#enjoy this last chapter before things really start to speed up!

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the massacre at hawkins lab

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” “I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.” “It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.” “Again, I’m trying not to think about that.

Summary: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, blood and gore, critical injuries, mentions of fainting, mentions of death and violence, description of corpses

Words: 11.9k

Before you swing in: ive never been more excited to write a chapter tbh. this episode touches on so many things ive been building up for seasons now !!!! insane !!! im so so so excited to see how yall react. this chapter has my favorite sequence of scenes yet ;) enjoy !

–

His name rips from your mouth. “Steve!” 

The bats sink their fangs into his stomach. His legs kick out, he gasps for breath, choking on his pain. Your legs threaten to give out as you stumble towards Steve. Quickly your fingers find the knives you always carry with you just as a bat lunges towards you.

Barely having time to dodge its quick attack, you swat at the creature, but your knives slide off its skin easily. Your heart drops; their flesh is too thick to cut through. The bat screeches at you, its teeth bared, and you throw your body weight against it onto the ground. Angling your knife, you pierce the inside of its mouth, killing it. 

“Shit!” Another bat crawls towards you. Your elbow scrapes the ground as you roll out of its path, slicing into the creature’s maw. 

Steve screams again, this time even louder as even more bats surround him. Frantic, you jump to your feet. Without thinking, you grab the tail of one of the bats, its face buried in Steve’s stomach. When you start to pull, Steve shakes his head violently and throws his arm out at you. “Go!”

You don’t bother answering; you’re not leaving him. 

The bat’s tail cuts your palms as you pry it off of Steve’s flesh, but as soon as it’s removed, it latches onto your upper thigh. “Fuck!”

Razor sharp pain shoots through your entire body. The bat loosens its jaw to only tighten it more; you can feel its teeth hit your bone. Screaming, the white-hot pain blinds you. Your knees give out and you fall before you can catch yourself.

“Y/N!” Steve chokes out, desperate. He clenches his jaw, tries to get up. More bats screech overhead, circling you, and Steve knows you only have seconds before you’re dead. But the vines around his neck constrict even more. His airway closes, another bat takes the other one’s place on his stomach. 

“Motherfucker!” You stab at the bat, but then a second one slams against your body and your shoulder explodes with pain. “Fuck-no,” you try to twist around, to use the last of your strength to remove it from your own skin, but it’s no use. The bats tear at your skin, ripping through muscle and ligaments. 

Lightning flashes, its light red mars the endless dark blue sky. Above you, a bat screeches, signaling its descent, before it dives towards you at full speed. Your eyes close, you hope death will be quick. 

“Get fucked!” Someone screams, a sickening thud following. Opening your eyes, you see the creature’s body get thrown into the air. Eddie stands above you, smiling wickedly, but as soon as he sees the two other bats gnawing on you, he brings his oar over his head and swings. 

You look away, scared he’ll miss, and see Nancy and Robin a few feet away. Nancy holds the other oar, working with Robin to kill the swarm of bats that encase Steve’s body. Seeing them makes you want to cry in sweet relief. 

The sound of the bats’ pained cries echo in your ears. It takes several attempts before Eddie manages to get them off of you. The bat’s teeth cut deeply with every attack, causing you to cry out in pain. It’s fucking agonizing. Warm blood follows a sickening tearing sensation in your leg.

When Eddie has killed both bats, he helps you stand up. “Jesus, you alright?”

“Talk later,” you grunt, already rushing to go help Nancy and Robin. “Fight now.”

Eddie doesn’t stop you. He swings his oar again and Robin begs you to help. She has a bat pinned down while Nancy pounds her oar into its face, but it won’t fucking die. Its tail has wrapped itself around Steve’s neck and he’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

But before you can gut the piece of shit creature, another bat pounces on Nancy. Its claws tear her skin and she yelps. You scream her name and catch her before she falls. “I got you.”

Nancy’s hands clutch your body as you stab the bat. “Get it off me!”

“I’m trying!” The bat won’t let go, screeching with every pull. Biting down, you ignore the searing pain as your palms get cut up even more. Robin tries to help, but you scream at her. “No! Help Steve!”

She nods quickly and it’s a mess of fighting and screeches and blood. Steve bites down on the bat’s tail, its jaw opens as it squeals, giving him just enough time to escape. As he rolls to the side, Robin throws the bat’s body onto the ground. 

Seeing Steve safe reinvigorates you, and with one final scream, you use everything within you to pull the bat off of Nancy’s back. It releases her skin with a squelching pop. You force your knife down its throat and pin the creature to the ground. It writhes beneath you. “Now, Nancy!”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Go to hell!” Her oar slams down, killing it.

Behind you Eddie kills the remaining few bats that circle overhead. Steve stands next to you, slamming the final bat into the ground. The body lands with a loud smack against the concrete and Steve rips the carcass in half. 

Blood drips from his mouth and he messily spits it away. He’s panting, his stomach is on fire, he’s stuck in some alternate dimension with no way out, but all he can focus on is you. 

Flesh hangs from your shoulder, leaving behind a gaping wound of exposed muscle. Your thigh is torn clean through. There’s blood everywhere. The white of your tanktop is now soaked in red. But you’re here, you’re alive. He hasn’t lost you. Not yet, at least.

“Y/N–” Steve practically falls against you, and you’re no better yourself. You’re crying, snot runs down your face as you grab desperately at him. His hands are all over you as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much blood. 

“I-I’m here.” Your hands are all over Steve’s body, too. They cup his waist, there are so many bite marks on him, but at least his flesh is warm under your skin. He’s still here, he’s still yours, and now all you want to do is calm him down. Steve is panicking, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll die in his arms any second, and the fear on his face makes your chest ache. 

“Are you guys okay?” Nancy asks, tentatively touching your shoulder. A wince slips from her lips when she sees the flesh that is no longer there. “Jesus, Y/N.”

Steve wraps his hands around your thigh, it’s bleeding the most and you can barely put any weight on it. “I’m fine, but they took a fucking pound of flesh from her.”

“You’re no better,” you’ve placed your own hands over his stomach, his blood warm against your fingers. “I think you lost your appendix.”

Steve laughs, but almost immediately his laugh turns into a groan. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

You apologize, kissing his shoulder. Light catches your attention and you see Robin crouched down next to one of the bat carcasses. She looks up at everyone. “Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”

“Robin, if we have rabies, please promise me you’ll shoot me.” You tell her, dead serious. Rabies has always terrified you. When you were younger, a rabid fox made its way onto your grandparents' farm. It had killed all the chickens, attacked the herding dog they had, and you remember how distraught your father had been when he had to kill both the fox and the hound. 

“I’m sure you and Steve don’t have rabies.” Nancy says, sensing your growing fear. But before she can say anything else a small group of bats descend from the sky.

Steve pushes you behind him. They land near the gate you fell through, screeching at the five of you. They’re a small enough group, Steve voices what you’re all thinking: you can handle them. Flicking your knives out, you prepare for what’s about to come. 

Until a swarm grows larger in the distance. There’s easily hundreds of them, they cast a shadow below where they fly. There’s too many to fight. 

“You were saying?” Robin breathes out, eyes never leaving the sky.

Steve is speechless, he doesn’t know what to do. His hand tightens around you, protective, but thankfully Nancy has a plan. She tells everyone to run towards the woods and none of you hesitate to follow. Steve swings your legs over his arms, picking you up with ease despite the bite wounds that litter his skin. Like hell he’s letting you run right now; you’re too torn up, you can hardly even walk. 

As Steve runs with you in his arms, he’s careful to avoid the vines that creep over the ground. It’s a dizzying rush. All you can do is hold tightly onto him, trusting that Nancy knows where she’s taking you. 

Deep into the woods, Nancy calls over her shoulder, “Over here!”

Lifting your head from Steve’s chest, you realize, as you always do, that Nancy Wheeler is a goddamn genius. She’s taken you all to Skull Rock.

The giant boulders form a small alcove, just big enough to hide under as the bats fly overhead. She instructs everyone to crawl under and Steve sets you down gently, positioning you so that you’re sitting with your back against the rock. As soon as you’re secure, Steve’s hand goes back to your thigh.

The sound of the bats is almost deafening. No one dares to speak. They fly over at such a gruesome speed, their screeches echoing off the trees. You lose count of how many there are. All you can do is wait for the last of them to leave.

More lightning strikes above. It shakes the ground, the sound reverberates in your skull. You can’t believe you’re here. You’re in the Upside Down. The place you’ve only ever spoken about, the entity that haunted your nightmares and took the ones you loved from you.

It’s so much colder than you imagined it to be. Everything is darker, more twisted. The dimension is exactly as Will once described to you: this is Hawkins, it’s your home, but different. Colder, scarier. These woods are the woods you walked through, the woods where you fell in love, and yet the trees loom over you in a threatening way. Their branches form spikes, the dirt recoils against your feet. 

Nothing here feels warm. The darkness is never ending. 

This is where Will was, all by himself, for a week. 

He had only been twelve. 

When the nightmare swarm of bats is finally over, Robin carefully pokes her head out from the alcove. “Okay, that was close.”

Eddie agrees, kicking at a rock. Steve offers you his hand to stand, but the moment your skin touches his, you feel sick. All the adrenaline from earlier leaves you. All the blood you’ve lost catches up, leaving your body weak. Stumbling, your vision tunnels and your eyes roll back. 

“Woah, hey.” Steve breaks your fall, snapping his fingers in your face to bring your attention back to him. He’s weak as well, he has to lean heavily against the rock to steady himself. “Y/N-shit!”

“Steve?” Nancy turns around, finding you and him moments away from collapsing. She curses, rushing over. When she sees all the blood that still pours from your thigh, she gags. “Oh, fuck.”

“Keep… keep talking. Please.” Your breathing is labored, you can hardly form any words. “Keep talking to me. If-if I faint… embarrassing.”

“I think she’s losing it.” Eddie whispers rather loudly to Robin. 

Nancy grazes Steve’s chest, silently asking him to move your body aside. She wants to get a closer look at his wounds as well, she can’t help you if he’s bleeding out himself, but he refuses. “No, no we need to help Y/N.”

“Steve, you’re also losing blood–”

“I don’t care.” Steve pulls you even closer to his chest, he needs to feel your rib cage rising and falling. He needs to feel you breathe. “Help her, Nancy.”

His outburst startles Nancy. She takes a step back, alarmed, but clenches her jaw. There’s no getting through to Steve; she knows she’s lost the fight. “At least sit her down.”

Steve collapses, sliding back against the rock with you tucked to his chest. With shaking hands, he forces you to sit next to him. You wince with every movement, it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve murmurs to you, motioning to Nancy to look down at your thigh. The wound is bleeding the most, the teeth sunk in the deepest. 

“Don’t wanna faint,” your head sags to the side, exhausted. “So embarrassing.”

Nancy places her hands unsurely to your thigh. The blood squelches, soaking through your jeans. She exhales shakily. “You’re not-you’re not going to faint, okay? Just keep talking, Y/N.”

“Hate bats.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems to settle Nancy’s unease and Steve’s worry. “Little fuckers hurt.”

Nancy tears the end of her shirt, her nimble fingers gently lift your injured leg. She ties the piece of fabric tight around your thigh, quelling the bleeding. Steve helps with the knot, though really he just needs something to do. 

“If you want some good news, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin crouches next to you, smiling despite how terrified she is. “So that’s something, right?”

You yelp when Nancy tightens the tourniquet. Biting your tongue, you force a smile to Robin. “Hooray.”

“There,” Nancy wipes her hands of your blood. The tourniquet isn’t much, but already the bleeding has subsided. “But I think you’re going to need stitches.”

“I’m tired of hospitals,” you whine, but you’re already feeling a bit better. You’re weak, sure, but at least your body isn’t slowly draining itself out. “Thanks, though.”

Nancy nods, smiling softly, before her eyes land on Steve’s stomach. “Can I finally patch you up?”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, instead cups your face. Even though you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears, even though your cheek is scabbed and your lip is split, he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful. “You alright?”

“Been better,” you admit, squeezing his arm. “But let’s worry about you now.” Turning to Nancy, you extend your arm. “Got any more torn pieces of clothing?”

She bites her lip. The only thing covering your body is your tank top. She’s seen the cuts all over your palms. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to wrap the cloth around Steve, if she’s being honest. But she also knows Steve and how fiercely he loves you. He won’t let anyone near him but you. 

Finally, she sighs. Tearing off more of her shirt, she hands it to you. “Yeah, here.”

You thank Nancy again, and she gives you a curt nod before backing away, giving you and Steve some space. Once she’s gone, you tend to Steve’s injuries. When he moves his hand away and reveals raised, angry flesh, you inhale sharply. “Steve…”

“Just a flesh wound.” He jokes, but you can hear the pain in his voice. 

Though you’re still dizzy and weak, you manage to lift Steve’s body enough to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. Luckily he isn’t bleeding as badly as you are, but the sight of him injured still leaves you nauseous. 

Tying the fabric around his torso, you’re careful not to hurt him any more. The moment is familiar, reminiscent of the years before. Back in the junkyard when a Demodog nearly tore open your rib cage, Steve had been the one to take care of you. He had so carefully wrapped your cardigan around your chest, been so delicate with you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for him. 

“We always end up here, don’t we?” You say softly, it still takes a lot of energy for you to speak. You finish tying a knot to secure the bandage and Steve looks at you oddly. He doesn’t understand, and you shrug. “You and me, patching each other’s wounds up.”

Steve’s eyes soften. It doesn’t matter where he could be, in what situation he could be stuck in, you always somehow remind him of how loved he is. “Kinda wish the bats had eaten my ribs instead. We could’ve had matching scars.”

You laugh, eyes shining with tears. Fresh pain explodes all over your body, but you laugh anyways. You don’t know why you’re laughing or why tears run down your face. The exhaustion and pain from today must finally be catching up to you. “How romantic.”

Steve laughs as well, the pain of it bearable when he hears your laughter mixing with his. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s so cold in the Upside Down, but the warmth of Steve’s love feels like sunshine kissing your skin. 

Robin clears her throat. “Uh, not to ruin this cute moment, but I just wanted to say that if either of you start feeling aggressive, please let me know. Because, ya know. The threat of rabies still.”

“I kinda wanna punch you.” Steve looks at her pointedly, annoyed. 

You poke his cheek and smile apologetically at Robin. “He didn’t mean that.”

“Sense of humor is still intact, that’s a good sign!” She cheers, then, as an afterthought, she takes off her flannel and hands it to you. “Also, figured you’d want this. Not that you aren’t totally hot right now in only a tiny tank top and blood all over you, it’s just freakishly cold down here and you technically have an exposed wound on your shoulder and who knows what sorts of awful flesh eating diseases there are here.” 

You accept the flannel gratefully and thank her. Then, together, you and Steve stand up. The process is difficult, you only have one functional top and bottom, and you walk in a slow manner together as you lean against the other. 

Up ahead, Eddie is standing on one of the boulders, staring out into the vast dimension. “So, uh. This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Basically.” You respond, grunting as you support Steve’s upper body. 

Eddie nods, defeated, and before he can step down, Nancy tells him to be careful of the vines. “It’s all a hive mind.”

When Eddie doesn’t understand, Steve tries to explain it to him. “All the creepy crawlies here, dude. They’re like, one or something.”

“They’re all interconnected. They can feel each other’s pain, feelings, whatever.” You say, remembering how Jonathan had described Will’s agonizing screams when the vines had been burned in the tunnels.

“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve finishes grimly. 

Eddie smiles sarcastically, obviously displeased with this information, but he’s careful not to step on any vines on his way down. 

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.

You nod. “According to Will, yeah.”

This pleases Robin, and she starts explaining her plan. If everything's the same in the Upside Down, then you should be able to use the guns stored away at Hawkins’ police station. With the ammunition stored there, it’d be more than enough to kill the bats that guard the gate back to Hawkins. 

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve says skeptically. “But guns? Sure.”

You shake your head. While Robin’s idea is good, there’s still the issue of going all the way downtown from Skull Rock. The five of you barely made it half a mile without getting killed. There’s no way you’d survive three. “But the police station is downtown. That’s too far from here.”

Robin deflates, but Nancy furrows her brows. After thinking for a moment, her eyes light up. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown. I have guns. In my bedroom.”

God you love her.

Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns… plural? In your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says with pride.

“And this is why we always listen to her.” You sing along, high fiving Robin. 

Nancy doesn’t acknowledge you or Robin, but her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve reminds her, though his tone is gentle, almost teasing.

You laugh, remembering how terrified he had been when Nancy pointed the gun at him. You all had been so much younger, more naive. All he wanted to do was apologize to Jonathan for their fight earlier. Steve had just wanted to make things right, and that’s why you stepped in front of him that night. “Luckily for you, I was there to save your life.” 

Steve looks down at you fondly. He pulls you close, his eyes are full of so much love. He remembers everything. The night that started it all. “And then I saved yours.”

To think that a sprained ankle and a bat full of nails would lead you to here: Steve’s warm chest against you, so full of love.

Lost in your warm memories, neither you nor Steve see Eddie throwing his vest at Steve’s face until it’s too late. The material smacks against him, cruelly bringing the two of you back to reality. 

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You sneer at him, deeply annoyed. 

He waves at you flirtatiously, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’m protecting your boyfriend’s modesty for you.”

Before you can retaliate, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The force of it is so sudden, so strong, that it sends you and everyone else falling. Steve catches himself on a rock, holding you tightly to his chest, and you manage to catch Nancy before she falls as well. Eddie grabs onto Robin, stuck on the ground together.

The tremors are violent. There’s a cracking sound, branches fall behind you as the earthquake destroys whatever it can. Steve holds you through it, he whispers reassurances to try and calm you. When it’s over everything is quiet for a moment, before a loud, heart stopping shriek cuts into the night.

It doesn’t sound like any creature you’ve faced before. Far too loud to be a Demodog’s, far too large to be a bat’s. The thought of what it could be almost paralyzes you; it could’ve been the Mind Flayer. 

“Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie finally says, panting. 

Robin quickly agrees, and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. “Yeah, okay. I can be okay with guns.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Steve puts Eddie’s vest on, twirling a flashlight in his hand. He nods to himself, tries to convince himself that he’s as confident as he sounds. He extends his other arm towards you, helping you steady your balance. “Let’s go.”

And you follow. 

– 

It’s a long walk from Skull Rock to Nancy’s house; it’s an even longer walk when you’re in the Upside Down, hiding from demonic bats. With every branch that snaps beneath someone’s foot, you all jump. The croak of whatever creature nearby sets everyone on edge. 

“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin complains, jumping over a vine. 

Leaning against Steve, you groan. “Anything would be less creepy than this.”

“I think we’re getting close,” Nancy tries to sound convincing, but even she’s uneasy. “We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.”

Robin nods at the reassurance, but you can’t help but wonder what could possibly come next after you find Nancy’s guns. It’d be two guns, two critically injured members of the group, two oars, and one switchblade against an army of bats.

Not the best odds. 

Nancy and Robin wander further ahead, leaving you behind with Steve and Eddie. None of you talk, more so because you’re putting all your energy into not falling on your face and Steve is busy helping you stay upright.

Walking is difficult and painful and you’re so frustrated by it all, especially after you trip over your fourth tree root. If it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, you’d be long dead by now.

Eddie must recognize this, too.

“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.”

“Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed. With him carrying half your weight, Steve is able to breathe a little easier. You’re better balanced this way. He’s no longer straining his injuries to support you. 

Eddie winces. “I’m sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches on and you feel bad for Eddie. He really is trying. Despite the fact that he’s Hawkins’ most wanted, he still tries to make everyone else laugh. He has to know that he’s never getting out of this alive, and you admire the strength it must take to continue laughing anyways. 

So you try to for him as well. “Thank you, by the way. You saved our lives back there.”

Eddie looks at you funny, he hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it. “Shit, Steve saved his own ass, man.”

“That’s true,” you laugh. By the time the fight finished, Steve had somehow managed to fight his way out by himself. “It was impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” 

Eddie scoffs at Steve’s dismissal. “Please, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?” Steve looks at you, silently asking for some type of explanation, but you shrug. 

“All I know is that he’s in Black Sabbath.” Jonathan occasionally listened to the band whenever he was particularly angry, but not enough for you to understand Eddie’s obscure reference. 

Eddie makes a surprised, but pleased, sound. “Honestly surprised you even know Black Sabbath, but c’mon. Ozzy Osbourne, he bit a bat’s head off onstage. You seriously haven’t heard about that?”

You and Steve stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Well, it was very metal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Steve scoffs again, but deep down you know he’s preening. It’s not everyday someone commends his strength or recognizes how well he can hold his own. Steve has come a long way since his first fight with Jonathan back at the alley. 

“I think I finally get why my brother likes you so much,” you tell Eddie, looking up at him curiously. “You know a lot of weird facts. He goes crazy for them.”

That, and you’re finding that Eddie isn’t so bad when he isn’t surrounded by his goonies. He’s actually… decent when he isn’t putting on a show for everyone. It’s almost reminiscent of how Steve had once been, back when he was the King. 

But if you ever pointed out that similarity to the boys, you know they’d be deeply offended. 

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tilt up. “Yeah, well. The kid adores you and practically worships Steve.”

“He does?” Steve almost sounds bashful at the idea of Dustin worshiping him. It makes your heart constrict. You both miss your brother terribly. 

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. Especially when all he talks about is Y/N. If he isn’t talking about you, he’s talking about her.”

“I doubt that’s true,” you shake your head. “He doesn’t need me anymore, he’s practically counting down the days until I leave.”

“Nah, man. Dustin tells me all the time how much he’ll miss you when you leave.” Eddie tells you, voice firm. “Kid always talks about how much you look out for him, that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when you’re gone. In a way, it’s annoyingly endearing. He frets over you just as much as you fret over him. I can see the Henderson charm in him that made you Hawkins’ sweetheart.” 

Everything that Eddie tells you leaves your throat sticky with tears. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know all Dustin said about you. For the longest time you thought he’d grown to hate you, to resent you the way kids often do with their family. You would’ve never blamed him; sometimes people just grow up, grow apart, but here Eddie is, telling you that your brother will miss you when you’re gone. 

Unable to say anything in fear that you’ll cry, the only response you give Eddie is a curt, short nod.

Steve rubs your side tenderly, understanding all you’re unable to say. Eddie feels the touch against his own side and he clears his throat. He knows you want him to change the subject. “Admittedly, I got a little jealous. Hearing the little shrimp talk about you as if you hung the goddamn stars yourself.” 

The irony of it all crashes upon you. While you had been jealous of Eddie, he had been jealous of you. The two of you spent months quarreling over Dustin, you’d been uncharacteristically mean to Eddie, and yet the entire time you envied the other. 

Abandonment can make people cruel. 

“I was jealous of you, too.” You finally reveal to Eddie, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight. 

Eddie stares back at you, his expression softens with understanding. He seems to have pieced together what you have: your anger had never been cruel, only defensive. Protective of your brother the way only a sister would in fear of losing him. 

“Guess that makes us both idiots, huh?” Eddie teases gently, accepting the offering of truce that you present to him. 

You laugh, looking away. The moment of truce is nice, pleasant almost, until the beat of silence becomes too unbearable for you. You’ve revealed enough of yourself tonight. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you lift your arm from Eddie’s shoulder and pull away. “Robin is probably missing me right now. She hates the dark, these woods are her worst nightmare.”

Steve catches your arm before you leave. You’re still unsteady on your feet, but he understands what you’re trying to do. He’s come to learn that you shut away when you’re vulnerable. While you wear your heart on your sleeve, Steve knows that it can be exhausting for you. 

“Need me to call her over?” He asks you quietly.

“No, I can manage.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, thanking him without having to say it. Eddie smiles at you as you leave, tight lipped, but kind nonetheless. 

The two teens watch you slowly make your way over to Robin, who happily welcomes your presence. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly, giggling slightly, before holding you close and helping you walk. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece!” Robin calls to Steve, giggling under her breath. Steve waves his hand sarcastically, but doesn’t argue. Turning to you, Robin’s face shines in the blue moonlight. “You here to save me from this totally creepy, absolutely horrid woods?”

“Duh,” your laughter reflects hers. “I’m your knight in shining armor, babe.”

Robin squeezes your hand, resting her head against yours as you walk together. It’s been a long time since you’ve held each other like this. The realization makes you guilty. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Robin shrugs, the motion jostles your head, but you don’t mind. “We’re in the Upside Down, some guy named Vecna wants you and Max dead, and you refuse to admit that you’re scared.”

You bite your lip. Robin is just as worried for you as Steve is, she’s just hidden it better, and you wish that you could spare her the worry. She’s put up such a strong front for you. Between Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max, Robin knew you didn’t want yet another person coddling you.

So she stepped back, gave you the space you wanted, but you’re still her best friend. Robin won’t let you forget that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, holding onto her as tightly as she holds onto you. 

Robin shrugs again. “Nothing to forgive, pretty girl.”

And it’s as simple as that.

Though Steve can’t hear your conversation, he watches you and Robin fondly. The two of you sway together, laughing occasionally. Eddie notices the way Steve looks at you and laughs to himself. 

“You know, I was jealous of you, too.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“I was jealous of you and Henderson, the little one, I mean. Guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. I mean, rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way dude. That like, flies in the face of all laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Then Eddie motions towards you. “And when you started dating Y/N? C’mon, man. Everyone knows Y/N Henderson is like, God’s gift to selflessness. I watched her tutor kids in the library like goddamn Gandhi, and suddenly she’s dating you? There isn’t any law in the universe to explain that. Fucking unfair.”

Though he knows he should be offended, Steve finds himself laughing. If he’s being honest, he’s relieved that someone else is questioning whether Steve deserves you. From the moment he met you, you’ve tried convincing him that he’s always deserved you. But Steve knows better, and he can’t believe it’s Eddie Munson who sees this, too. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t know why Y/N chose me.” Steve confesses, catching Eddie’s attention. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever would’ve been someone she even liked had we not been dragged into the Upside Down together. I was a douchebag. She hated me for years, but I guess saving her life a few times earned me some brownie points.” 

Eddie snorts. “Surprised you’re not claiming it was your ‘stunningly good looks’ that made Y/N fall for you. Oh how humble you’ve become.”

“Y/N changed me.” Steve’s eyes find your body again. They will always draw towards you no matter where you are.

The sincerity in Steve’s voice surprises Eddie. Licking his lips, he sighs. “Well whatever she did, I never would’ve jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any normal circumstances.” A branch snaps, Steve and Eddie turn to its source, but there’s nothing there. Sighing again, Eddie continues to walk. “Outside of DnD, I’m no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run… at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

Steve doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this. “Hey, give yourself a break, man.”

Eddie points to you, Robin, and Nancy walking up ahead. “No, you see. The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Y/N? She dove in the second your head went under. Nearly tore Robin’s arm off trying to get to you.”

Something heavy settles in Steve’s chest. There’s a shift, there’s something that simmers deep into his rib cage. 

Eddie forces Steve to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it, but she loves you. The way she was screaming your name, it was an unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if someone like Y/N Henderson loves you… then I figured you must be worth saving.”

Steve’s breath stutters. He looks up at you again, the warmth that cascades his veins whenever he sees you overwhelms him. Steve loves you more than anything. To be told how deeply you love him by someone else is almost too much. 

You and Steve have been fighting so much recently. He’s said awful things to you, you’ve hurt him in ways he hadn’t known he could hurt. All the unspoken words, all the uncertainty and fear, and yet you dove in to save Steve without hesitating. 

And isn’t that all that love is? To love without expectations, without hesitancy. Love is the inability to separate your breath from the person’s lungs; you took all the air out of Steve’s chest the moment you smiled at him. 

You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to Steve. He’s always known this, he’s always known that what the two of you have is special. It’s something more than just young love. 

So what if the future you envision doesn’t align with Steve’s? How could something so small, so miniscule as compared to forever with you, be what Steve allows to drive you away? You deserve more than just his insecurities. You’ve already decided that Steve deserves your love, what more can he want from you?

He already has you; Steve won’t let you walk away from him. Not this time, not when what you have is rare and real and raw. 

Steve almost wants to laugh at how funny it is. He’d been so worried about losing you, that he almost lost you in the process. What’s even worse: it took a five minute conversation with fucking Eddie Munson to even realize it. 

“Y/N, she’s–” Steve begins, but the ground starts to shake again and he’s falling. Eddie curses, sick of these earthquakes, and Steve braces himself as the rumbling continues. 

Robin struggles to hold onto you as you cower together under the earth’s violent shaking. Instinctively your head turns toward Steve to make sure he’s okay. You find him on the ground next to Eddie. Sensing your eyes on him, Steve looks up and nods reassuringly at you. Relieved, you breathe against Robin. 

“Second on my list of least favorite things,” she says, voice shaking. “Earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

“At least you have two working legs.” You quip.

Robin shushes you, but her voice raises when she sees Nancy stand and take off. “Nancy!”

Squinting at the darkness, you see the girl’s figure disappearing into the treeline. She’s running alarmingly fast, way too fast for anyone to catch up in time, and your heart lurches. None of you should be splitting up right now. It isn’t safe. “Fuck! Someone stop her!”

Robin quickly throws you onto your feet and you call after Steve and Eddie to follow. If running was difficult with a bleeding out leg, it’s almost impossible with the ground shaking beneath you. But if Nancy’s in trouble, you need to get to her as soon as you can. Leg be damned.

Breaking through the treeline, you find her standing at the edge of a clearing. There are fallen trees everywhere. Red lightning illuminates the Wheeler house before you. By some miracle, you’ve made it.

“Come on.” Nancy breaks the silence, chin held high. She isn’t giving up now, not when you’re all so close. 

She starts to walk, never looking back, and you look at Steve. He grabs your hand. You take a deep breath. You fucking hope Nancy’s plan works. 

This is your only chance of going home.

– 

The Wheeler house is exactly how you remember it, only vines and debris maims its usually pristine appearance. Nancy walks through the door first while Steve shines a flashlight. Particles float everywhere. You try not to think about the fact that you’re inhaling them.

Your foot catches on a stray vine, its tendrils flail angrily at you. Stomping your foot away, you look wearily at Nancy. “Love the decor.”

She rolls her eyes while Robin echoes you. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.”

Ignoring the two of you, Nancy ushers everyone upstairs. While her voice is level, the unease in her body is apparent. She doesn’t like seeing her home this way. Sympathetic, you start to follow Nancy, but for a split second you think you hear Dustin’s voice.

It’s faint, mostly incoherent, and you think you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. Vecna has won, you’ve lost the remaining sanity you had left. 

But then Steve suddenly freezes next to you. His bewilderment tells you that he hears Dustin, too. That’s your brother. You’d know his nasally voice anywhere.

Sharing a look with Steve, you simultaneously begin running around the house, trying to follow the sound of Dustin’s voice. You remember Will telling you how he could hear Joyce’s cries for him while he’d been trapped in the Upside Down. It had been the only way Joyce could communicate with him. What if this is the same?

“Start screaming,” you command Steve, limping over to one of the walls. 

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s what Will did, he-he screamed for his mom and Joyce was able to hear him.” You press our mouth close to the wall and shout, “Dustin!” 

He has to hear you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

Steve wastes no time following along, screaming Dustin’s name at the top of his lungs as well. You know the two of you must look like complete idiots, but you’re desperate.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson you have five seconds to answer me!” You yell, throat burning.

“Hello? Answer us!” Steve stands in the center of the kitchen, crouched down as if getting ready to bolt. 

This is how Nancy, Robin, and Eddie find you. The three of them stare at you and Steve in concern, though none of them want to get any closer. Robin ducks her head down, whispers, “Maybe they really do have rabies.”

“What are you guys doing?” Nancy demands, fed up. 

“He’s here,” Steve whips his flashlight around, facing them. “Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like-he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.”

Dustin, predictably, is quiet the moment Steve tells everyone to listen. 

You pound on the wall. “Oh, now you’re quiet?” Everyone looks at you skeptically and you rub your face tiredly. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but I can hear Dustin, alright? It’s him.”

“Dustin!” Steve continues to screech, not helping your whole “we aren’t crazy” argument. 

Only Dustin’s voice returns, and thankfully Nancy and everyone else hears it. Together you all search the house, calling your brother’s name out. Yet now matter how loud you scream, he doesn’t respond.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve drops his flashlight.

You blow hair out of your face. “Normally he’s a douchebag, but not nearly to this extent.”

Nancy stands next to you. “But Will found a way to make Joyce listen.”

“When Joyce couldn’t hear him anymore, she used the Christmas lights.” You look at her. “Do you think…?”

She’s already running to the nearest lamp in the kitchen. Flicking the switch, nothing happens. You suggest trying a different light, though you know it won’t make a difference. When the lights remain unlit, you slam your palm against the table in frustration. 

“Guys?” Steve gets your attention. He’s shining his flashlight at the chandelier that hangs over the Wheeler’s dining table. “You seeing this?”

Where Steve points his flashlight, a warm, evanescent glow emits from the chandelier. You gasp at its beauty, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nancy steps towards the light and slowly puts her hand into the loose waves that flow between the lights. It’s encased in small orbs that float gently into the air. 

Nancy’s fingers dance in the light. A path of gold leaves a trail where her fingers have been. The particles in the light surround her hand, pulled in by her presence. Breathless, you reach out as well. The light kisses your hand, and the sensation is soft, almost ticklish. 

“This is insane,” you murmur in awe, face illuminated. You never thought you’d encounter beauty in such a place as the Upside Down. But at least Will found the beauty, too. “This must be how Will did it.”

Robin, Steve, and Eddie copy you and Nancy, putting their hands into the light as well. The five of you twirl your fingers around, causing the light to flicker with every movement. 

Steve’s pinky reaches for yours. “It… tickles?” 

“It kinda feels good.” Mumbles Robin, making figure 8’s with her finger. 

Nancy then lowers her hand and asks if anyone knows morse code. She mostly looks at you when you ask, and you bitterly tell her no. You’d think after everything you and the party have been through, you’d at least learn morse code by now. 

“Wait, does SOS count?” 

Eddie’s stupid question makes you hit his chest. “Of course it counts!”

“Ow!” He shoves you away from him, straightening his leather jacket. “A ‘yes” would’ve sufficed.”

Nancy shushes the two of you and instructs Eddie to start typing out the code. With a huff, he listens, and soon he begins the pattern for SOS. A soft buzz accompanies every flicker of the light. With each letter combination, you can practically feel Dustin getting closer and closer to you. 

It’s almost an indescribable feeling. Somewhere, in another universe, Dustin is standing right where you are. You aren’t sure how you know, maybe you’ll never be able to find the right words, but your brother’s presence settles over your own. 

This must be how Jonathan felt when Joyce was in the Upside Down. He whispered her name so softly when he followed her with the lights. Their love for one another tethered them; now it’s your love for Dustin that tethers him to you. 

“Dustin,” his name comes out whispered, relieved. He’s okay, you can feel that he’s safe. 

“Y/N?” Dustin’s muffled shouting fills everyone with relief. Steve and Eddie high five, Nancy lets out the breath she’d been holding, and Robin cheers while you hastily wipe your eyes. The SOS worked. “Is that-is that you?”

“Yes!” Steve screams into the chandelier, though you know your brother won’t be able to hear.

Anxious to get to Dustin as fast as you can, you shove your hands into the chandelier’s light and send a long, bright beam of light. More muffled screaming can be heard on the other side, only this time laughter accompanies it.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims in awe. The amazement in his voice makes you miss him even more. There’s a murmur of other voices, you can only assume one of them is Lucas’, before Dustin shouts even louder, “We’re gonna find you a better light source. Don’t move.”

You roll your eyes. “Like we can go anywhere else.”

Dustin leaves again, but he’s back within minutes. Through loud screaming, he tells you to find Holly’s Lite Brite and go to Nancy’s room. Him and Lucas will meet the rest of you there. 

The moment Dustin leaves again, Nancy shoves everyone upstairs. “I’ll find the light pad, the rest of you go. Now.” 

And that’s how you find yourself restlessly staring at a child’s light up toy on Nancy Wheeler’s bed with Steve’s chest pressed against your back. He leans close to the toy, mumbling under his breath, “Come on, little Henderson.”

The Lite Brite suddenly comes to life. You throw your hands up triumphantly, giddy. “Yes!”

“You guys seeing this?” Dustin asks, to which Nancy responds by putting her hand into the light. Dustin squeals in excitement. This must be a scientific dream for him. “Okay, we’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.”

The light fades away and Dustin prompts someone to spell something. Everyone turns to you. He’s your brother, you should be the one to make first contact. 

Carefully, you use your pointer finger to spell out D.U.S.T.

Eddie cocks his head. “‘Dust’?”

“He’ll understand.” 

When your mom first brought Dustin home from the hospital, he’d been so small. Immediately you fell in love with the small baby, but his size had confused you. You’d never seen anything so tiny before. 

“He’s small,” you informed your father, making a face at the yawning baby before you. “Like dust.”

You were only three, but you can still remember the way your dad had laughed. For years afterwards you never referred to Dustin by his actual name. He was only ever “Dust” to you. Your father joined, the nickname stuck, though your mother came to prefer “Dusty.”

It was only after your father left that you stopped calling your brother Dust. 

“Dust!” Dustin laughs excitedly. “I’m Dust! Yes!” He raises his voice louder, he can’t believe you remembered the old childhood nickname. “That worked, guys!”

Everyone cheers, Eddie even throws in his own enthusiastic “hi” to the Lite Brite. Your face aches from how hard you smile. Turning the toy over to Nancy, you nod at her. “All yours, Wheeler.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she thinks for a moment. There’s so much to tell Dustin and the others, but the Lite Brite is small and too many words to keep track of. “What should I write?”

“‘Help’ would be a pretty good place to start.” You suggest to her. 

Instead, Nancy ends up spelling “stuck”. Which is pretty fitting, all things considered. Gets the message across well. 

“You can’t get back through Watergate?”

Steve questions whatever the hell watergate is and Robin has to explain the wordplay. While she does so, pride swells deep within your chest. “Dustin’s a little genius that I love so much.”

“It was pretty clever.” Eddie admits. 

Nancy tells Dustin that the gate you all came through is guarded. However, never missing a beat, Dustin tells you that he thinks they have a theory that can help. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate, that there’s one at every murder site.”

You jerk your head up, eyes widening. It all makes sense now. “Wait, I think he’s–”

“Does anyone have any idea what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks tiredly. Everyone gives her equally tired no’s, but you nod viciously.

“Yes! We already know there’s multiple gates, we just didn’t know how, but Dustin might’ve figured it out. It’s all connected to the murders.”

Nancy looks skeptical. “I don’t know…” Before you can argue with her, she sends a “?” back to Dustin. 

Who, predictably, doesn’t take it well. “Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?”

Steve grimaces. “Jesus Christ. This kid’s gotta get his ego checked out.” 

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie butts in.

You shove them both. “Shut up. Both of you. Dustin can be annoying and frustrating, but he’s right. He’s always been right. Now if you guys would actually listen, he’ll get us out of here.”

Looking pointedly at everyone, you start to explain. “There was a gate in Lover’s Lake, which we obviously found,” your arms wave behind you. “The same lake where Patrick died. Now, where else has a dead body been found?”

“Eddie’s trailer,” Nancy straightens, understanding where you’re going with this. Looking at Eddie, she asks him how far it is. 

“Seven miles.” 

Your head drops. “Why couldn’t you have lived closer?”

“I’m sorry I’m… poor?” Eddie looks at you incredulously. 

You flick a dismissive hand at him, but Robin cuts in between you two. “Nancy, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit–”

“It’s what?” Obviously you missed some important details. 

Robin holds her hand up. “I’ll explain later. Anyways, haven’t you always had bikes?”

You and Nancy share a look, both thinking the same thing: the bikes would be perfect. That, and they’re kinda your only option at the moment. 

– 

Since you’re in no condition to bike (your thigh has only just stopped bleeding) and there’s only four bikes anyways, Steve has you wrap your arms around his chest and stand on his pegs. He claims it’s so that you can avoid putting any weight on your leg, but you honestly think he just wants you to hold him. Pressing your body close to his, you look around at the houses you pass.

In a strange, twisted way, it’s exhilarating biking through an Upside Down Hawkins. Everything, and yet nothing, is the same. The houses you pass are frozen in time, empty, ghostly. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie bike alongside you and Steve. The scene is almost reminiscent of the night you biked Will home, wind in your hair and the night sky before you. 

Everything has changed since then.

Somewhere along the route to Eddie’s, you bike past the Creel house. Your arms tighten instinctively around Steve. A chill runs through you, the house is just as haunting in the Upside Down as it is back in your universe. Your head throbs being so close to it, as if warning you, but Steve is turning into Eddie’s neighborhood before you can think much else of it. 

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record.” Robin throws her bike down, breathless. “Most miles traveled interdimensionally.”

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.”

“It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.”

“Again, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Eddie opens his trailer door and, just as Dustin predicted, there’s a gate. It’s just like the one in Lover’s lake had been: illuminating red light, vines all around its edges. An open wound. 

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie stares up at the gate, which resides in the ceiling. He swallows heavily. “Like, right where she died.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand finds Eddie’s arm. You don’t know much about what their relationship had been, but he seems to have cared about the girl a lot. 

Eddie gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining slightly. As he looks at you, Robin sees something moving in the gate. “I think there’s something in there.”

Something starts to protrude from it, causing the gate to swell rapidly. The vines almost seem to snarl at the intrusion. An ominous, unsteady croak emits from the gate. The sound sets your nerves on edge and Steve shoves you behind him protectively. Hand on your knives, you raise them, bracing. 

The gate explodes, spewing liquid and vines everywhere. You all scream, jumping back, as something rips through the membrane-like material. Unable to tell what’s just happened, you squint up at the ceiling.

Nothing jumps out at you, no bats come to feast on your flesh. Finding Steve’s eye, you silently ask him if you should walk closer. Nodding, he grabs your hand, and together you creep towards the remains of the gate.

When you look up, you find Dustin’s smug, joyous face staring back at you. Only he’s upside down with Max, Lucas, and Erica, all just as in shock as you are.

You’ve never been more relieved to see them in your life. Dropping your hands to your knees, you bend over and finally breathe. “Oh, thank God.”

“No way…” Steve waves at them, and they wave right back. “Hi.”

“Dustin!” If your leg wasn’t hanging by a thread, you’d be jumping up and down right now. Instead, you opt for waving like a madman at your brother. The entire situation is so fucking bizarre, but you don’t even care anymore. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Dustin giggles. “Bada bada boom!”

After some heated discussions and a few arguments, Dustin and the others come up with a way to get the five of you out of the Upside Down. Using Eddie’s bed sheets as a makeshift rope had been the easy part. What caused nearly a fist fight between Max and Dustin had been figuring out a soft landing pad for you guys. 

“I, uh. Have a mattress?” Eddie finally suggested when he noticed Max’s fist clenching. 

She glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Well, I mean. It’s-uh. Minor details?”

But none of them had time to question Eddie’s sudden shyness regarding his mattress. Dustin got straight to work tying the bed sheets together while Max and Lucas worked on dragging the mattress out of Eddie’s room. 

However, the moment it landed on the ground, all eyes went to the giant stains on the bed. Cringing in disgust, you eye Eddie.

Seeing your disapproving look, he swallows. “Those stains are, uh…” He tries to come up with an excuse, but eventually he realizes it’s better to just accept defeat. “I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Would we want to know even if you knew?” You ask him, already knowing the answer.

“... Probably not.”

Dustin tosses the bed sheet rope up, or rather down, through the gate. “Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but here goes nothing.”

Miraculously, it lands perfectly in front of you. Dustin tugs at the rope before letting go of it completely. You gasp. The rope stands on its own, stiff but secure, and Dustin lets out a pleased laugh. “Abracadabra.”

“I’ve never understood physics.” You say, pulling at the rope. It doesn’t move. “But even I can admit that this is cool.”

Dustin high fives Erica and Robin steps up first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

“Please be careful.” You tell her, already dreading your own ascent. Your shoulder still aches and you were never the best at climbing the rope for gym. You preferred soccer, track, anything that involved leg coordination. Not upper body. 

Robin slowly climbs up, and when her body hits the disgusting mattress back in your dimension, you let out a breath of relief. “That was kinda fun,” Robin giggles slightly.

Then Eddie stares at you, Steve, and Nancy. He waits for someone to move, obviously not wanting to be next. But when no one does, he shakes his head. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.”

Steve holds the rope steady and Eddie falls onto his mattress safely. He sits up, exhilarated. “That was fun.” He echoes Robin. 

Steve gestures for Nancy to go next. “I’ll help Y/N up after you’re done.”

She gives him an uncertain look, eyeing your injuries, and you try to smile at her reassuringly. “Go, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Knowing it’s as good of an answer she’ll get from you, Nancy takes a deep breath. “See you on the other side.”

You grab her waist and help hoist her up alongside Steve. She’s swift, her strength impresses you. She’s almost reached the top before you hear the first chime. 

It’s loud, deafening. The chime of a grandfather clock.

Another chime follows, then a third, a fourth. It wracks your skull with its force. 

You turn, gasping, expecting to find the grandfather clock that Max had seen in her vision. Only you’re met with darkness. You can’t see anything, you can’t find a way out. You can’t feel Steve next to you, your hands try to find his in the dark, but all they’re met with is air. 

“What–” Panic chokes you. None of this is right, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t feel Steve and–

The sensation of sunlight kissing your face stops you. 

Your eyes open. You’re no longer in Eddie’s trailer. 

You’re outside, there’s sunshine all around you. In front of you is a field of dandelions, their sweet yellow reflects the gold of the sun above. The grass beneath your feet is soft, lush and green. A bee flies past your head and someone calls your name.

You’ve been here before. In the distance resides a small house on a hill. The blue door and white frames of your childhood home welcomes you. You’re back in Virginia. Someone calls your name again.

The voice is familiar. 

It’s your father, calling you home. 

The realization knocks all the air out of your lungs. None of this is real. You know it isn’t real, but to hear your father’s voice, so sweet and saccharine again, it makes you weak. But it isn’t real. Your legs begin to move, you’re running before you can think of anything else. 

This is a vision. The scent of oak trees and strawberries isn’t real. The wheat that skims your thighs as you run doesn’t exist. “This is a vision,” you try to talk to yourself, your fingers dig into your pockets for your walkman. 

You know you’re supposed to always have it on you, that’s what Dustin told you, but there’s nothing there. Panic swells within your chest once more. “No, please–”

Distracted as you look for your walkman, you don’t see the body in front of you.

Colliding into your father, he steadies you. “Woah, there.”

His calloused hands are rough and familiar. He’s laughing, his voice is the same gruff voice that used to sing you to sleep. Your father looks down at you and your entire body freezes when your eyes meet his. 

You haven’t seen him ever since you were twelve. He looks the same as the day he left. His smile is the same, the crooked teeth charming. Your father’s nose still points up ever so slightly. The only indication that he’s aged are the wrinkles that line his face, years of sunlight etching them. 

But it’s his eyes that hurt you the most. They’re still kind. 

“What are ya runnin’ from, ladybug?” Your father asks you, his southern drawl liquid honey to your ears. 

Tears build within you hearing the childhood nickname. You were his ladybug for as long as you could remember. When he used to call, he’d whisper the name over the phone as an apology for everything he’d done to you. 

Because you can’t help it, because you’ll never be able to do this again, you hug your father. He lets out a soft chuckle at the impact, his arms hold you as they’ve always done. Your face buries itself into his rough t-shirt.

You’re a little girl who needs her daddy right now. 

“I.. I missed you, daddy.” Voice breaking, you begin to cry. 

Your father’s palm rests against your hand. He hums, soothing the ache in your bones. “You know you can never outrun it.”

The words unsettle you, there’s something about them that causes you to pull away. “Outrun what–?” “The guilt, ladybug. It will always find you.” Your father’s smile twists into a sickening grimace. The muscles in his face conjoin, his eyes darken as his voice becomes gravel. Deeper. Until it isn’t your father’s voice anymore, but someone else's. “I will always find you.”

Too late do you realize that it’s Vecna who now has you. You start to scream, thrashing in your father’s arms to escape, but he only grips you harder. He’s laughing, but it’s no longer your father’s laughter. 

Suddenly you’re thrown into the lake behind you. You fall, screaming, as you descend deep into a pitch black void. Your arms reach out, you try to find anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. It’s just endless emptiness. 

You land harshly on your back, all the air gone. You gasp, choke on whatever air remains in your body. The impact leaves you coughing, clawing at the ground beneath you to breathe. Soil scrapes under your nails, your palm gets cut on a root.

You’re in the woods. 

Scrambling to sit up, you realize you’re in the same part of the woods that Will went missing in. Fear cuts through your veins. Why would Vecna take you here?

“Will?” You’re on your feet now, cupping your hands over your mouth as you shout his name. Does Vecna have him? Have you lost him again? “Will!”

“He needed you that night.” Vecna’s voice taunts you, the sound like rocks grinding together. “Where were you?”

You’re running now. Branches cut your face as you break through them. You have to find Will. You can’t lose him again. You can’t do that to Jonathan, to Joyce and El and Dustin and Mike and everyone else. You’re the one who lost Will that night.

He had needed you. Isn’t that what Vecna said?

“Nancy!” Sobbing, you call for someone, anyone. But no one answers. Your vision blurs with tears, there’s someone running behind you. Chasing you. Terrified, you scream for the person you need the most. “Steve!”

Saying his name must trigger something, because suddenly the scene changes. You’re no longer in the woods. You’re on the ledge of someone’s roof, overlooking a window sill. A large, bay window that you’ve spent countless slow mornings residing on. 

Steve’s house. 

He’s standing in front of his bed, facing the window, facing you, but he doesn’t look at you. Not how he always does; his gaze lacks warmth. 

“Steve!” You pound on the glass, you try desperately to get him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. His eyes are on Nancy, who sits on the bed before him. He leans down, brushes her hair out of her face, before bridging the distance between them.

You watch as Steve kisses Nancy. He cups her chin the way he cups yours. Bile rises in your throat; you can’t turn away. Their kisses become heated, Steve is tugging at Nancy’s hair and her clothes. She tugs at him as well, he helps her remove his shirt.

Nancy’s lips trace the expanse of Steve’s neck and his eyes, once closed in bliss, now open. He looks right at you. 

“Did you really think I’d forget her, Y/N?” His voice digs into your ears. Nancy nips at his neck and he moans. He throws his head back, looks at you again. “I can’t. At least, not as easily as your dad forgot you.”

You stumble back, crying so hard you can barely breathe. Steve laughs seeing your heartbroken reaction. It’s cruel and awful. He’s cold. You’ve never known his voice to hold so much malice. Not towards you. Not towards anyone. 

He’s wrong. Steve doesn’t love Nancy, not anymore. Vecna is the one saying this, you know it isn’t Steve. He would never say any of this to you, he could never be so cruel to you. He loves you. You know he does. 

“N-no! This isn’t-this isn’t real–”

But the hatred in Steve’s eyes causes your foot to catch on the edge of the roof. You don’t have time to catch yourself; your body is weightless again, only this time it’s a much shorter fall. You land on concrete. Ripping your eyes open, there are domed walls around you. 

Nancy stands above you. 

Hyperventilating, you crawl away from her. You’re in Steve’s pool, only it’s empty, infested with vines, and your fingers stain the ground with blood. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run.

“Y/N–” Nancy tries to stop you, but you scream at her, kicking. She only barely avoids your fury. Holding her hands up, she lowers her voice, softens it. She’s crying, her terror the same as yours. “Y/N, it’s me, okay?”

Your body trembles with exhaustion. You close your eyes, tired of fighting. “Please be real.”

“I’m real.” Nancy swears to you, carefully reaching for you. When you allow her touch, she helps you stand up. 

The memory of her having sex with Steve is burned into your mind. You can’t look Nancy in the eye. She breathes heavily next to, looking around for a way out, when she sees something. A strangled cry leaves Nancy’s lips.

Barbara Holland’s corpse sits on the other side of the pool.

You cover your mouth with a gasp, choking slightly at the sight. Nancy cries out in pain, in grief, seeing her best friend’s body dismembered by vines. You stumble towards Nancy and hold her as she sobs. 

“Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?” Vecna’s voice shakes the pool. “Don’t worry, I showed Y/N. When I kill someone… I never forget.”

A sob collapses in your chest. Barb’s death hadn’t been Nancy’s fault. Yet to place her in the same pool Barb was killed in, to show Nancy her corpse, is unrelenting cruelty. 

All around you, blood pours from the vents of the pool. It comes out quick, thick, at a dizzying speed. Nancy tugs at your hand and practically throws you up the ladder to escape. But when you reach the top, you’re met with a red hell.

It’s exactly how Max drew it.

Fragments of stairs, jagged pieces of wood, a grandfather clock, they all drift through the air painted with blood-red. Somewhere there’s screaming, the sound only drowned out by lightning. A clock ticks over and over again. Its metronome is maddening.

Nancy holds your hand and neither one of you lets go. Having nowhere else to go, you’re forced to walk down the stairs you arrived at. The clock chimes again and your heart stops.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Nancy. And Y/N…” Vecna pauses, preying on you. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

Everything stops.

“All the guilt, all the pain.” 

It comes to you in flashes. 

How Will used to smile at you, before his childhood was taken from him. Max’s blue eyes, shining with youth and happiness, before grief killed her. Billy, how he would be kind to your mother at the pool. Hopper, the way you’d bicker with him just to get him to smile.

It’s all gone because of you; you can’t remember how to breathe. 

Vecna feeds on your fear. “How fragile you’ve become… like a dandelion.” 

The wording, it’s too specific to not mean anything. Dandelions were once one of your favorite flowers. Before a nightmare from last summer changed everything. The dandelions had filled your mouth with razors and choked you. Someone called your name in the distance, they’d been too late to save you.

The dream had felt so real. You’d woken up with tears in your eyes.

And now you know it had been Vecna all along. Even back then. He’s been watching you for far longer than you realized. The realization chokes you, the fear overwhelms you. He’s been here all along.

Nancy yanks at your arm, you can barely hear her over the roaring in your head. “Y/N, listen to my voice.” 

She’s shaking you, trying to bring you back to her, but you’re lost. Hyperventilating, you struggle to catch your breath. You feel too vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. There are corpses strung up by vines in front of you. Fred’s broken jaw. Chrissy’s snapped neck. Patrick’s empty eye sockets. 

The same will happen to you. 

You’ve spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep everyone safe. You’ve devoted your entire life to protecting others, helping them. But Vecna has been watching you for almost an entire year, maybe even longer, and you hadn’t noticed.

It’s why he’s targeted Max. He watched you take care of everyone you loved. Vecna watched you raise the girl. He knew it’d hurt you the most to lose her. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It’s all your fault. It’s always your fault. Will went missing because of you. Billy died because you hadn’t said anything. Max will die because you hadn’t seen the signs sooner. 

Nancy’s screams fall deaf on your ears. She shakes you, begs you to come back, but why should you?

This is all your fault. 

It’s always your fault. 

It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always–

You feel your body lift. 

Everything fades to black.

-

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[judes-hoe]

Sweating body ~ JB5

Parrings ~ Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary ~ you and Jude normally shower together when he comes home from training, but today you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Warnings ~ fingering, jerking off, shower sex, p in v(unprotected), creampie

A/N ~ @obsessedwithjude @madridfangirl they both asked for the fic so you know I had to cook

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If there was one thing you and Jude loved to do, it was taking showers together. It would normally be after his training when you would shower. You both thought it was relaxing and intimate; it was something you both really enjoyed doing.

You thought, you loved when he would come home sweaty. Sure people think it’s gross, but not you. The way his sweat glistened in the light, and made him shine was something else. So today, just like any regular day. Jude comes home and sets his bag down.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, you needed him. Watching him just stand there taking his shoes off, and he’s all sweaty. The second he got his shoes off you take him to the shower, quickly undressing and turning the shower on to hot water but not too hot.

You quickly got in and Jude didn’t even hesitate, and he got in right behind you. When Jude got in you faced him, and pulled him into a kiss, he didn’t question it or hesitate. He kissed back, and he could tell you were needy. The way your hands trailed around his body.

Jude brought his hands around your waist and brought you closer to him, you could feel his growing hard cock against your abdomen. He then brought his hands lower and gave your ass a squeeze. That made you let out a moan into the kiss. Jude pulled away and started to kiss along your jaw and to your neck.

You were too caught up in his kisses, and your hands roaming his body. That you didn’t even feel him make his way to your pussy and put two fingers in. When you felt it you let out a moan and squeeze his waist, your head leaned against his chest.

He fucked you with his fingers. “What’s got you so turned on, you’re so wet.” He said into your ear, but all he got back was your moans. You reached a hand down and wrapped your hand around his cock jerking him off.

Jude took his fingers out of you and turned you around to face the wall. You place your hands on the wall bracing yourself. Jude rubs his tip up and down your folds. Making you let out little moans and pleads. Jude couldn’t tease you anymore.

He pushed in all the way and gripped your hips. You let out a moan at the stretch, something you might never get used to. Jude lets out a breathy moan before starting to move his hips. He slowly increases his speed to the point all you hear is the shower running, skin clapping, and you moans.

Jude pulls you against his chest, he starts to kiss your neck again. “You’re my needy girl huh?” Jude said against your neck. You let out a moan and nod. He brings one had to pinch and play with your nipple while the other goes down to your clit. At the extra stimulation you grab Jude’s wrist and moans out. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

Jude just puts his hands back on your hips and you brace yourself against the wall again. Feeling you clench around him made him cum inside you. He stays there for a moment before pulling out of you.

You both then properly shower and do everything. “So what got you so turned on?” Jude asked, you sigh and look at him while washing his body. “When you come home from training all sweaty, makes you look extra sexy.” You tell him truthfully. “And you been hiding that from me until now, maybe I’ll come home extra sweaty so that can happen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N ~ this will be my last fic I’m posting, I do have others in my drafts but this will be the last one I post. I’m trying to finish my Lewis series(2 chapters left). And then I wanna get at least wanna get chapter 2 and maybe 3 out for the Jude series. And I’m doing a quick Kylian series that I can finish before I go on my break. So just letting everyone know!

[feyhunter78]

Sidewalk Kisses

Art cred: mia_bobrhia

“No, so then we get to the next chapter, the one we were supposed to read before class, right? And this dumbass goes wait, who’s Ophelia again? We’re literally reading Hamlet; the book cover is that super famous painting of Ophelia, and he doesn’t even know who she is.” You rant, waving your hands wildly in frustration, recounting the drama from your last class as you and Miguel take the back way to your next classes. You’re walking down the cracked sidewalk, the large looming trees above, birds singing in their branches, it’s quiet, no one else is around.

Miguel hums in halfhearted acknowledgment, and you look over at him, slowing your pace.

“Sorry, I know I’m being dramatic, but it just pisses me off.” You say, and Miguel can see you curling in on yourself.

“Don’t apologize, I’m just enjoying listening.” He says, trying to blink himself out of the trace your beauty has put him in. “And looking at you.”

You look so pretty, your hair tied up, a few strands falling perfectly, framing your face, the sun on your skin, the flowers blooming on the trees and bushes behind you.

You give him a shy smile, looking up at him through your mascara adorned lashes. “You’re so sweet.”

It’s his turn to be shy, and he ducks his head. “It’s easy to be sweet to you, you deserve it.”

You smack his arm playfully, full on beaming at him now. “Shut up, I adore you.”

I love you. The words sit on the tip of his tongue, poised, ready for action, but he chokes them down. “Now who’s being too sweet?”

You giggle, and it’s like music, like bells, like everything he’s ever wanted to hear. He loves to hear you laugh.

Miguel wants to kiss you, but he knows once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and you both have classes to get to.

“Yeah, yeah, but anyways, so Dr. Wrinkler is like young man she is the very reason we’re reading this book. And dumbass just says I thought we were reading Hamlet because of Hamlet. Literally starts arguing with the professor! And I’m just sitting there dumbfounded, but also happy because I didn’t actually read the chapter before class, so I don’t mind him wasting class time.” You admit, giving Miguel an impish smile.

“My girlfriend, the ever-diligent student, is secretly a rule breaker, who would’ve known?” He jokes, glancing over at you when you stop dead in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”

You smile and go up on your toes, pressing your lips against his cheek. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me your girlfriend before; I like it.”

His cheeks warm and he ducks his head. “I…I like it too.”

You coo at him and smother his face with quick kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height, angling your lips against his in a way that feels both romantic and wildly inappropriate. His head spins and he can’t stop a whimper from escaping when your nails graze against the nape of his neck, and your tongue traces the seam of his lips.

You smile against him, tangling your hands in his hair, manicured nails massaging his scalp, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose a bit. He doesn’t care, you could devour him, break him into tiny pieces, melt him down, mold him into something new, whatever you want as long as you keep kissing him.

His hands go to your waist, pulling you closer, instinct taking over as he explores every inch of your mouth, the tip of his tongue running across yours, his grip tightening when he feels your breathing speed up.

You break away, breathing harshly, leaning into him like your knees are weak. “You’re um—you’re really good at that.”

“Only with you, mi dulce.” He says, and it’s not a lie, it’s the truest thing he knows. He likes kissing you, it comes naturally, everything he does you like and vice versa, there’s no wrong moves with you. “You inspire greatness in me.”

“Who knew you had such a silver tongue?” You tease, looking up at him with your pupils blown wide, your hands trailing lower, caressing his broad back.

Maybe he could convince you to skip class?

“If you would let me, I could show you more of it.” The words are honeyed, far smoother than he thought they would be, and Miguel holds his breath as he waits for your response.

Your breath catches in your throat and blink at him, stunned, flustered, lips parted in shock, or maybe anticipation? It’s an intoxicating expression, one that fuels him, fills him with courage.

“Déjame mostrarte cómo me has inspirado, mi musa, déjame arrodillarme ante ti, pintarte, tocarte, adorarte.” He whispers, drunk on your reaction, on the feeling of all your attention focused solely on him. Trsl: Let me show you how you have inspired me, my muse, let me kneel before you, paint you, touch you, worship you.

“Oh…” You breathe out, as you tilt your head subconsciously, your eyes flickering down to his lips.

He doesn’t need any other instruction, and he closes the distance, humming at the way you melt into him. He could do this forever, just you and him in the quiet of the day, sheltered by the shadow of the trees.

A sharp wolf whistle breaks you two apart.

“Damn, y/n, is that Honor Council approved?” Kelsy, one of your sisters’ calls, making you turn on your heel.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Ms. Honor Council Chairman?” You call back, rolling your eyes playfully.

“It’s not, but we’re going to be late for class, so I’ll excuse it.” Kelsy says, linking her arm with yours and pulling you towards the direction of your class, casting a sympathetic look over her shoulder towards Miguel. “Sorry lover boy, gotta steal your girl, good grades and all that.”

He just nods, feeling back in that daze from before. It’s only the sight of you blowing him a kiss that breaks the trance, and he forces himself to head to his own class, the feeling of your lips on his still lingering.

I KNOW THIS ONE IS SHORT BUT I'M TRAINING THE NEW GIRL AT WORK SO I'VE HAD ZERO TIME TO WRITE + EDIT, SO THIS IS ALL I'VE GOT TILL SHE CAN STAND ON HER OWN SO SORRYYYY

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 17: The Sovereign, the Slayer, and the Seer.

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel and Nyra are sweet. Also, Nyra wields her power in different ways.

Author's message: This is the last chapter before a time skip where I'm going to speed up things by inserting all the fluff and the smut I wrote in the office, the public transport, and everywhere I got carried away.

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 6.8k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra remembered the day she poisoned her mother for the first time. 

It hurt every time her mother slashed her palm, seeing Nesta being moulded into something else, seeing Elain and Feyre walking on eggshells every day. 

Their mother had plans for them—Nyra to be poisoned, Nesta married to an old duke, Elain and Feyre sent to a horrible aunt. It was too much. Everyone was at risk. And their father was as unreliable and absent as ever. 

There was also the story of left-handed women in the Archeron family. Long before the partition of the lands between the fae and humans, their ancestors had resided in a land of snow, the proof of which lived on in their blue eyes. 

One ancestor had been summoned by a fae who prophesied about a left-handed female born into the family with a fate woven in darkness. To prevent that, the fae suggested forcing the left-handed ones to ‘become’ right-handed. 

That led to the cruel practice of slashing the left palms of left-handed girls, to force them to use their right hand. Failure to do so before puberty resulted in poisoning to death. No left-handed girl in the family survived.

Her mother had started slashing her palm every three to four weeks somewhere around the age of five and had started poisoning her by the age of twelve, nearing puberty. Death awaited her but that was merciful compared to the life her sisters would’ve lived.

So she did it. 

She poisoned her mother, passed it off as an illness, and the horrible woman finally passed away. 

Back then, Nyra had been poisoned enough for an aftermath that would last her entire life as an incurable illness. 

Then came the Cauldron. And then she’d died. Really died. 

Yes. It was a very painful affair. As if she was being ripped from. . . something.

Nyra was the only one who did not remember the kidnapping or how she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. Her only vague memory was about being drenched, walking, laying down, and a blue light before everything turned black. 

Her left hand had begun trembling and her scar reminded her of Azriel’s hands. 

“My half brothers were not pleased with the existence of a bastard. They wanted to test if their father’s illegitimate progeny had enough healing prowess so. . . they. .” 

Azriel hesitated to continue. Nyra hummed, looking at the night sky. She laid her head against his arm and continued to not look at him even though she felt his gaze on her. 

“What do you think of it?” Nyra straightened herself and looked at him, caught unaware by his question. He seemed expectant and nervous. 

“I don’t have the right to have an opinion, Az.”  She answered softly.

“I am a bastard.” 

“And?”

“My hands are like this.”

“And?” 

“Surely you must think something about it.”

Nyra looked at the night sky. “Why do you sound like you’re trying to push me away?” 

She now turned to him fully, angling her body accordingly. “It’s like you’re asking me to- I don’t know. What are you trying to do? Stop me from wanting to be your friend?” 

Azriel had nothing to say. He looked down at his scarred hands like an admonished child. 

“I’m not- I don’t even know what to say. Just. . Ugh!” That was the first time Nyra had ever let herself make a sound like that. Let herself not be ladylike as her mother had demanded. “Do you hate me or something?” 

“I don’t hate you.” He immediately spoke, sounding panicked. 

“I think you’re brave.” She whispered. “I also think that if your half brothers were alive, I might’ve struck them with lightning. Or poisoned them.” 

“Murder is a crime.” Azriel tried to joke. She found him so adorable. 

“Nobody can tell if I summoned the lightning or if it was actually a natural disaster.” She drawled with a smile.

“I can.” Azriel was now amused. 

“I’d like to think that if I were murdering someone, you’d wait with a shovel to hide the body.”  

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. “I think I might just hand you the Truth Teller for your murder.”

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your pretty knife, Az.” 

“That pretty knife has drawn much blood.” 

“It’s too late for me.” Her words might have sounded out of context but the way Azriel’s features morphed into surprise, she knew he’d understood. 

“You. . .” He was looking at her again, lips parted. 

“What?” She laughed.

“I didn’t. . . I. .”

“I suppose it’s baffling.” 

“Consider me baffled.” He exhaled and looked straight ahead. “Wow. That’s. . .”

“Scary?”

“Surprising, baffling, mind blowing, yes. Scary, no.” 

“Would be the shock of anyone’s life if a woman like me scared the Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Azriel immediately looked at her, his gaze shaking her soul. “You’re a myriad of mysteries, Nyra Archeron, and I may be too curious for my own good.” 

She looked away with a smile, closing her eyes. 

“How about we exchange secrets?” Azriel’s proposal was tempting. Feeding her desire to know the elusive Spymaster. 

“Go on.”

“I was twelve when I first killed.” 

And Nyra grinned brightly at that. “Same!” 

It was strange to be talking and bonding over such topics but Azriel looked at her and grinned back. And under the night sky with a crescent moon hanging over them, they’d confessed everything about their first kill. 

By the end of that conversation, Azriel had an arm around Nyra’s shoulder and she was leaning against him. 

“I feel light.” He spoke softly. And she knew she felt the same. Years of bottling things up and she was finally unravelled. 

“I want to tell Feyre and Elain.” About how she’d killed their mother.

“Feeling ready?”

“I feel light.” She repeated his words and looked at him. If life was a little better, kinder, maybe they would’ve kissed. But this was the best of reality and this moment would continue to live in her memory. 

He squeezed her arm and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and reality became infinitely more beautiful. 

Nyra smiled. 

The timing was bad. 

War was inevitable. The king wanted the Archeron sisters. Everyone was preparing. Nyra was learning to control her powers and access more information from her archives but. . . She was so attracted to Azriel. 

In her defence, Azriel should not be so. . . perfect. 

He was kind and so sweet to her. Always so patient and made time for her. Such a wonderful soul. So reliable. 

And he had a great face. That was just. . . Nyra clutched her sheets and turned over to the other side. And she turned again. 

She would’ve liked to complain because how was his every movement so sensual? And why did he spar shirtless? 

Nyra continued yawning but she couldn’t sleep. The first light of dawn peeked in from the corners of the curtains. 

Frustrated, she grabbed a robe and stepped out, walking through the dimly lit corridor. She reached the staircase and since she’d never been upstairs, she ascended. A door was ajar and she could see the lavender sky before the sun truly appeared for the day. 

As she neared it, the light of the dawn was covered by the glaring darkness. Dark swirls wafted over to her and stopped in front of her. 

She lifted a hand as she always did and welcomed the shadows to play with her. They perched themselves on her head and shoulders and crawled along the skirts and sleeves of her robe and finally played with her fingers and cheeks. Their cool touch made her sleepier. 

The call of her name jolted her from her haze. Feyre was standing by the door. 

“Hello.” She sounded so tired and sleepy and soft. Feyre took her hand and took her with her. The terrace of the House of Wind was in fact an open space and Cassian was yelling and Nyra nearly stumbled only for the shadows to catch her waist. 

“Careful.” Feyre warned, immediately at her side now that she’d realised her sleepy sister might need more assistance if she were to reach anywhere safely. 

The shadows were cool and so gentle and their wispy sounds were lulling her to sleep so nicely. Feyre helped her lean against a wall somewhere and Nyra no longer felt her hand. 

She enjoyed the sensation of the shadows massaging her head and shoulders and hands. And she was so sleepy she could simply fall and not care where she fell. 

“Nyra!” The loud voice jolted her from her haze. Was that Cassian?

“You woke her up, idiot.” Another voice came, low and deep and she could fall in that voice and sleep there. 

“Overprotective bastard.” A male laugh followed that comment. 

Footsteps and more voices and she forced herself to open her eyes. Her vision took their time to clear up and finally revealed three shirtless Illyrians to her. Nyra blinked and then frowned. 

“Won’t you catch a cold?” She meant to sound stern but she sounded too soft. A yawn escaped her. 

“I’ll be fine. Feyre darling is here to warm me up.” Rhysand sounded like he was eagerly waiting for that.

“And Cassian and Azriel will warm each other up?” She asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“You’re welcome to join us, Nyra.” Cassian grinned and she couldn’t help her smile at the early morning teasing. 

“I’d like to sleep.”

“You’d be missing out.” Cassian teased again and received another yawn as a reply. 

“Wouldn’t you rather have Azriel all to yourself?” Nyra smiled softly. She looked at Azriel and frowned. “Where are your shadows?”

The shadowsinger smiled at her. “With you.” 

And as if they wanted to remind her, one of the tendrils tugged at her fingers. She looked down at her hand and found shadows on her hands and the length of her robe. 

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Azriel asked. He sounded kind and his intentions were kind and her stupid self didn’t even bother registering that because his voice was far too sensual to her ears and it made her shiver. 

“You’re cold.” Azriel noted. And when her eyes cooperated with her, she found herself in front of a very sweaty, shirtless Azriel whose chest glowed in the early light of dawn. She blinked, took a step back, and lost her balance. 

Azriel had moved faster than she could comprehend and had caught her but sleep was betraying her for the second time that morning by abandoning her when she needed it the most. 

Because how was anyone supposed to see a shirtless Azriel in close proximity and remain standing? Nyra did not know how so she frowned. 

“I’m not cold.” She mumbled as the shadowsinger helped her stand straight. Her cheeks were warming up.

“And sleepy.” He helped her stand straight. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” Azriel placed his arms behind her back and legs and lifted her.

“I was not sleepy earlier when I left my room.” She mumbled, her head laying against his chest. His heartbeat was a beautiful sound. It was speeding up. “Your heartbeat is fast.” 

“I’ve been training awhile now, Nyra.” He made her name sound nicer than it usually was. Made her feel cherished with the way he called her name. 

And she wanted to do that for him. She wanted to love him. To cherish him. 

And she felt herself smile. 

This was. . . freeing.

Was this how it was?

To have a heart without inhibitions or doubts? 

How easy was it to see his face and forget everything else?

“Hm.” She turned her head towards his chest. “You smell nice.”

“I’m sweaty.” He had begun descending the stairs. She could feel it in the way he moved with her in his arms.

“Still nice.” And she found that comfortable space. With the shadows caressing her and Azriel’s warmth and the sound of his heartbeat, she floated away into the cosy dark. 

The realisation that her heart was leaving her to be somebody else’s affected her in a way she did not quite understand. But it was Azriel. . .

Nyra turned to the other side and slept soundly.

****

“What?” Feyre asked, amused by Cassian glancing at her for the third time. She had just entered wearing that starlit gown.

“You just look so. . .” 

“Here we go.” Mor muttered from beside Nyra. 

“Official.” Cassian looked at Mor incredulously. “Fancy.” 

Nyra snorted and Cassian scowled at her. Azriel chuckled from the front door as he entered. His besotted shadows were already floating towards Nyra. 

“Over five hundred years old. A skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you to diplomatic meetings?” Mor shook her head, feigning disappointment.

When the shadowsinger laughed again, Cassian glared at him. “I don’t see you resorting to poetry, brother.”

Azriel crossed his arms, smiling faintly at the sight of Nyra and his shadows. “I don’t need to resort to it.” 

Nyra looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Really?”

Azriel stared at her, wide eyed at having been caught off guard. He looked away as his cheeks warmed while the greedy little shadows tugged at her fingers, demanding her attention again. And while she fondly played with them, Rhys had appeared. 

“I thought you were leaving.” Nesta’s voice came from atop the stairs. She descended, moved past Cassian and Morrigan, and stopped near Nyra. She patted her twin on the head and walked towards Feyre to declare her intention to go with them. 

“As High Lady, Feyre is no longer my emissary to the human world.” Rhysand smiled at Nesta. “Want the job?”

A spark flared in those silvery blue eyes. “Consider this meeting a trial basis. And I’ll make you pay through the teeth for my services.”

Rhys bowed a little. “I would expect nothing less of an Archeron sister. Welcome to the court. You’re about to have one hell of a first day.” 

Nesta smiled, something unexpected for most of them. She went over to Nyra and sat on the armrest. “Are you okay?”

“Not good, not bad.” Nyra replied. 

Rhysand looked over at Nyra. “Interested in being an emissary, Nyra?”

She looked at him, contemplated the offer, and replied. “When I’m feeling better.” 

“You should.” Nesta spoke, looking at her with mild disapproval. “Make use of those languages you learned.”

“You’re fluent in those languages too.”

“Languages?” Feyre asked. 

“Eight.” Nyra raised her hand.

“Seven.” Nesta raised her hand.

“When?” Rhysand was stupefied. Languages in the mortal and fae lands were quite similar owing to the coexistence of both species until five hundred years ago. 

“Mother nearly screeched at us to learn five. We got carried away.” Nyra answered. 

“I’m not the one who learned another language just to talk to someone she’d only met.” Nesta muttered.

“Tell me about this.” Cassian eagerly asked, forgetting that he was supposed to remain nonchalant with Nesta. 

Nesta looked at him, surprised. She simply stared at him before finally speaking. “Once upon a time, Nyra wanted to talk to someone. But he did not speak any languages we were fluent in. So she learned his language and finally spoke to him.”

“Him?” Rhysand was now grinning like a cat and watching an utterly stone faced Azriel.

“Shut up.” Nyra muttered. The shadows had begun tugging on her fingers, as if someone would somehow take her away. 

“Two minutes into the conversation and she pushes him from the balcony.” Nesta concluded, earning a shocked look from all.

“As she should.” Azriel muttered. 

Nyra looked up at him in disbelief. “You don’t even know what happened.”

Azriel walked over and laid a possessive arm around her. He squeezed the flesh of her shoulder to remind himself that she was here in front of him. “I don’t need to.” 

Azriel simply watched her. He could watch her for so long. Her eyes as they brightened and dimmed during conversations. The movement of her mouth as she spoke and laughed and frowned or cried. 

And she was so willing to allow his scarred hands to touch her. 

Azriel had held Nyra a few times. And he was always marvelling at how unbelievably soft she was. For someone like him, she was so easily pressed against him. 

And he wrapped her in his arms for a hug. When Nyra looked up at him, confused, Azriel realised what he’d done. “My mother likes hugs during her cycle.” 

It was true. 

“She sounds nice.” Nyra pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes in contentment. “Warm hugs are nice.”

At this moment, where war was imminent, Azriel wanted to marry this female. 

Because every moment with her would be worth a lifetime of waiting and an unpredictable future. 

He heard her breathing pattern became even. She was comfortable and about to fall asleep. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” 

“I won’t.” Nyra sounded tired and ready to fall asleep in his arms and Azriel was sure he would not leave if that happened. He looked at the people around him. 

His stupid brothers were grinning with Feyre soon picking up on the feel of the family. He was already suspicious of Mor being attracted to Nyra. The appearance of Elain at the end of the corridor, walking towards them, caught his eye. 

Elain looked at him and then at Nyra and hurried over. She took Nyra from Azriel’s arms and made her sit. Azriel knelt before her and took her hand. “Sleepy?”

“Hm.”

“Does it hurt?” 

Nyra sat straight, a little alert. “. . . no.” 

“Your tea will be ready soon.” 

“Hm.” Nyra looked at him and frowned when she realised something. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you still here?”

And could he ever answer that with the truth? That he wanted to be with her and take care of her. And that every moment he took here was his selfishness trying to salvage every scrap of a shared moment. 

At that moment, Rhysand walked over and patted her head with a fond smile. “Tea is on the second shelf from the top right. You know where the mugs are. Books are in the family library but if you need more from downstairs, Azriel’s shadows can get them for you. And-”

“If you want to go to the priestess’ library, ask Clotho for Inanna.” Mor interrupted her cousin. “There’s an ample supply of snacks and if you want something else, just tell the wraiths and they’ll get it for you. And-”

“Tell the shadows if you need anything.” It was Azriel’s turn now. “Tea, cheesecake, books, anything. They’ll get it for you. And if you want to go outside, tell them. They’ll take you wherever you wish.” 

“Do they go shopping?”

“Yes.” He’d discovered that recently when the shadows started spending his money on dresses that they were delighted when Nyra wore. He had no clue exactly which dresses they’d bought and Nyra knew nothing. 

We bought all of them. The little bastards sounded entirely proud. 

Look at the sage green she’s wearing now. 

Very demure. 

Very adorable. 

And we were very mindful. 

They were in their own world, celebrating as if they’d achieved something and Azriel did not even say anything because Nyra looked really. . . gods, he wanted to tear out his heart and give it to her. 

“No going back now.” Cassian grinned. 

Rhysand’s wings were now visible and as Nyra learned, it would be seen by the other High Lords and their diplomats for the first time. “I figure it’s time for the world to know who really has the largest wingspan.”

“Wingspan?” Nyra asked. 

Mor sauntered over with an impish grin. Azriel twirled Nyra around, shielding her from the blonde female but that didn’t deter Mor from nearly shouting. “Azriel has the largest-” Feyre nearly hauled her away. 

“Feyre. She needs to know this. It’s absolutely important.” Morrigan protested as if she’s been stopped from divulging the secret of the universe. “Azriel has the largest mmfph-” Feyre covered Mor’s mouth but the rest of the sentence was not hard for Nyra to guess. 

And Nyra who had been cornered by Azriel looked up at him with an amused smile. “Does the wingspan mean something else?”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t know how to answer that. He opened his eyes and found himself enamoured by her. 

“Is that why you don’t resort to poetry?” She tilted her head with a smile, completely swept away by the urge to tease him. 

Azriel met her gaze. He did not blush, did not shy away, but looked at her with intent. He leaned down to her ear and whispered. “Would you like to find out?” 

Nyra’s smile was no more. The intensity in his eyes was beginning to be reflected in her own. She saw his gaze fall from her eyes to her lips. 

Something more powerful than lightning crackled between them. 

Nyra, now aware of her own attraction towards him, was not in control of her words or actions. 

Azriel, on the other hand, had simply succumbed to the odd bit of courage and had not expected the way she reacted. 

She’s attracted. She finds you attractive! The shadows nearly blew his eardrums with their cheers. Kiss her! Kiss her, you stupid male! 

“Go to your meeting.” Nyra whispered, placing a hand on his chest. She pushed him but he did not budge. 

She met his gaze and saw his yearning. Nyra really hoped she wasn’t hallucinating because if this male was yearning for her, then. . . this was probably the right time to faint. 

Why hadn’t she fainted yet? 

She’d been looking at Azriel’s unreasonably attractive face for this long. Surely, she should’ve fainted by now. Meanwhile, the shadows enveloped them and brought them to another room.

Azriel placed a gentle palm on her cheek. He was close. So close that another breath could lead to a kiss. “Will you be fine?” 

“Yes.” Nyra felt like she would’ve said yes to anything at that moment. This was maddening. Azriel was looking at her lips now. 

“What’s happening?” Nyra whispered.

“Whatever you’d like.” He looked her in the eye.

“You’ll be late.” The implication that he’d be late because he’d be occupied with her did not escape either of them. What they’d be doing to be occupied remained undecided.

“I’m not. . .” She trailed away and then kissed the corner of his mouth. “That’s all I’m brave enough to do.” She looked at his chest where her nails were sort of scratching on his leathers. 

Azriel leaned in, consumed by his own desire and Nyra’s, their eyes fluttering close, and then he stopped. “Not now.” 

Nyra looked up at him, eyes narrowed and irritation flashing in them. 

Azriel laughed lightly and grabbed her waist. “Do you feel this?” He pushed his hips against hers, eliciting a delicious gasp. “If I start, I will make us both finish.” 

Nyra scowled. “Since you have a grand total of zero intentions of doing anything, go.” 

“Must you be so adorable?” Azriel rubbed his nose against hers. 

“Must you be so annoying?” Nyra shot back. Azriel thrust his hips against hers, nearly going mad when she gasped against his lips. His cock was enjoying the friction far too much and ached for clothes to be discarded.

“Are you actually going to this meeting?” She did not sound like she wanted him to go. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Yes, yes, yes, yes. And even when he asked the question, he knew that she wanted him to stay. 

“There’s a war, Azriel.” Her mood dampened and so did his. It was a brutal reminder that things were too dangerous. 

Azriel stepped back and extended a hand. She gave him her left hand, her dominant hand, and he kissed the back of it. “I’ll be back.” 

The pair of them stepped out of the room to meet a very smug lot of busybodies. 

“We will talk.” Nesta gave her a secret smile.

“No, we will not.” Nyra retorted. 

“Anyway,” She looked at the smirking High Lord and his entourage. “All the very best to you nosy lot.” She looked at Nesta. “And if you sense that thing. . . right.” 

Nesta nodded impassively. Nyra saw Elain and her teasing smile and the older sister blanched because Nesta was going away for now but Elain would be here and she could be relentless when she wanted to be. “And stop smirking, Azriel.” 

“You’re not even looking at me.” The shadowsinger spoke. 

“I don’t have to.” Nyra then looked at him pointedly to see him shake his head with a close-eyed smile. 

“Brother dearest.” Rhysand flung an arm over Azriel’s shoulder and from where he stood, the Spymaster disappeared into the shadows to reach ahead at the Dawn Court. Rhys nearly fell before retaining his balance and eventually, his posture. And the company departed for Dawn.

****

What did he even expect when Eris had the ability to speak, Beron continued to exist, and Tamlin—Mother knew how much of that High Priestess’s insolence had rubbed off on him. 

Azriel knew his family could feel his irritation. A few of his shadows were with Nyra but that didn’t make up for him not being there with her. 

When Nesta felt something was wrong, the three Illyrians scouted for danger. They were in the House of Wind to check in on Elain and Nyra and found both sisters together. Both sisters were sitting on the floor with Elain holding Nyra’s cheeks and worrying.  

“Something is wrong.” Elain looked at Rhys. “I can feel it but Nyra is. . .”

“Allow me to help you.” Rhysand sat down with her and tried to enter Nyra’s mind only to be thwarted by a storm. The High Lord looked at the shadowsinger who was already sitting next to Nyra. “Can you reach her?”

Azriel focused on the bond, on that blessing that tied his rotten self to this wonderful person. Please. Nyra. Come back. 

“The Cauldron.” She whispered. Azriel watched her closely, wondering if he had been successful in reaching her. Nyra turned to him, her eyes still brightly gleaming. “It will break soon. There’s so much pain.” 

Her eyes returned to their original blue. “Az.” She gasped. He immediately gathered her in his arms. “It’s too wrong. The balance is at stake.” 

“Nyra?” Rhysand called and she turned to him. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“I. . . I think the Cauldron was calling for help.”

“Tell us everything.” Cassian had sat down on Elain’s other side. 

“They’re trying to break something.” Nyra said. “Using the Cauldron.”

“The boundary will shatter.” Elain spoke, her eyes now white. “Gods will rise. The mirror will awaken the Sovereign and the Slayer-” Elain stopped abruptly to shut her ears. “No, no, no, no.” And she kept chanting. 

“Elain, please let me in. I can help you.” Rhysand touched her shoulder. And they waited and watched as Rhysand help Elain calm down. She was now unconscious and a wave of night carried her to the bed. 

They turned to Nyra who was looking at Elain. 

“I’m staying.” Azriel spoke, his voice allowing no argument. 

“All right.” Rhysand. “Come to Dawn tomorrow.” The shadowsinger glared at him. “If things are better here.” The High Lord quickly added. Azriel did not deign to reply as he focused on Nyra. 

“All right.” Nyra looked at the General. “How is she?” 

“Physically, she’s fine but I think whatever she felt, it disturbed her.” Cassian himself seemed disturbed. Rhysand patted Nyra’s head and so did Cassian before the two headed for the balcony leaving Azriel, Nyra, and an unconscious Elain in the same room. 

“You could’ve left.” Nyra spoke as she continued to watch Elain. She waved her hand in front of her, lightning crackling at her fingertips as she cast a shield on Elain’s malnourished frame. 

She looked at Azriel and gestured with her head towards the door. They exited and found themselves in front of the door to Nyra’s room.

“I’m worried.” He watched her as she got lost in thought. He touched her shoulder and made her look at him. “Let’s have dinner.” She nodded and followed him. 

Neither of them paid much attention to the food or to anything else. They also did not mind as they entered her room, as she changed into her nightdress, and as Azriel removed his shirt. They quietly laid down, and chastely embraced each other, and fell asleep sharing an intimacy that calmed each other. 

****

“How did you even meet him?” Feyre whispered to Elain. All four Archerons, Azriel, Morrigan, and Rhysand waited as the gates to Lord Nolan’s prison-like estate opened.

“At a ball—his father’s ball.” 

“I’ve been to funerals that were merrier.” Nesta muttered, not caring if she was offending anyone.

“This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.” Elain sharply looked at Nesta before facing ahead. Behind her, both Feyre and Nesta looked at Nyra as if to ask how Nyra even approved of this match. The lightning wielder looked at them, raised her hands in surrender.

The stench of fear and disgust was overwhelming as the fae were escorted to the guardhouse. Nesta readied herself to control her temper and to let go if Graysen so much as breathed wrongly. Nyra remained observant and Feyre stood by her side. 

Do you think Nesta will kill him? Feyre asked, worrying about the consequences of harming humans. 

Probably. Nyra replied, looking around as they entered. 

And what type of person is Lord Nolan?

I might kill him. Feyre let surprise overtake her features for a single second before schooling them. She clutched Nyra’s arm in worry and in an attempt to restrain. 

Graysen entered and looked at Elain earnestly. His father certainly intimidated Elain enough for her stutter. Nesta took over, revealing the news about the wall and the Cauldron. Introductions were made by Feyre and Elain finally braved herself to make her request. Unfortunately, things escalated. 

“I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.” 

Feyre felt Nyra’s calm fury as Lord Nolan said those words. She’d never been once afraid of her older sister. Her sweet older sister who never denied her a story to put her to sleep and keep away the nightmares. 

Nyra who continued to remind Feyre what it meant to have a human heart even though she knew that her older sister had lost her own many years ago. Nyra whose words carried her for all of her human life so she could finally find her own will. 

Wasn’t he the one who hurt Azriel in Hybern? Nyra was too calm as she asked. Feyre remembered that she had shown Nyra everything that happened in Hybern and now she was worried.

Yes. Feyre’s reply was followed by the roar of thunder. 

Feyre held her older sister by the arm and drew circles on the back of her hand because the rainstorm that had just begun was proof that Nyra was not as calm as her expression portrayed her to be. The High Lady held her sister long enough for Jurian’s side of the story to be heard. Azriel had vanished into the shadows to update Cassian.

We may have to get this problematic creature away from here. Nesta’s voice entered Feyre and Rhysand’s minds.

Jurian?  Rhysand asked. 

Nyra has recognised him as the one who hurt Azriel. Feyre clarified. 

She’ll fry him like a fish. Nesta did not sound worried. 

That explains the rainstorm. Rhysand sighed. Two idiots who don’t even realise their feelings for each other. He remembered the sadist Azriel could be while torturing people. He thought he’d seen the worst and the last of it when the shadowsinger tortured his half-brothers but clearly that wasn’t the case. The raven who’d touched Nyra was still in the dungeons, screaming to be killed. And for the first time, he’d seen the shadows actively torture someone. 

And- Their attention was drawn to Elain and Graysen arguing over the engagement ring. 

“Take. It. Off!” For a human surrounded by fae of such power, his audacity to shout was shocking. Things were about to get ugly. Graysen ignored his father’s warning and moved forward. 

“Take it off!” Graysen roared. Lightning struck the land right outside. Lord Nolan rushed over to the window to see the stables broken and burning despite the sudden rain. Graysen’s gaze followed his father. 

Lightning crackled inside the room, playing with the hands of one fae who had remained utterly calm. Till now. “You will mind your tone when you speak to my family.” 

Nyra tapped Feyre’s hands and the youngest let go of her sister. “You will grant sanctuary to any human who reaches here. And you will shut your mouth and do as I say lest you’d prefer that I eradicate everything in the vicinity.”

“You wouldn’t.” Graysen put on a facade of false bravery. 

“Or would I?” Nyra challenged and the human lordling couldn’t meet it as he looked at the lightning crackling at her fingertips.

And before Graysen could say anything, Lord Nolan grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the room. “Get your faerie people out of here.” 

“Father, you cannot simply-”

“Listen to me well, boy. Whether she’s human or fae is irrelevant—you do not mess with Nyra Archeron.” Lord Nolan was supposedly whispering but the fae could hear it clearly with their hearing. 

The father roughly let go of his son and the latter turned to Elain. “I am not marrying you. Our engagement is over. I will take whatever people occupy your lands. But not you. Never you.” 

And before the insolent reptile could say anything to break Elain’s heart further, Nesta smacked him across the face. The fae departed upon Nesta’s declaration to do so and Nyra spared Jurian a withering glance. Jurian met her gaze and bowed his head. “Greetings to you, Conqueror of the Cauldron.”

****

When the war began, Nyra resolved to look after Elain who was having more nightmares. It was quiet between them and Elain’s visions were showing her all sorts of things. Some were calming, some were outright terrifying. And Nyra quietly absorbed Elain’s exhaustion. 

The end of the first battle came with a plan to glamour soldiers. Nyra simply tapped Feyre’s forehead and granted her access to her power. “Don’t overdo it. It might harm you.” 

And they watched the end of it as Cassian was cornered and he continued to fight valiantly. As Azriel in a cloud of shadows and blue lights fought to reach his brothers. As Nyra worried for the two of them, a flash of her power found its way to the shadowsinger. The sisters watched as Azriel slammed his fist on the ground, releasing a blast of lightning in the surrounding area. 

****

Nyra felt the wrongness of this dream. Thunder collapsed as she woke up. She looked around and found Nesta on her bed but Elain?

She threw away her blankets and took her robe. Elain was not on her bed. Or anywhere in sight. Nyra exited the tent and looked around. Everything seemed fine. 

Her eyes glowed and she found the trail of Elain’s golden magic. Without another thought, Nyra followed it. 

Nyra quietened. Mud and twigs and dirt and leaves clung to the hem of her nightdress and robe by the time she reached the enemy’s camp where Elain’s trail led her to. 

Nyra observed the rotations of the guards patrolling, timed them, waited for the opportunity, and snuck in. She followed the trail cautiously and reached a tent with a table, Elain, and the ghastly Cauldron. Wispy smokes emanated from it, taunting her. 

Once she’d helped Elain stand up straight, the younger sister began ranting about someone else. “There’s a child. A human.” Elain spoke between her sobs, eyes white. “She’s here. . . and she’s so young. We can’t leave her here.” 

Nyra hesitated. It was one thing that Elain was kidnapped. She didn’t even know how they were going to return. She exhaled, giving up on trying to convince Elain to worry about herself before others. 

“Where’s she?” Elain led her to an altar. One look and Nyra realised that Elain had not thought of how this girl was to be saved. 

The girl was human and tied to a wooden pole on the altar. Those surrounding the altar were playing cards and discussing how they would ‘take’ the girl. 

Rage swirled within her and the first clap of lightning struck the nearest group. Nyra stood tall, lightning crackling all over her body. The next group of people were examining the remains of those who had been charred and she moved in a flash of lightning. 

A flash of light was all that any of them saw before they dropped dead, vital organs severed from their bodies. After the massacre, the girl’s cries stopped. Nyra looked at her and stepped on the altar. Elain followed and began helping her. “We’ll get you out of here.” 

Nyra looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, consumed by the power she now wielded freely. Rain poured gently over the land. Lightning fractured the sky and thunder echoed around the world. 

A tingle passed through them and the next thing they knew, they were in the camp with the Inner Circle at a distance, with Rhysand and Azriel facing each other, the former’s authority weak against the latter’s unfiltered wrath. 

The sudden thrum of power in the air caught their attention and they turned and saw the three females. 

“Feyre!” Elain cried. The human girl had fainted in her arms. Feyre looked at Elain and Nyra, horrified at the sight. 

The lightning wielder looked at her blood-coated hands. With her hands, she’d taken lives. She’d massacred them. Her rage was a ferocious beast—waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And it had. She’d been possessed by something so vicious and it was an entirely familiar feeling. 

“Nyra.” Nesta called her but Nyra couldn’t look her in the eye. She was unworthy. But then she felt hands on her own. The blood was now on Nesta’s hands. 

Nyra’s eyes were hot and wet with tears and as much as she clenched her jaw and bit her lip, she wanted to scream. She had killed, killed, and it wasn’t the first time but some part of her was lost. And something vile had taken its place. 

Lightning was a frightening element but it was hers—the element that now bowed to her. The element and everything beyond.

Death embraced her twin, and the skies roared throughout the night, renouncing any sense of tranquillity. And Nyra mourned for herself in Nesta’s arms.

****

The final battle in the mortal lands felt a little personal. Maybe because she was once human. 

A few of Azriel’s shadows were with her, helping her with mundane tasks, bringing Elain and the Truth Teller upon her request for a distraction. 

When Elain stabbed the king’s neck, the twins moved. A hand wrapped in lightning ripped away the king’s arm, freeing their father, and the shadows whisked him away. 

The king’s corpse fell and three Archerons towered over it. 

The inky black surface of the Cauldron had started cracking, not letting Feyre move away and with Amren inside. A bird of light and fire emerged, draining more of the Cauldron’s power. 

Nyra reached the Cauldron in a flash of lightning and placed a hand on it. Her eyes glowed blue. Nesta and Elain had joined her, their eyes now silver and white. Feyre could now let go of the Cauldron and she watched her sisters let their power flow to fix it. 

But what Feyre thought was not what was happening. The Cauldron cracked further and a white light emanated from the cracks seeming as if lightning adorned the artefact. And then, it broke. 

Feyre was soon joined by her mate, the other High Lords, and everyone else when the battle was finally over. 

Her sisters pushed in a wave of power to contain the essence. The cracked pieces of the Cauldron rose into the air and above them. It came together, melted like iron in fire, and took shape. 

A brand new Cauldron was formed with legs and carvings. 

Three hands gathered the essence from the old Cauldron and poured it inside the new one.

And when the power subsided and the Cauldron was settled, the Sovereign of the Skies, the Slayer of the King, and the Seer of the Stars remained. 

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.

At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.

It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.

All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.

It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.

Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.

So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.

As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.

Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.

“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”

You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.

Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.

When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.

Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.

“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”

Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”

Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.

The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”

You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?

A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.

You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.

The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.

You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.

The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.

But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.

You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.

“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.

“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.

Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.

“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.

At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.

Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.

Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.

“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.

Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”

Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.

“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.

Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”

But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”

“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”

“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”

Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”

“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”

Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”

Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”

You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”

Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”

You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.

“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.

Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”

A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.

“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”

Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”

“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”

“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.

“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”

Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”

Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.

Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”

With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.

You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.

Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.

Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”

Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”

Another second, and it would have been too late.

“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”

“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”

His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.

“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”

Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.

“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”

You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.

Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.

“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”

You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”

Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”

“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.

“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.

“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”

Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.

“Maybe.”

The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.

Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”

Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”

“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”

You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”

Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.

“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”

“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”

Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.

“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”

You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”

Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?

“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”

You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.

Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”

He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.

You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?

You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.

In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.

Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.

You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.

Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.

“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”

The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.

“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”

“Colt, I—”

“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”

Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”

The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.

He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.

When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.

With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.

“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”

“I know.”

You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”

“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.

Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 6

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Epilogue

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: it’s finally the day of your graduation.

word count: 2.7k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: okay this is the real last chapter!! this was gonna be a drabble so i wasn't gonna really count it, but this is a more solid ending lol. enjoy<333

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“We have to go! Now!” you yell as you stand by the front door of your apartment. You and your roommate had planned to walk over to campus together for graduation, but, like always, she’s running late. Your feet are already starting to hurt in your blue heels, and your skin has a thin layer of sweat from running around the apartment while getting ready.

Finally, your roommate comes out of the bathroom, giving you a wide smile as she jogs to the door. 

“Okay, jeez. How does Evan put up with you all the time?” she teases once she gets to the door. She grabs her purse hanging by the door and steps out as you swing the door open, and you roll your eyes as she passes. She may have a little bit of a point, but you were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago, and you’ve been waiting by the door for 20. You plan on meeting Evan at the venue; your roommate having wanted to get ready together at your apartment as a last big hang out before you have to move out of the place you’ve called home for the last 4 years. But now, you don’t think you’ll have time to see him before it starts.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m sorry I don’t want to be late to our graduation.” you reply in a teasing tone, trying to keep up with her as she speed walks down the hall to the elevator. How can she walk so fast in her heels? They’re at least 2 inches taller than yours.

By the time you get to the coat check, you can see that most people are already in line, waiting to be led into the auditorium, and it seems that they’re only a few minutes from leading everyone in. You sigh in relief once you have your name card and your gown, then say a quick goodbye to your roommate before you go to your spots.

You spot Evan across the large room, his suit just barely visible through the slit in his gown, and your mouth goes dry. You’ve never seen him in a suit, and you have to admit, he looks extremely good. You don’t make a move towards him, seeing that volunteers are making their way down the lines to make sure everyone is in the right spot. Instead, you busy yourself by pulling out your phone and making sure your makeup is still in place.

While you’re looking at your phone, Evan’s eyes finally land on you, and he lets out a sharp inhale as his eyes trail down your body. You’re wearing a pretty white dress, not unlike any of the other women around you, but he thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He’s used to seeing you in dresses, but this is different. You’re all dressed up, hair and makeup perfect and heels making your legs look a little longer, and he can’t fight the urge to touch you. He weaves his way through the rows of other people, eyes trained on you as he moves, refusing to look away.

You jump when you feel a hand on your hip, only relaxing when you turn and see Evan’s smirk. You let out a sigh, but it’s cut short when he pulls you in for a deep kiss, one hand going to your jaw while the other stays on your hip. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of his suit under your fingers, which makes you hum softly as you think about the sight of him in it.

“You look so beautiful, princess. Goddamn.” he murmurs against your lips. You smile into the kiss, then push him away slowly, cheeks growing hot as you take a quick glance around the room to make sure no one’s looking.

“I’ve never seen you in a suit before. You look good.” you tell him in a quiet voice, looking up at him through your lashes. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, smirk widening at your words.

“Thank you, baby.” he says with a low hum, then leans down to press his lips to yours once again in a much softer kiss. Your kiss is cut short when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you, and you jump away from Evan and turn to the sound.

“Number?” the man asks, looking between the two of you.

“317.” you say awkwardly just as Evan says “84.” You look down in embarrassment as the man begins to tell Evan that he’s in the wrong line, but Evan waves him off, smiling.

“Yeah, man. I know. I’m going.” he tells him, then turns to you as the man keeps moving down the line. He reaches up and wipes away some of your smudged lip gloss, giving you a wink. You smile back, reaching up and wiping the lip gloss off of his lips as well, laughing softly as he huffs and fake pouts.

“What, you don’t like how I look?” he teases, raising a brow. You shake your head as you laugh softly, pushing him back towards his own line. 

“Get going. They’re bringing us out soon.” you say sternly, fighting back a smile as he pulls you forward with him, his hand grabbing yours. He pulls you against him and kisses your forehead, then pulls back, looking down at you with lovestruck eyes.

“I love you. I can’t wait to see you up there on stage.” he tells you sincerely, and you smile, your heart warming at his words.

“I love you. Now go.” you say, pointing towards his line, which is now being led out the door and towards the auditorium. He gives you one last wink before he jogs back to his line, slotting himself between the two people he was between earlier. You watch him until he rounds the corner, and then you wait until your row is led out.

You stand in the wing of the stage, hands shaking as you hold your name card, waiting to go on stage. Evan has already walked across the stage, and although you felt a little embarrassed, you couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of his teammates that are also graduating this year. You’re sure Evan is going to cheer for you as well; he’s never been shy, and you know that as much as it will make your heart swell, it’ll make you more nervous with everyone's eyes on you.

You move up in line until it’s your turn to give your card to the person announcing everyone’s names. 

You wait patiently for your name to be called, and once it is, you walk across the stage towards the chancellor. You keep your eyes on the chancellor as you do, knowing that looking into the audience and seeing everyone’s eyes on you will make you more nervous. You can’t help but look over, however, when you hear Evan cheering for you, followed by what sounds like cheering from the rest of the football team from various spots in the audience. Your face heats up as your head turns toward the crowd, immediately finding Evan in the crowd. He’s the only one standing up, and he’s near the front because of his last name, and you can’t help the grin that erupts on your face, as embarrassed as you are. 

You shake the chancellor’s hand, and then leave the stage, trying to slow your racing heart as you’re ushered back to your seat. Your smile refuses to leave your face the rest of the ceremony. You’re not sure why Evan’s friends cheered for you; Evan knows that having eyes on you like that isn’t something you exactly welcome, not that it would stop him from asking his friends to cheer on his girl. And either way, you wouldn’t exactly say you’re friends with them, other than Owen, who always tries to make you more comfortable in situations where you’re surrounded by all their other friends.

“You looked like a deer in headlights up there.” you hear a voice say behind you. You turn with a smile, immediately recognizing the voice. You felt like you’ve waited forever for Evan to find you after the ceremony; the pain from your heels, paired with the loud chatter from the sea of bodies surrounding you, making you feel slightly overwhelmed. You laugh softly before you wrap your arms around his torso, sinking into his arms as soon as he wraps his around your shoulders. You relax into his embrace immediately, the chatter surrounding you suddenly getting quieter as you try to listen to his heartbeat beneath his chest.

“You could’ve warned me.” you murmur into his chest, and the rumble of his laugh makes you smile, just a little.

“You would’ve told me not to. And I wanted you to know how proud I am of you.” he tells you, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on the top of your head. You sigh, knowing he’s definitely right.

“And you just had to show that in front of the entire graduating class?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. He smiles, shrugging as he nods. 

“I’m proud of you, too, you know. I don’t know how you balanced football and classes, I barely had any time between classes and work.” you tell him earnestly. He looks down, shrugging again as his smile widens. You smile when you notice his cheeks go slightly pink, and you pull him down for a kiss, resting your hands on his abdomen.

“Now all we have to do is find an apartment, and jobs, and then we won’t have to stress anymore.” he whispers against your lips. You pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look into his eyes. You’re about to respond when a few of his teammates come barreling towards you two, almost knocking you over as they run into Evan and wrap their arms around his shoulders. Evan catches you before you can stumble too much; your feet hurt so much that it’s even harder to balance in your heels, and then lets you go once you’re standing straight, not wanting to continue jostling you around as his friends shake his shoulders and celebrate with him. 

Once you’ve helped Evan take pictures with all his friends, taken some pictures with Evan, then found your roommate and your parents to take pictures with them, you go to dinner with your parents to celebrate. You bring Evan along with you, as his parents “had something come up,” meaning they couldn’t make it. You seemed more upset about it than Evan when he told you, but you know that he was just trying to brush it off, even if it did bother him. 

The next few days go by in a blur. Graduation happened late this year, meaning that you and Evan have less than a week to pack up your places before your leases end. You take breaks during the day from packing, travelling around LA to look for an apartment for you and Evan, and when you only have two days left to find a place to live, you start to get very anxious. 

You’re standing outside of an apartment building, slightly out of breath from having to jog down the street to make it on time for your viewing appointment. You had seen this apartment a week or so earlier; a beautiful, well-lit loft that you fell in love with, but when you emailed the landlord, he had told you that it was already spoken for. It was a miracle that he emailed you about twenty minutes prior to you getting there, telling you that the deal had fallen through, and it was yours if you could make it in the next thirty minutes.

A grin is plastered to your face the entire way up, and you’re gripping Evan’s hand so tight as you lead him down the hall that you’re sure it hurts. When the landlord opens the door, your smile widens, if even possible. Evan smiles too, clearly loving the place as well. He’s always thought lofts were cool, and he can’t help but imagine living here with you. Waking up to you every morning in his arms.

“It’s perfect.” you tell the landlord once you’ve seen the entire apartment. You look up to Evan, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet as you grip his bicep with one of your hands. He hums in agreement, grinning down at you.“We’ll take it.” Evan informs the landlord, raising his gaze up to the man. It really is perfect, and neither of you can believe it’s actually in your price range. It’s right near the LAFD training academy, where Evan is starting soon, and it’s close enough to lots of workplaces that you’ve applied to.

You’ve finally gotten all your boxes and furniture moved up to your new apartment, and both you and Evan are laying on the floor of your soon-to-be living room, sweaty and tired from all the trips up and down from the moving truck.

“Should we get pizza for dinner?” Evan asks, rolling over onto his side to face you and resting his head on his fist. You smile, rolling over and mirroring the way he’s laying.

“We can order in. Get our mattress set up at least while we’re waiting so we don’t have to do it before bed.” you reply, and he nods. By the time you’re finished moving everything up, it’s almost 8PM, and you can feel your stomach rumbling.

“Alright, I’ll call. The usual?” he asks, and you nod as you stand up. He sits up and grabs his phone from his pocket, finding the number for the closest pizza place. 

Once you’re up the stairs, you stop, taking in the sight in front of you. A mixture of you and Evan’s things waiting to find their place among each other, your lives finally fully intertwined. You can’t wait until your things are actually out of the boxes, but for now, you don’t bother trying to unpack. Instead, you begin to slide boxes out of the way of where you want to place the mattress, Evan’s voice travelling through your new space and up to your ears, making you smile. You feel so at peace. Finally. Even if the apartment looks a mess. 

You can almost imagine yourself a few months from now, finally settling into living with Evan. Him coming home after training, helping you make dinner, and then both of you curling up on the couch to watch something on tv. You’re a little nervous about actually finding a job, as many of the places you’ve applied to haven’t replied to you yet, but you push that away.

After you’ve moved everything out of the way, flopped the mattress down into the place you want it, and set up some pillows and blankets on it, Evan comes up the stairs with the pizza. You both sit on the end of the mattress and dig in, a comforting silence filling the space.

Evan watches you as you eat, and after a few minutes, you laugh softly, raising a brow.

“What?” you ask, heat filling your cheeks. You reach up to your face, thinking that maybe you have something on your face, but you don’t feel anything.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers, mostly to himself. You smile, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You didn’t get lucky. You just put up with me long enough for me to like you” you tease him softly, putting your slice of pizza back down in the box. You get up on your knees and move towards him, settling on his lap with your legs on either side of him.

“I did get lucky. I got the perfect apartment and the girl of my dreams. My good luck charm.” he purrs, his hands going to your hips immediately. You laugh softly at his words, shaking your head before you lean down to give him a sweet kiss. 

Yeah, you were going to be okay. As long as you had him.

bonus drabble

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[mousy-nona]

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process. 

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover. 

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright. 

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal). 

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface. 

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?” 

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose. 

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!” 

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them. 

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.  

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter. 

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it? 

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath. 

“Very interesting.” 

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once. 

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened. 

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples. 

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.” 

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. 

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –” 

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside. 

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.” 

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.” 

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.” 

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost. 

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair. 

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.” 

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure. 

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess. 

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin. 

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.” 

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers. 

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide. 

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done. 

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.” 

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.” 

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.” 

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide. 

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough. 

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

[shartletswritings]

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 3: Fight Me

No TW!

Enjoy <333

Ekko happily agrees to get a small team together to take you back to your apartment to grab your stuff. You would prefer to go alone, but you relent when he reminds you that you don’t actually know how to get to and from the hideout considering you were blinded when you were brought in. He tells you the plan once you’re at dinner and feeling a lot better after a much-needed nap. You sit in a similar formation as earlier, besides Scar, who is completely absent from the mess hall. You’re happy about that, totally not slightly bummed you don’t have someone to poke fun at. Even if it means you need to behave like a mostly civilized person at the table.

            “Malia and Geo are gonna go with you tomorrow night and you can get whatever you need, sound good?” Ekko’s voice is steady over the chatter of the crowded room. You still haven’t met Geo, but the time you’ve spent with Malia so far has been nice, so you really can’t complain.

            “Thanks, I appreciate it. Most of it is junk, but it would be nice to have some of it with me,” you admit.

            “You shoulda seen how much crap Jordyn brought when they moved in. It took six of us just to bring it back,” Malia says, others nod in agreement, looking haggard just from the memory. You giggle.

            A short, skinny man with long black hair tied in a tight bun sits down at the table across from you, “You’re the new girl, right? Good to meetcha, I’m Geo,” he says, eyes shifting between you and his meager plate of food made up of mostly meat, “I’ve heard a lot about ya.” He takes a mouthful of food and chews quickly, something about his behavior reminds you of a street cat. Before you can even answer you, he continues despite his mouth full of food, “You been on a hoverboard yet?”

            “Hoverboard? Oh, those things you guys ride? No I haven’t.” You take another bite of food, the stewed fish in your bowl surprisingly palatable.

            Geo cracks a wide, toothy smile, bits of rice stuck to his teeth, “I know what we’re doing after dinner.” You arch one eyebrow suspiciously.

            “Geo, you’re gonna kill her,” a man at the table speaks up but Geo waves him off with a stray hand, bringing one foot up to his chair to half crouch on his seat.

            “She’ll be fine, right new girl?”

            You twist your lips in thought, how hard can it be? You’re pretty sure you saw a kid half your age on one this morning. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

 

            You make it all the way outside with a long, black board in hand before you realize you are in deep over your head. The thing is easily taller than half your height, but it surprisingly only weighs a few pounds. Geo runs you through the basics of steering the board; lean where you want to go, press down on your heels to slow down, press on your toes to speed up. It sounds easy enough, right?

            With the board laid flat on the ground, you gingerly step onto the grooves marked for your feet. Some mechanism close to the surface—exactly what you don’t know—locks your feet onto the hoverboard. “Alright, you wanna dig your toes in hard to get it started, like this,” Geo demonstrates and raises a few inches above the ground, but his voice is already feeling far away. Maybe it would be best if I didn’t do this, you think when you notice the small group of Firelights gathering nearby to watch your first attempt. You pick out Jordyn and Malia and silently pray to Jannah or whoever the hell is listening that you don’t embarrass yourself.

            You take a deep breath and follow Geo’s instructions. As expected, the board glows green as it comes to life, the sound of fans whirring as it begins to slowly raise. Geo made it look significantly easier because as soon as the board leaves the ground you completely lose your balance, landing flat on your ass into the dirt—hitting the exact spot you landed on last night. Pain rockets down your legs and you can distantly here people snicker at your failure. The pain shifts to embarrassment, and you clench your jaw; fuck this.

            Immediately you get back up, righting yourself on the board. You dig your toes in like Geo said but this time you’re prepared. Clenching your abs you manage to maintain your balance as you raise up slightly higher. Geo looks slightly surprised, and you smirk triumphantly. A few firelights behind you mumble their approval but you don’t risk turning to look at them; you’re pretty convinced that if you break concentration for even a second, you’ll fall back on your ass.

            “Ok… pretty good,” Geo sounds nonplussed which only adds kindling to the fire burning at your feet. “Now try going around the tree, like this.” He takes off in a blur of green and black in the dying sunlight of the evening, curving around the base of the tree before rounding the corner a few moments later.

            “Take it slow, newbie.” It’s Jordyn’s voice and you clench your jaw, everything in you screaming to ignore their advice; what’s the point of doing it if you can’t show off? Better to go slow then land on my ass again, you remind yourself.

            Gently you press your toes into the board, gradually increasing speed. Its… not as hard as you expected? Seems like getting up was the hardest bit because you find moving to be pretty instinctual. As you begin to form a wide angle around the tree you have to fight the urge to speed up, instead keeping the hoverboard moving at a decently quick speed but just slow enough to still be able to focus on your surroundings, staying low to the ground just in case you fall again.

            By the time you come back to Geo and the small group of Firelights a smug smile has spread on your face. It only grows wider when you slow down enough to see the looks of approval on their faces. “This supposed to be hard or something?” You can practically see Chross shaking his head in disappointment at your hubris. Good thing he isn’t here right now.

            “I think a toddler could go faster than you,” Geo calls and you scowl.

            Flipping him off, you dig your toes down, forcing the board faster. The next loop you make is easily twice as fast and your confidence begins to increase. You can’t believe you ever doubted yourself. You crouch down slightly, allowing the board to angle up to steadily climb higher. Soon you’re about level with Ekko’s balcony. You take a moment to float and take in the hideout as the sun continues to set—only losing your balance for one sickening, heart-dropping moment. It really is gorgeous; the golden lights strewn about make it seem as though the whole area is glowing. You think you could get used to a place like this. Somewhere full of life and love despite the horrors that wait just through the tunnels.

            Feeling especially brave, you continue to climb, the board responding delightfully to even the smallest movements of your feet—Ekko must be a genius, you think. You continue to spiral up the tree and by the time you reach the top you have decided that, without a doubt, you made the right choice joining the Firelights this morning. You’ve never felt more free in your entire life, not when you made your first deal, not when you left the Company, not when you rented that shitty apartment. It is this moment, fifty feet above the ground, that you feel like a person again, for the first time in years.

            A hum behind you catches your attention and you pivot slightly in the air to see Geo floating up towards you. You try not to feel too bad about yourself when you see how much confidence he has in his stance on the hoverboard compared to your awkward balancing act. He flashes you another toothy smile, “You aren’t half bad, girl.” It’s honestly shocking that one man can be both horrifically slimy and charming at the same time, “Thought for sure you’d fall on your ass at least a couple more times.”

            As if on cue, your balance falters for a second and he laughs but you catch yourself much quicker this time, “Don’t flatter yourself, you may make it look easy but it sure as hell isn’t hard.” Assuming you have an insane amount of core strength. You aren’t in bad shape, far from it, but your abs are starting to burn the longer you stand and talk to him. You begin your descent, slower this time to take the chance to savor the wind rushing through your hair.

            By the time you make it back to the ground a few of the Firelights have trickled away but a good chunk of the group looks at you approvingly as you make your clumsy dismount. Adjusting to walking on two legs takes a moment but you only stumble a couple times. Malia walks up to you, “You’re pretty good, have you done this before?”

            You shake your head, still beaming, “It just felt… natural? I guess?” Honestly you aren’t quite sure, but as soon as you got over your initial embarrassment of failing, it wasn’t too difficult.

Jordyn, who had been leaning against Malia, nods their agreement and claps a hand onto your shoulder heavy enough to rattle your jaw. You wince but smile up at them, nonetheless. Something inside of you feels a bit apprehensive at the sudden rush of attention; like a coddled child, but you push it aside willing yourself to enjoy the moment.

 

            You finally arrive back in your room and curl into your bed with a satisfied oof, happy to be off your feet and away from any public scrutiny. Thinking about tomorrow, a bitter-sweet pang hits your chest. Sure you’re happy to be here with the Firelights; if your mood this evening meant anything. But it feels strange at the same time: to even consider living a different life from the one you’ve known for so long. A natural distrust of strangers has been drilled into your head for years now and yet here is this community, welcoming you, a stranger, with open arms. And they’re thriving, better than anything you saw under Chross or on the streets by yourself. Could they really have a place for you here? Ekko and Malia seem to think so, although you can’t be quite sure how much of that is just due to loyalty to Ekko.

            You continue to toss, mind wandering incessantly as you try to sleep. Is it that hard to let yourself be happy? For once? You sit up with a huff; this isn’t going to work. You need sleep, logically you know this, but it just won’t seem to come.

            It doesn’t take long to make your way back to the courtyard and the moonlight provides a respite from the unnatural lights illuminating the hallways of the sleeping quarters. The air outside isn’t quite cool, but the dampness of the evening gives rise to goosebumps along your exposed arms; you don’t bother covering the branding now that most of the Firelights have gone to bed.

            A small green light catches your eye as you walk further into the courtyard, and you initially think it’s a hoverboard in the distance but upon closer inspection you realize it’s a small lightning bug. You can’t recall ever seeing one that glows green, so you reach up to capture it gently in your hands. It’s larger than the ones you’ve seen in Piltover—the trenches are usually too polluted to see them and you aren’t even sure they normally exist down here—green light seeming to come from both its abdomen and wings. You un-cup your hand and watch it fly away, marveling at the sight of it. The longer you stand there, staring up at the night sky, the more of the little bugs you see flitting around the tree. It reminds you of your reason for coming outside in the first place.

            It doesn’t take long to find a hoverboard leaning against the concrete wall. You look over your shoulder and, once satisfied no one is around to see you, place it down, fitting your shoes into the footholds. Just as you are about to press your toes in and wake it up, you hear a shuffle behind you. You turn to see Scar standing a few feet behind you, because of course you do.

            “There a reason you’re using my board?” His arms are crossed.

            Oops. You didn’t know this was his board, “Maybe you shouldn’t leave it lying around if you don’t want someone to take it.”

            He narrows his green eyes, shining nearly the same color as the bugs flying around you, “Maybe you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you,” he echoes, rather too smugly for your liking.

            You shrug your shoulders, “Come take it from me then.”

            The board hums to life under your feet and you take off much faster than you had anticipated. Fuck fuckfuckfuck. You throw your arms out to your sides wildly for balance as you go careening towards the wall. Thankfully you manage to get your feet underneath you instead of to your side thus avoiding smashing Scar’s hoverboard. Unfortunately this means that your body takes the impact; scraping down the wall and onto the dirt, feet released from the board as it slides a few meters away from you.

            By the time you finally open your eyes after having them clamped shut from both pain and humiliation, Scar is looking down at you with an annoyed sneer, hoverboard in hand. You think you hear him mumble “Idiot” as he walks away, but its hard to tell over the blood rushing through your ears. You sit up and rest your forehead on your bent knees, giving yourself a few more moments to wallow in the embarrassment you feel before standing back up. Just before he walks back into the hut he looks back at you over his shoulders and leaves his hoverboard on the wall. It’s hard to tell in the relative darkness, but you see a glint of something in his eyes. You smirk despite yourself.

            Finally mustering up the courage you return to the board. It’s still warm in your hand as you place it back on the ground. This time, you make sure to start slow, gradually increasing speed until you feel confident enough to hold your balance. You spend the next… however many hours practicing.

            You don’t stop zipping around until you see a couple people begin to trickle into the mess hall. Fuck, morning already? Sure enough, the sky is beginning its shift from gray-black into a deep purple. You sigh and return to the ground to leave Scar’s board close to where he left it and hobble back to your room to catch at least a couple hours of sleep until, inevitably, the movement of soldiers getting ready for the morning wakes you.

 

            You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and drag yourself out of bed. The clothes from Eve have a bit of dirt on them from your fall, but you don’t really have any other options so you brush off what you can, push your hair out of your face, and walk to find some breakfast.

            “You alright?” Malia asks as you sit down across from her, a bowl of steaming noodles in her hands, “You don’t look great.”

            “Yeah I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep is all.” You take a sip of the spicy broth hoping it’ll jumpstart your sluggish brain.

            “It’s not easy. Adjusting, I mean. Took me a while to settle in. Give yourself time.”

            You give her a humph in acknowledgement before taking a long slurp of your own noodles. “Speaking of which,” you finally say with your mouth half full, “when are we heading out?”

            She swallows her bite before answering, “As soon as Geo is up, really.” The door opens and Geo walks in. “As soon as Geo is ready,” she corrects. You smile and take another bite.

            Behind him, Scar dips his head slightly in the low doorframe and walks in. He meets your eye for a second but doesn’t react.

            Geo sits next to Malia with a mug of coffee, “Saw you zipping around last night,” he says as he takes a sip.

           Malia lifts an eyebrow at you but says nothing. “Couldn’t sleep,” you answer, shrugging. Thinking back on it, perhaps flying around all night wasn’t the best idea with the way your legs and core burn with every movement you make. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself be a weak link to anyone, especially the Firelights.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

            The three of you are sent off by Ekko who opens the stone door covering the main exit tunnel, “Come back in one piece,” he says, and you give him a small wave.

            The tunnel out of the hideout is not as horrid as you were expecting. Clearly, all of the sewage tunnels around the base are inactive, but even still, certain… substances tend to stick around. The light from your three collective torches illuminates the curved space you walk through and so far, you haven’t seen anything too awful. Geo and Malia are maskless, to keep a low profile, she had said. It makes sense, this certainly isn’t “official” Firelight business.

            The tunnel leads to the outskirts of a market you used to frequent when you were still working for the Company. It’s almost funny: how close you must have gotten to the life you find yourself living. You’re able to take up the lead and walk your small group to your apartment down in the sumps.

            It isn’t nice, even by undercity standards, but you can still remember how fucking proud of yourself you were the day you moved in. Despite the mold, and the roaches, and the exorbitant rent, it was yours and no one besides your smarmy landlord could take it from you.

            “The two of you can wait down here. It’s really not that much that I need to grab,” you offer to Malia and Geo at the door of the building.

            Malia answers with a shake of her head, “It’s fine, we don’t mind.” Geo looks like he does, but says nothing.

            The three of you are breathing heavily by the time you make it to the seventh floor and down the hall to your old apartment. You go to fumble in your pocket for your key before you realize that you must have lost it in the fire the other night. At least I don’t have to go to my landlord and beg for a new one, you think, gratefully. Just as you are about to kick the door in, you notice that the hinges are already bent. A gentle push to the door sends it swinging inwards. “Huh,” is all you say and the two behind you stay quiet.

            The apartment itself is a wreck. Not that you are an exceptionally clean person, but you certainly didn’t leave it with drawers thrown around and piles of stuff littering the ground. “Shit, someone fuckin robbed you.” Geo’s voice makes it sound like he’s smiling.

            You don’t turn back to him, still gazing at the mess in front of you, “Yeah… guess so.” A beat. “There wasn’t much to take, so they wasted their time.”

            You take a step into the room and immediately walk to the fridge in the kitchen off to the side of the small studio style apartment. With a huff, you pull the fridge from the wall and sure enough, your pathetic stash of savings is still there. You smile and pocket it. “I’m just gonna grab some clothes and we can go,” you say.

            You begin shoving handfuls of clothes into the empty bag you brought, not bothering to fold them from where they lay in piles on the floor. It is strange, you think, that the thieves didn’t take anything, at least nothing you can tell. Really, it’s their own fault, robbing an apartment in the sumps, no one down here has anything worth stealing.

            Just before you’re about to leave, a piece of paper on your kitchen table catches your attention. It’s a… letter? You pick it up and turn it around in your hands. The blood rushes from your face when you see the insignia pressed into the wax seal matching the one branded into your arm. With shaking fingers you tear the envelope open and rip the paper out.

 

Start running

-C

 

            Warm, sour spit gathers in your mouth and you swallow, trying to force your breakfast back down your throat. There is no mistaking exactly who this is from: Chross, head of the Hush Company.

            “Hey, you alright?” It’s Malia behind you. You crumple the letter and shove it into your pocket, turning to look at her.

            “Yeah. Fine. Sorry. We can go.” You feel lightheaded the longer you think about it, so you just…don’t.

            “…Right,” she finally says. Geo looks bored as he leans against the wall, digging under his nails with a knife.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            You’re silent the whole way back to the base, mind and stomach churning in a nauseating cycle. Scar is the one opening the door of the hideout for you once you make it back and you don’t even look at him.

            It isn’t until you are back in your quarters and safely alone that you let the rising panic overtake you. You start by pacing back and forth in front of your bed until the fear clenching your heart becomes too painful and you crumple to the ground, folded over your legs. You can’t even form coherent thoughts, only a few words slip through the jumble forming in your mind screaming down at you like incessant crows.

            And then the tears come. Horrible, chest splitting sobs leave your mouth and you shove your face in your hands in a desperate attempt to muffle yourself. How did they know where to find you? You’re supposed to be dead to them. Thoughts are beginning to form in your brain. You wish they wouldn’t, you wish you could just sit in stupid, heart clenching fear. But you’re stuck here, sobbing like a child as you clutch desperately at the floor, running nails down cement painfully. It’s the pain that breaks you out of your wailing enough to stop.

            Until you stop breathing. Breathe, you tell yourself, but your throat feels smaller and smaller as you struggle to inhale. Why can’t I breathe? The little bit of air you manage to suck in does nothing to calm the pain bursting in your chest. Are you having a heart attack? God, you hope not. The last thing you need is a Firelight coming into your room to find you dead on the ground.

            No. You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you and it’s only suffocating you more.

            You run down the halls and out into the courtyard. Maybe this was a mistake. Everyone is too loud and too happy. Children rush past laughing in a way that might have made you smile a few hours ago but now it only adds to… whatever you feel. Fear? Sadness? Rage? All of them, you decide as you stomp through the dirt.

            In the blur of emotion that is your mind you remember Ekko showing you the training room on his tour yesterday. Yes. That’ll help. Punching things.

            You retrace the steps you remember taking until you find yourself in a room full of makeshift gear weights and punching bags that is mercifully empty of other people. Distantly you think about the fact that wrapping your hands would be smart, but you don’t think you have the dexterity to deal with the fabric with the way your hands are shaking.

            The firmness of the bag as you hit it helps. It helps a lot. You don’t worry about technique as much as you do about hitting it with as much force as you can muster. Soon, the only sounds you can hear are your own panting and your fists colliding with the bag. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yell in time with each punch before finishing with a kick to the bag. You lean against the wall to slide down onto the floor, head bent between your knees as you try and catch your breath.

            “You’re doing that wrong.”

            You whip your head up, squinting at Scar from the stinging of sweat in your eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

            “Your kick,” he clarifies, looking uninterested in this whole conversation despite being the one to start it, “your technique is shit; you have no balance and no power behind the hit. You’d be knocked on your ass if you tried that in a real fight.”

            You stand up, walking towards him. “You think I can’t fight?”

            He uncrosses his arms, revealing just a tank top instead of the usual semi-armored vest he wears, “I didn’t say that. I just don’t think you’d last long.” He shrugs his shoulders

            “What?” You take another step towards him, rage burning up every other emotion in your system. “I’ll show you exactly how long I can fucking last.” The insinuation of what you say doesn’t even register in your mind. You pull your hands up in front of your face, widening your stance. “Well?”

            Scar snarls, cracking his neck and matching your posture. “Fine.”

            You don’t even wait for him to finish his response before you rush him, a flurry of punches hitting his forearm as he blocks your attack. You can tell he’s hesitating and that makes you even more angry. Does he not think you can handle it? “Fucking fight me.” You shove at his raised arms, leaving you vulnerable. He whips a fist down before you can react, clocking you right in the stomach.

            You cough and stumble, fighting back a gag. It was a stupid mistake really, you deserved the punch. It takes you a breath to right yourself, but once you do, you attack.

            You begin to feel more alive as the fight begins in earnest. It’s a flurry of jabs and almost all come from your own hands, half of them reach their target. Scar retaliates your barrage with his own, much more steady hits. Every movement he makes is calculated, you can tell, but he gives very few signals he is going to hit until he does. Scar may have the power to back himself up, but you’re easily faster than him.

            A missed right hook to your jaw leaves him momentarily off balance. You take the chance as soon as you see it, ducking under his arm to land a fist to his kidney. It may feel like you’re hitting a brick wall with your knuckles, but from the sound he makes you can tell it hurts. His eyes narrow at you as he looks down at your crouched, attentive form beneath him.

            Actually, you’re pretty proud of yourself, holding your own against a significantly stronger, taller man, for as long as you do. You may have talked a big game—as usual—but in all honesty, you didn’t know how long you could last against him. Sure, you’ve been in fights before, but they’ve always been with the intent to kill—or at least seriously injure the other person enough to get the hell away. This fight is… well, you aren’t exactly sure what the goal of this fight is. Proving a point?

            Feeling particularly smug, you decide, as has often proved to be so dangerous, to test your luck. Hopping back, you crouch down low enough to gather enough power to rocket your leg up towards his chest. He grabs your heel in one clawed hand before it reaches its target and pulls, sending you falling to the ground and knocking the wind out of your chest. Before you can scramble back to your feet he presses a foot onto your chest, not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep you pinned to the floor. “I told you, you can’t kick for shit,” he says with a triumphant smirk. He isn’t trying to hide it. This fucking asshole.

            You scowl and bring your legs up, wrapping them around the leg that isn’t placed onto your chest and pulling, hard. He careens to the ground and lands on his back, and you don’t waste a moment before your scrambling over to him to straddle his chest and keep him pinned to the ground, he tries to fight you off but as soon as you are seated, he stops. You don’t even realize what you are doing until you are about three inches from his face.

            The strangest thing is he doesn’t throw you off or spit in your face or anything else you expect him to do. He just… pants and stares. Not even a snarl.

            You begin to notice parts of your body separately, not as a whole and you suspect it’s your mind’s way of keeping you sane. The way your thighs press into the sides of his stomach, his claws digging into the edges of your back as he grips your waist, his breath ghosting across your face. It makes you feel strange. His smell is the worst of all. Not that he smells bad, far from it. It’s that he smells good? A mix of something you couldn’t describe even if you weren’t inches from his face and in the middle of a fight. He smells like sweat and fire and… flowers. Why the fuck does he smell like flowers?

            You finally move to get off and end whatever spell you two have been put under when you find yourself flipped onto your back with Scar looming over you. The studs in his ears glinting in the streams of sunlight that filter through the windows of the training room. He leans down and brings his face even closer to you. Wincing instinctually, your brain tells you to assume the worst. You’re pinned down by a stranger, of course you should assume the worst. And yet, you aren’t scared. You don’t quite know what you feel, but that knot forming in your gut isn’t fear.

            Suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, the moment ends and he’s standing again. You don’t even get a chance to stand up before he is skulking out of the gym, slamming the door behind himself.

AHHHHH I hope y'all enjoyed!!! I do so love tension mwahahaha

TAG LIST: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 42)

The next few days were spent filling out paperwork, taking a few cognitive tests, and answering questions N was sure Khan already knew. Despite that, Khan had assured him multiple times that this was purely procedure, and he essentially had the job.

It was also spent worrying… each time he came home he'd been drawn to his girlfriend like a moth to a particularly purple flame, as soon as he was in range to hear her core, that warm haze would overtake him, and when he came back to his senses, he was already holding her no matter where she was, a chair, the couch, taking a nap, it did not matter.

It made sense… he loved her. He wanted to be close and it wasn't the closeness that worried him. It was the fact he wouldn't even remember how he ended up there that was the problem, he was walking through the doorway one moment, and curled up tightly against her the next.

He wasn't sure she remembered either, she would often seem to jolt “awake” around the same time as he did, then they'd look at each other, confused.

It was like a mandated cuddle session, and he didn't exactly mind, but some control over when and where would be great, thank you.

“So everything seems to be in order, last thing we need to do is put you through our basic training.” Khan’s voice finally cut through the TV static that was N's thoughts, all of his eyes suddenly focused on the man, which seemed to immediately trip Khan up, even if he wasn't consciously aware of the fact N had seven eyes.

“Basic Training?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow, wasn't that reserved for stuff like the military?

“Yes! The WDF does more than watch over doors! We're the defacto police force for the colony, we keep an eye on everything! And we need to make sure you're in tip-top physical condition.”

Khan looked N up and down.

“And I tried to tell everyone it was functionally pointless… considering, but everyone wants to see you put through your paces, so thats what were going to do today!”

“Well, okay! I love doing anything?” N agreed, much like he did most of everything in his life, but he wasn't confident, wasn't this normally pretty hard?

“Great!”

Ten Minutes Later…

N was actually… kinda impressed at the obstacle course the WDF had for training, it had a climbing wall, a barbed wire crawl, tire steps, and a rope shimmy. Everything all about enhancing motor control and maneuverability, since strength and speed can't really be improved when you're made out of steel and hydraulic.

The room he'd been lead to was huge, the ceiling curving in a dome shape above them. A group of 20 or so people were on benches not too far away, all wearing WDF badges on different parts of their clothing. Khan led him to the starting line with a clipboard and a timer, looking excited himself.

“Alright! There is a benchmark of three minutes that you have to beat. But that should be no problem for you.”

“Ah… I have wings, should I…?”

“Oh! Yes it's probably best if you… refrain. Just to make it fair.”

Alright, no wings then.

He was nervous, genuinely. He'd never been through actual training before strangly enough. He'd just been… pre-programmed. Or re-programmed, with combat protocols innately.

While he was hunting, combat came naturally almost on autopilot, every sense heightened, reflex sharpened. He'd never enjoyed it, but he'd never had to think about it very hard either.

So, when it came to actually navigating through the course, he wasn't sure if he could without putting himself in ‘hunting mode’.

“Are you ready, son-in-law?”

He rolled his eyes before nodding, he got in a sprinters stance, surely this wouldn't be too hard right?

“Go!”

He shot off, legs beating underneath him as he came up to the tire steps, it felt strange, being bound to the ground instead of flying, and he felt way more clumsy this way then normal… oh well.

His systems charted the path for him, and his legs moved without putting in much conscious effort, then it was on to the barbed wire.

What once was a silent room seemed to fill with murmurs as he went, he threw himself onto his belly and scrambled underneath, he could feel the wire digging into the back of his coat, but he didn't slow down even as he started to sink into the mud.

He emerged out the other side filthy, but now came time to scale the wall, he had to will away the instinctual way his wings wanted to come out, he took a moment to pause, it was a sheer wooden wall, sanded down to remove any grooves or notches to climb up.

This was for workers.

How would a worker get over this?

How would Uzi get over this?

He took several steps backwards, taking a deep breath as his systems calculated his jump.

He got a running start as he pounced on the wall, and kept running, every servo in her legs keeping him upright as he ran up the wall and grabbed the top of it, before hoisting himself up. Murmurs turned to a few tentative cheers.

The final challenge, was a rope shimmy from the top of the wall to the finish line, he could jump down from this height no problem, but at this point, a part of him wanted to prove himself to both Khan and the rest of the WDF that he didn't need his “upgrades” to do this.

He wrapped himself around the rope, tail included, his weight had the rope sag and bend more then intended, which was an extra challenge as he climbed down, turned upside down.

At this point, he heard several whoops from the benches, making him smile despite the fact that his joints were getting a little sore from how quickly he'd been moving, he quickly shimmied down until he hit the final sprint to the finish line, where once again he put every once of power into his legs as he took off in a dead sprint, before he reached the finish line, where he had to dig his claws into the ground to slow down.

He panted, feeling his vents take in air so hard it was producing a low whine, his hands gripped his knees, he was muddy and gross and sweaty (why do robots sweat?!) And his breath was ragged, but he felt a hand slap his back.

“A minute fifteen! New record!” Khan said happily, looking like he had stars in his eyes, N smiled, his hair falling into his visor.

It was abundantly clear that his body had not been designed for anything but ambushing and flying, a more “death from above” then a persistence predator, because his joints were currently screaming “what the heck did you just do?!” at him. He wanted to sit down now…

“Great! U-uggh.” Khan led him over to a chair where he instantly collapsed in it, throwing his head back and not quite caring he was still covered in mud.

“Wow, that was kinda impressive.” A voice said, they were young whoever they were, a masculine voice that sounded like your typical dude-bro at the beach.

“Mm. Thanks.” N didn't have the energy to say anything else, thankfully he was quickly recovering.

Although he might recover faster if he could get a little bit of oil… he had brought it with him.

He put a hand in his pocket and fumbled with the container hidden there, the guy next to him continued speaking.

“N right? I'm Guy, I was the newest recruit before you. My time was 2:15.”

“Doesn't sound bad!” N replied, this guy was friendly at least, he could always get behind that.

He quickly took out his container and took a long gulp, the oil hitting his systems, immediately he felt better, his joints relaxing and his core settling, he sighed as he brought it away from his mouth, his long tongue coming to lick his lips from the access.

Huh… Guy had fallen real quiet all of the sudden

N looked back at the drone who'd been speaking to him, who's red eyes had gone hollow and his mouth slightly agape, N lifted an eyebrow before realizing why, he looked down at his container, slightly stained with oil, being quite obvious what was in it.

“Oh uh. Sorry… just started getting a little warm.” N tried to explain with a smile on his face, trying to be friendly but also succeeding in flashing his now oil-covered fangs.

Guy gulped.

“I-um yeah dude. N-no problem, guess you gotta kick the craving s-somehow.’

N looked confused for a moment.

“It's not really a craving, I just need it so I don't overheat.” He laughed nervously, sensing how tense the air had gotten. “Boiling in your own shell’s not fun.”

Guy was switching between curiosity and fear, tentatively, he seemed to choose between the two.

“What- what does it taste like?” He asked, still stammering but clearly not nearly as put off by it as before.

“The oil? Uh, sweet, this batch is a little earthy I guess, but that depends on where I get it from.”

The stuff in his container right now was actually from the nursery, it didn't taste nearly as metallic as oil from already living (or dead, he guessed) drones, instead having a more earthy, rounded taste.

He kinda preferred it honestly, plus, no one died for it.

“This is from the nursery, my girlfriend picked it up for me when she went for our daughter.”

Guy seemed to relax further.

“Oh, so it's not… you know?”

“N-no, I haven't killed anyone in… months.” He probably didn't need to add that last part, but he felt the need to defend himself, he really wished that people would stop looking at him and seeing… a monster. Even if he couldn't really blame them.

“Cool. Cool.” Guy replied awkwardly, before it seemed he had another question on his mind.

“How's that work?”

“How does what work?”

“You and a worker drone, is she like… pfft, okay?”

N… suddenly didn't like where this was going.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean, she's a worker drone right? Don't you have like… murdery instincts? Damn, if she can handle you, she's gotta be a freak in the sheets.”

N felt something white hot broil inside him until it's vitriol was bubbling in his throat, his hand twitched, and he just barely kept a feral growl from escaping his mouth.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about Uzi that way.” He said, dripping with politeness even as his tail was slowly coiling like a snake, ready to sting the nosy drone if he didn't leave soon.

“Oh shit! Doorman? Damn I knew she was a freak, just didn't know it went that deep!” Guy laughed, N's eye twitched.

Kill him!Kill him! He's a threat! Kill him!

No. No. Don't kill him, do not kill him, you don't like killing, he's not being threatening, he's just being gross.

You must protect them! He speaks of her like she is not yours, kill him! Before he becomes a threat to the kit, to Uzi!

He closed his eyes, clenching his fist before letting his anger roll out of his mouth. Even so he still vibrated with it, unable to truly let it all wash over him.

He'd never felt more angry in his life.

“Guy. Do not talk about her like that.” He was far more firm the second time, his tail was fully coiled, pointed directly at the drones jugular although he didn't seem to notice.

“Ah right. Sorry, sorry, shouldn't talk about another dude's girl like that. My bad.” Guy lifted both his hands, clearly trying to appease him, N would feel more appeased if the man left him alone, preferably on another planet it possible.

“Guy! Get your ass over here before the new guy snaps your neck!” Another member of the WDF called him over, before the man in a yellow hard hat and pink eyelights made his way over to him.

“Sorry, Guy doesn't know when to shut his servo. I'm Hal, what did he say to you that got you looking like murder?”

“I'd… rather not repeat it. He insulted my girlfriend.”

“Oooh, he's lucky it wasn't me, if he'da insulted Reida I woulda rung his scrawny neck.” The drone had a fake, but beautiful beard attached to his face, it was brown, along with is decently long hair.

“Reida?”

“My wife.”

“Ah.”

“Your names N right? or is that a nickname for something?” He asked, he was rather blunt, but nothing about the drone was threatening, he was a boxier, thicker worker model, betraying his age to be closer of that to Khan’s.

“It's Serial Designation N, technically, but just N please.”

“Righto! Glad to have ya! Khan’s talked a lot about you!” His hand came to slap roughly on N's back, it was strong enough to rock him forward slightly and send mud flying in all directions.

“Really?”

“Aye, er well, he's talked nonstop about his grandaughter, and you come up too.”

“That… makes more sense.”

“That means you're with his daughter right? Uzi?”

“That's her.”

“Guy better watch it then, if Khan hears that he's gonna blow a gasket. An so will I to be frank, that girl don't need anymore grief.”

N liked Hal more the longer he talked, he also sounded like a dwarf from one of those movies he and Uzi watched… Lord of the Rings?

“Thank you. I didn't actually want to hurt him.” N said, sighing, he wanted to cover his visor with his hands; but then he'd just get his visor smudgy.

“Yeah ya did.”

“Uh-”

“Don't sweat it kid. We've all been there. Though…”

“Hmm?”

“My Reida woulda kicked his ass first! Hah!”

Next ->

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start. Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again. "Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki.

Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add. Proud podium sitter for thousands of times. Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man, and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway. Without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the tragedy and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point in disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more, and it showed, despite dad's efforts to stay afloat. Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep going.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened. It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to sit and watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust away little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could do to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father. Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence. The only people that did were your team in the garage that saw your face every single day, from the mechanics to your personal PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway. It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him. "You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right. You could do this.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion. You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station but his steps halt once he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he says, flashing his extremely cocky smirk at you, adding a suggestive wink to go with the whole menu.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your rejection, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he starts doubtful, a little too focused on the writing littered over your left breast. "The shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead." He finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck is this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself. "Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo. If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red bruises before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples bathing him in the jackass façade he's got going on. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear that made hot shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty. Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver. The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Most important of all, respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

This first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring heat of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Next

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

[enkas-illusion]

About My Man - Part 5/5

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader, Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, language, hurt/comfort, a lot of fucking, piv sex, oral (f receiving), (let me know if I forgot any)

Chapter Summary: The final conclusion. One last confession. No longer a love triangle.

Author’s Note: LAST CHAPTER! And it's a big one. Thank you for sticking with it till the end. I really hope you enjoyed reading this. I would absolutely love to hear what you think about the ending. Ps. I haven’t proofread it so if you see any errors, no you didn’t.

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Eyes, Nose, Lips by TAEYANG 

You feel stupefied, unable to move as if your whole body has been cemented into the floor. Suguru’s large frame envelopes you, his hands roughly fixed onto your hips as his lips slowly move closer towards yours. 

What is this weird feeling? Why does this feel like cheating even though you’re as single as the day you were born. Your childhood crush, a man that evokes desire and envy everywhere he goes, is begging you for a second chance – why do you feel so unaffected by his advances?

“No,” you mumble, snapping out of the initial shock as you place both hands firmly on his chest. “Suguru! Enough already!” you yell as you push him with all your might and he barely budges, but the shrill in your voice is enough for him to realise he was crossing the line.

He steps away from you in one swift motion.

“I’m sorry,” he looks flustered and embarrassed, “I– sorry.”

Before you know it, he’s disappeared into his apartment with a loud thud of the door, leaving you alone in front of yours. A chill runs down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie and you hurry inside your home.

As you lie awake in your bed, you don’t think about Suguru at all. You don’t feel bad, sad or even mad at him. You feel… indifferent.

In that moment, as dramatic as it may sound, you realise your heart wanted no one else but Choso Kamo. This longing comes with a heavy ache that makes your heart feel a little too much at an overwhelming speed.

Your drunken state starts to dissipate as you begin to sob silently. You feel a sudden frustration about your current situation – one you could’ve easily avoided had you just been truthful. 

Your wet tears accompany you as you change into your night clothes and freshen up. When the crying makes your head buzz with ants, you begin to sober up completely. You go to the washroom once again to splash cold water over your face, eyes swollen now.

You’re still lost in thoughts, staring at the ceiling when your phone buzzes. It’s 01:14AM when you get a text from Choso. You feel happy when his name pops up. You quickly unlock your phone to read it.

Cho <3: We need to talk. 

You: ?? 

Cho <3: You’re home?

You: where else would I be at this hour?

where are you? Did you come back already?

Cho <3: Yes. When can we talk?

You: we’re talking right now, aren’t we :P 

aww, did you miss me? 

Cho <3: I’ll be there in 15.

You blink at your screen.

What was that?

The annoying thing about texting is not being able to recognize a person’s tone… or perhaps the person really did text in an unusual manner. 

You walk out into the living room, turning the light switch on as you wait for him with a million questions in your mind – when did he get back? Why did he send such an odd text? Why is he coming all the way to your house so late?

You hear your phone ring before your mind reaches a solid conclusion. When you see his name on the caller ID, you almost sprint to the door to open it.

You extend your arms out with a smile, ready to embrace him in a hug but he moves past you. You knit your eyebrows as you close the door before following him back in.

“Is everything okay?” you ask softly.

He places his helmet and keys on the table before turning to face you, eyes stone cold. You feel a weird sadness. He looks like a stranger with such a cold demeanour.

“Cho–”  

“Can you stop toying with me?” he interrupts and you sense a shiver in his voice.

You stand still in silence. More confused by the second, not knowing what’s going on.

He continues his whispered monologue, not wanting to wake the others up – but the calmness of his voice has agitation laced over it, “I’m going crazy and it’s all because of you! I like you so fucking much that it feels ridiculously close to love… and now I’m not even sure if it’s worth this shitty confession.”

That was the last thing you expected out of him. So all that you can manage to say is a ‘what?’ in disbelief.

“You’re driving me crazy!”

“Cho, I don’t underst–”

“I saw you kiss him!” he almost yells before closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath in, “Out by the door tonight… I came early to surprise you and I saw you kissing him. Tell me it’s what just friends do!?”

“Choso…” you mumble.

“I went back home, determined I never wanted to talk to you ever again but how could I not? I feel like a pathetic loser. With each memory I tried to push away, thoughts of you kept on pulling me in deeper. I remembered how sad you got last time and that I’d promised I’d never ghost you again… and now I’m here but I–”

When you hear his voice crack, you look into his eyes but he avoids your gaze as he sits down on the sofa in defeat. As your mind starts registering the fact that he just told you he likes you, you snap out of it just as quickly when you realise you need to clear his misunderstanding right away. 

“Cho… wait–” 

“You’re killing me! Just end my misery and tell me you never liked me and get this shit over with. I'll be out of here and leave you be with him–”

“CHOSO!” you yell.

“WHAT?” he looks up at you and you see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You sigh as you slowly kneel down in front of him.

“He tried to kiss me. I didn’t kiss him!” you explain as you stare at him to gauze whether he’s catching up.

“How does that make a difference?” he questions as he tilts his head back to avoid eye contact. You pull onto the hem of his t-shirt to make him look at you again.

“Because I didn’t kiss him. You would’ve known if you'd waited 2 more seconds to see that I pushed him away!”

His eyebrows furrow as he leans forward, “You- what?”

“Let me explain?” you ask calmly as you rest a hand on his knee. He nods and you move to sit next to him on the couch. “Firstly, there’s nothing going on between Suguru and–”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he cuts in.

“God no! I haven't liked him for a long time now… like a long long time,” you enunciate every word. And more than making him explain, it's almost a declaration to yourself to be brave with your words.

His eyebrows further crease, the wrinkle in the middle of his forehead deeper than ever.

“Just… let me explain? I’ll answer all your questions,” you rub his hand softly as you melt at the way his puppy eyes stare at you.

Moment of truth!

“I know you may have a lot of questions but just listen to what I say first?” You begin and he nods just as you blurt it out, “Suguru and I never really dated.”

“What!?” His eyes almost pop out of their sockets in disbelief.

“You wanna hear it or not?” You glare at him. 

He's quick to raise his hands up in surrender, “Go on.”

“Umm… remember when you asked me if I had a crush on anyone?” You continue, “When I first told the gang I was doing long distance with Suguru?”

He nods attentively and it almost makes you giggle but you maintain a straight face nonetheless. 

“It was a stupid lie that Lu and I said without thinking cause at that time all that mattered was to not confess that I had a crush on you,” you sigh.

He points a finger at his own chest, “Me?”

You roll your eyes.

“No, no… I mean, that was like two months ago. You've liked me since then?” He sounds more confused than ever.

You simple stare at him, warning him about the interruption. He mouths a sorry and you continue. You tell him about your first kiss and brief history with Suguru, which earns you a consoling caress on your hand from Choso. You also explain how Suguru moving into the apartment next door was just your mother's naive move at fixing your relationship with your ‘hot ex-best friend’. And finally catching him up to speed on the events from a few hours ago.

“So, that's that,” you sigh, “Of course I shouldn't have lied about it at all and avoided this whole mess altogether… but I'm sorry. I don't want a relationship based on lies so, now you know. And since I'm being honest… I've had a crush on you for a while now, Cho. It started slowly and before I knew it, I liked you too much to risk getting rejected by you-”

“No,” he interrupts you, “No… just– you’ve liked me for months and you're just telling me now?”

“Hey, you weren’t particularly easy to read! You always gave me mixed signals. Since when have you liked me?” you fire back.

“You dumbass… I've been whipped for you from the moment you first spoke to me!” He whisper-yells in the passion of his confession, laughing as if a sudden weight had disappeared off his shoulders.

You're dumbfounded as you mumble, “Then why not ask me out?”

“I don't know… my longing for you never seemed to move past late night rants with Satoru,” Choso chuckles, “at first I thought that it would be a bad idea to fuck up the dynamics of such a new friend group… then later on, I saw the way you refused to go out with Mahito… I didn’t want to blow my chance by asking you too prematurely and then the perfect moment never arrived till Suguru happened.”

“Wait wait wait… Satoru knew?” You raise an eyebrow. Choso simply nods affirmatively. “I'm gonna kill that blondie in the morning,” you glare in the direction of Luna's room.

You look back when you hear Choso laugh and you smile at him, “As for Mahito, he was just some dude at the office to me. I never even had a full conversation with the guy! But you–”

“I know it seems like an excuse and maybe I was being a coward but I really did not want to be just a guy at the office to you!”

There's a beat of silence.

“Do you really like me?” He breaks the silence.

“What– of course I do!” you sigh, “How has it not been obvious to you?”

“Ditto.” he says plainly. 

There’s silence again. With every second that passes by, you feel a void forming inside of you and your mouth drying due to the sudden anxiety creeping up. But then there it is, his voice that pulls you out of it.

“Will you push me away if I kiss you now?”

You stare at him blankly, “Hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declares softly. 

You nod your head slowly.

“Hmm,” he moves closer to you, closing the barely existent distance between you. He plops your bottom lip out with his thumb while simultaneously wetting his plump ones. Your breath hitches in your throat when you finally feel his lips on yours.

He takes his time to savour the taste of your mouth, parting to catch his breath, “I’m sorry if I hadn’t made it clear before– I like you a lot.”

You blush as you nod, “I like you too, Cho.”

“Let me do this right,” he hooks an arm around your waist, “Would you make me the happiest man on earth and be my girlfriend?” He pecks your cheek.

“Hmm… can I think about it and get back to yo–” your sentence is interrupted by another kiss and you laugh into it.

“Nope,” he kisses you all over your face. You giggle as you pull him in for another kiss.

You let out an involuntary whimper when he deepens it and his tongue invades your mouth. Your hands move up to play with his hair when he tugs at your hips to pull you impossibly closer onto his lap. His fingers dig into your hips to drag your crotch over his growing erection.

When Choso finally parts his lips from yours, you gasp for air as you grow weak under the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he declares lovingly and it makes your cheeks grow hot. You grab the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer. He obliges as his lips capture yours again. 

Your tongues dance in sync with a newfound familiarity before he pulls away to pepper your whole face with tiny pecks. You giggle silently at this, trying your best not to wake Luna and Satoru up.

You close your eyes when Choso’s lips move closer to your eyelids, still laughing as you whisper, “Shhh… Cho– it tickles!”

“Okay… then how about this?” he coos as his face dives into the crook of your neck and he sucks onto your skin, causing you to let out a louder gasp.

You slap a hand over your mouth as he sucks on the same spot, biting it and making you feel dizzy. He fingers wrap around your wrist to peel your hand away from your mouth.

Biting your bottom lip to contain your moans, you feel him push up against your crotch, moving your hips back and forth over the tent in his pants. You yank his hair with your free hand and he gives you a cheeky grin, lust clouding his eyes.

“Hold tight,” he whispers as he leans back in to kiss you. You nod as you wrap your arms around his neck, trying to dominate the kiss. His hands move down to knead the flesh of your ass before you hear a muzzled smack and feel the tingling burn on your butt, “Just because you’re on top doesn't mean you're in control,” he smiles ever so innocently as he stands up, almost stumbling as he eagerly carries you to your room. Your lips don’t part until you shush at him for kicking your room door to close it with a loud thud behind him. 

He ignores your scolding, biting your bottom lip softly instead. Just as he throws you onto the soft mattress of your bed, you hear shuffling as he searches for the bedside lamp.

When the dim light illuminates his form, you get butterflies in your stomach at the way his chest heaves as he pulls off his t-shirt in one swift motion, discarding it recklessly on the floor. When he climbs into the bed, hovering over you, you can’t help but observe how delicious he looks – his lips already swollen from the kiss and his hair all messed up, thanks to you.

“I like you so much. You have no idea how many nights I've dreamt of this moment,” you confess as you stare into his eyes.

“I think I do,” he kisses your cheek, “cause I have failed to get you off my mind too.”

“Fuck you for being such a coward,” you pull him into a kiss.

“Okay, my pretty liar,” he pulls back to sit up and you mirror his movement. He pulls your t-shirt up to your chest. You lift your hands up to help him take it off completely and he discards the fabric carelessly. Your bra follows next and he’s stupefied as he salivates at your perked up tits.

His hands are quick to knead and squish your boobs together before pinching the hardened nipples. You sigh in satisfaction and it encourages him further as he pulls you onto his lap till you're straddling him. He holds your gaze, staring up into your half-lidded eyes as his lips alternate, pecking both of your nipples gently.

If your skin burned like fire under his touch, he felt scorched by the sun itself. Choso wasn’t a pervert but maybe you were an exception; he could recall all the times he’d jerked himself off to thoughts of you.

As his hands raked over your soft skin, it made him think of all the nights he’d conjured up sweet memories of your seemingly innocent hugs for all the wrong reasons — the way your arms would wrap around his wide shoulders and the way your boobs would press against his chest — and he felt his cravings grow with a deprivation akin to a sex-fiend adolescent boy.

With each touch, he affirmed the thoughts that had plagued his sleepless nights during the forced celibacy he’d maintained since the day he started falling for you. It had been months since he’d felt the touch of a woman and he thinks it might as well have been a lifetime ago. 

His lips search for all the spots on your skin that can pacify the needs of his body and the longing of his heart. The shipwrecked sailor finding his solace in the arms of a siren who’d been waiting for him to sink under. 

When his teeth softly tug at your flesh before sucking onto a nipple roughly, you shut your eyes close, moaning at the sensation as you slowly begin grinding your hips over his clothed cock. He repeats his ministrations on the other side while his hand slides down to dip into your shorts. His fingers flirt with your wet underwear, rubbing over the fabric, pushing it closer to your cunt, soaking it further with your juices.  

“Cho– nghh,” you huff as you find your hips grinding at their own will against his hand for more friction and your head lulls back. 

“Yes, my love?” He teases you as his other hand clutches your jaw to make you look at him once again.

“M-more,” you beg, feeling hazy. His lips curl into a cocky smile as he pulls your face closer to kiss you. He moves the flimsy fabric of your underwear to the side before gliding two fingers over your folds, coating them with your arousal.

You squirm on top of him when his fingers bully into your cunt, slowly burying in deeper and deeper. His grip on your jaw relaxes before holding the back of your neck firmly to still your writhing torso. Your thoughts go blank and pleasure shoots up your veins as Choso’s fingers work their magic. 

His two fingers go from slowly massaging your gummy walls to moving up towards your clit. As he starts to roll the pads of his fingers over the sensitive bud, you bury your head into the crook of his neck to muffle your moans. Choso notices the way your arms begin to shake when you grip his shoulders to keep yourself sane. Choso’s free hand slides to the back of your head as he grips your hair with just the right amount of pressure. When you pull your head back to look at him, you find a satisfied grin plastered on his face, relishing the way you look so fucked out already.

Any other time you’d get jealous wondering who taught him how to please a woman but right now, you were too busy making profanities sound like pleas and prayers dedicated to the man in front of you. You lean forward to kiss him frantically as your body starts to twitch due to how sensitive your clit feels. You bite his bottom lip hard and whimper at the way his fingers play with you.

He pulls his face away from yours to whisper, “Let me hear your cute voice, baby. Been waiting forever.”

You shake your head no in embarrassment and it's only a split second after that you find yourself moaning his name as he dives forward to suck the sweet spot on your neck. You can already tell it's going to bruise later but you don't care. You're way past the limit of being overstimulated as you can hear just how wet his fingers have gotten with your slick.

You can't take it anymore so you grab his hair to pull his sweet lips away from your skin, “Choso… please fuck me before I go insane.”

Your desperate request is all it takes for him to oblige and lay you down on the mattress. Before you can register it, he’s yanking your shorts off along with your soaked panties to completely expose your body to him. You feel shy like you never did before and it’s mostly due to the way Choso's eyes are ravaging your body even without laying a finger. You try to squeeze your legs shut as your face burns in embarrassment, but he’s quick to stop you halfway, gripping your ankles tightly.

“Cho, stop looking at me like that!” you scold him and he simply chuckles softly.

“I have dreamt of you naked a million times and now that I finally get to see you…” he holds your left leg up to his shoulder as he peppers pillowy wet kisses, starting from your ankle and moving towards the inside of your thigh.

“Mmh?” you ask as you shut your eyes when you feel his breath fanning just above your folds. You feel goosebumps prick your skin as he kisses everywhere but where you need his mouth the most.

“My imagination couldn’t ever come close to the real you,” he concludes before you feel his wet tongue part your folds as he slowly licks up and down at a steady pace. When the tip of his tongue pokes at your clit, you instinctively move your hands down to grip his hair while your thighs squish his head gently. He’s sucking your sensitive bud just as his two fingers glide into your hole.

“Shit… CHOSO!” you grip his hair as he continues his slow torture. You grind your hips, desperate for more friction only to hear him chuckle as he stops to look up at you. You open your eyes to see his amused face staring at you from between your thighs.

“So cute,” he crinkles his nose at you. Before you can let the crease of complaint form on your forehead, he’s diving back in. This time however, his pace is brutal. He’s unforgiving as he eats you out like a starved man. Each lick makes your torso twitch more violently as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Cho?” you huff as your breathing gets heavier.

“Yes?” 

“Come here,” your voice is desperate and he has no option but to obey as he towers over you with his hands on either side of your head. You reposition one of his thighs between your legs as he waits for your command. He’s quick to catch up as he pushes his leg further up to press his knee against your pussy. Your hands are quick to grip onto his sides as you begin grinding over his thigh at a ruthless pace.

“That’s it baby… use me as you please,” he matches the rhythm of your body and it takes only a few more seconds till your whole body is twitching and your limbs collapse onto the mattress as you cum hard.

“Wow,” he looks down at the newly created wet spot on his pants.

“Really soft… I like your pants,” you stick your tongue out as you tease him. He mouths a ‘thank you’ before leaning down to kiss you again. He caresses your hair as your breathlessness subsides slowly and you promise, “I'll wash them tomorrow.”

“No way! Gonna wear this out and show everyone ‘hey!!! my girlfriend came on this!’” he laughs.

But that one word he casually lets slip is the one that catches your attention. You bite your lip as you blush, “Girlfriend?”

“Shall we make it official?” He moves away to get off the bed and his hands unbutton his trousers before letting them drop to the floor along with his underwear. You look at his naked figure, staring at him in his full glory. You let out a dry chuckle when your eyes land on his dick, wondering how the hell your pussy was going to take all of him.

You snap out of your trance as you hear him speak, “Got any condoms?”

“Hmm?” You blink as you refocus your vision back to his face. 

“Cute,” he laughs and there's a pause as he looks at you lovingly, “I asked where the condoms were, baby.”

“Oh… right,” you blush, again, “umm… left drawer in the closet.”

It's not hard to find the sealed pack as it lay on top of your stuff – all thanks to Luna who had gotten them for you just in case on the day you had invited Choso over to talk.

“Who was this pack waiting for?” he inquires you teasingly, “Totally not jealous by the way!”

“Your dumbass on Thursday,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Aww,” he mocks before giggling like a teenager in love, “Sorry for making you wait, my love.”

“All's forgiven,” you open your arms, inviting him back to the bed.

“No, wait… where's the lube?” he’s rummaging through the drawer.

“Doesn' matter, just come here!”

“Baby, come on,” he chuckles as he points at his dick, “not tryna brag but… come on.”

Right. You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks at his comment. So all you can do is manage to rapidly mumble, “it's somewhere in there… I don't know, find it yourself.”

Choso's smiling like an idiot before turning his back to you once again to find the lube. You observe how well-built his back looks even when he's not flexing before your gaze finds itself onto his cute butt. You smile to yourself as it dawns on you that this is actually happening for real.

With your legs spread apart, your hand moves down to your folds as you begin to finger yourself. Your other hand is playing with your hardened nipples as you shamelessly stare at Choso’s figure. 

“Found i–” he turns around as he holds the half-empty tube in his hand, words failing him at the scenery in front of him. He thinks he could cum just by looking at you masturbating in front of him.

“Hurry up baby… please,” you whimper as your fingers pick up the pace.

Without wasting another second, he's tearing open the pack of condoms to put one on with lighting speed. Before you know it, his hands are on either side of your head to keep his heavy weight from collapsing onto you as his head dips down to kiss you passionately.

“Holy fuck,” he sighs when your lips part. You’re already reaching out to grab the lube he'd tossed on the bed. Taking a generous amount in your palm, you smirk at him as your hand reaches down to coat his dick with the sleek gel.

You're pretty sure you hear a muted whimper when your hand glides over his length, squeezing it with a soft pressure. “That enough?” You ask innocently when you stop the movement.

“Let's find out,” his voice betrays him, revealing the desperation hidden inside. Choso’s quick to readjust your position, hooking your legs onto his shoulders and placing a pillow under your hips. You reach your hand down to position his tip near your entrance and frantically nod at him to begin.

“Just tell me– fuck… I'll stop if it’s too much,” his voice strains as he pushes his tip inside. You nod as your fingers dig into his biceps.

“Shit, son of a bi–ngh,” you moan as he pushes his dick deeper into your fluttering walls, “don’t stop, keep going.” Even more profanities roll off your tongue by the time he's done pushing his whole length into you. 

“Good job, baby!” He kisses your sweaty forehead as he waits for you to adjust to his size. “I'm gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You nod eagerly as you cup his face to pull him in for a kiss. When you feel him pull his hips away slowly, you moan into the kiss, making him suck on your bottom lip. Before you have a chance to feel the emptiness, he's thrusting back into your hole, making your eyes roll back into your head as you chant his name between kisses.

“Cho- fuck!” you cry. 

“Tell me how you like it, baby,” his heavy voice feels like music to your ears.

“Faster… please!”

On your command, the sound of your skin slapping against his gets louder as he picks up the pace. Choso’s chest heaves as he slams a hand onto the headboard, gripping it tight to help control his motions better. You can feel each thrust penetrate your walls, leaving behind a longing for more each time he pulls back to fuck into you harder.

As you shamelessly chant out ‘yesyesyes’ in approval, it further fuels his desire to keep going. When you feel your body move up the bed due to his erratic thrusts, you bring one hand up to push against the headboard and keep yourself from sliding up further.

Each of his thrusts feel so delicious that you find yourself zoning out due to the pleasure. You can feel your senses overloading when he pulls his hand away from the headboard to tease your clit instead. When your fingernails dig into his bicep, you hear him hiss in pain.

“S-sorry baby,” you mumble in your delirium only slightly letting go of your grip on his arm. Choso lets out a dry chuckle at this before stopping his thrusts completely. You look at him with desperation and disappointment in your eyes.

He pulls away from you before commanding, “Turn around.”

On instinct, you're quick to obey as you lie face down, pushing your ass up in the air as you steady your balance on your knees. But you realise Choso has other ideas when he pushes your hips to lie you down flat.

“Try to relax, okay baby?” his voice sounds so soft that all his words seem to be laced with honey, all the while preparing to take you into a lethal prone bone. Choso pins both your wrists above your head with one hand while his other hand lines his tip to your entrance once again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his length enter you slowly. 

“Oh… god,” is all you can manage to say as your voice gives out. As Choso begins to thrust into you with a delicious pace, all you can manage to utter are broken moans of his name over and over again. 

You're at his mercy, locked under him as he pounds into you, making the mattress bounce to the rhythm of your bodies. You're certain you almost see stars each time his dick touches all the right spots inside you.

The sound of his hips slapping against your ass makes you hyper aware of just how loud you're being but with every thrust, you care less than ever.

“Shit… baby, I might–,” before Choso's sentence is complete, you feel his dick twitch inside you, “...cum.”

“No! Keep going… please,” you push your hips back in an attempt to make up for the lost momentum when you feel Choso slow down. But you already feel the emptiness inside your walls as he rolls off to collapse next to you, chest heaving heavily.

Before the pout on your face has a chance to deepen further, he's pulling your body into his till your back is pressed against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he whispers, kissing the sweet spot behind your ear as his arms snake around your body to readjust till you're lying on top of him. One of his hands plays with your hardened nipples while the other hand moves down to your clit. 

“Oh,” is all you manage to utter before you're squirming on top of him due to his skilled movements. Every flick and every pinch overstimulating your already abused clit. You turn your head to try to kiss him but your position makes it impossibly difficult and the moans you wanted to drown into his mouth are bellowed out loud.

You would've thought it ridiculously impossible that a man would be able to make you squirm like this just by playing with your tiny bud of joy but the night had been full of surprises to say the least.

“Cho– fuck, it's too much,” you cry as you try to release yourself from his hold but are instead greeted by a pinch on the nipple.

“Shh… you can take it baby,” his fingers move better than a vibrator ever could and you cry his name over and over again as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

“Fuckfuckfuck-shit! Choso, fuck, please god,” you're not sure what you're begging for but your prayers are heard as you cum hard, body convulsing violently. Choso's fingers slow down and you take the opportunity to slide away from his hold. 

You let out a breathless chuckle as your body slowly stops twitching. You open your eyes to look at Choso who's smiling at you with a satisfied smug look in his eyes.

“Kamo… you’re something else,” you laugh as you roll your eyes at him, still in disbelief at the fact that he managed to make you orgasm in a way you yourself could never.

“You're welcome,” he laughs back as he shifts to sit in front of you, taking one of your feet into his hands. He brings the foot up to kiss the bottom of it and you pull away when it tickles. Choso moves closer, the lazy haze in his eyes can't hide the lust starting to swarm again.

“No way,” you squeal as you place the same foot onto his chest to stop him from getting any closer.

“Are you serious? We've only fucked once,” he pouts.

“Cho, if we fuck again, I'll die,” you laugh as you hook the same leg around his waist to pull him in closer.

“And if we don't do it again, I'll die,” he dips his head down to give you a sweet peck.

“Cho, have you seen the size of that thing? Give me some time to adjust,” you laugh as you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him on top of you like a weighted blanket.

“Okay fine, but I'm having you all to myself in the morning,” he kisses you once again before pulling away from you. You watch him discard the condom into the bin before returning to bed. Last thing you remember is Choso pulling you closer and covering your naked bodies with your snug blanket. The whispered pillow talk dissolves away as soon as it begins and the mumbled sentences you try so hard to deliver get lost somewhere in the back of your brain when sleep takes over.

~~~

In his deep slumber, Choso finds himself dreaming – as he wakes up in cold sweat, he finds himself alone in his bed, with no trace of you in sight. Then he recalls the way he had hurried back home upon seeing you kiss Suguru and the rancid feeling that he had carried to bed, trying to bury any feelings he had for you, hoping they’d disappear tomorrow along with the burning ache of his soul. Then he wakes from the dream within his dream, feeling a sense of brief relief only for his heart to sink again as his hand extends out to roam over the empty spot on the bed. His eyes stay closed, wanting to delay reality. The haven his body had found in your arms last night seemed to have been a tricky illusion of his tortuous brain.

Just as Choso finds himself cursing his mind for such dirty tricks, wishing he’d never–

A kiss on the cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Choso feels the soft lips pepper his entire face with ticklish kisses. And then Choso finds himself taking back all the curses he’d mentally spewed at himself moments ago when his eyes open to meet your loving ones.

“Good morning,” you smile, leaning over him with a damp towel wrapped around your body.

“I had a bad dream,” Choso smiles back.

“What was it?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” his grin widens as he wraps his arms around you and rolls over till you’re pinned under him. You squeal, taken by surprise before giggling as he leans down to kiss you.

“If I remember correctly, you’re mine all day today,” Choso comments between kisses, “and for the rest of our days.”

“It’s Monday tomorr–” your sentence is interrupted by another abrupt kiss, resulting in both of you giggling like fools in love. 

His lips move down to your neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses. You feel the heat burning up your skin as your hands get lost into his black locks, massaging his head gently. Just as Choso undoes your towel, you hear a loud rumble erupt from your stomach.

“Maybe we should have breakfast first,” Choso chuckles, kissing your belly before getting off the bed. You take his extended hand and get out of bed before getting dressed. You both quietly make your way through the living room, not wanting to disrupt Luna and Satoru in case they were still sound asleep.

“Ready?” you chirp, already envisioning the big breakfast you were planning to have at Sam’s cafe… with your man. You open the main door and take about two steps when he pulls you by the arm, kissing you in a way that leaves you lightheaded.

“Okay, now we’re ready,” Choso smiles.

~fin~

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 29

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Ohhhh this chapter. The final events of the Tenjiku arc is here. I hope you enjoy it. I do, lol. After this things are going to start deviating a bit from canon. I love certain parts of this chapter. I'm really curious to see what you think of it. Please let me know. As always, expect spoilers for the manga and the last season aired of the anime.

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fic masterlist - prev chapter

Takara clings to Mikey as he speeds through the streets. Hinata is on Draken’s bike and if they were closer, Takara assumes she’d hear the girl squeak in fear. Mikey has yet to let her go since she held his hand, even now when they’re forced to stop at a light, he reaches for her in some way, as if to make sure the feeling of her arms wrapped around him isn’t an illusion. 

She rests her head on his back. If Takemichi didn’t duck…she would have lost him. The future she’s trying so hard to avoid would have come true and there was nothing she could have done to avoid it. She feels like shit because part of her is glad it was Emma and not her brother. 

She shoves that down as far as it can go, not willing to let it grow or fester. Takara knows she doesn’t mean it, she just wants her brother safe. 

The bike finally stops and Mikey places a hand on her thigh to stop her from getting off first. He grabs her by the waist, lifting her off the motorcycle himself. He sets her down in front of him and Takara stands for a moment, stunned, before he grabs her hand and pulls her after him. 

Takara follows and as they get close to the crowd, Takara picks up her pace so she walks next to him. Her lip curls at the damage done to the people she knows in Toman and when she catches sight of Mucho, she nearly lunges forward. It’s only Mikey’s hand that holds her in place. At least until she sees her brother.

Her mouth drops open at the sight of him. “Take!” 

Mikey doesn’t let go and she drags him behind her as she races to see her brother. She shoves her way past Izana and Kisaki. “Take, what the fuck?! You told me you’d be safe!” Her rant is stopped as Mikey moves, hugging Takemichi with his free arm. 

“Thank you, Takemitchy,” Mikey says softly. Her brother starts crying and Takara takes the chance to look around, memorizing the faces. She catches sight of Hanma who’s eyes narrow at the sight of her and Mikey. She gives him the finger. When she sees Ran, it feels like everything freezes for a moment. He moves forward but Rindou stops him and Takara forces herself to look away. She can’t. 

Takara moves back as Draken makes himself known with Hinata. They all step back to let her come forward, to explain to Takemichi. Honestly, she doesn’t know if Mikey called timeout just with his mere presence, but the fact that the gang fight has stopped with their arrival and no one’s said shit about Hinata being there is impressive. 

Takemichi finally clues into the fact that Hinata told them, and while he freaks out about it, Mikey tugs on her hand. 

“Take Hinata and get her out of the way. Draken and I are going to finish this.” 

“Mikey…”

“Do it, Kara-chan. I trust you’ll keep her and Takemitchy safe.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief at the promise of her brother getting out of the fight. “Fine.” She moves to the side, standing with Hina between her brother and her as she watches Mikey and Draken hype their team up. 

Before they can charge, Izana moves, kicking Mikey hard enough to send him sliding back. “Thanks for bringing my future wife, Mikey-kun,” Izana says, enunciating the honorific sarcastically. 

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Takara asks as both Hinata and Takemichi look at her. 

“You know him?” Hinata asks.

“I’ve spoken to him once,” she says. Izana continues, talking about him losing Shinichiro and Emma. Takara’s lip curls in disgust at the desire she hears in his voice when he asks Mikey how it feels to be a shell. “What a fucking asshole.” 

Despite their fight, she can’t stop from looking for Ran in the crowd. His eyes are still on her and she swallows tightly. Did he hear Izana? Was this what he had been trying to warn her about? She tears her eyes away and turns back to the fight, ignoring the way she can feel his gaze on her now. 

Watching the fight is exhilarating. Izana and Mikey are evenly matched and she can’t stop the way her mouth drops open, heart pounding at the sheer viciousness of it. Izana sends Mikey flying again with a kick and Takara can’t stop herself. 

“Come on, Mikey! You gonna let this fucker win!?”

Izana looks towards her. “Not now, wifey.”

“Fuck you!”

Mikey lunges forward. Takara looks to the side, eyes narrowing as she catches sight of Kisaki. Mikey told her to stay put but the desire to stab him herself is overwhelming. She moves sideways, planning to slip through the crowd until she reaches him. 

Someone grabs the back of her shirt, lifting her up.

“Hey!”

“Where you going, Takara?” Draken asks. She had seen him move up to talk to her brother, but she thought he’d be focused on the fight. 

“Nowhere.”

He sets her down slightly but doesn’t loosen his grip on her shirt. She could escape it, but running through a crowd of boys without a shirt isn’t her idea of a good time. 

Izana sends Mikey flying again. “You took everything from me, Manjiro! That’s why I’m going to kill you too!”

🔪

The fight continues. 

Takara watches in fascination as they fight, even if she thinks Izana is fucking crazy. She can freely admit that her fixation on keeping her brother safe might be a little problematic…and leading her into a dark place, but it wasn’t like that. It was clear he had one too many hits to the head. 

The tide turns and Mikey starts to win, playing what seems to be psychological warfare right back at him. A promise to accept him as family. It works. Izana has a breakdown in front of everyone. 

He races for Kisaki and Takara’s heart stops when he grabs a gun from him. 

“Who the fuck brought a gun to a fistfight?!” she moves forward but Draken’s hand is still holding her shirt. She’s not sure if he’s holding her back or himself. 

Then again, Mikey starts to goad Izana on and everyone freaks out. Draken screams at him, warning him that Izana is serious and for a second, she thinks he really will. Takara flinches from the idea of watching another friend die. 

One of Tenjiku moves, knocking the gun from Izana’s hand. The others in the matching outfits watch in shock and it’s enough to know that it’s the first time someone’s gone against their captain.

“Kaku-chan..” Takemichi says and Takara stares in shock. That’s Kakucho? The scrawny little kid who used to follow her around when he wasn’t being obnoxious with her brother? What the hell were they feeding him and where could she get some?

The two of them argue over Izana’s choice and while Izana tells his executives to kill him,  Kakucho yells that Tenjiku lost. 

Izana screams. “Shut up!”

A shot rings out, cutting through the tension. Hinata’s hands rise to cover her mouth. Takara stares in shock as Kakucho is shot. Her brother screams from next to her and all Takara can focus on is the sight of Kisaki…pointing the gun.

“You’re a goddamn nuisance,” she hears him say. 

“Motherfucker!” Takara snaps, yanking herself out of Draken’s now loose hold. She should have stabbed him when she had the chance. 

“Every single time the Hanagakis ruin all my well-thought-out plans,” Kisaki says, looking furious as he keeps the gun pointed at Kakucho. He yells something else but Takara’s ears are ringing. He shoots again but Izana moves, knocking Kakucho out of the way…and taking the shots himself. 

Everyone stares in shock. This is too much. Every time she shows up at one of these goddamn fights, someone escalates it. 

Kisaki falls, recoiling at what he’s done and just like the junkyard, no one moves. Takara runs forward. 

She barely knows the men bleeding out of the ground in front of her, but she’s sick of this. She’s tired of watching more people die. Kakucho was her brother’s best friend. Izana is a psycho but she’s listened as Mikey claimed him as a brother. She may have led to Emma’s death. She won’t let this happen again. 

In a repeat of her last attempt, she strips her shirt off and presses it against Izana’s chest. It’s not enough.

“Help!” she snaps. “Someone give me their fucking shirt!” 

 Mikey moves forward, giving her his Toman uniform jacket. She presses it against Izana’s wounds, trying to stop the blood flow. 

“Someone better have fucking called an ambulance!” She yells. 

Izana and Kakucho are talking, acting like it’s the end but she refuses. She won’t let it happen again. It can’t happen again. 

“Shut up!” she snaps. “Stop fucking talking!”

 Izana looks at her, but his eyes are glassy and slightly unfocused. “You should have been my queen. You’d have been great.” 

She doesn’t answer, too focused on trying to stop the blood that she can feel seeping through the jacket. 

“Mikey…it’s Tenjiku’s loss…” Izana says softly. 

Kakucho snaps, yelling at him. Takara ignores them, yelling for another shirt. Someone throws her a red one and she uses the Tenjiku uniform to press down on Kakucho. She’s silent as she kneels between them. She can’t reach them both and since no one else fucking moves as the two of them refuse to stop acting like they’re dying, she extends one leg out to press down on Kakucho’s wound while she uses her arms and torso to keep trying to staunch Izana’s. 

“Sorry, Kakucho, but I…I only have you, after all.” Izana smiles and Takara stares at him for a moment. He’s handsome like that. When he’s not acting insane. 

She listens as he talks to Mikey, who tells him that he’s his brother, and Izana tells him about running into the woman who abandoned him, about confronting Shinichiro and his discovery. 

“I’m not a sibling to Shinichiro, you or Emma…I’m not related to anyone at all.” 

“So what?” Takara snaps. “Who fucking cares if you’re not related? Family doesn’t always involve blood. It’s about who’s at your side, who you love and who you’re willing to die for! It doesn’t fucking matter if you’re related to anyone. You still have a family!” 

Tears fill his eyes. “So I’m not beyond saving?” He asks with a smile.

“Of course not!” She doesn’t even like him, but she understands more than she ever expected to. She knows what it feels like to be alone, to know you’re not related to anyone around you, that no matter what, you’ll never have that connection. 

“Izana…” Kakucho moves, sitting up and nearly knocking her off balance. Kakucho forces himself closer, leaning over and she hears the panic in his voice. The panic in her voice as she joins in at calling Izana’s name. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” She snarls at him, moving so Kakucho can come closer. “You’re not fucking allowed to die!” 

Kakucho is crying as he calls Izana’s name, over and over, before he finally collapses. She falls back, staring at them in fear. Not again. Kakucho grabs Izana’s hand.

“I won’t let you feel lonely,” he says. “I’m going over there too...right now…”

Takara feels her throat starting to tighten, tears building in her eyes. She tries to swallow it down but it won’t move. 

“Looks like we sucked at living,” Kakucho jokes before he looks to the sky. 

“No!” Takara scrambles to sit up. “No!” she yells, pressing down on Kakucho’s wound. “You’re not fucking dying too!” She looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Where’s the fucking ambulance!?”

She hears Mikey say something behind her but she doesn’t move, doesn’t stop pressing down on Kakucho’s chest. She can’t…she can’t let him die.

“Takara, come on,”

“Fuck off!” she snaps. 

“Hey, darling,” she looks up at the voice. Ran is crouching by their heads, eyes on her. “You gotta go, beautiful. The police are coming. We both know you can’t save them. Not now. Get out of here.” 

She shakes her head. “No, he’s fine. He’s fine!”

He looks above her. “You…you gotta take her.” 

Someone’s arm wraps around her waist and pulls her back. 

“NO!” she scrambles, fighting to get free. “I’m not fucking leaving! No! He’s not dying!” She’s dragged backwards. “Stop! Let go!”

“Enough!” Mikey says, unrelenting in his grip. “We have to deal with Kisaki.” 

Takara stops. Kisaki. The motherfucker who started all of this. The one who keeps trying to kill her brother. Who brought a gun to a fistfight that led to another fucking tragedy. The one who used her method in defending herself and protecting her brother to kill Emma. 

She puts her feet down and turns. Mikey’s hand remains on her waist, as they both look down at Kisaki who’s still on the ground. 

“You’re the one person I’ll never forgive, Kisaki,” Mikey says. He’s looking at them in fear. Good, she thinks. He should be afraid. 

Takara steps forward. “I’m going to fucking kill you myself.” 

“Kisaki!” The roar of a motorcycle almost covers the yell and Takara is yanked back into Mikey as Hanma drives past, scooping up Kisaki and throwing him over his shoulder. “Sorry, princess!” he calls out as he goes. 

“Motherfucker!” Takara screams back. 

He doesn’t stop and she’s left, body nearly shaking in fury as she watches her brother’s murderer flee. It doesn’t last long. Draken yells for her brother and Takara watches as the two of them chase after him. Takemichi only pauses to look back at Hinata. 

“Takemitchy! Leave Hina to us!” Mikey yells. “Do what you need to do!”

“You better not let him fucking get away!” Takara joins in, offering her permission. He already knows that if he dies, she’ll kill him. 

She watches her brother climb on the back of Draken’s motorcycle and leave. Mikey pulls her, hand still on her waist as though he expects her to take off. It’s the final signal for everyone to move. Takara grabs Hina’s hand as they get close and they’re ushered away, splitting up from the majority of Toman quickly so it’s not too obvious that they were a part of the fight. 

“Chifuyu! Take Hina and follow me!” 

Takara’s quickly assisted back onto Mikey’s bike and he takes his place in front of her, taking off in a random direction, darting along side roads to get as far from the shipping yard as possible…until he finally diverts back towards the direction that Takemichi and Draken went in. 

Mikey stops the bike and she peers around him to see her brother up ahead, staring at something in shock. Takara gets off the bike before Mikey can stop her, racing for him to make sure he’s okay. 

She stops as soon as she realizes what he’s looking at. 

Kisaki is lying in the road, mangled. He’d been crawling forward, looking like he was trying to stand but unable to make it. 

She gets there just in time to hear him say, “...I don’t want to die.”

Takara stares in horror. As much as she hates Kisaki and all of his stupid fucking plans to murder Take, he’s still a kid her brother’s age. And he’s dead. He’s never looked younger than he does at this moment. 

She gets yanked back, forcibly turned away from the sight and pulled into Mikey’s chest. She feels one arm shoot out as he orders, “Don’t look!” She feels herself trembling and the arm around her waist tightens. 

“What happened?” she hears Mikey ask. She tries to push herself away, to check on her brother, but Mikey doesn’t let go. 

“Is Take okay?” Takara demands.

“Yeah,” Mikey says softly, his mouth pressed against her hair. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.” 

“But..”

“No. We’re leaving. Takemitchy too.” 

🔪

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[kamenstranger]

A review(?) of Dandadan

Starting these reviews off is always the hardest part, but it often comes to me after some time filling out the rest of the article. Dandadan has been stubborn in that regard, so much so I've been trying to figure out where to start with this series since it first came out.

I began reading DDD before tankōbon's were being printed, hell before it even made it to NA digitally (There were translations in Europe which got them early iirc.) Then batches starting coming out, and I still have those original single chapters from Sept. 5 '21

I became captivated, but, like its namesake, describing why I enjoy DDD is daunting in how esoteric it all is.

The general plot is straightforward on its own: Momo Ayase, the granddaughter of a spirit medium, though circumstance meets with an occult obsessed otaku, Ken Takakura, and, yes, he's named after exactly who you think, which drives the Takakura obsessed Momo nuts. She calls him Okarun, which I will also be doing for the rest of this.

Okarun's big obsession is UFOs and aliens, which he believes in, but not ghosts. You see where this is going. Hi-jinks ensue, both go to hot spots for each others interest and what do you know, Momo gets abducted by Aliens and Okarun is possessed by a geriatric genital biting speed demon.

Feel free to re-read that last part a few times.

Suffice to say, Dandadan gets fucking nuts almost as soon as the first chapter, but we're not even close to how off the rails this series gets.

I'll save you the details of how they deal with the Turbo Granny, but I will say the mythos and rules surrounding the various spirits, urban legends, cryptids and aliens is handled with a shocking amount of intricate care. If you're like me, you grew up surrounded by a plethora of Unsolved Mysteries, caught UFO Files as it was airing, maybe you even had some of those Forbidden World books laying around from the 80s before getting into stuff like Yokai. Even though I don't really engage with that sorta thing outside Weird NJ nowadays (It stops being fun when people in public office are into conspiracies-- particularly of the nazi variety like lizard men and flat earth)

The narrative and aesthetic appeal of them has stuck with me.

Anyone that's read my Kamen Rider reviews would know how much of a sucker I am for that quintessential cryptid look, which Dandadan has plenty of along with just being absurdly unhinged and hilarious.

The first two volumes do a fantastic job setting up the limitations and powers of spirits in particular, eventually resulting in part of Turbo Granny's soul being trapped in a Meneki Neko and leaving her speed abilities with Okarun. Unfortunately, Okarun only got 1/3 of his bits back.

So now have two super powered protagonists touched by the supernatural and the unearthly on the search for…missing nuts. Or I guess testicles that look like magic golden orbs of power. That's seriously how we're kicking this off.

And yes, there is a basis for that in mythology called Kintama. If you're familiar with Gintama you probably knew that.

But beyond that basic set up… where the fuck do I even go from there? The series is far more than OTT action and good monster lore, but it's also hard to delve into the how and why of its overall qualities. Sure The supernatural and sci-fi bits are fantastic, and the comedy is wonderful, but it's a by product of the real core of Dandadan: the interpersonal relationships of the characters. Surprise.

Which yeah, if it wasn't clear from the get go, DDD has a romantic angle between Okarun and Momo.

Under the monsters, dick jokes, and the completely unhinged nature of everyone and everything is an oddly captivating and flat out adorable love story between our two leads, one that slowly unfolds but is challenged by the various shake ups from monsters, invaders and cast additions that occur to hinder that development; or in some cases push it further by bringing the two closer.

Okarun in particular very well might be one of my favorite interpretations of the Otaku with a heart of gold. He's a legitimately sweet person, cares for people, he trains his ass off to earn mastery over his powers to make things easier on Momo and to keep up with the ever increasing threats they face. In a sea of otaku power fantasy characters, it's nice to be reminded that characters with limitations and weaknesses to be overcome or dealt with are still showing up.

He's also just a total sweetheart to Momo.

And it's pretty clear even early on that the feeling is mutual. Momo is easily flustered whenever a cute girl gets a little too chummy with Okarun, or strings him along. She even retaliates in some cases.

Momo is also about as dorky as Okarun (As seen above) just in different ways, which makes the two complement one another while also contrasting in how much of a hot head Momo can be.

For a series that gets as bonkers as DDD, Momo's grade A shit talking "too stubborn to admit her feelings" gruff Gyaru personality helps ground the series with a rather realistic portrayal of a girl her age-- albeit one with psychic abilities and goes through some extreme struggles much later in the series.

In fact one of the more overlooked aspects whenever I read about Dandadan is how surprisingly dark the chapters start to get in the 80s onward. Because despite the major kick off involving Okarun having his balls stolen, the series is capable of being very sardonic.

For all the absurd fun like giant enemy crabs or the Flatwoods monster as a Sumowrestler, and even a daikaiju way later, you also have things like human sacrifices and tragic ghost stories which are treated with a heavy tone that is never undermined by that off-kilter comedy. You even see tones of that with Turbo Granny of all things, involving the trapped spirits of butchered girls.

Don't misunderstand, however, the series is first and foremost a romcom with horror elements, but sometimes the horror shines through in surprising ways. That nuance is also seen in the rest of the cast, which I've yet to talk about much because one of the biggest challenges of this whole thing is figuring out how.

Talking about Dandadan beyond the very bare basics of the opening chapters is difficult without spoiling something, it's part why I was hesitant to review it back when I first started reading, despite how enamored I was. For one thing, focusing on any one aspect would be a gross oversimplification, doing a disservice to how each angle of the series is handled. Conversely, delving into Dandadan as whole would mean recapping the story arcs and events because Dandadan has some of the most tightly woven threads I have seen in some time. I can barely graze the surface of why character dynamics work or are unique before inevitably getting into a full blown synopsis and spoiling character arcs and entire narrative structures, which is… frustrating, to say the least.

For example, I can't really give you a good look at Aira Shiratori without getting deep into how she's a schoolmate of Momo and Okarun, gets into a rivalry with Momo because Aira thinks she's a demon while viewing herself as "The special one"; a delusion made stronger when she gains her own demonic powers which is basically Sedusa. But over time she forms a bizarre friendship with the two over their trial and tribulations, while also dealing with the massive weight of guilt over cruel rumors she spread about Momo. But that really doesn't even begin to tell you how much of an absolute fucking perfect little bitch she is, and yet what an enjoyable dork she becomes. To do so would be to just tell you everything that happens in her story, which, while not complicated, is tied heavily into the narrative.

It's a similar scenario with Jin "JiJi" Enjoji, Momo's first crush, which you can imagine the upset that causes; one that's pretty goddamn funny because the dude, while handsome, athletically fit and arguably the strongest of the entire cast, has the personality of a goddamn muppet. So Okarun's getting all strung up on a guy even more goofy than him.

In a nice subversion, his relationship with Okarun develops into something surprisingly positive pretty quickly, if not without complications due to a fairly dark story with his character, which pushes Okarun even further in his training after Jin gets his own possession. And it also makes it all the more hilarious that the chipper muppet baby has a secondary Shadow the Hedgehog cracked to 11 persona that's a legit threat.

Then there's Kinta "Kinny" Sakata who is basically if Okarun was even more socially inept and a dipshit Gunpla addict who tried really hard to be a Jojo. His strengths is a vast knowledge of sci-fi tech and a chuuni like ability to imagine entire fantastical constructs; quite handy when mind reading alien nano machines enter the picture. It also helps break up the monotony of everyone else having or developing some sorta supernatural power.

And then we have Vamola, a character I literally cannot say a single thing about without giving away massive plot points. I can't even show a photo because her design itself contains spoilers. Just know that her story is when shit really hits the fan and will be a gut wrenching read while also having the most Battle Manga goodness.

What I can at least tell you is that for as much as Momo and Okarun are the main protagonists, Jin and Aira get damn good focus and are fully formed characters in their own right, they're not just a monkey-wrench thrown into the fray. I mean, they are also that, but they add to those elements while being more than a foil to our main heroes developing relationship, making the story much more varied and expansive than a supernatural will/won't they. Vamola especially in that area.

If there's one takeaway from this it's that Yukinobu Tatsu is capable of creating a great, varied cast full of humor and impeccable chemistry. (not to mention a lot of cheescake that shouldn't work as often as it does.) I'm constantly surprised with how masterful all the different pieces come together to create a compelling dynamic in this deranged Sci-Fi, Supernatural comedy mishmash. Hopefully I can convey a little bit of that Dada-esque appeal despite my spoiler aversion.

What's a lot easier for me to get across without spoilers, however, is the drop-dead gorgeous artwork. Good god is this series beautiful to look at.

Tatsu has a backround in, uh, backgrounds, and it shows on just about every page. Any one side panel has more detail than most double-page fight spreads in other books, and when they do a splash page it is breathtaking.

The fact this is a Weekly series is goddamn insane and… honestly kinda makes me a lowkey worried about their work ethic. But a lot of panels feature just the character on simple stark backgrounds (And some pages feel a little heavy on the reference material, if you get my meaning.) But even so, it's hardly a sacrifice for the impressive amount of work that goes into each chapter and how just about every other page has at least one impressive environment to gawk at.

Not only is the detail impeccable, but the layout, timing and expressions are goddamn phenomenal and a big part of making the series legitimately funny. That same talent translates seamlessly to high energy fights and impactful creepy moments.

This truly is one of the most compelling reasons to read the manga. At the time of this writing we're 5 episodes in the Science Saru anime and I want to make clear I'm enjoying it and do highly suggest watching it. I think their high octane stylistic approach is, in many ways, perfect for the series. There's clearly a lot of love put into translating page to screen best they can. Realistically, I know there's no way you could completely capture Tatsu's style 1:1, especially with what the industry is nowadays. The budget and man power it would take for that wouldn't be worth it.

But that sense of scope, scale, the depth, shading and a ton of small eccentricities is something unique to the manga and a big part of why it works. If you only know the anime then I think you're missing out. Plus you've got 8 volumes to read up on.

But also still watch the anime, I'd love a season 2. Hopefully with a bigger budget. Frankly, they're gonna need it.

That said, while I have praised and gassed up Dandadan, I should mention it has a number of trappings that by all means should not fly with me. As previously stated, there's a lot of cheesecake, and I like cheesecake, but it can bog down stories like this and they're a dime a dozen in the manga and anime world. At first glance DDD can look like that from the outside. There are so many instances of things that are annoying in other works, schlocky things (derogatory) that are sell themselves only on the limp-dicked exploitive elements like Fan service. Make no mistake, Dandadan is schlocky (complimentary) but it's also incredibly endearing not only outside those aspects, but in them. At least for the most part. I have to imagine it's aware of the more stupid indulgent elements but wisely plays them straight while at the same time employing a cleverness many other series fail to have.

For example, the characters are comically stripped very frequently, even (and usually) during otherwise semi-serious moments like battles (although not if the stakes are dire.)

But the cheescake is always balanced out by the other qualities. Hell, the cheesecake is often imbued a certain charm that is funny in itself or oddly sweet, which certainly becomes more true in the later chapters. Think more Cutie Honey and less Highschool of the Dead in terms of how it's handled.

A big hand in that is they're not afraid to get silly with all the characters, especially the girls, so it typically feels more tee-hee fun. They're almost if not equally goofy in their own ways and that does a lot in keeping it from being obnoxious. And ya know, they also have real developed personalities and relationships outside just having their clothes blasted off, which also happens to Okarun if that wasn't clear. Actually it's worse because he usually loses everything, and the same is also true for Jin.

It's so audacious in every aspect that I simply can't fault it. I mean, I also wouldn't fault anyone not gelling with it, but I just sorta expect it and roll with it for a series this absurd. I'm a critic, not a goddamn puritan. I know exactly what it is, and it's doing it far better than most. It is, at worst, background noise.

That's not to say the series handles all of its exploitative elements well. Rather infamously the first chapter has an almost not quite sexual assault for Momo. It's… not as bad as it sounds-- in part because it doesn't happen and also the situation is so absurd. Honestly I think there's been a bit much blown out of proportion with it. Still, the over the top nature of an Alien with a metal syringe dick getting his comeuppance by having it bitten off by a granny speed-demon can only mitigate the general grossness of the implication so much and I still wince at it. It's the only part of Dandadan that dips into a level a cheapness it otherwise sidesteps in most other endeavors. Thankfully, it happens early on, but it also isn't a great first impression, especially if you didn't have more chapters or episodes to view at the time, leaving you to wonder just what the hell kinda story this is.

It's worth noting some of the other early chapters have bumps here and there, but nothing quite on the level of chapter 1, and those parts are ironed out overtime to be a lot more palatable. Compare how chapter 3 handles T&A to chapter 26 and you'll know what I mean.

Aside from that, however, there is at least one semi major stigma I have against Dadadan's otherwise enjoyable self indulgent nature, which is that a lot of the monster designs are painfully derivative. And I mean DERIVATIVE. Just about every alien creature in this series is an Ultra Kaiju.

Oh Shin Godzilla in the case of Nessie.

And, look, I get homaging stuff you like. Dr. Slump has loads of references, Patlabor has references to Ultraseven, depending on which version of Urusei Yatsura you're looking at it's loaded with them, Project A-KO has them, Eva is a love letter to Jissouji Ultra (along with flat out copying a few fights from various 70s mecha anime) and even something like Bocchi The Rock is at least a quarter references. References are not the problem. Well, maybe a little, but I'm not gonna get Orson Wells on you here.

Regardless, its hard not to think that maybe they could've dialed it back a little bit.

The Z'gok in Gundam is based on Alien Zarabe but it's doesn't look like a knock-off version of it. But the Dover Demon in Dandadan looks like "original the character" Kanegon that turns into Baltan. Because it is.

Like come on, man. Even the Space Pirates in Metroid aren't this blatant.

Why this sticks out to much is because the art is so damn impressive but the design aspect is lacking in certain areas. I'm willing to give leeway for some designs if they're based on folklore elements like Ghosts, Yokai, and crypids. You want to make them recognizable, but can still work in cute references or original ideas without being as glaring as "we have Ultra Seijin at home." For what it's worth, I guess Dada knockoffs with Pegassa eyes are better than generic greys. But while it's cute at first, I felt it got irksome by the time I saw Shin Godzilla… and then Hipporit as a subterranean shows up. Then a tail-less xenomorph. And Alien Guts, and a Metal Gear, and Elecking, even an Alien Zarabe.

A lot of those do end up as cannon fodder so I can understand not wanting to put a lot of work into stuff that ends up being one offs. I can't deny the art looks incredible and hype as fuck. But man, it gets distracting sometimes, especially when Gomora shows up at one point with the body of Red King and later on they end up making that a major deity in an alien culture. It's not played as a joke at all. It is one of the most dead serious chapters… But it's still just an Ultra Kaiju. Sometimes I'm reading Dandadan and I'm having a great time and I'm getting all the referential designs, and I don't *hate* this, but in the back of my head all I can think of is that line in Akibaranger.

And on some level I do get how that borderline level of infringement adds to the absurdity, how the near mono focus of a singular love for Tsuburaya is charming. Hell, it's even refreshing in some ways considering how that hasn't really been a thing in Japan since the 80s. But it does still get a bit much from the sheer volume.

I think on some level Tatsu knows this because in the more recent chapters the Serpo Aliens are primarily depicted in their disguised forms and the fake Gomora gets a slight redesign in later appearances that's a lot more generic. I sort of get the impression things that were maybe meant to be one off gags ended up becoming reoccurring elements, but given the tone and humor of the series that's really hard to tell, for better or worse.

Although kudos to Science Saru saying fuck it and making the opening to the anime one big Ultraman reference. They know what they're doing.

All that said... I don't really know where to lead off from here. Dandadan is still ongoing, currently at about 170 chapters in Japan, while the anime is still currently airing the first season. So I can't really give a full review of either. Likewise, for all I know the series could go completely off the rails at some point-- in a bad way, I mean.

As it stands I'm still finding enjoyment out of this series and now seems good a time as any to suggest everyone check it out. There's multiple manga out, it's easily available digitally, there's the anime across multiple platforms in NA, we've got figuarts coming out. It's good to see.

I was long over due for look since first reading those Glitter screen-grabs some years back.

Funny enough, this late August I visited my Girlfriend in Illinois and got to see 8 volumes of Dandadan on the shelf in a comic shop, that was a nice surreal experience for something that wasn't even available digitally in NA when I first started reading it.

What I didn't realize at the time was when I took a photo of them on the shelf, it was September 5, three years to the day I got the first few chapters. So yeah, it was time for this to happen.

Given the on going status of DDD, I'll certainly be revisiting the series for a future look at and proper review. Until then, I encourage you to read the manga and see if you see what I see. It might not be some super deep narrative, but it is most certainly unique and well worth your time.

As always, thanks for reading.

[stealthnoodle]

How to Scrape Your Way Through Honour Mode and Look Reasonably Good Doing It

I won't say I beat Honour Mode on my first try, because my Dishonour Mode playthrough served as a critically useful dry run, but I will say that the first character I made with the intention of completing Honour Mode properly did in fact complete Honour Mode.

Below are the 13 most important lessons I learned along the way that made this possible.

1) Do not be Mothman.

You really want to minimize fights and maximize available vendors. Ask yourself "What would Mothman do?" and then do not do that thing.

2) Do be a half-orc.

Fights can go real wrong real fast, and in the early game, you are perpetually one bad round of combat away from oblivion. In my case, the harpies critted Shadowheart to death, and then every chucklefuck in my party failed their wisdom save at the same time. The other two members ate more multiattacks than they could handle, and then so did Pizzazz, but she held on with one single precious hit point after the last blow. She dug herself out of the hole with heal potions and her fists of righteous anger.

Pizzazz being a half-orc saved the entire run here. Having Death Ward once a day comes in fucking clutch when you're below level 5, and tbh the hardest part of Honour Mode is getting to level 5.

The harpy fight was also when I realized the need for a critical strategy:

3) Make one party member your panic button.

I only really needed this trick in the early game (I cannot emphasize enough how most of my close calls were before level 5), but it saved my ass several times. Panic early, panic often.

Pick the party member who has the least to contribute to a fight and park them where they can't get drawn into initiative. You can leave them all the way back at camp, or if you're me, just put them far back in hiding so it's easy to pull them in to help with late-fight cleanup if things are going well (or to finish a fight in the goofiest way possible, see above). Either way, their job is to run crying to Withers if everyone else dies.

Speaking of which…

4) Exploit Bone Daddy's indifference to being pickpocketed.

You can get back whatever "the price of balance" is by yoinking it right out of Withers's pockets. If you fail the sleight of hand check, no worries; you get pulled out of hiding, but he doesn't react at all, and you can just squat back down and get right back in there.

5) Tell Jesse you need to cook.

Potions of Speed are the goddamn Philosopher's Stones of this game. So I made Gale a Transmutation Wizard, made him proficient in Medicine, and put him in charge of alchemy. Just clearing the gnoll zone got me pretty well set for the first two acts.

Getting double heal pots sure doesn't hurt, either.

6) Start a local chapter of the Warding Bond Cleric Club.

This is something I discovered was possible while I was fretting over prepping for the end of Act 2, because last time was such a clusterfuck. You can hire three hirelings, give them fun names like Ouchie Magnet, Sexy Pincushion, and Yoohoo Loviatar, get them to cast Warding Bond on the party members you actually intend to use, and enjoy the full benefits of it out in the world while your hirelings stand around bleeding at camp.

Any buff that lasts until the next long rest and doesn't require concentration works like this, fyi. Death Ward and Longstrider are also especially handy (and once you get to level 11, Heroes' Feast). Setting this up is tedious enough that I only did it a few times during the game, when I was going into situations I couldn't easily extricate myself from in case of emergency. (So the Mindflayer Colony, the Iron Throne, the Steel Watch Foundry, and one last time for the Temple of Baal.)

7) Break big battles up into bite-sized skirmishes.

Why would I fight all the cultists at Moonrise Tower in a grand climactic battle when I could sneak around before finishing the Gauntlet of Shar and pick off my future foes in packs? Since they're not hostile yet, it's pretty simple to wipe them out one room at a time, using Minor Illusion to lure guards away from their posts. Then I got the joy of showing up with Jaheira and all her Harpers to curbstomp the two (2) guys I missed.

Also good for removing all the intellect devourers before you pick a fight with Mindflayers in the Mindflayer Colony and for surviving gnoll swarms. Sometimes you even get lucky and a hyena falls into a hole, somehow.

8) Fill your camp with literal tons of explosives.

See a smokepowder barrel? Pick it up and send it to camp. Do this consistently and you will have deeply nervous party members every time you light a campfire, probably, but you'll also have a way to cheese boss fights that you're worried about. I chugged elixirs that raised strength before the end of Act 2 so that I could bring a dozen smokepowder barrels with me to the Myrkul fight and absolutely trivialized it.

9) Become a partial illithid.

Mourn your aesthetic and commune with that frosty little worm. (Take Volo's amateur eye surgery, too, btw. Just fuck yourself up.) The powers are worth it. A truly hardcore player would also get their companions to dip a toe into ceremorphosis, but I started by asking Astarion, who fucking loves regular tadpoles, to try it, and his response made me feel so bad that I abandoned the cause entirely.

10) Start your day with a delicious and nutritious Heroes' Feast.

So I never really read the description closely because sometimes I'm just like that, but thanks to the Warding Bond Cleric Club, I started paying closer attention to buffs and holy shit??? Thoroughly Stuffed is a baller condition, and it also makes food. I didn't have to go grocery shopping even once! Having three bonus clerics with spell slots to burn also meant the 6th-level cost wasn't coming out of Shadowheart.

11) Accept that late-game enemy saving throws will mercilessly fuck you.

It feels real bad when you cast a 6th-level spell that operates on saving throws and your target shrugs it off with 0 damage. Spells with attack rolls are usually better bets, and Artistry of War is a wizard's once-per-short-rest MVP. Open Hand Monk Pizzazz was consistently my best damage dealer, especially once I looted the Bonespike Gloves from Strangler Luke.

12) Skip the high-risk low-reward quests in Act 3.

Consider your party composition and tactics and whether any optional quest line is worth completing for its rewards. Cazador, the Sharrans, and Ansur are non-trivially difficult fights that I didn't need to subject myself to, so I didn't. But there's real good shit under Sorcerous Sundries, so of course I cleared out that vault.

Hell isn't actually that bad on Honour Mode (no, really! The restoration faucets have unlimited uses!), but it's not a sure thing and I could live without the rewards. Had a tense moment passing the DC 30 Persuasion check with Kith'rak Voss later, but he chilled out and even let me borrow his dragon's breath.

The only unnecessary hard fight I did was the Steel Watcher Titan, which was a bad call on my part; I kinda wanted the crossbow and I really wanted to keep the runepowder bomb in case I needed it, but Mothman didn't do this fight, so I was not prepared for the Hellfire Steel Watcher Titan's bullshit. I won, but it was a closer shave than it should have been.

Then I ended up not using the crossbow at all.

13) Thank Gale for his sacrifice.

The Netherbrain is fucking nasty on Honour Mode. Fuck Karsite Grip. Fuck Aegis of the Absolute. Does it feel bad to make Gale sacrifice himself? Yes. Would it feel worse to lose the run right before the finish line? Also yes.

I brought every explosive I had with me (which required two rounds of strength-boosting elixirs, because the game hits you with a long rest before the Astral Plane) just in case Gale got cold feet and I burned all my inspiration fucking up the persuasion roll, then went through the sewers to avoid the larger fight. Someone (Gale, so I couldn't be too mad) failed a stealth check and aggroed them all anyway, but Pizzazz covered the ground to the brainstem in like three rounds and everyone warped up after her for the cutscene, so no harm no foul.

Then Gale volunteered—nay, insisted on blowing himself up and I felt bad! Real bad! Not bad enough to change course, but Pizzazz's face was also my face during epilogue:

P.S. At least for me, the achievement procced after the epilogue, credits, and post-credits scene, and I was tense af the entire time. But not so tense I couldn't be sad about Gale (oh no he wrote me a letter) and Astarion (oh no he's still in hiding because of Cazador). Luckily my big hot wife was there to support me.

Anyway, let's load an old autosave on another campaign and check out those golden dice, shall we?

Ahhh, my horrible son

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

2025 TBR 📚

thank you @evilovesyou for tagging me! loved your post, lots to discover there...

BOOKS THAT ARE CURRENTLY ON MY NIGHTSTAND

shuggie bain - douglas stuart

i'm about halfway through this novel that i've been dying to read for a while now. i read young mungo, stuart's second novel, last year and it was an instant favorite of mine. and now i am absolutely devouring this one. it's set in glasgow, following the life of shuggie as he grows up with a mother that struggles very heavily with alcoholism. the hard life, described with love, without looking away from all the ugly parts, is what captivates me.

ulysses - james joyce

it is a huge goal in life to finish ulysses. i started a while ago (like.. 1,5 years ago) and now i'm about 1/3rd of the way through. i really enjoy it, but i don't have the proper brain for it every night. i know i will finish it eventually, because when i do have the right brain, i enjoy it a lot

after the revolution - robert evans

this is on my phone, for when i'm on the go and didn't bring a physical book. it's written by one of my favorite podcast hosts ever, and so far it's an interesting look into his brain tbh. it's an imagination of what the us would look like in the future, maybe fifty years from now, after a huge revolution has taken place and the country is split into warring factions. relevant... perhaps. (you can download it here if you want bc he is just like that)

BOOKS THAT I WANT TO READ AGAIN

i think i want to read the song of achilles again at some point. but i don't know. i think at this point in my life i'm so excited about reading new books, that i don't want to reread things just yet! but i have a few books i read when i was a lot younger and would like to read again, which will genuinely feel like i'm reading them for the first time. like some of the vonnegut ones i read almost ten years ago, or brideshead revisited, which i read before i was as adept as i am now at properly sussing out all the queer signalling.

BOOKS THAT I HAVE HAD FOR AN EMBARRASSING AMOUNT OF TIME WITHOUT FINISHING/READING THEM

books that i have started for a long time but haven't finished: ulysses huehuehuehueue buuuuut also lanark by alasdair gray. i've read it almost all the way through three times now lol, once for school and then twice since. i am captivated by this author's writing, since one of his other novels (something leather) is one of my favs of all time, but this is a brick of a book, set in a new world with a lot of unfamiliar scenes described in complicated language so... yeah. not an easy read. but i am determined to, at some point, read it all the way to the end.

as for the books that i've owned for ages but haven't read: the beat hotel - barry miles. i had a huge beat generation phase as a teen and i am actually still set on reading up on all of them. i have books that i bought back then and just never read past the first chapters. no idea why. third one in this line-up is a swim in a pond in the rain, which is basically literary theory poured into a nice book. it analyses scenes from russian literature. i once read a good chunk of it and loved it!!! and then i stopped lol. i had a major reading slump after 2019 ngl, which i'm only just coming back from. (so far i'm back up to speed when it comes to fiction, but non-fiction still needs a push, clearly)

BOOKS THAT I ALREADY OWN THAT I AM EXCITED TO READ

here's three, even though there are a lot more. my bookcase is a mess. but this year stephen fry is coming to my city to do a reading about mythos, so i will probably be reading that one first. i own troy, which i will probably read right before or soon after mythos. been loving all the books that help me brush up on my greek mythology. demon copperhead has been on my list for a while, and now my mom randomly found it in a little exchange library at the station. i think it'll be similar in vibes to shuggie bain, which i'm excited about. then i recently bought never anyone but you in a small indie queer/feminist bookshop in utrecht, nl. it's about the life of claude cahun and suzanne malherbe, two real historical figures from ww2 era france, who lived a beautiful, vibrant, artistic, but hard queer life. i already read a graphic novel about claude last year, so i'm excited to read this novel, which i assume will focus more on their love story.

i also wanted to mention some tbrs that i don't own and will probably download somewhere, because this year i want to focus again some more on politics and brush up on my knowledge and history of anarchism etc. so here's some of my (urgent) tbrs:

tagging.......... anyone who likes to read!! perhaps @persephoneflouwers @moonbeamalice if you feel like it <333

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 15 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - As the summer begins, Spencer unexpectedly hits it off with a single mom he meets at the pool. The two of you separately try to navigate dating new people.

A/N - we’re just gonna let Spencer have a pseudo happy relationship for like a hot minute and let him realise he misses reader. This will not last forever, I promise.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - moody teenager, Spencer and reader both trying to move on, Spencer trying to flirt, mentions of past abusive relationship, divorce, drunk driving and prison time (none of which pertain to Spencer or reader), mentions of age gap between consenting adults, out of control kids, overwhelmed Luke and Garcia, dog vomit, use of the word “bitch” quite a lot, making out.

WC - 5.9k

Chapter 15 - Happier

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you,

But ain't nobody love you like I do.

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby,

If you're movin' on with someone new.

The BAU returned home from their case four days later and Luke called Spencer in regards to helping train his wayward dog. 

In those four days Spencer threw himself into summer activities with his daughters to stem his need for alcohol. 

On Monday the temperature skyrocketed suddenly, over ninety degrees which was unusual for Virginia. Even with the AC cranked up the house was like a sauna. So somewhat reluctantly he’d taken them to the local pool. 

And he got a whole lot more than he bargained for. 

Unsurprisingly the pool had been packed and he only managed to secure one deck chair but Lily and Daisy didn’t intend to sit with him anyway. 

He’d already slathered them in sunblock before they left the house but insisted on putting more on them when they arrived. 

Lily didn’t mind so much but Daisy fussed, uttering things like “god dad you’re so embarrassing” while he simply tried to stop her from burning in the sun. 

As soon as he was finished with them, they ran off towards the pool, leaving him alone on his sole deck chair. 

He rubbed some more sunblock on his face, arms and shins, the only skin exposed to the elements. He left his t-shirt on, not particularly enjoying the idea of being half naked around a packed pool full of strangers. 

He brought a bag full of books, given his reading speed he’d need them to stay entertained while his kids played in the pool. 

He settled back in the chair, laying his head back and swinging his legs up, plucking out the first book. 

It was noisy and busy, patrons packed in like sardines in a tin. It wasn’t exactly the relaxing summer vacation he’d had planned. 

The sun was hot and heavy in the sky and he already felt the sweat gathering at his temples.  

Kids ran rampant screaming and yelling at one another while fathers bellowed to their children to behave. With the exception of the beach, this was probably the last place he ever wanted to be. 

He opened the book to the first page while glancing out at the pool. Lily and Daisy were together in the shallow end, Daisy holding her little sister's hand. 

It made his heart swell. The girls had their problems from time to time but on the whole they got on really well. Daisy was always protective of her younger sibling, even if Lily annoyed her sometimes. 

He looked back at his book and started to read, glancing up at the girls every few minutes to ensure they were still ok. 

About twenty minutes passed before he felt like he was being watched. 

He frowned to himself, those old FBI instincts never leaving him. He closed his book and turned to his left. Low and behold there was someone on the chair beside him watching him intently.

“Sorry,” she blushed a little as Spencer regarded her. “I was amazed how deep in concentration you were given everything going on.” 

“Right,” he smiled, nodding his head. “Guess I’m good at switching off outside stimuli.” 

She smiled at him, a really pretty smile in Spencer’s opinion. She had dark, almost black hair which was tied up off of her face and dazzling blue eyes. 

“Lucky you, I wish I could do that.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her chair and Spencer found himself doing the same. “I’m Blair.” 

She held out her hand and Spencer shook it.

“Spencer.” He replied. 

“Which one is yours?” Blair nodded towards the pool. 

Spencer glanced around to see Daisy floating on her back in the water while her little sister spun herself around in circles, sending small waves crashing about. 

“The brunette in the red bathing suit and the little one with the curly hair spinning about.” He smiled at his girls. “Yours?” 

“Sitting on the edge, hasn’t taken his eyes off of your eldest.” She laughed. 

Spencer’s eyes gravitated towards a boy around Daisy’s age on the edge of the pool. His eyes, that looked just like his mothers, were staring directly at his daughter. 

He had a head of floppy dark hair, he looked to be tall even though he was sitting down. He awkwardly played with his hands in his lap whilst watching Daisy gracefully drift in the pool. 

“Maybe we’ll have to make an introduction.” Spencer laughed as he looked back at Blair. 

He did not miss the way her eyes glanced down to his left hand and he couldn’t help the way he returned the favour. 

“Single dad?” She asked with a slightly melancholy smile. 

“Yeah, me and their mom split up.” He nodded. “You?” 

“Cameron’s dad was…not a nice man.” She replied, pulling a face. 

Spencer could read between the lines. 

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“It’s ok. He’s not around anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.” She forced a smile and even if it wasn't genuine it was still so pretty. “We were going to go for ice cream after this. Maybe you and your girls want to join us? We could introduce Cameron and…”

“Daisy. And the little one is Lily.” 

“Cute names.” Blair smiled again and this time it was genuine. 

“Not my choice, but thanks.” He laughed dryly. “And yes to ice cream. I think it’s safe to say we would all really enjoy that.” 

“Great.” 

“Great.” Spencer repeated dumbly, getting a little lost in Blair's eyes. 

For the first time in a long time, Spencer felt something akin to decent. 

***

He and Blair spent the next hour talking about anything and everything, his bag of books long forgotten. 

She was the manager of an art gallery near DuPont circle, born and raised in the district. Her and her husband were high school sweethearts, marrying when they were just twenty two and having Cameron two years later. 

She explained as much as her ex having a temper which didn’t manifest until after Cameron was born. She described him as controlling and intimidating but Spencer could tell by the way she shrunk a little as she spoke about him that he’d been abusive. 

She said the last time she saw him was around the time Cameron turned ten, when he was being sentenced to prison time after a drunk driving incident where he’d killed two people. 

She’d sent divorce papers to his lawyer a month later. 

At thirty eight she was six years Spencer’s junior, but he’d always had a bit of a thing for a younger woman. It was certainly a pattern, both you and Maeve were younger than him which probably said all it needed to.

After a while, during a conversation about literature, Spencer felt a wet body suddenly wrapping around him from behind. 

“Daddy, I’m bored.” Lily threw her arms around his neck, cuddling into his back. 

“Hey pumpkin, where’s your sister?” He pulled her out from behind him and into his lap. 

Lily pointed over his shoulder to where Daisy was strolling towards them, a lanky young man at her side. 

He looked at Blair and they smiled at each other. 

“You make a friend, Daisy?” Spencer looked back at her. 

“Uh, yeah. This is Cam. This is my dad.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Daisy, Lily, this is Blair. Cameron’s mom. We were going to go for ice cream with them, how does that sound?” 

“Ice cream!” Lily screeched, wriggling in Spencer’s lap. 

He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his giggling daughter. 

“Sure, why not?” Daisy shrugged like she couldn’t care less as did Cameron.

Typical teenagers, Spencer thought. 

He dried off Lily and had Daisy take her to the restrooms so they could both get changed. Cameron stayed as he hadn’t gone in the pool and didn’t have his wet clothes to change out of. 

Spencer and Blair packed up their things and once the girls were back they left their respective cars at the pool and walked the two blocks to the ice cream place. 

Daisy refused to sit with the adults and she and Cameron got their own table. Lily tried to sit with them too but her sister shooed her away. 

Pouting due to be shot down by Daisy, she grew clingy and snuggled right up to Spencer while she ate her ice cream. 

“Looks like they’re hitting it off.” Blair spoke between mouthfuls of her scoop, nodding towards the two teens. 

“Looks that way.” Spencer nodded, feeling Lily’s ice cream dripping onto his shorts. “Lil, sweetheart, be careful please.” 

“Sorry daddy.” She pouted. 

Spencer and Blair continued to chat while Lily sulked by her dads side and the teens kept to themselves. 

After a while Daisy appeared by their table, arms folded across her chest. 

“Can we go to the pool again tomorrow?” She asked him. 

“Can I assume Cameron is going to the pool tomorrow?” He teased her. 

“Dad shut up!” She huffed. “You’re so embarrassing.” 

“Was I going to be consulted?” Blair asked her son as he joined them. 

Cameron shrugged, looking equally the part of moody teenager as Daisy did. 

“I thought we were going to the Smithsonian tomorrow? There was that exhibit you wanted to look at.” Spencer asked his daughter. 

“No, that sounds lame.” She shook her head. 

“I don’t think it sounds lame.” Cameron nudged her arm gently. 

“No?” She smiled at him, practically giving him heart eyes. 

“Can we go too mom?” Cameron turned to Blair. 

“As long as they don’t mind the company, I don’t see why not.” Blair’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Spencer and Spencer smiled a little bashfully. 

“That would be great.” He nodded. 

“Gross, get a room.” Daisy scoffed, turning and skulking off again, Cameron close behind. 

“Please never grow up.” He whispered to Lily, placing a kiss on her head. 

“Ok daddy.” She nodded, mouth smeared with her mint choc chip. 

***

Spencer and Blair exchanged numbers before going their separate ways. On Tuesday the five of them met up at the Smithsonian. 

As was expected, Daisy and Cameron went on ahead while Spencer, Blair and Lily strolled behind them. 

Conversation with Blair flowed easily, as if he’d known her his whole life. They had a lot in common, including being single parents with issues towards their exes. 

Maybe she was exactly what Spencer needed. It was nice to talk to someone who understood him, who understood where he’d been. Blair took his mind off everything going on in his life, eased his troubles with her smile. 

They ended up spending the whole day together, it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. As the kids were getting into their cars, Spencer and Blair hung back. 

“I had a really nice time today.” She smiled that easy smile at him and he reciprocated. 

“So did I.” He agreed.

“I wondered if maybe you’d be interested in doing something again. Maybe without the kids?” She shrugged shyly. 

“I would like that a lot.” He nodded. “The girls only go to their moms every other weekend but I can get a sitter.” 

“When were you thinking?” 

“As soon as humanly possible?” He confessed which made her laugh. 

“Eager?” She chuckled lightly, a sound Spencer really enjoyed. 

“Maybe a little.” He laughed too. “My friends have pretty demanding jobs though and they're out of state at the moment. The minute they’re back I can get one of them to sit the girls and I’d love to take you to dinner.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Blair nodded, stepping a little closer and placing a gentle kiss on Spencer’s cheek. “See you soon, Spencer.”

“You most certainly will.” He swallowed, watching her get into her car before he moved towards his own. 

He smiled the whole drive home. 

***

On Wednesday he and the girls stayed home. The temperature dropped a few degrees and they mostly played in the yard with Taco. 

On Thursday Daisy went to the mall with Meredith and Meredith’s mother so Spencer took Lily and Taco to the park. 

In the evening Luke called to tell him they’d arrived back from their case and arranged to come over on Friday to help with his dog problems. 

“One more thing,” Spencer said before Luke had a chance to hang up. 

“Shoot,” Luke replied. 

“I don’t suppose you and Garcia want some quality time with the girls tomorrow night do you?” 

“Sick of them already? Man, it's gonna be a long summer.” Luke laughed. 

“It’s not that.” Spencer chewed his lip. 

“Oh,” Luke read between the lines. “You and Y/N make up?” 

Spencer hated the way his chest tightened hearing your name and tried to ignore it. 

“Uh, not exactly.” He sighed. “I might have met someone else.” 

“Jeez, you’re like a woman magnet recently.” Luke laughed. “How are you finding these women?”

“I met her at the pool. She’s a single mom and she’s great, really great. We’ve hung out with the kids but I want to take her dinner.” 

“Sure, Garcia and I can come by and look after the girls.” 

“Or…” Spencer chewed his lip again. “They could come to your place?” 

There were a few moments of silence in which Luke was once again reading between the lines. 

“Right,” the older man started to laugh again. “Can’t bring a date home when you’ve got kids there. Got it.” 

“That makes me sound like an ass.” Spencer sighed. “But you know, on the off chance that’s on the cards…”

“They can come to my place. I’ve got the guest room so I’d they don’t mind sharing then it’s no issue for me.” 

“Have I told you that you are the best?” 

“Not lately, no.” Luke rolled his eyes. 

“Well, you are. Oh and please don’t tell anyone.” 

Luke chuckled to himself, shaking his head before he responded. 

“See you tomorrow, lover boy.” 

***

You stood on the curb outside of the restaurant, hugging your arms around your waist whilst thinking, not for the first time tonight, why am I doing this? 

It was your first official date with Sam, your old college friend and now you were here you didn’t know why. 

The two of you had been close in college and you’d always had a little crush on him. He was smart and handsome and charming but you’d always remained just friends. After college you’d lost touch. 

When you’d bumped into each other a few weeks ago you’d picked back up like no time had passed. You’d had dinner as friends, gotten coffee a few times but then he’d asked you out on a date. 

If you’d never met Spencer, going on a date with your college crush would have been like all your wildest dreams come true. But you had met Spencer, and along the way forgotten all about Sam. 

And now you were outside of the restaurant, looking in on him through the window, this was the last place in the world you wanted to be.

You liked Sam, there was still a spark between you. But he wasn’t Spencer. 

As you were considering turning and leaving, calling him and telling him you’d come down with something, he spotted you through the window. 

He waved at you and offered you that devilishly attractive smile and you waved back, trying to push down all thoughts of Spencer as you forced yourself inside. 

He stood as soon as you neared the table and pulled you into his strong arms. His musky cologne smelt delicious and for a moment you were able to cast Spencer Reid from your mind. 

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Sam beamed at you as he pulled away. 

“Thank you.” You blushed a little, smoothing down the front of your sunflower yellow sundress. 

Sam held your chair out for you and you slid into it, making yourself comfortable while he made his way to his own seat. 

“I ordered a bottle of Merlot, I hope that’s ok? I remember it being your favourite.” 

“Wow, good memory.” You smiled a little nervously. 

“I never forgot a single thing about you.” He confessed, placing his napkin in his lap. “I had the biggest crush on you in college.” 

“You did?” Your mouth fell open. 

“Oh come on, I wasn’t exactly subtle.” He chuckled. 

“I honestly had no idea. I wish I had, because I also had a huge crush on you.” You felt your cheeks burning. 

“Well damn,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for.” 

“I guess so.” You nodded as your wine was brought over. 

You perused your menus and soon ordered, and the two of you fell into comfortable conversation. That is until the topic of your dating history was brought up. 

Sam admitted he’d dated a lot but never managed to settle down. When he turned the question back to you, you took a large sip of wine as Spencer reentered your brain. 

“Honestly I haven’t really dated all that much. I was busy I guess. There was one guy, more recently, but it didn’t work out.” You chewed awkwardly on the inside of your cheek. 

“The professor?” 

“Huh?”

“You mentioned the professor you were working for, Reid? I noticed you got a little uncomfortable when you spoke about him and I wondered if there was a history.” Sam was smiling at you but you couldn’t return it. 

“Yeah that was him.” You took another sip of wine. “He was…complicated. Two kids, an ex-wife who he was most certainly still in love with even though he would pretend otherwise.” 

“Jeez,” Sam pulled a face. “That is complicated.” 

“Tell me about it.” You sighed.

“Well, I’m just about as uncomplicated as they come.” He shot you one of those smiles that always made your knees a little weak. 

“I like uncomplicated.” You smiled back. 

“And I like you.” He slid his hand across the table and threaded his fingers with your own. 

And when he touched you like that, Spencer was once again the furthest thing from your mind. 

***

Luke made some progress with Taco which was more than Spencer expected. After a few gruelling hours the dog was responding to the commands of sit and stay which was impressive if you asked Spencer. 

Luke told him it wouldn’t be easy, Taco wasn’t a puppy and therefore wouldn’t be as easy to train but Luke was certainly up to the challenge. 

When the evening rolled around Spencer got ready for his date and Luke took the girls and Taco back to his place where Penelope was meeting them. 

Spencer was strangely nervous as he got ready, but not necessarily in a good way. He remembered the excitement he felt on his first date with you and this was nothing like that. 

Perhaps he knew this wasn’t right. Deep down something was telling him he shouldn’t go ahead with this. His own mental health and his kids needed to be his priority, he needed to focus on bettering himself for the girls. 

But you’d made him realise just how lonely he was. And now he remembered what it was like to have someone he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone again. Even if it wasn’t you keeping him company. 

He pushed down his nerves and thoughts of you, it wasn’t conducive and therefore he didn’t need to be plagued by it. 

He finished getting ready, fighting his daily battle with his perpetually messy hair, before jumping in his car and heading out to meet Blair. 

***

The first stumbling block happened within a few minutes of sitting down in the restaurant when Blair asked him if he wanted to get a bottle of wine. 

He couldn’t very well admit to a woman whose husband was arrested for drunk driving that he was recovering from alcohol abuse. Instead he tried to talk his way out of it. 

“I’m driving so it’s probably best I don’t drink.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“Ok, just a glass then?” She smiled at him and he melted a little, almost agreeing because a glass of wine really would help take the edge off. 

But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. 

“You know, I’ve not been feeling a hundred percent today so I think I’m going to just stick to water. Please have whatever you want though.” He insisted, trying to deflect.

“Oh, we could have rescheduled.” She pulled a face. 

“It’s ok, I’m fine. I just don’t think alcohol would be a good idea.” That wasn’t a lie, alcohol would not be a good idea.

He felt like he dodged a bullet when she didn’t mention it any further. But the second stumbling block came after they had ordered their food.

“So I told you about my ex, you didn’t really tell me about yours.” She smiled sweetly, no idea the can of worms she was opening with that statement.

Spencer sipped his water, trying to pretend it was scotch but failed and was left disappointed.

“Uh, well, let’s see,” he took another sip. “We were married for thirteen years but for the last three of those, she was cheating on me.” He thought it best to just rip it off like a bandaid.

“Oh gosh,” Blair frowned around her wine glass. “That’s horrible.”

“I mean, it's nothing in comparison to what you’ve been through but yeah, it certainly wasn’t great.” 

“I figured something must have happened because you said the girls only see her every two weeks.”

“I tried to fight for full custody if I’m honest.” He shrugged with a sigh. “But she is still their mom.” 

“When did you split up, if you don’t mind me asking?” She swirled her wine around in her glass. 

“A little over a year ago. It’s been tough but my girls are resilient.” 

“And you?” Her eyes sparkled a little. 

Was he going to make the same mistake with you and lie about his feelings? He didn’t see the point if he was honest. He’d lied to you because he didn’t want to freak you out, to cause you to end things before they’d really begun. But if he scared off Blair he wasn’t sure it would be the end of the world. 

“Honestly, I’m still working through some stuff. It took me a long time to admit even to myself that I was hurt by what she did. I’m still processing my feelings, and if that’s not what you want to hear I’m sorry. But we were married for a long time and it is still kinda fresh.” He exhaled, took another sip of water.

“People think because they’re the ones who did the terrible thing that you should be glad to be rid of them.” She half-smiled. “As you’ve probably figured out, my ex was abusive and all my friends told me I should be happy to finally be out of that relationship. But they didn’t get it. No one does.

We had so many good times in the early years, he was so wonderful to me and I loved him so much. But then his job started getting on top of him and he started drinking and the alcohol made him angry. For the most part I was relieved that it was over but there’s still a part of me even now that misses him, misses…” she trailed off and swallowed but Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“You miss what you used to have.” He filled in the blanks. “I understand. Me and my ex had some really good times too and it’s hard to just forget all of that and hate her completely for what she did. She gave me Daisy and Lily and a part of me will always love her for that. People don’t understand though, not unless they’ve been there.” 

“Wow,” she smiled a little shakily. “It’s so nice to meet someone who gets it.” 

“It really is.” He agreed with his own smile. 

Spencer had in one capacity or another felt misunderstood his entire life. But the way Blair was looking at him made him feel seen for the first time. 

It allowed him to loosen up, to relax enough to enjoy his evening. He’d only ever wanted someone to understand and he felt like he finally found that in Blair. 

***

Luke Alvez leant against the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. 

The sound of the two girls was more than enough, he didn’t need to witness what was going on as well. 

Penelope had been gone for twenty minutes to shower and in that time, all hell seemed to have broken loose. 

When she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in her brightly coloured pyjama bottoms and matching tank top, she froze in the doorway at the scene in front of her. 

Roxy was hiding away in the corner whilst Taco was being held rather precariously under Lily’s arm. She was spinning the poor dog around in circles, jumping up and down on Luke’s couch and scream-singing at the top of her lungs.

Daisy had her head in her phone, narrowly avoiding Lily jumping on her and Garcia could see the anger rising on the older girl's face. 

She looked over at Luke in the open plan kitchen and his closed eyes before storming towards him.

“I was gone for twenty minutes!” She slapped his bicep. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He opened his eyes and looked at his girlfriend. “I did nothing!” 

“Uncle Luke made hot cocoa!” Lily screeched. 

“Did he now?” Penelope frowned at him. “And how much sugar exactly did you put in it?” 

“Lots of sugar!” Lily squealed again. 

“I swear to god Lily if you hit me one more time!” Daisy spat her at her sister, looking up from her phone. 

“Daisy’s texting a boy!” Lily giggled.

Honestly, Taco had the patience of a saint because he didn’t seem at all disturbed by being bounced around the way he was. 

“I am not! Shut up!” Daisy growled. 

“Are too!” Lily replied, jumping off the couch and landing on the floor. “Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” 

“Shut up you brat!” Daisy tossed her phone aside and got up, advancing on her sister. 

Luke suddenly jumped into action and crossed the room in barely three strides.

“Whoa!” He lightly placed his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Please don’t hurt your sister.” 

“She’s being a bitch!” Daisy huffed. 

“Hey now,” Penelope hurried over. “You do not use language like that.” 

“All my friends say it.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Daddy says it too!” Lily chimed in, thankfully putting Taco down and he scurried over to Roxy. “I heard him call mommy a bitch. What does it mean?” 

“It means-”

“Nothing.” Luke cut Daisy off. “It doesn’t mean anything. But we shouldn’t be saying it ok? It’s an adult word.” 

“Ok!” Lily shrugged, going back to jumping up and down. “I’m a rabbit!” 

“No you’re not you’re a bit-”

“Do not finish that sentence young lady.” Penelope snapped. She hated being strict but Luke was such a softy she often had to be the bad guy. “Girls enough of this. Daisy, you will not call your sister that word. In fact you will not call anyone that word. And Lily, if your sister is texting a boy leave her to it. She’s fourteen, she’s allowed to text a boy. I think. Does your dad know you’re texting a boy?” 

“Dads met him.” She shrugged, not exactly answering the question. “And he’s on a date with Blair, Cam’s mom right now.” 

“He’s…he’s…” she turned to Luke who was trying to shrink away. “You said he was out with JJ and Will?” 

“Uh…” Luke grabbed her hand and led her towards the kitchen. “He told me not to tell anyone.” 

“Even me?” She tried to keep her tone quiet. “How does Daisy know and I didn’t?” 

“She’s Reid’s kid, she’s as smart as a whip.” Luke whispered. 

“I thought he was…is he incapable of being single?” 

“I don’t know what’s going on with him to be honest. I’m kinda worried about him.” Luke admitted. 

“Me too.” Penelope pouted. 

“Give it back, you bitch!” Daisy yelled, garnering their attention.

“Daisy and Cameron sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N…OW!” Lily screamed.

Penelope and Luke ran back into the room to find Lily on the floor, violently sobbing and Daisy standing over her with a slightly smug look on her face.

“What did you do?” Garcia asked the older girl while Luke picked Lily up in his arms and cradled her. 

“She took my phone!” Daisy stamped her foot. 

“She pushed me!” Lily wailed. 

“It’s ok sweetheart, it’s ok. Let’s lie down.” Luke cooed as he carried her through to his guest room. 

“You do not push your sister, Daisy. You know that.” Penelope sighed. 

“She’s just such a bitch!” 

“For the love of all that is sparkly you have to stop saying that word.” Garcia groaned. “You get a time out, come on.” 

She took Daisy’s wrist in her hand and led her to Luke’s bedroom. She opened the door and motioned her inside.

“Phone,” she held out her hand. 

“No way.” Daisy scoffed. 

“Daisy Diana Reid, give me your phone right now before I call your father.” Penelope growled at the young girl. 

Daisy pulled a face, similar to her dad when he was upset. She let out a breath and placed the device in Penelope’s hand. 

“Thank you. Now go sit down and think about what you did.” Garcia closed the door on Daisy and padded back to the couch where she flopped down.

Luke emerged from the guest room a few minutes later alone and joined her. 

“I know we’ve only just started dating but can I say I don’t think I ever want kids.” He ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Right now I’m gonna have to agree with you.” Penelope nodded. 

Luke closed his eyes and took a moment to relish the quiet. But it was very short lived as soon there was a gagging sound coming from the corner of the room. 

Both of them looked over just in time to see Taco, the previous activities having caught up on him, vomit all over the carpet. 

“I’ll get the cleaning supplies.” Penelope sighed loudly, getting back to her feet. 

“I’ll call Reid.” 

***

“I had a really great time tonight.” Sam glanced at you with a smile as you walked side by side down the street towards your apartment. 

“I did too.” You nodded.

And it was true, you really did have a wonderful time with Sam. Conversation had flowed easily between the two of you, like it had back in college. 

So you didn’t have quite the same level of intellectual debate as you did with Spencer. At least Sam was your own age, even if that didn’t necessarily mean you had more in common. 

He walked you to your door like a gentleman and you turned to face him on the street. He was smiling down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“Would I completely blow my chances of a second date if I kissed you?” He asked somewhat shyly. 

“I’d say it would greatly increase your chances of a second date if you were to kiss me.” You smiled. 

“Oh thank god.” He chuckled, his nerves melting away. 

He stepped closer to you and cupped your face before drawing you in for a tender kiss. It was nice. But it was missing the kind of passion you had with Spencer. 

It wasn’t frantic and demanding like Spencer's kisses. It didn’t make your knees buckle or the air leave your lungs. 

It was nice. But it wasn’t the same. 

Sam pulled back and he was smiling brightly at you, you tried your best to return it. 

“I have waited so long to do that.” He laughed. 

“I hope it was worth the wait.” 

“Most definitely.” 

You looked over your shoulder at your building before looking back at him, knowing what you were about to say was an utterly stupid idea. But you said it nonetheless.

“My roommates are out. Do you wanna come inside?” 

It didn’t take someone with Spencer’s IQ to figure out what you meant and judging by the look on Sam’s face he knew exactly what you were getting at. 

“I would love that. But are you sure?” 

In response you simply took hold of his hand and led him up the stairs of your building. You were determined to get Spencer out of your head no matter the cost. 

***

After dinner, Spencer held the door of the restaurant open for Blair to exit first and she thanked him with a smile. 

They stepped out onto the street and she turned to him. 

“I never do this.” She laughed lightly. “I never go on dates.” 

“Yeah,” he rolled his lips between his teeth, remembering telling you the same. 

“Say, I don’t want to be too forward but I’ve been single a long time so I’m just going to go for it. I would really like to kiss you.” She blushed at her own words and Spencer thought it was incredibly endearing. 

“I would also very much like to kiss you.” He agreed, moving closer and cupping her face. 

He kissed her and she melted against him, gasping a little at the sensation in which Spencer took the initiative to guide his tongue into her mouth. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close while he deepened the kiss. And he tried not to think about you. 

By the time the kiss broke they were both panting slightly and she was smiling at him, eyes sparkling. 

“My kids are staying with their uncle tonight,” he blurted out. “So I have a free house. If it’s not too bold of me to say.” 

“It is kind of bold.” She laughed. “But I like it.” 

He smiled and kissed her again, hoping if he took her home he would banish all thoughts of you aside. But as he kissed her, his phone started to ring. 

He pulled back reluctantly and offered Blair an apologetic smile, pulling the device from his pocket and seeing Luke’s name on the screen. 

“Sorry I should get this, it could be about my girls.” 

“Of course, go ahead.” She nodded and Spencer took a few steps away before answering the phone. 

“Is everything ok?” He instantly went into panic mode. 

“Uh, not exactly.” Luke sighed. “Lily was hopped up on sugar and annoying Daisy. Daisy kept calling her a…b-i-t-c-h and then she pushed Lily and now Lily won’t stop crying. And your dog was sick everywhere.” 

Spencer exhaled sharply, closing his eyes as he let the information wash over him. 

“I’ll be right there.” He grumbled. 

“Sorry man. We tried.” 

“See you soon.” Spencer sighed again, hanging up the phone, moving back towards Blair. “I’m so sorry, my kids have gone rogue. Can we have a rain check?” 

“Sure and don’t worry about it. One’s hard enough as a single parent, I can’t imagine having two.” 

“It’s like having one, only ten times as hard.” He laughed dryly. “I’ll call you.”

He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and watched as she headed down the street to hail a cab. Soon he was turning in the opposite direction and speed walking towards his car. 

Was it too much to ask just to have one night to himself? He loved his girls, more than anything else in the world, but sometimes they made his life harder than he ever could have prepared for. 

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