felt nice, it also felt accurate to your character. It sparkled some feeling of pleasure when the nicotine tricked your brain into releasing dopamine, and it was the staple for misery (and some may say it even looked cool, but you didn't believe that).

When the cigarette was over, you walked home and made sure to wash your hands before cooking lunch for your mother, making sure to leave everything neat so she would not be mad once you were back. After almost an hour, you were done. Reasonably, you stank of nicotine so you decided to take off your uniform and wear other clothes.

"Finally, Taiju already fell asleep." Senku said when you knocked on his door. "I know you have not gone to the mall with other people but you didn't need to change."

"Don't be cruel Senku." Yuzuriha laughed.

"My uniform got a little dirty when I was cooking so I threw it in the washer."

The four of you then walked towards the train station, the mall wasn't so far. Pointless conversations started and you tried participating in your own way of course.

"During class she says things that sound really smart but it makes sense, like life being beautiful." Taiju said. Woah, that was a brick hitting Senku in the face. Big oaf here could get your words and not him, new level of low.

After that one time Senku broke his brain thinking about the bridge allegory, he started to unconsciously assign people to their stance on the bridge. Where would Taiju be? He was definitely full of joy but still knew about the pains of life since he had lost his parents at a young age, maybe he had some unconscious knowledge but remained somewhat ignorant to the bad things.

You didn't like the mall, it was a place full of people with their friends and you only went with your parents, but now it seemed like a different world. Yuzuriha was buying some materials for her class' haunted house and after she got what she needed, you all sat in the food court and ate some trash food.

"After the school festival is over, we should definitely go out more!" Yuzuriha said on the way back. "It is nice to have another girl here."

The school festival would take place during the last days of May.

"Could we go to the beach?" You asked and they looked at you with some curiosity. "I have always wished to build a seriously insane sand castle."

"Me too!" Taiju said enthusiastically and Yuzuriha nodded.

Once off the train, Yuzuriha and Taiju said goodbye since they had to walk in the opposite direction. Senku and you walked towards the apartment complex and also said goodbye at your door as always.

"Where were you?"

Your breath hitches when you close the door and you hear your mother's voice. "I break my back working to let you freeload here, and you can't even have warm food for me."

"I cooked lunch."

"A horrible lunch, yes, which I had to heat up myself after coming from work. You don't do anything around here and can't even help me with these stupidities, I should have let your father decide what to do with you instead of trying to help an ungrateful daughter. He brainwashed you into hating me, you don't care about anything that I care about..."

You stood there while your mother rambled. Your eyes losing focus of reality and your mind diverting to a place elsewhere, a colorless room with nothing but you, you wondering what was the balance between a joyful and fleeting event as going to the mall and the misery that accounted for the rest of areas in your life. You only came back to reality from your mind space once your mother shut the door of her room. Though your eyes watered you didn't actually cry, you walked towards your room and locked the door, siting in the floor and reaching for your computer.

The next week was spent rehearsing the play and building the props, unfortunately the philosophy teacher canceled the trips to the conferences until the festival was over and you were left to deal with reality without the solace of nicotine.

The festival started the two last days of May. The first day was dedicated to the stands and the second day was dedicated to the presentations. On the first day, Senku, Taiju and you went around the school and made sure to visit the haunted house of Yuzuriha's class, Taiju was fascinated by the decorations, Senku babbled about the reasoning behind certain fears and you simply walked getting startled by everything that jumped to scare you. After two hours, Yuzuriha's shift at her class' stand was over and she joined you too. You couldn't help but fawn at the radiance Yuzuriha expelled and wished you could also be like that.

"You need to come see us tomorrow!" Once the day was over, Taiju asked Yuzuriha. "We are both on the play as father and daughter... she is the daughter."

"It is clear she is the daughter, why would you be the daughter?" Senku shook his head.

The evening was tedious, you made sure that everything was ready and you went over your lines several times. The nerves were consuming you so much that you wished you had saved a cigarette just to ease it.

"I am doing overtime tomorrow, make sure to have some warm food for me and clean the house." Your mom asked in a nice tone from the living room.

"But I told you that I have that play tomorrow, remember?" You walked out of your room to remind her.

"What do you mean play? You always have some fucking excuse to not do the bare minimum around here. Now I have to buy lunch since you have the national school play that will pay the bills in this house."

The sense of impending doom flooded your chest, when things got that way, you felt that the only way out of feeling like that was dying.

"I will have the food ready, I am sorry mommy, let's not fight."

She had that face of utter disgust when looking at you, but when she walked to her room and closed the door, you knew that your words worked because the door was not slammed. You made sure to cook something before going back to your room and ditch the script for your computer.

"Excited for the play?" Senku said in the morning when you two walked to school.

"I guess."

He noticed, immediately as always.

"Here. I bought some stuff last night and the store clerk gave me this." His hand extended towards you held a piece of your favorite candy. He knew he had purposefully bought some to keep around, but it was best to keep that unmentioned.

Once at school, the cast of the play was assigned to change into their costumes, so with the other girls, you went to the changing room and got dressed. Your dress had several layers and some required to be tied on the back, so you had asked Yuzuriha for some help. You put on the tights and the camisole, and Yuzuriha helped you put on the petticoat and the dress. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the scars in your arms but she stayed quiet, maybe once you two had grown closer she would ask and try her best to help you.

The last step on dressing you were the shoes, the heels in which you had to spin for a good while. Walking through the halls created an echo which you liked. Back in the classroom, Yuzuriha sat you on a chair and put some makeup on you, eyeshadow that highlighted your eyes and blush on your cheeks, plus some lipgloss. Then brushed your hair in a way that the ends curled towards your face.

"You look so pretty!" The girl complimented you and you smiled looking in the mirror.

Once Taiju's fake beard was on, you walked with him backstage and Yuzuriha and Senku went to the theater and sat in the audience. The play started flawlessly. You had already appeared and you did good for the first scenes, but you were nervous about the dance and the monologue.

Most of the cast was on the stage when the masquerade started in the play, you were wearing the mask Senku had painted for you, walking confidently into the stage. You stayed by the side watching the people dance and then you noticed your fiancé dancing with the commoner girl, while the mask still covered your face you admired proud as your classmates got their own dance down after so much practice. Once their dance was over, the commoner girl took the hand of the fiancé and walked off stage, it was your turn. You slowly took off the mask, revealing an appalled expression, you let the mask slip from your fingers and slowly the rest of your classmates moved back to give you space to dance. Miserably you walked to the middle of the stage and raised your hand towards the direction they had left, then both your hands went to your chest, your face showing a deep pain. You started the dance once the track started to play, and you kept repeating to yourself to put on a good show, to keep a straight sad face and to move with despair.

"Immense has been my sacrifice to satiate every desire of your heart, yet your steps follow those of the unrefined girl. Have I not done everything in my power for you to rest your soft gaze on my wishful eyes. My heart ached and bled for your love, for your attention, for a single word from your lips, yet I am bestowed with this most disgraceful sight. It was naught but a mistake to deliver my heart to such a suitor, and now that it resides forgotten in within your realm, I am to suffer without it."

Once the monologue was over, you dropped to your knees and hid your face in your arms which rested by the cardboard fountain. It went smooth. Now the real challenge was not breaking into laughter once Taiju picked you up.

"Lucia, Lucia, my daughter, please talk to me."

"No father, leave me at once..."

"Lucia, my child." He picked you up and you had to hide your face when the laughter started to creep in. The scene was over and thankfully your laughter sounded as crying.

Once backstage you had to cover your mouth when Taiju let you on the ground because it didn't make sense that your "crying" when acting continued once out of the stage. The play continued and it was soon over.

"That was so good! You did amazing!" Yuzuriha congratulated you and Taiju. "Did you actually cry when Taiju picked you up? It sounded so real."

"I was actually laughing so hard... it is interesting that my joy is not much distinguishable from my dismay." You said with your hand in your chin, with your index finger under your lips and a slight frown.

"That is her thinking pose." Taiju whispered to Yuzuriha.

You sat in silence with Senku while Yuzuriha and Taiju went to drink something. The silence was never uncomfortable, it just sat there too. You had genuinely not much to say, after an eventful situation you would always sit and think about it, almost reflecting on what had happened and how it made you feel. Senku on the other hand sat almost trembling trying to expel his thoughts. She looks pretty? Not by a millimeter. Whatever she may look like doesn't matter, because when the day comes to it, she will be bald as hell, 10 billion percent guaranteed. Knowing you were going to be bald made him feel reassured, because it meant that one day he would stop thinking those wrong thoughts.

In philosophy class, the teacher had talked about how to state arguments. Example:

Premise 1: Senku finds the French film girl attractive.

Premise 2: You resemble the French film girl.

Premise 3: The most defining thing abut the French film girl is her short hair.

Premise 4: You have the same haircut as her.

Conclusion: YOU NEED TO GO BALD

Makes sense.

"You did good." He simply mentioned.

"Thank you."

"Did you like it?"

"It was exciting." You said with a smile. "I might be joining the theater club."

Hearing you say that was odd. You were against being in clubs (probably because you had no friends and the social interactions you had with other people developed into them nodding confused at your remarks on the majority), but he agreed without thinking too much about it.

"We are back!" Taiju announced.

"We got you this." Yuzuriha gave you a box juice and you thanked her. "Sooo, how about we go to the beach on Monday after school? I saw that the weather will be really nice."

"Really?" You said sipping from the juice. Yuzuriha nodded. Taiju agreed with excitement and Senku shrugged. You smiled nodding too. "Then June 3rd it is."

June 3rd, 2019, marked in your mental calendar as a day that you would never forget. You were excited, it felt as if your tormentous life had reached the bottom of the void and there was no other direction to go but upwards.

"We will build a scientific sand castle that defies every other sand castle and might place us as top architects." Senku said looking at you with his little grin.

"Yeah, what a wishful dream." You sighed content.

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky

#senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku #senku ishigami #dr stone senku #dcst #dr stone #drst #x reader #dcst senku #senku x y/n

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