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helenofsparta2 · 2 months ago

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Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life.

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

Both of them deserved so much better.

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P. Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

#rant is over #I could talk essays about their relationship i fear #thank god ao3 exists #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #rick riordan #pjo hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #rr crit #hoo crit #nico di angelo #house fo hades #blood of olympus #the brother who never were #my roman empire

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motorsportbarbie13 · 4 days ago

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Aftermath - Chapter 4

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 6k words (whoooooopsie!!)

(Extra special thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and entertaining my texting at 2am when plot inspo hits! 🤭🫶🏻)

Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Master List

f1.gossip.source posted

1,384 likes liked by user349, lando, user000, and others f1.gossip.source Charles LeClerc was seen walking into Monaco's La Tavernetta Thursday evening with his girlfriend and little sister in tow. The three arrived together early in the evening and stayed for several hours tucked away from prying eyes a back room. Also in attendance at the impromptu dinner were Arthur and his partner Jade, brother Lorenzo and strangely enough, Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen. user088 once again, @/missleclerc and max in the same place, without lando... >>>user8127 lando over here in the likes though. wonder if his invite got lost in the mail? user112 has ANYONE seen her and Lando together in the last few months??? Are they even still together???

The restaurant that Max picked out turns out to be one of your favorites. La Tavernetta is a small, hole-in-the-wall Italian place that you’ve been coming to for years with your family where the owners know you by name and always greet you with a hug and freshly baked bread, straight from the oven. The place is small but cozy with the smell of onions and garlic hanging heavy in the air. As you weave your way though the closely situated tables, all covered in freshly starched white linen and silver flatware, photos of the large family that’s owned the place for generations stare down at you like sentries from another world. With candles dotting each table and the overhead lights turned down to a dim glow, the mood in the restaurant is calm and serene, an atmosphere that has your frayed nerves smoothing out around the jagged edges. It’s almost as if Max picked this place out with you in mind after the day you’d had.

Your group tonight is big, something that you’re not used to anymore because of how isolated Lando’s kept you recently. Max had gone ahead to meet Daniel while you had gotten ready before Charles and Alex had stopped by the apartment to pick you up. Lorenzo, Jade and Arthur complete the group and meet you in front of the small building. By the time the group all tumbles into the private room the owner always sets aside for the LeClerc’s, you’ve found yourself seated near the corner of the table, nestled between Max on one side and Lorenzo at the head.

Several of bottles of wine and appetizers are ordered the moment everyone is seated. Max catches up with his former teammate as you chat with your brother but when your favorite bottle of white is placed in front of you, he pours you a glass without even pulling his attention away from his friend. The way he’s attentive to you without being overtly showy about it has something twisting in your chest.

“Thank you, Max.” You murmur before taking a sip of the wine, savoring the way the tang of the dry wine bursts across your tongue.

Max turns to you then, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins back at you. It settles something in him, seeing you lean back in your chair, allowing your body to relax in the warm back room of the small restaurant. Your body language is totally different than it was earlier in the day and Max is surprised to find himself reading you so well. He shouldn’t be, with how well he used to know you, pre-Lando. He could tell how you were feeling when you were younger just by a quick scan of your posture and it made his chest squeeze when he realized he was slowly getting that ability back.

You allow yourself to be a little lost to the chatter to the room after everyone orders their dinners, the lively discussion between Charles and Daniel drowning out the anxiety that has started to creep up the back of your neck as the evening wears on. You had left your phone at home but the last time you had looked at it, Lando had started texting you again and they weren’t much nicer than anything he had sent you earlier in the day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Max senses the tension growing in your body by the way your shoulders stiffen just the slightest. He’s determined to make sure you have a good night, he was the one who suggested this whole thing after all and he knew that you were probably thinking about what Lando was doing, spinning in circles when you didn’t answer him like he expected.

“Do you remember that time you snuck out of your hotel room when Cha and I were racing in Italy?” Max asks in an attempt to distract you. He leans in, shoulder gently brushing your bare skin, simply so you can hear him better over the din of Charles and Arthur arguing. No ulterior motive whatsoever.

Heat floods your cheeks, gasp flying from your lips as you laugh despite yourself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You hiss indignantly, but there’s no venom in your tone.

Max smirks at you over his gin and tonic, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m pretty sure you do. You snuck out of the hotel to hang out with us because Pascale grounded you for being sassy the day before.”

“You two were always leaving me out and I was tired of it.” You sniff, smile teasing the corner of your mouth.

“You took the bus across town by yourself!” Max laughs.

“I was an independent child, what can I say?”

“You were nine!” Max chuckles, unable to ignore the spark of fire that has lit into your eyes as you replay the memory in your head. Yep, he thinks, there’s the girl that had no fear and took no shit. She’s still in there. He didn’t break her.

Rolling your eyes, you grin into your wine glass, enjoying the way Max’s gaze feel as they skate over your skin. “I managed, didn’t I? You guys didn’t question it when I just turned up at the track either, so really was it that surprising?”

“You told us Maman forgave you and dropped you off in the carpark, Little Dove!” Charles scolds from his seat opposite you. “Of course we didn’t question you!”

He’d been watching the interaction between you and Max since everyone sat down and he makes a mental note to thank the Dutch driver. The way he gently coaxes you out of your shell is something he hadn’t been able to do himself lately. He’d been surprised to watch Max be totally in tune with the way your mood shifted before he brought that story up, had been watching fearfully when he saw that flicker of anxiety settle over your features. But he hadn’t needed to step in because as quickly as Charles clocked it, so had Max and he’d stepped in before your own brother had even had a chance.

“I’ll never forget the look on Pascale’s face when she spotted your little brown braids trailing behind us after the end of the practice sessions.” Max muses, taking a long sip of his drink.

“I don’t think I’d ever seen her so angry.” Giggling, you nudge Max’s shoulder with your own. “And then you came to my defense, telling her how clever I was for figuring out the bus system in a country where I didn’t even speak the language.”

“I mean, was I wrong? It was a rather impressive thing for you to pull off.”

You preen at the compliment, leaning a bit further into the warmth of Max’s body. “No, no you’re right. I was an impressive child.”

Max opens his mouth to say something about how you’re still impressive, not even attempting to hide the fact that he’s shamelessly flirting with you when the temperature of the room suddenly drops to just above freezing. The air goes still as someone clears their throat in the doorway of the small private room your group is tucked away in.

The sound sends a chill down your spine and you drop your hand below the table, instinctively grasping at the warmth that’s pressed up against your knee. Max feels your fingers reach for his thigh, sucking in a breath at the sudden touch from you. His hand drops below the table, covering your hand with his without a second thought.

From across the room, Lando grinds his molars together as he clocks the subtle movement from Max. He quickly recovers though, yanking that practiced good boyfriend mask right back into place. “Baby!” He says, a sigh of relief tumbling from his mouth. “I’m so glad I found you, I’ve been worried sick.”

“How did you find us?” Jade wonders from her spot to his left.

“Monaco is a small town, news travels fast.” He mumbles under his breath. Not even sparing Jade a glance, Lando crosses the room to grab a chair from the corner before plopping it down right between Lorenzo and yourself.

There’s not much room in the corner of the small room and Lorenzo is forced to move over several inches to avoid being impaled by one of the chair legs Lando now sits on. Leaning over, Lando presses his lips directly to your cheek in an overt display of affection you’re simply not prepared for. Max’s blood boils at the way you flinch away from his touch and it takes every ounce of control he’s honed over the years of driving in F1 to keep from punching Lando outright.

“I guess my invite got lost in the mail, huh?” His tone is light but you can sense the edge of anger in his voice with the way his words are just a touch too clipped.

“We didn’t think you’d want to come after the texts you sent her earlier.” Max fires back, giving your hand a squeeze under the table.

Beside him, Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his chair, glancing away. Tension crackles in the air, a live wire of electricity ready to explode at even the slightest spark.

“What kind text messages?” Arthur’s eyes go sharp at Max’s tone of voice.

Lando waves a hand, dismissing Max’s comment. “I was worried about her, that’s all. I come home after a week away and all of her stuff is gone, treadmill, clothes, Peloton bike. Everything! No note? What was I supposed to think when she wouldn’t answer her phone?”

Max doesn’t miss the challenge in Lando’s eyes and he takes a steadying breath. “Maybe you should have taken the hint that she was finally done with you?” He spits.

Lando swallows hard, eyes going dark as he stares down his on-track rival. You can see the mask slipping and you know he’s almost at his tipping point. The room is silent around you, no one daring to push Lando further than Max has already done. “Well if that was the case, I would hope she’d be adult enough to talk to me first instead of just abandoning a three year long relationship.”

“Lando, we can talk about this tomorrow.” You lean forward, blocking his line of sight to Max in hopes of quelling this pissing match the two men seem to have fallen into. “Now is not the time to do this.” You can sense the frayed rope of control that Lando is barely holding onto and desperately maneuver to diffuse the situation.

“I don’t think this should wait.” He says simply, dismissing your request with a wave of his hand.

“And I think you should respect her wishes and discuss this later.” Max stands then, sending his chair scraping loudly against the wood floors beneath him.

Your eyes go wide when Lando stands too but Max is much taller than the British driver and you’re trapped in the middle.

Oh fuck.

It’s your turn to stand now, drawing strength from the way Jade and Alex are both looking at you from across the table. You can do this, you tell yourself as you put yourself in between Max and your ex-boyfriend. “Lando.” Your tone is surprisingly firm and Max nearly smirks. Yep, there’s that fire he knew you never lost. “Now is not the time. I’m trying to have a nice dinner with my friends. I will call you when I’m ready, alright?”

Lando’s eyes bounce from yours to Max’s and then to Charles before finally flickering back to yours. You manage to hold his gaze despite everything in your body screaming to look away. From the set of your shoulders, Max can tell you’re not going to back down on this and the pride that surges in his chest catches him fully off guard.

“Fine.” He huffs, knowing that tonight is a lost battle. “But this isn’t over.” He growls before shoving his chair back so hard it clatters against the wall.

When Lando finally sweeps out of the room, you collapse into your chair, breathing a sigh of relief. You’re not entirely sure how you managed to finally stand up to Lando’s bullying because if this scene had gone done even just a day earlier, you’re fairly certain that it would have ended much differently. Max settles down in his chair again and is surprised to feel the warmth of your hand find his. He glances over at you, gaze meeting yours as the chatter around the table picks back up. There’s so much hanging between you in that moment that it’s almost suffocating. You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ as he nods in reply, his thick fingers tangling with yours underneath the white linen tablecloth as he gives you another reassuring squeeze.

Across from you, Charles smirks into his wine as he watches the entire exchange before he turns his attention back to what Alex is telling him, comfortable enough knowing that you’re in good hands with Max.

missleclerc posted

23,018 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, mamanleclerc and others missleclerc its always a good night when no one throws a punch ;) mamanleclerc i quite like La Tavernetta, can we please not get the family permanently banned by throwing punches? why is this an accomplishment? user9382 lando in the likes of the gossip post, but not here. uhh... >>>user029 and no one throwing punches? was there tension at dinner??? maxverstappen1 for the record, i kept my hands to myself. for the most part, at least. >>>missleclerc MAX. >>>maxverstappen1 :) >>>user928 MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN WHAT. DOES. THIS. MEAN. >>>user029 max being messy in the comments. i am HERE for it.

Lando goes radio silent after the night at the restaurant. An outsider might think it was just him respecting your wishes and think that he was doing it in an effort to give you the space you had asked for but they would be wrong. You knew better though. You knew what he was doing and you were determined not to fall into his trap again. You knew that Lando was giving you the silent treatment as punishment for making a fool of him in front of everyone. You knew and you while there was a haze of anxiety that hung around you for the first two days as you waited for him to grow tired of the punishment, eventually you settled down.

There as a race the weekend after the dinner and most of your circle left Monaco for Austria. Everyone except you. You weren’t ready to go to a race yet, not with the knowledge that Lando would be there and you’d have to inevitably answer questions on why you weren’t splitting your time between Ferrari and McLaren like you usually did when you attended races. You also knew your resolve in resisting Lando was strong when he wasn’t physically near you but if you allowed yourself to get too close too quickly, you’d waver and allow him back in. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

So instead of going to Austria like your brother had asked you, you stay at home and throw yourself into your work. You don’t have any shows coming up but there’s always demand for your art and since leaving Lando, you’ve felt more inspired than ever to dive into a new study. Landscapes have always been your favorite and your go-to but something in you feels pulled to do something different. You’ve always been heavily influenced by the impressionists but something feels too soft about them for the mood you’ve been in since standing up to Lando. Like you need to do something bolder, more out of your usual style and for the first few days that you’re alone in your studio, you spend most of your time experimenting.

Eventually though, something starts to take shape. It’s Saturday afternoon when the inspiration accidentally hits you. Like most of your work, you don’t quite know what’s happening or where it’s going until you’re knee deep in a painting. The low hum of the engines playing on the TV you have set up in the small sitting room on one end of your studio serves as the perfect backdrop for your current inspiration. Half-way through Q2, you take a step back to study the canvas you had prepped earlier in the morning. The sketch that stares back at you has your head tilting to the side, observing it like it’s a foreign object that you didn’t just spend almost an hour sketching.

It’s going to be bold you decide, splashes of navy and red and yellow are in order, colors that are totally outside your wheelhouse normally but you can tell this is going to evolve into a series that is totally different from anything you’ve ever painted before.

You spend the rest of the afternoon working on it, locked away in your studio alone while Taylor Swift pours out of the speakers that you had insisted Charles and Arthur install for you when you first rented the space a few years ago. It feels like home here, more so than any place you’ve ever lived. There are paintings everywhere, some more completed than others. A large drafting table sits under the giant bay window that faces north, providing you with all day sunlight that is perfect for working in. A small seating area is tucked away in the corner near the kitchenette where you have a small electric kettle and microwave for those times you don’t want order out or go home to eat but need food. The floor is a light hardwood, contributing to the perfect light and airy ambiance you crave when you’re working.

You work late into the night Saturday, completely forgetting to even glance at your phone or worry about what Lando was up to. It’s the first time in over a year that you’re not concerned about what might happen if you lose yourself to your painting and accidentally ignore him. The feeling is so freeing, so liberating, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re tempted to spend the night on the couch in your studio but know if Charles finds out, you’d have hell to pay so instead you call your mother on your way home to make sure you’re safe.

Sunday is another day spent in your studio and you get there bright and early. Charles calls you first thing, just to check in and he’s pleased to hear the absence of anxiety in your voice. He breathes a sigh of relief when you tell him you’d already been up to work out and are on your way to spend another day painting, so many ideas popping up over night thanks to that one painting you’ve nearly finished. You refuse to tell him what it’s of though, you’re a bit superstitious when it comes to talking about your work before its finished. All you tell him is that it’s different from what you normally paint and you have an idea for an entirely new series based on this one painting.

The race plays through your speakers and you constantly are checking the running order while you put the finishing touches on the painting you started the day before. Normally, it takes you longer to finish a piece like this but for some reason, the inspiration hit you and you find yourself moving at a pace that is wholly abnormal for you. By the time the race finishes and Max, Charles, and Oscar are celebrating on the podium, you’re putting the finishing touches on one of the boldest pieces of art you’ve ever created.

Monday is spent in the studio again, starting on a second piece. Something bold and red and even bigger than your last painting but just as out of the norm for you. You spend all day working on getting the sketch of the new piece on the large canvas and only break once the sun is hanging low in the sky. Your stomach rumbling and reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast earlier in the day is the only thing that manages to pull you from your work.

Someone holds the elevator for you when you finally make it back to your building as the sun begins to set over the water at your back and you jog to ensure they’re not waiting for you for too long.

“Hey you.” A smooth, deep voice greets you the moment you step into the lift.

“Max!” You’d give the Dutch driver a hug but your arms are currently occupied with a large bouquet of roses that had been delivered to your studio that morning. “Congratulations on the win yesterday! You drove so well.”

Max takes matters into his own hands, pushes the button for your floor before slipping one arm around your shoulders in a casual show of affection. “Thanks, Dovie.” He grins down at you, unable to quell the flutter in his chest at the smile that dazzles up at him. “It was a good weekend, wasn’t it?”

“From pole to P1? I think you could count that as successful, yes.” You chuckle, leaning into his frame a bit more than you normally would. You won’t admit it to anyone but you had missed Max while he’d been away. It feels entirely too soon to be having any sort of feelings for anyone, especially after what you’ve gone through with Lando recently, but you can’t help the undeniable chemistry you feel with your long-time friend.

Max glances down at the large bouquet of roses cradled in your hands and lifts an eyebrow. “Roses?”

You heave a sigh and roll your eyes, “Lando.” You say by way of explanation. “This is the fourth bouquet he’s sent since he left for Austria Thursday.”

“But you hate roses.” Max says, rubbing at his stubbled chin with the palm of his hands.

You’re surprised by Max’s words but he’s not wrong. “They’re not my favorite.” You admit, small smile playing on your lips.

“Tulips are.” He says softly as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. “That engineer Charles set you up with when he was at Sauber brought you roses for your first date and you laughed in the hotel lobby afterwards. You said how you hated how cliche roses were and that tulips were prettier and lasted longer. Pink ones though, not red.”

You stand there for a moment, stunned, blinking up at Max. The date with the Sauber mechanic had been years ago, before Charles had even been at Ferrari. You didn’t even remember Max being in the lobby with you when you had said that.

Max’s cheeks heat as you stare up at him, eyes narrowed a touch and soft smile on your lips like you can’t quite wrap your head around what he’s just said. Maybe he’s said too much, admitted he’s been paying too much attention to you for too long. He second guesses his words, wondering if he’s taken it a step too far, pushed you too far out of your comfort zone. He’s desperate for you to say something, anything to confirm that you’re not freaking out.

The elevator dings once again, protesting at being held for so long at one floor. “You must be exhausted.” You murmur as you step out of the elevator, looking back at him. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I was going to make some salmon and veggies. Nothing fancy but I know I bought way too much.”

Max rubs at the back of his neck, relief surging through him at your offer. “I would love to. Let me go change and I’ll bring down a bottle of wine?”

“I’ll get everything in the oven.” You confirm before turning around and walking away, leaving Max staring after you, unsure of what the rest of the night is going to hold.

“We could watch Drive to Survive.” You say with a smirk, tucking your feet underneath your legs as you settle down on the couch a few hours later.

Max shoots you a look, wrinkling his nose. “Absolutely not.”

“I started the new season of Great British Baking Show the other night, I’m only up to bread week!”

“So Saving Private Ryan is off the table?” Max jokes, plucking a green bean off of your plate before you can stab his hand with your fork.

“Are you insane?” You laugh.

“Fine, British Baking Show it is, I guess.”

“It’s The Great British Baking Show, Maxie.”

Warmth blooms in Max’s chest at the nickname but he just rolls his eyes at you, watching while you flip through Netflix to turn the next episode on. A comfortable quiet settles over the living room then as you both eat the dinner you’d spent the last hour cooking. Max isn’t much of a cook so having a homemade meal that doesn’t come from his nutritionist is a treat, so he enjoys the salmon that you’ve seasoned to perfection.

“How was your weekend?” Max asks after a few quiet moments.

You turn to him, a bit caught off guard. You hate that your knee jerk reaction to the question is to compare it to what Lando would’ve done, which is not even bother to ask after your weekend at all. He did at first, of course. Lando had always been so attentive when you first started dating but like everything else in your relationship, slowly that attentive energy just stopped. You can’t help but wonder if that’s normal in long term relationships and maybe you had been asking for too much from your now ex-boyfriend.

Shaking off the heavy thoughts, you smile back at Max instead. “Quiet but I got a lot of work done. I can’t remember the last time I spent so much time in my studio all at once.”

“That’s good, anything special you’re working on.”

You smirk, “I started a few new pieces. Finished one that I think turned out really good and got started on a second. I don’t usually finish pieces so quickly but I felt…” You pause, searching for the right word that doesn’t sound too cliche. “Inspired.”

Cliche it is.

“Can I see?” Max knows how protective you are over your art and knows he’s pushing his luck but as he looks at you settled on the other side of the couch from him, curled up and shoulders relaxed he thinks you might just let him in.

“You can see the second one.” You say vaguely, not wanting to show anyone the one that took you most of the weekend to complete.

Max narrows his eyes as he watches you place your finished plate on the coffee table in front of you. Plate discarded, you reach for your phone where it sits next to you on the arm of the couch before scooting over so you’re closer to Max. Your sudden closeness sets Max’s teeth on edge as the scent of your perfume washes over him. At first it smells like warm vanilla but there’s a back note of something spicy that he can’t quite identify but whatever it is, the scent fits you perfectly.

Your arm presses up against his side as you lean over, passing over your phone where you have your photo gallery already pulled up. Max finds it difficult to concentrate on what you’re showing him at first, the scent of your perfume mixing with the warmth of your breath he can feel dust over his skin you’re so close. He’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose but he thinks you might be trying to kill him when you lean into him even more, flipping through the gallery casually.

“It’s not like anything I’ve done before.” Your silky voice yanks him out of his spiral and his eyes snap up to yours before quickly dropping back down to your phone. The painting in front of him is spectacular, vivid reds and yellow practically jumping off the canvas at him.

“The phone doesn’t do it quite enough justice, I know, but you get the idea.” The nerves in your stomach have your voice wavering as you realize you care more about what Max thinks about how well you’ve captured your brother’s Ferrari coming in for a pit stop.

“It’s…” Max reaches for the correct word to describe how impressed he is. “Dovie, it’s a masterpiece.”

The flattery has a crimson blush creeping across your cheeks and you’re incredibly thankful for the golden twilight that keeps your living room fairly dim around you. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Well I would. Has Charles seen it?”

You shake your head as you watch Max zoom in on the painting to see the details better. Usually watching people observe your artwork for the first time is an exercise in wrecked nerves and anxiety but you find yourself strangely calm as Max continues to study the painting.

As your phone is still in Max’s hands, a phone call flashes across the screen causing your heart to stutter to a near complete stop.

LANDO CALLING

Fuck.

He’d left you alone for so long you had began to get a bit too comfortable, a bit to relaxed with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he’d given up on getting you back. You should have known better.

“You don’t have to answer.” Max murmurs, noting that you don’t make attempt to move back to where you were sitting before you had shown him your painting.

“Maybe if I do, he’ll finally leave me alone.”

Both of you know that’s not even a possibility.

“I’ll leave if you want me to.” He offers but you shake your head.

“Please stay.”

Max nods, watching as you draw your legs up towards your chin, tucking yourself up into a ball. He sucks in a breath when you lean further into his side for a bit of strength though.

“Hi Lando.” You answer, your eyes darting away from Max’s.

“Took you long enough to answer.” His voice is rough and angry, sending a shiver down your spine. Max can hear his voice clearly despite it not even being on speaker. “Had to make sure your date was out of earshot before you picked up, huh?”

You sigh, not wanting to entertain the jealousy tonight but something sticks in your ribs at the fact that Max is over and you’re practically cuddled up on the couch with him. It’s almost like Lando can sense that you’re busy with someone else. Brushing away the guilt that you know is misplaced, you shake your head as if he could see you. “No, I was just watching tv and didn’t notice you were calling.”

Lando hums as if he doesn’t believe you but lets it go. “Are you done throwing your tantrum yet? I just got back from Austria and you’re still not home. What do I have to do to get you to come back to me?”

“I thought I made myself clear by moving all of my stuff out, Lan.” Beside you, Max shifts uncomfortably. He wants to be there to support you but he doesn’t know if he would be able to sit by and listen to you two get back together, not after the extra time he’s been spending with you lately. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself, hoping that you feel that spark that is undeniable between you, but he can’t help it.

“Since when are you so confident with your choices, love?” His voice is taunting, as if Lando knows how easily you waver when it comes to him.

“Don’t call me love.” You snap and Max finds himself reaching for your hand that’s resting on your knee.

“Oh, I like this new attitude you’ve got going on. A side effect from spending so much time with Jade and Alexandra I guess.”

“Lando.” You sigh, suddenly exhausted by this entire conversation. “What do you want?”

“I want us to sit down and have a discussion like two adults about what I have to do to get you back.”

“I’m not coming home, Lando. We’re not getting back together.”

Max hates the wash of relief that crashes over him at your words. Why is he rooting for your heart to break? He knows you love Lando still, despite how poorly he treats you. He doesn’t get it, not really, but he knows you do and he understands how hard it is to love someone who you shouldn’t.

“So you’re really just going to throw away three years without even so much as a discussion?” He presses and Max finds himself leaning forward, hanging on your response.

“I will meet with you in public to discuss whatever you want, but we are not getting back together, am I clear?”

“In public?” He scoffs and Max’s stomach twists at the antagonizing tone of his voice. “So you can get more attention from this? I’m already getting eaten alive on socials over this, why the fuck should I allow you more good will from the public?”

“Lando, if you’re getting backlash from how you’ve treated me lately, that’s not my problem. Maybe you need to do some self reflection.” You’re so tired now and so done with talking to this full grown man so carefully. He’s exhausting and you’re about at your breaking point.

“This is your fucking fault!” He explodes before catching himself, almost like he realizes how far he’s pushed you. A sigh blusters over the line as you wait patiently for Lando to get himself under control. “Please, just come home and we can figure out how to move forward from this.”

“No.” You say firmly. “I will meet you in public if you want but that’s all I’m prepared to do right now.”

Max tries not to allow the anxiety to take over at the last two words of your sentence.

“Fucking hell woman, why are you so difficult?” Lando shouts, forcing you to hold the phone several inches away from your ear.

“Alright, we’re done here. If you want to have a civil conversation later, we can but I’m done Lando. Good bye.”

Without even waiting for him to answer, you stab at the ‘end’ button on your phone and toss it on the coffee table where it clatters loudly against the wood.

Max is quiet, unsure of what you need from him in that moment but he fights the shock that reverberates throughout his body when you lean back against the couch, settling your head in on his shoulder. He recovers quickly though, slipping his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry you had to be there for that.” You whisper, idly wondering why Max always seems to be around when Lando pulls his shit.

“You did so well handling that, schat. I’m proud of you.” With his free hand, Max reaches down and pulls your legs over his lap so you’re a little less balled up like a tightly wound ball of wire.

“He’s so exhausting.” Is your reply and you just shake your head, trying hard to ignore the way your body responds to having Max’s hands on your legs. It’s a jarring juxtaposition, the way you feel when you’re talking to Lando compared to how Max makes you feel and it makes you nervous.

“Are you going to hear him out?” Max asks carefully, fingers toying with the soft fabric of your sweatpants.

You shrug, “I said I would but I don’t know what he could say to get me to change my mind.”

It takes every ounce of tightly wound up control that Max possess not to heave a sigh at your words and he hates himself for the predatory way it makes him feel. “He’s no good for you, Dovie.”

All you can do is nod, a wave of exhaustion suddenly sweeping over you. Max sees it, the way your eyes flutter shut for a moment longer than they should and adjusts his hold on your legs. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it anymore, okay? Let’s just watch the rest of this show and take a break.”

Pulling your legs out of Max’s lap, you readjust yourself so you’re once again leaning into him, the warmth of his body settling the frayed nerves that Lando’s caused to go jagged once again. “Thanks Max.” Is your only response right before your eyes shutter closed, allowing the exhaustion pull you under.

missleclerc posted

23,498 likes liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen1, mamanleclerc, and others missleclerc weekend snippets alexandrasaintmleux missed you this weekend pretty girl! >>>missleclerc i know! hoping i'll feel up to a race soon tho user928 the ferrari painting!!! omg!!! (liked by author) maxverstappen1 hope you like the replacement flowers, dovie. can't wait to see that other painting in person... >>>user9388 uhhhh... >>>user111 lando nowhere to be seen and then we get THIS??? Replacement flowers??? >>>user443 what in the grid love triangle is going on here? user928 your studio space is an absolute dream!!!

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 5 months ago

Text

Be my desire.

Aegon Targaryen × Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Aemond finds out what his brother has been hiding from the world, now he can't get over it, he needs to own it, to own you.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I found the pics on Pinterest, so thanks to the Pinterest users Mimi archives nat.

Warning: grammatical, spelling errors and I think that's all.

I know I haven't posted a new chapter of the other fic but I've been busy, I hope I can write something soon.

Aemond is like a shadow who follows every or... Almost every step Aegon gives.

In the last few weeks Aemond has lost the path his brother usually does, there's something new but secret that Aegon has in his usual routine, spending a good amount of time out of the castle, aemond has been looking for him around the city, his investigation hasn't brought any good result, there's no signs of Aegon, even his guards don't know where he goes.

«Sorry my prince, but your brother makes it difficult to follow him»

Aemond is frenetic and paranoid, why? Where? What is his brother hiding? Is he planning something? What in the seven hells is going on with him?. Aemond hates to not know what his brother is doing. He has started biting his nails, constantly overthinking about the secret life of his brother.

His suspicious change one night, when he's sitting close to the window of his chambers and sees a certain prince running to the city. Aemond doesn't think about it twice, he simply runs to the secret halls of the castle and follows his brother, he can see him walking around, for a minute Aemond thinks Aegon already knows someone is following him, so he leaves him to walk a little bit further, taking some distance would be good, he thinks.

Moments later, Aegon gets inside a tavern, drinks a couple of beers and stays there observing some guys fighting, for Aemond this is like the top of boredom, he was yawning, feeling stupid for thinking his brother had something better to do, in a blink of an eye, Aegon disappears, aemond goes outside as quick as he can and just sees his brother cloak walking to the street where the pleasure house is.

But once there, he can't find Aegon anymore, Aemond knocks every door of every pleasure house to ask for his brother, but apparently no one has seen him, all that changes when finally, a woman opens the door and thoughtlessly invites him to get in because 'his usual girl is waiting for him'. Aemond decides to follow, and once both are out of a door, the woman knocks and yells.

«Y/N, He is here, are you ready!?»

There's silence, the woman rolls her eyes, knocks with more strength on the door and leaves. Aemond doesn't know what to do, he's regretting being in that place, he's about to leave when the door finally opens, a beautiful silver haired lady, appears, with a big and bright smile that is quickly erased as soon as it looks at Aemond.

- Wrong door, sorry.

That's all you say, you're closing the door when Aemond pushes it and gets inside.

- Where's him?

He asks coldly, you're standing there in a beautiful lilac silk dress, you're afraid, you have never seen a man with so much anger emanating from his body.

- Wh... Where is who?

- Prince Aegon. Where is he? Who are you?

Your silence only makes it worse, Aemond observes every centimeter of your body, your figure, you're young enough as them, he wonders why are you there, are you a bastard? Why do you have that hair? He can't deny it, you're beautiful, your exposed tiny waist makes him imagine how his arms would look or feel around you, your cheeks are rose and your lips are juicy, your hips and thighs are bigger, like huge pillows where he could rest his head after a long day. Those thoughts vanish when your voice catches his attention.

- Prince Aegon is not here, I'm y/n, his protege and lady-in-waiting.

- Where did you get that silver hair? Are you a Targaryen bastard?

- No, I'm from the free cities and my parents were farmers, they sold me as soon as they saw my hair they thought I would bring them bad luck, since then I've been a slave and now... I work here, in the pleasure house, but I'm only here to fill my Prince's desires, I'm not allowed to attend someone else. That being said, I think I have to ask you to leave, I don't want trouble.

You're standing on the door and Aemond can't believe what you said, asking him to leave, no one has the courage to talk to him in such a way.

- What if I tell you the prince is my brother? Will you still have problems with him? What does my brother do to you?

He's seriously thinking what kind of monstrosities Aegon could do to such a pretty thing like you. He has heard rumours about his brother but never believed them, until now, the worry in your eyes makes him wonder what could happen.

But you're not afraid about what Aegon would do to you, you're afraid about what he can do to any man that dares to be in the same room as you, alone. The last one who had the stupid idea of trying to take you by force is now under the water. Now you're worried about what he could do if he sees his own brother.

- Please, I have to ask you to leave, it is for your own good.

Aemond laughs loudly, silly you, you don't know anything about him, he could easily win a fight against Aegon. While he's laughing you can hear someone walking quickly in your direction, the hallway is dark so you cannot see who is it. The fear in your eyes and the shivers in your body are an alarm for Aemond who stops laughing.

- Y/N?!

- Aegon!

You're running to him when a long hand takes you by the arm, your body is now pressed against Aemond's body and a dagger is over your neck, you can feel a bulge growing right behind your butt and the dagger almost cutting your skin.

Aegon is terrified by the scene, it is as if the most precious and valuable thing was in danger.

- Brother.

That's all Aemond says, suddenly the horrified expression in Aegon's face changes to another more relaxed.

- How did you find this place?

- I've been following you, I thought you were doing something wrong but now I see it's just you and a new whore.

While Aemond says the last sentence he makes you be closer to him, he just wants you to feel the desire you're waking up in him.

- She's mine, she's not like the other women before, she's my woman.

- You already have a woman, your wife.

- A choice I didn't make, Y/N is the woman I'm choosing, the one I want, she's my secret and now that you know it, I would like you to stay away from her.

The dagger disappears from your neck and releases you, you walk quickly to Aegon, hiding your face in his neck, he instantly hugs you, kisses the top of your head.

- As you wish, brother.

He makes a small reverence and then looks at you, smiling, you can see the evil in the way he takes your hand and kisses it.

- My lady.

You hide your hand quickly and Aegon hugs you tightly, Aemond simply disappears in the shadow, you and Aegon continue doing your usual activities, before he leaves he almost begs you to not let Aemond come in never again, you were concerned about his strange petition, why is he so worried about Aemond? He talked about his fears days later.

After some weeks you find yourself in almost the same situation, you came into your usual room when a tall man with a patch over his eye took you by surprise, you gasped, unable to scream, he quickly pressed his mouth against yours, you pushed him away and before you could slap him, he took your forearm.

- Don't touch me! Don't! Leave me! I'll tell Aegon about this!

You yell at him while he has you between his arms, smelling your hair, feeling your body fighting Against him, what are you doing to him? Something about you is making him crazy, it has been a torture to be away from you. Sleepless nights, days wasted because he only thinks about you, about your body, hating how you quickly ran to Aegon, how quickly you perceive him as an enemy and Aegon as a hero, in Aemond's opinion, his brother is nothing more than a drunk spoiled prince, but you, you have your own perception of him, Aemond can just remember the way you looked at his brother, full of devotion, desire and mostly love, love, love.

He lets you go and you run close to the balcony, he stays there, observing you, still savouring the taste of your lips, you look lovely with those scary Bambi eyes. The urgency to let you know he doesn't want to hurt you is growing inside him, what kind of spell you put over him?

- I apologize, it is not my intention to scare you, my lady, please come here.

You neglect, standing up but still away from him.

- He doesn't want you here. You have to go.

- Why does he want me away from you? What are you two hiding from me?

- We're not hiding anything, he simply doesn't want you to steal me from him, I'm his only escape.

- I fear I do not understand what you're saying.

- He thinks you only want to take his place in everything and trust me, my prince, Aegon would gladly give you his place just to be free from the court but he can't. I'm the only thing he actually chose and wanted, he wishes to keep me away from you and all those things that torture him every day.

Aemond never thought he could be so obvious about his ambitions, it's good to know Aegon doesn't wish to rule, but something in the way you're watching him, with hate, disgusted, is killing him, he feels frustrated, he's clearly a better man for you, all his life he has been trying to prove he's better than his brother and constantly finds himself angry, frustrated because no one can see it.

- Hmm, if he doesn't want me close to you or touching you, I won't, I will be at a fair distance, but he didn't put a rule about looking at you. Didn't he?

He's right, Aegon never mentioned something like that, it's not a sin, men look at you all the time, for you that's fine as long as you can keep peace in Aegon's heart.

Since then, when you're with the rest of the girls in the house, dancing, singing or Walking around, you can feel his eye on you, at first it was uncomfortable but later, you started to enjoy the power you have over him, the way he devours your body without touching, that frustrated look and him incapable to be around you, you know he will not resist his urgency but you're ready for it, you don't hide secrets to Aegon, you told him what was going on and what would you do if it happened.

Meanwhile you enjoy your nights in the comfort of Aegon's arms, he's the one you love, you don't care about Aemond, you know he's just a brat trying to steal someone else's toys, some nights you wake up anxious, you're playing with fire, you can enjoy the company of one man and torture the other one, but eventually this little game will bring trouble, tragedy and pain.

Aegon always caresses your back and your hair, bringing you peace to your heart, whispering in a soft voice how much he loves you and how he will protect you as long as he's strong and healthy.

Gods punished you for playing a dangerous game with the Targaryen brothers.

As soon as you heard about the tragedy the king suffered in battle, you knew it, you felt it. Aemond Targaryen appeared in your door once again and this time there was no one who could protect you from the prince and his desires.

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, humiliation, bullying, chauvinism ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had always felt that he lacked something. Part of him claimed that if a dragon had hatched from his egg, things would have been different, however, years later, he recognised that this was not entirely true.

Aegon had a gift for light-hearted conversation, an ironic humour that he lacked. He kept telling him to smile at last, to get his nose out of his books, that he was boring, perpetually serious and withdrawn. He preferred to spend time with Jace and Luke − they were louder and funnier than him, they understood him, they had what he was missing.

They had dragons.

They didn't spare unpleasant comments even to their own sister, calling her a hamster, most likely referring to her rosy, firm cheeks and big eyes.

He could see that she was running away from them crying, but he wasn't going to comfort her. She was a girl – her world, filled with poetry, embroidery and music seemed to him as distant as Essos.

The only thing they had in common was books.

They bumped into each other occasionally in the library, and although at first they simply pretended not to see one another, one day she dared to sit next to him as he looked through the family tree of their ancestors.

"What is it?" She asked, placing the large volume on the table in front of them with difficulty.

He huffed as the dust that rose with her movement reached his nostrils, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that it was The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.

He did not reply, turning the page of the book, not knowing why he should explain it to her.

He didn't believe her, didn't trust her, didn't want her.

She was a bastard, though she probably didn't know it herself, wallowing in riches like a princess even though she didn't deserve them.

He didn't want her pity, attention or anything else she could give him.

He didn't want to be her second choice, the place she ran to because her brothers were mean to her; he had his own, in his mind very adult, worries and he didn't want to listen to hers.

"Is this a book dedicated to our family history?" She asked softly, leaning out so that she could see what he was reading.

She stood up, coming closer to him, intrigued. He pressed his lips together when he smelled her pleasant scent, some intense vanilla oil.

He felt a tightening and burbling in his stomach at the thought of the cake that smelled similar, which his mother had ordered to be baked for his Name Day a few months earlier.

"Ah, our family tree. Where are we?" She asked cheerfully, and he sighed heavily, reluctantly flipping forward a few pages, tracing their line with his finger, showing her a place at the very end.

He swallowed loudly as he saw how Laenor Velaryon was written in the space where her father was inscribed, trying not to smile with mockery.

She leaned lower, looking at the area he had pointed at and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different they were, apart from the obvious fact that he was a man and she was a woman.

His eyelashes were almost white and translucent and hers were black, long, surrounding her shining eyes, making them seem even bigger to him. His skin was pale, thin as parchment when hers was flushed and full of life, her lips plump and moist, her nose shapely and straight, the contour of her face gentle as his jaw was outlined sharply.

And finally, his hair, the colour of Targaryen's, the white she lacked, her luscious black curls falling gently down her back was visible proof of who her father was.

Although he liked to mock her in spirit, he couldn't say she was ugly or repulsive.

"Would you marry Helaena if our King so commanded?" She asked curiously, glancing sideways at his seated figure. He lifted his gaze to her and sighed heavily, figuring that nothing would happen if he spoke to her for a while.

She was simply bored, just like him, and he didn't get the impression that she had come to entertain herself at his expense.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes. I would do my duty as a Prince and son of the King." He said lowly, solemnly, fiddling between his fingers with the page of the book he had just looked at, crossing his legs.

Even though he was still a child, he was trying to sound and look like a man.

She cocked her head, clearly genuinely intrigued by his statement, a wide smile on her face.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked as if it was obvious, as if she was encouraging him to reveal to her his little secret. He looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to make of her question.

He swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, feeling his heart pounding fast.

What did it matter?

"Well…she's my sister. Of course I love her." He replied coolly, feeling strange with the words on his tongue, as if there was something inappropriate about them.

"I love Jace too, but I'm not in love with him. There's a difference." She said with a kind of calmness and wisdom that surprised him, looking at him with a gentle expression on her face that consternated him.

Why were they even having this conversation?

Still, her words made him feel a tightness in his throat, a realisation that he understood what she meant, but didn't want to admit it.

The tenderness of falling in love, the poems and the late-night frolicking were the domain of women's imagination, which unfortunately then had to collide with the cruel reality. He was a man, however, and he had no intention of getting into these deep divagations of the weaker sex.

"Don't be naïve. Marriage is not meant to be a pleasure. It is meant to be a sacrifice for the good of the kingdom, to secure its needs." He said dryly, turning back to the page he had been reading earlier, frustrated for some reason by her remark.

She did not speak again, returning to her seat, sinking into reading the gigantic volume dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.

Although he could have done it in his chamber, he had been coming to the library to read ever since and always met her in the same place. Although they didn't appoint themselves, they both had their assignments until midday and would turn up there to read immediately afterwards, sitting next to each other, exchanging thoughts in passing.

He was afraid that Aegon would see them one day, but fortunately he never ventured into the abyss of the library, few people went there and he felt reasonably safe.

Usually it was she who asked him questions and he was the one who answered her. He felt some sort of empowerment because of this – at last there was someone who appreciated his knowledge and rhetoric, who listened intently to his opinion.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said without thinking, recognising that it would be wonderful to have by his side a woman who could wield a sword perfectly, with a sharp tongue and temperament, who would be a born warrior like him.

He saw his niece raise an eyebrow in amusement, a sort of childlike joy on her face, her eyes shining.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said mockingly, as if immensely pleased that she could take the argument out of his hand. He pressed his lips together at her remark and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

He didn't care what men and women did at night − his mother had told him that he shouldn't bother with it for the time being, and he had decided that there was in fact no need to, until his father called on him one morning.

"− no −" He heard his mother's voice, leaning over the table where the tired King sat, looking at her as if half asleep. "− I do not agree, Viserys, it's not −"

She did not finish, hearing his footsteps and folded her arms in front of her, trying to calm herself, letting out a loud breath. His father nodded at him to come closer, which he did obediently, feeling his heart pounding hard.

His father had never yet called on him on any serious matter.

"I have just been discussing with your mother the importance of our family, of our kingdom remaining united. Although I have agreed that, according to tradition, your sister should marry your brother and not your nephew, I would like you to be the one to bring House Targaryen together anew, and that you should marry the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the future." He said calmly, with each finished sentence tapping his fingers on the table top, as if to add some finality and certainty to his words that he was convinced this was the right thing to do.

"− this is ridiculous − Aemond should secure our kingdom with a marriage to the daughter of one of the lords who can benefit us −" His mother began impatiently, her husband sighed loudly, exhausted.

"And who should receive this honour? The Starks? The Arryns? The Baratheons? No choice would be good, for someone would always feel disadvantaged. Marriage within the family will not outrage anyone on the outside, and will only strengthen what has been strained." He said with conviction; the Queen swallowed hard, shaking her head, finally looking at him as if she was certain he abhorred the idea as much as she did.

"− Aemond, you don't have to agree −" She said in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, looking at the stone floor beneath his feet, feeling his heart pounding hard.

Bastard or not, the dragon's blood flowed in her, as it did in him. She didn't despise or mistreat him. She knew what duty and obligation meant.

He reasoned that although he would have preferred to have a female warrior by his side, in fact the idea of marrying her did not reject him. He preferred her to the daughter of some common lord.

In his own way, he even liked her.

He grunted, feeling proud to rise to the occasion and fulfil his father's desire.

"If it is my King's wish, I will marry her, for the sake of the kingdom and our family." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eyes, standing upright, his hands folded behind his back.

He felt a squeeze in his throat as his father smiled at him sincerely, for the first and last time in his life.

"So it's decided."

He didn't know how the message had been conveyed to his betrothed, however he could see by the look on her face as she ran into the library, all red with emotion, that someone had made her aware of what had happened and he felt a twist in his stomach at the thought.

He was afraid she would make it clear to him that she didn't want him, that she abhorred him, that she had no intention of marrying a man who didn't have a dragon of his own.

As she approached him however her eyes sparkled, she laughed as if she didn't believe it.

"Is it true?" She asked breathing loudly and he swallowed hard, nodding his head, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm so happy." She giggled sweetly, warmly, covering her mouth with her hand, as if someone had just given her a wonderful surprise.

He felt some kind of heat in his chest, an affection towards her, a gratitude for her faithfulness, for her devotion, for the fact that she respected him.

He was shocked to think that she would make a good wife.

Aegon laughed at him, not understanding where his lack of objection came from, how he could think that good had happened.

"She doesn't even have an arse or tits." He sneered and he clenched his jaw, wrinkling his brow, looking at him over his shoulder.

"Shut your mouth. Don't speak about her this way." He growled, feeling that her good name was now his as well, and that he had to protect her.

Aegon snorted, shaking his head, patting him on the back piteously.

"My little brother fell in love with Lady Strong?" He asked, forcing himself into a sweet, mocking tone as if he were speaking to a small child, which angered him even more. He slammed his head against his forehead, and he swore in pain, staggering backwards, catching the table, which fell over with him.

"You fucking bastard!" He shouted throwing himself at him, and they began to pound each other with their fists, wrestling with each other on the floor, until, hearing the commotion, a servant girl rushed into his chamber, trying to separate them.

His future wife visited him in his chamber that day, concerned that he had not appeared in the library, raising her eyebrows in simultaneous concern and amusement as she saw him holding an ice cube to his red cheek, a large bruise under his eye.

"What's happened?" She asked as she was accustomed to, without any pleasantries, approaching him sitting in a chair that was, however, too big and his legs did not reach the ground. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders without answering.

He had no intention of revealing what had caused the fight − he wasn't going to appear to her as a prince on a white horse who would worship and adore her, as in all those poems she had surely read.

"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked further, and he shook his head. She sighed heavily, taking a single lemon cake from the pocket of her bottom gown, placing it in front of him.

"I know the Queen only allows you to eat sweets after your weekly visit to the Great Sept, but I stole one for you anyway. As a consolation." She said proudly, and he nodded, lifting his gaze to her, involuntarily feeling grateful.

She cared for him without wanting anything in return.

Since they were betrothed, she hadn't asked him for solitary walks, gifts, confessions of love or anything else a lady of her status might desire from the man she was to marry.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, recognising that he could give her at least that much.

She looked around his chamber and he realised that she was in it for the first time in her life. He stood up, setting the ice sack down in the bowl, walking over to his bookshelf, a gift to him from his mother.

"If you wish, I can lend you some. Just pick which one." He said softly, coming to the conclusion that he wanted to be kind to her, that he wanted her to have no regrets about him becoming her husband, to be proud of it.

She looked at him gratefully and took out a book written by the ancient philosopher, Areon, dissecting human dignity and duty. Something about her choice pleased him, the thought that she wanted to understand him.

She pressed the book to her heart and looked at him, her eyes seemed even bigger to him than usual, her beautiful long eyelashes, hair and plump lips shone in the summer light of the day.

He felt a pleasant tickle in his lower abdomen watching her without saying a word.

"– can I kiss you? –" She asked so quietly that for a moment he thought he had overheard himself. He felt his whole body tense up as his pupils dilate in disbelief, his fingers involuntarily began to rub against each other in a subconscious nervous reflex.

Oh gods.

Should they be doing this?

Was this the right thing to do?

She was supposed to be his wife. From what he understood, husbands and wives did this, as a kind of union and intimacy.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her lips, thinking they looked pleasantly warm and soft; a shiver went through him at the thought that he could feel them in a moment if he wanted to.

He nodded his head.

He watched her vigilantly, involuntarily breathing through his mouth as she stepped closer to him; he was taller than her and leaned in slightly, wanting to make her task easier.

She surprised him when she suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and her lips pressed against his in a warm, innocent kiss − he felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, the scent of vanilla filled his lungs, her skin delightfully moist and soft.

It felt so pleasant.

She pulled away from him immediately, all red as he was, breathing hard, as if it took a lot of effort and courage from her too, her wide eyes looked at him in excitement, as if she was waiting for his reaction.

"– one more time –"

These words came out of him like a weak whisper, like a plea through which he felt the shame overpowering him.

She smiled before rising on her toes again, this time placing her hand on his shoulders for balance − she pressed her fleshy, moist lips to his for a longer time and sighed softly as he touched her cheek, wonderfully soft and warm.

She pulled away from him with a quiet click and closed her eyes feeling him stroke her skin with his thumb. He pressed his forehead against hers, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

"– will you come to me at night? –"

He had nightmares most of the time at night − usually dreams in which he saw anew the pig that his brother and nephews had introduced to him as his dragon, humiliating him as no one had ever done before.

He found that her presence calmed him and that perhaps if she slept in the same bed, he would finally get some rest.

He didn't think about the fact that it might have been at least inappropriate in the eyes of others when under the cover of night she snuck into his chamber, slipping under the thick furs beside him, snuggling up to him. In his mind she was already his wife, and wives slept with their husbands − unless it was his parents.

They lay that night looking at each other with their foreheads pressed together, stroking each other's cheeks, shy and embarrassed.

Their wordless, innocent confession of affection and need for closeness.

"We are going to have seven children." He stated after some thought, as if he had decided that such a number would satisfy him. He wanted his family to be strong and broad, and also seven were gods, so it had symbolic meaning as well.

She blinked, as if something troubled her in his words, furrowing her brow.

"My mother gets very tired during childbirth and then can't get up for a few days. With the rest, how do we do it?" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders.

He had never delved into the ins and outs of the pleasures of the flesh too much − Aegon had said that rapprochements with women were very pleasurable and, as he understood, that was why he couldn't pull away from them, to him, however, what he had was enough.

"We'll find out everything when we're older. Do not fret." He said with certainty, stroking her soft, plump cheek with his thumb. She cheered up, he saw the sparkle in her gaze before her lips stole a soft, warm kiss from him again.

He smiled at the thought that he felt that in her eyes he was a man, the head of their future family.

There had been times when he had forgotten who she was, who her father was, her smile, her laugh, her eyes, the sweet kisses she bestowed on him when they were alone made him think it didn't matter anymore.

Years later, he could not believe how wrong he was.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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redtsundere-writes · 9 months ago

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Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 14. Champion

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Yuuji, Choso and Sukuna are brothers. Some characters are out of character. Warnings: Cursed words, I only read it once. Word Count: 9322 words (a long boy) Author's Note: So the final chapter is here. This has been a wonderful journey. Like I said in my last post, I'll edit the shit out of this, but I knew this was going to happen either way. I want to thank @elgonki for helping me edit this chapter.

"Faster!" Geto ordered me from the side of the ring.

"Just do it!" Nobara encouraged me to continue.

I kicked the pad that was at Nobara's chest with increasing force and speed. My legs wanted to give up, but I was going to let them. Nobara held the pad as tight as she could to keep it from being pushed with each impact.

Despite the distance, Nobara was always the first to hear the news of my life. She was the first to find out about my neck diagnosis, that I became a trainer, and that the king of the ring had hired me. She was the one who helped me when I needed it most. When Naoya happened, she traveled to Kyoto to give me a hug. I always tried to invite her to eat or drink something after training to thank her for her unconditional support.

It was great to have my old life back. Waking up at 7 in the morning to go for a run, going to the gym to exercise, getting into the ring to train with the other girls and teaching jiujitsu classes to the children in the afternoon. The only thing that had changed for the better was that now I had a nice boyfriend who supported me in everything.

"I brought lunch," Choso announced his presence at the ringside while holding a plastic bag with two salads. I pulled myself away from Nobara to greet my boyfriend.

"Let's take a rest," Nobara suggested with a smile. I got out of the ring and gave my boyfriend a big sweaty hug.

"You smell like you work hard," he joked before planting a kiss on my head.

"You are right. The fight against Maki Zenin is in less than a week. I must be in my best shape to take back what belongs to me,” I told him excitedly.

Mei Mei's office was very different from Nanami's. While Nanami's looked like a lawyer's office that drinks old fashions and smokes good cigars, MeiMei's office was very minimalist and functional. The bone walls contrasted with the black desk and silver electronics. Choso and I were sitting on the white sofa that was placed in front of a small plasma television. We talked about our days while we ate. The green salad with chicken that Choso had brought me reminded me of the meals I used to make for Sukuna from time to time when I lived with him. What I missed about being a trainer was being able to eat anything without having the pressure to gain weight.

“The UFC 300 fight card comes with a bang, as it will be a double championship night!” The host of a sports news program enthusiastically announced to a panel of experts.

“That's right! First, we’ll see The Snake de Medusa versus The Fury. Will The Snake be able to regain her title after her injury?” One of the drivers asked openly to the table to start the debate.

“Are you nervous?” Choso asked me, leaving his empty plate on the glass table.

“A lot, but I'll just get into the octagon, I'll do what I have to do, and I'll take down Maki no matter what,” I answered excitedly.

“That's my girl,” Choso proudly placed a warm kiss on my cheek.

In the time we have been together, my relationship with Choso has been the most beautiful and healthy one I have ever had in my life. He always cares about me, cooks for me and supports me in all my decisions. We had less than 3 months living together, and I still maintained the same opinion I had of him. It was a pleasure to wake up next to him every morning, do housework together and make love in the shower from time to time. I loved doing everything together with him.

“I made you a green juice before I came here,” he said handing me one of my reusable bottles I had at home. I hated green juice, but I had to drink it for my own good.

“Yuta Okkotsu was to face Toge Inumaki for the middleweight belt, but Inumaki suffered an injury that will prevent the fight from taking place. Do they already know who his replacement will be?” One of the commentators asked with curiosity.

Yuta and Toge have always been friendly rivals. Outside the UFC they are almost always seen together at events and parties, but once they get in the ring, they are ready to kill each other. That energy of brotherhood and competitiveness makes their fights even more entertaining and among the bestsellers in the business. This rematch had been announced for 3 months. It was a shame that shortly before the event, Inumaki could no longer participate. I wanted to see the fight too.

“It's a good thing you mentioned it, because we have exclusive news for Total Sport! Toge Inumaki's replacement will be no one more and no one less than Sukuna Ryomen!” At that name, I can't help but spit out the green juice.

“What?!” I yelled as I got up from the sofa.

“Just like that! Sukuna will finally go after a second title.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. Sukuna and I would be at the same event! What wonderful news! After I moved to Nagoya, Sukuna hardly ever gave me any sign of life. He would either leave me on read or answer my messages weeks later. I sent hundreds of emails to Nanami to schedule a training session together, but I never received a reply. Every time Choso took me to one of his family events, I expected to see him there, in his fancy suit and expensive sunglasses. Unfortunately, Yuuji would always arrive alone and tell me that Sukuna was busy. It was frustrating to get in touch with him, but at last we would see each other again.

“I'll get to see Sukuna fight live again, what a thrill!” I squealed in excitement as Choso wiped up the mess I had made with a napkin.

“Are you that excited to see him?” I asked dryly.

“Of course I am. I was his coach for a year, and he improved so much in such a short time. I want to see how much he has improved without me,” I answered wistfully.

As much as I loved being back as a fighter, sometimes I liked to remember when I was his coach. The time when I could coexist in the mixed martial arts world and I didn't get hurt often. The best of both worlds. Even though I had my peace of mind, I missed Sukuna making me angry, laughing or crying with joy.

“Do you miss him that much?” Choso asked me out of the blue, avoiding my gaze completely.

“A little. It's just that it's been so long since I last saw him that I'm excited to see how he's doing,” I answered as I sat back down on the couch.

It had been a year since we last saw each other. When we said goodbye after leaving his penthouse, I didn't think it would take me that long to see him again. If I was already excited to return to the octagon for my title, now I was happy to know that Sukuna would see me fight live for the first time. A smile crept onto my face at the idea.

After a heavy week of training until exhaustion, a diet based on chicken breast and study sessions on Maki, we finally arrived at the mythical land where all addictions are connected. Traveling to Las Vegas was always a pleasure. Nobara was excited to travel with me to a new place, Mei Mei was on the phone, and Suguru and I were constantly talking about the fight.

"You better not disappoint us." Suguru joked as the entire team and I headed to the UFC center for the official weigh-in in a family van.

"She will never let us down! She is the strongest fighter there is!” Nobara defended me.

"I’ll give my best," I said in an attempt to stop the fight along with a smile.

I looked at Choso, who had a sad look and hardly spoke during the trip. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but there wasn't a time when we were private enough to ask him. Maybe it was because the last time he was here was when he “found his ex-fiancée with his brother.” I tried to cheer him up several times by telling him that we would go for a drink after the fight and then to the casino, but I couldn't.

The official weigh-in went well. I showed up in front of my old rival Maki and the rest of the disgusting Zenin. I wanted to tell them to go to hell, but I maintained my professionalism. After all, my problem wasn't with Maki, but with her disgusting cousin. After the fight rules were read to us, we returned to the hotel for the exhibition weigh-in. Nobara and Mei Mei did my hair, and they retouched my light makeup to get me camera ready. Upon arriving at the hotel, an insane amount of reporters appeared out of nowhere. I smiled for the cameras, but without losing sight of the entrance. An assistant guided us to a hallway so we could wait there for them to call us for the press conference.

"You look pretty," Choso flattered me with a smile.

"Thank you. I hope you don't ask me offensive questions…” My eyes interrupted what I was going to say as soon as I saw that large figure that I hadn't seen a year ago.

His hair was longer than he remembered, and his features were thinner from having to have lost 5 kilos at once for the fight to take place. He walked alongside the Black Team with their respective jacket and black over-ear headphones. Our eyes connected and something in my mind clicked. I smiled instantly and ran up to him to receive him.

"Sukuna!" I greeted him excitedly with my arms outstretched, waiting for a warm hug.

But I didn't receive a hug, not even a greeting, a “fuck you” would have hurt less. He just ignored me and avoided me like I was the plague in person. My smile fell as I realized the reality. He who had ignored me felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in my face. What had I done wrong? Why was he acting like this after everything we went through? Seeing his back walking away from me made my heart feel heavier than normal.

"Do not take it personally," Yuuji told me, approaching me. "He's only angry because he's hungry. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday to reach the official weight.” My friend had dark circles under his eyes and he didn't smile as usual. He looked worse than Nanami on tax day.

"I see…" It was the only thing I could say without sounding disappointed.

"He's even an idiot when his stomach is full, they should be used to it by now," Uraume commented as they approached us. I greeted them after years of not seeing each other, happy that they was with Team Black.

"Yes, that's definitely Sukuna." Choso commented, joining the conversation as he put his arm around my shoulders.

"If he's not upset with something, he's not Sukuna." Yuuji tried to joke, but he couldn't even laugh. You could tell that Sukuna had been using him as his personal punching bag for the past few days.

The younger pink-haired boy began to tell us about the hell it had been to train with his older brother in recent days, while Choso hugged me by the shoulders. I looked askance behind me. Gojo and Nanami were talking to Sukuna, surely they were reminding him what not to say in the interview. His eyes met mine again for a second, but out of pride, I returned my gaze to the conversation I was in. I sighed in an attempt to ease my poor heart.

The press conference with Maki's team had also gone well. We maintained respect while the clear competitiveness could be seen from miles away. That day I spent warming up and training in the hotel gym, preparing myself mentally for the fight. Although now my problem was not with Maki, but with Sukuna. I understand that he was angry, but he doesn't ignore people just because. It's not like he ignored me by accident because he saw me, he saw my eyes. I am sure of it.

Night fell quickly. After a good training session with Geto and a good dinner that relieved my hungry stomach. Choso and I headed to the suite the UFC had paid for us. My body was so tired that once it hit the bed, it didn't want to get up. Despite my fatigue, I was not sleepy. The memory of Sukuna ignoring me ate me alive, I needed answers, but I had no way to get them.

Choso took off my shoes and lay down next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. His breathing was soft and rhythmic. I stroked her hair as I looked at the ceiling that had a hint of glitter. The lights of bright Las Vegas peeked out the window in a dance between blues and greens. I lay on my side to hug Choso fully and give him a soft kiss on the lips. I moved a little away from his face to see him better. My finger pushed his raven hair to the side to see his eyes, but they were closed.

"Are you tired?" I whispered to him.

"A bit," Choso answered. "It's just been a long day," he said before pulling me towards him so he could lay on my chest.

I sighed upon hearing that response. More than tired, he looked discouraged. I wish I knew how to cheer him up, but I didn't. The only thing I could do was hold him close to me and stroke his hair, brushing it between my fingers. My hands slowly lowered to his back. I ran my fingertips along his shoulder blades and down his spine. Something that used to feel warm and welcoming now felt cold and distant. What was going on?

I could barely sleep. I opened and closed my eyes every two hours because anxiety was eating me alive. Between my championship fight and the strange behavior of the Itadori brothers, my mind couldn't calm down. My theories ran back and forth trying to give a reasonable answer to the situation. I reluctantly opened my eyes and noticed the time. It was 6 o'clock, an hour before the alarm would ring to go out for a run. Choso was on the other side of the bed. It shouldn't bother you.

Since I was alone, I headed to the hotel gym to use the treadmills. What I didn't expect was to see that Team Black coming out of the reception. “I forgot he also runs at this time,” I thought excitedly. This was my chance to ask him if everything was okay between us. I ran out of the hotel to catch up with them. Yuuji, Gojo, and Sukuna were warming up on the sidewalk to begin their morning run down the sidewalk. The champion was wearing his headphones like the day before.

"Good morning, guys!" I waved to the team as I approached.

"Good morning, and Choso?" Yuuji asked me curiously.

"Asleep. It's still very early for him,” Explain with a smile so they wouldn’t get worry. "Are you going for a run? Can I go? I asked excitedly.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Gojo intercepted me.

"I don't think Sukuna would mind, it's not like we haven't done it before, right?" I completely ignored his warning.

I approached Sukuna, who looked more intimidating than usual. Almost nothing had changed about his appearance, but his vibe was very different from the last time I saw him. What the fuck was happening? He looked at me getting closer to him, now I couldn't ignore me. He didn't greet me or take off his headphones to greet me.

"Hello! Can I join?!" I yelled at him so he could hear me even though he had his headphones on.

He looked at me from head to toe with disdain as if I were scum and turned to run away. I was frozen and with my mouth open. He's blatantly ignoring me! My mind couldn't understand why I was doing it. Did I do something wrong? Do I smell bad? Do you have amnesia and don't recognize me? What the hell is wrong with him?

"Sorry, see you later," Yuuji told me, giving me an encouraging pat on the shoulder, before following his brother and Gojo.

I smiled offended as I saw Sukuna running away. After a year together, was he going to pretend I didn't exist? I couldn't allow it. I wasn't going to let him make fun of me. I couldn't let the king of assholes straight up ignore me like that. If he could go back to how it was before, me too and it would be worse this time.

I ran after them. My feet moved before my mind could decide on a plan. He ran with all the frustration he had stored up since yesterday. In less time than I thought, I passed Yuuji and Gojo to reach Sukuna. I grabbed his headphones and ripped them off his head. I threw his precious headphones with all my might into the street, getting lost in the traffic. I smiled satisfied at my mischief.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Sukuna yelled at me in annoyance before walking steadily towards me.

"Am I no longer invisible?" I asked, backing away from him.

Sukuna stopped as soon as he realized why he had done it. I thought he would yell at me more, call me some ridiculous nickname, or tell me to stop bothering him, but I got nothing from him. Absolutely nothing. He just looked at me like he pitied me. That had been a direct stab to my ego.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I exclaimed, annoyed, but he didn't tell me anything else.

He just looked at me with those dark eyes. Those eyes that used to look at me with anger, mockery, and sometimes desire. There was nothing behind them anymore. There was only one Sukuna who didn't care at all. An urge to cry invaded me, but I held it back.

"Forget it, I don't want to talk to the king of assholes anyway,” I blurted out, continuing my run by myself.

I ran and ran. My feet were already used to this, but this time they felt heavier. I couldn't give up, I had to continue until I reached the hotel again. I wanted to escape from that empty look. I could run all I wanted, but that memory was faster than me. Sukuna looking into my eyes as if I didn't exist for him. A pain invaded my ribs.

I went to a wall to rest, so the horse pain would go away. I bit my lower lip to stop the inevitable. A row of tears emerged from my eyes uncontrollably. I tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand, but they kept appearing. I crouched forward so no one would see me in my most vulnerable state. “Why do I care so much?” I questioned myself confused.

After getting all my tears out, I looked for my phone in my pants to call a taxi. I was not in the mood to continue my journey to the hotel. Only my phone wasn't there. “Ah, shit… I left it in the suite,” I thought, annoyed with myself for forgetting it. No way, I would have to run back to the hotel.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I breathed a sigh of relief to finally have reached the floor of my suite. I headed towards my door, but I heard terrible door knocks. I paused, debating whether I should check out what it was about or not. Although this was no longer safe Japan, this was wild Las Vegas. I headed back towards my door until I heard…

"Sukuna! Open the hell up! I know you're there! Choso shouted at the top of his lungs.

I turned back to see what was happening. Choso was pounding on the door of the master suite with both clenched fists. He acted like a lunatic desperate for attention. This was the first time I had seen him do something like that.

"What are you doing?" I asked him confused. He turned to me and looked at me like I was a ghost.

"There you are," He approached me, clearly upset. "Where the hell were you?!" He yelled at me.

Choso had never yelled at me like that before. My eyebrow raised at his strange attitude. My ego had been bruised enough today, I didn't need my boyfriend to jump on the boat too. What the hell was happening to everyone?!

"I went out to run…". I answered confused.

"Do not lie to me!". Choso yelled in my face.

"I'm not lying to you, you can ask Yuuji or Sukuna!" I yelled, offended. Choso clicked his tongue offended.

"So you were with him…" He muttered angrily.

"I found him at the reception". I defended myself. "Nothing happened".

"Oh yeah?" He rolled his eyes, he didn't believe me at all.

"Yeah! Why are you treating me like I've done something wrong?!” I exclaimed annoyed, getting down to his level.

"Because you tricked me, Yuki!" Choso barked angrily.

My eyes widened when I heard that. His eyes also widened as he realized what he had said. My world was falling apart in a single morning. I took a couple of steps back to get away from him while a knot formed in my throat.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean that," He tried to apologize. "You know this place brings back bad memories of what happened."

"I'm not like her," I muttered, annoyed.

"Of course not," He tried to take my hand, but I jerked out of his grasp.

"I would never use Sukuna for money!" I exclaimed, annoyed. "I wouldn't hurt others for my own benefit!" Choso looked at me shocked, as if I had said something bad about his mother.

"Do not tell me that…". He tried to say from the impression. "Don't tell me you believed that absurd story about what he wanted to use to get into the UFC."

"Yes, I do believe him."

"I can't believe you were so stupid."

Before I thought, my hand was already flying towards his cheek. It hit her in a clean impact that turned her face. He wasn't going to call me that to my face, ever. I wasn't going to tolerate another man treating me like trash. Choso looked at me surprised that I had the courage to hit him.

"Of course I'm going to believe him when the same bitch confirmed it." I declared.

"What?! Did you meet her?! Where?!" He asked me perplexed.

"You would know if you saw Sukuna's fights," I barked as I turned around. "You don't need to come to training today," I asked before going back to my suite.

Choso tried to follow me to reconsider, but I just slammed the door in his face. I entered the main room, tired, ashamed and exhausted. Everything had happened too quickly and without logical explanation. I looked for my phone and headphones on the nightstand. I unlock my phone to listen to music and the first thing I see is the photo I took with Choso when we moved into our nice apartment. A tear fell on the screen, preventing me from entering my password.

Choso had just thrown our entire relationship down the drain. That loving and attentive Choso disintegrated into the air like dust. The only thing I had left were its annoying ashes that I would have to sweep up later. First there was Sukuna ignoring and now Choso confusing me with a woman I hate. I curled up in bed to cry comfortably. I put on the first sad song that came across my playlist to cry to. I only had an hour before training, and I wasn't going to waste it. Soon I submerged on my own tears and snot. I fought against my own nose to breathe again through the mess. I had to get everything I felt in my chest to be able to put up a good fight.

The night fell slower than I would have preferred. Nobara, seeing me with swollen and somewhat reddish eyes, asked me what had happened, but I told her that I didn't want to talk about it now. I had to focus on the fight. She was going to get in the ring, do what she had to do and come out as the champion. That was easy.

UFC 300 started with a bang. I watched each of the matches while warming up with Nobara in the small conditioning room they had given us to wait for my turn to fight. He gently tapped the pads at a good pace, fast and precise. I would lower my head when she tried to hit me. We danced in the small space we had to do so.

"I like that look," Geto told me while monitoring my training. "You look angry."

I was angry. Choso had not arrived at the event and doubted he would. There were 15 minutes left until my fight. I told him he shouldn't go to training, I didn't think he would also take my biggest fight as part of it.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I asked for a break as I left Nobara.

I looked terrible. My eyes were puffy from crying and my skin looked duller than usual. I would look terrible on camera, but there was nothing I could do about it. That's what happened to me for crying in the shower instead of bathing properly. I slapped myself in front of the mirror. “Concentrate, you can't let two assholes take you down easily.” I tried to cheer myself up and, in a way, I succeeded. “You're a badass.”

When I left the bathroom, I was going to go back to my room, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that dark hair that I knew so well. It was Choso, but he wasn't heading towards me. He didn't even see me. He continued walking down the hallway until he got lost in a corridor. I had to return to my living room, but my intuition begged me to follow him and that's exactly what I did. I was going to turn the same corner as him, until I heard his voice.

"What the fuck were you doing with my girlfriend in the morning?" He asked annoyed. That was enough of a sign for me to stay hidden. It broke my heart that Choso didn't believe me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sukuna's annoying voice echoed through the hallways. He had surely arrived at his conditioning room.

"She told me she was with you in the morning. Now answer the damn question,” Choso retorted, his tone becoming more aggressive with each word.

"We met at the hotel entrance. That was it," Sukuna answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! She threw my headphones into traffic because I've been ignoring her like you asked!”

This couldn't be happening. Was Choso the reason for everything? Was Sukuna ignoring me, ghosting me, or avoiding me because of him? I covered my mouth so as not to sob out loud. I never thought Choso would be able to take me away from one of the most important people in my life, especially his brother. I never thought his insecurity would reach this level.

"Good". Choso muttered. "I believe you."

"You better believe me this time because I've been suffering for you, and you know it." Sukuna replied annoyed.

"It's not my fault she chose me over you." Now what the fuck were they talking about? "It's your karma."

"Is that so? Are you just using her to get back at me?” Sukuna asked him offended. Faced with silence, he spoke again. "Just tell me one thing, do you really love her or did you just want to take her away from me?"

"I like her. She's pretty.”

One year dating! One damn year dating and this son of a bitch only likes me! My tears of sadness turned to frustration. What stupid game had they put me into? Had every moment we'd spent together been a lie? A beautiful lie to keep me by your side? He had been making fun of me this whole time, and I wasn't going to let him have it. I clenched my fists in anger. I heard how they began to struggle between grunts and curses. It was hard to know what was going on because I was still hiding in the corner.

"She’s pretty?! That's it?! God, you're a big idiot!” Sukuna yelled, annoyed. "You have a renowned fighter, a wonderful person and the most beautiful woman as your girlfriend, and you only say that she is pretty?!"

A weak smile appeared on my face. I didn't know he looked at me that way. That statement felt like the calm in the eye of the hurricane. My confused tears came out for different reasons. Anger at Choso's selfishness and happiness at finally knowing what Sukuna really thought about me. My phone vibrated in my pocket, returning me to my reality. I took it out to read Nobara's message.

Bestie: Where are you? We should be at the entrance by now.

I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before running off to my championship fight. She was unaware of the entire strange situation between Choso and Sukuna, but she was sure of one thing. I was going to kill that bitch.

SUKUNA POV

Since we were kids, Choso knew me better than anyone else. He knew when he was hungry, angry, or wanted to get into mischief just by looking at me. I never understood how he did it. It was like he could read my mind better than I could. That's why he was able to share me his cookies without me asking, he calmed me down when I needed it and took the bucket out of my hands when I wanted to dunk Yuuji in front of his friends. His strong intuition no longer surprised me. It wasn't until he realized I liked Y/n before I knew it.

"She’s pretty?! That's all?! God, you're a big idiot!” I yelled in his face. "You have a renowned fighter, a wonderful person and the most beautiful woman as your girlfriend, and you only say that she is pretty?!"

I had him cornered against the wall. It was the closest thing I could do without beating him to death. The last time I did that, it didn't go very well. I really thought he loved her the same way I did, but no, he just used her to hurt me. My fists were turning red from the force I was applying so that he couldn't slip out of my hands.

"Do you see what it feels like to have something taken away from you?" Choso asked me.

"She's not damn candy!" I exclaimed annoyed. "She's a woman who really loves you, and you're still thinking about your whore ex. Don't you realize how pathetic you sound?!"

"Hey, don't talk about Yuki like that!" Choso yelled back to me.

"And don't talk about Y/n as if she were a trophy!" I yelled at him, barely containing my anger. I was reaching for everything in my power not to knock him out again.

"She is! Finally, I have something that you don't!” He yelled in my face. "You always had everything, the best grades, the approval of our parents, the girls you wanted. Even the girls I liked, always they liked you! Yuki was the only one who really liked me back.”

“Y/n really likes you too.” I said before slamming him against the wall of anger. The door to my living room opened, Gojo's white head peeked out. I sighed and reluctantly let go of Choso.

"Y/n is already going to fight," he told me to return to the room.

"Shouldn't you be with her?" I asked him worried. He just avoided my gaze, ashamed. "Now what did you do?"

"It's already on!" Yuuji excitedly informed me from inside. Gojo asked me to come in with his eyes. I sighed exasperated, but ignored him. I pulled my little brother to come into the living room with me.

Hiss by Megan Thee Stallion echoed through the room as everyone settled in front of the television to watch the first championship fight of the night. She looked just as intimidating as she did in every fight, but this time she looked annoyed. I had seen her last fights, she always smiled confidently while fighting the air. This time, her smile had disappeared, and she just walked towards the octagon with a mean look. Her eyes looked reddish and lifeless. “What the fuck did you do to him?” I asked Choso telepathically. I didn't want to start another argument with Yuuji in the room.

Y/n took off her sweatshirt and revealed that body that drove me crazy. Her sports bra and those green 2-in-1 shorts they accentuated her figure beautifully. The referee checked her and gave her the go-ahead to enter the octagon. She walked around the place as if the entire place belonged to her. She stretched her limbs like an elegant panther ready to hunt.

It didn't take long for Maki to make her appearance, but I didn't care about her in the slightest. What surprised me was seeing the idiot Naoya behind her. Y/n probably knew this would happen, after all they are cousins, and they train in the same temple. This would only increase the pressure you feel.

The two fighters met in the ring. Finally, the moment Y/n had been waiting for for years had arrived. This would be the night she would reign in the octagon again. The referee repeated the rules to them and they both clashed gloves.

"Come on, Snake!" Yuuji exclaimed excitedly.

They both stepped back to start the fight. My eyes were on Y/n. “Come on, you can do it,” I thought, hoping to see an incredible fight. The bell rang, and she lunged at Maki without waiting another second, welcoming her with a Superman punch which made Maki step back. Team Black celebrated the small victory of the first blow euphorically.

Maki then lunged at her with equal force to try to take the fight to the ground. He took her arms to bring her closer to his body and threw her to the ground. Y/n resisted the attack well, but managed to take it to her advantage. She took advantage of the fact that she was holding her to use her thigh as a ladder to climb on top of her like a python. In one swift movement, she climbed over her to wrapped her powerful legs and strong arms around her arm. He slammed her to the ground using his own weight. The public went crazy when they saw a strong python strangling its poor prey. My eyes couldn't blink for fear of missing that live massacre.

Once on the ground, Y/n took advantage of the closeness to choke Maki with her leg. Zenin began to squirm to find a way out of the unexpected move. With her free opposite arm and her legs away from Y/n, she didn’t have any options. Her team was yelling incoherently at Maki in an attempt to help her, but there was nothing they could do. Y/n had already won with a perfect arm bar. After the referee saw that Maki could not escape in any way, he ended the fight so that she would not pass out from lack of air.

Team Black cheered euphoric. I already knew that she was a magnificent fighter. She had proved herself on again and again every time we trained together, but this time she had shined. She had proven once again that she was a dangerous woman that no one can mess with.

"Sometimes I forget that she could easily kill me," Choso told me.

"Only if you make her angry," I warned him.

END OF SUKUNA POV

"The Medusa Serpent defeated The Fury in 15 seconds! A personal record!”

I didn't know what happened or when it happened. I just blinked, and I was already choking Maki with my legs. Had won. She was the champion again. The Octagon belonged to me again, but I wasn't happy. I didn't feel the euphoria running through my body. My team jumped into the octagon to hug me and congratulate me on my victory. I smiled weakly. In the distance I saw Naoya scolding Maki for losing so embarrassingly. Even though the fight hadn't lasted long, my body felt tired.

"Y/n, The Medusa Serpent, Y/l/n, the new champion!". The host announced excitedly as soon as the referee raised my arm, granting me the victory.

Geto helped me put on the gold belt and lifted me onto his shoulders, so everyone could see me. I raised my arms in victory as everyone applauded me. This was what I wanted, this was what I had trained for for years, why did I still feel like shit?

"We all knew you would make it!" Nobara hugged me once we got off the octagon after they finished interviewing my coach and I.

"This is to celebrate! I made a reservation at The Chandelier,” Mei Mei announced, thrilled.

"Go ahead." I asked them tiredly. "I want to see Sukuna's fight."

"We'll wait for you in the room then." Nobara told me before hugging me. "Are you okay?" She whispered so no one could hear us. I just nodded so she wouldn't worry.

I went to the seat I had asked the UFC to set aside for me in the front row. People around shook my hand to congratulate me on my victory. I just thanked them and smiled kindly at them. I sank into the black seat as I listened to the loud music and watched the lights dance through the audience. While enjoying the view, I saw Choso running through the audience. You looked everywhere as if you were looking for something. I sank further into my seat hoping he would see me, but he did.

"Congratulations, beautiful!". He greeted me with a smile. “Bitch ass fake.”

"Thank you."

"Let's celebrate! You deserve it!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"I want to see Sukuna's fight." I said without getting up from my seat.

"We can watch it with the others at the bar," He tried to convince me, taking my hand.

"No, I want to see the fight live," I asked him.

He was going to tell me something more, maybe convince me more, but the light in the auditorium went out and Sukuna's song began to boom from the speakers. Making the audience go crazy. The host announced the second championship fight of the night. Sukuna entered the auditorium like the majestic fighter that he is. The crowd around went crazy just seeing him live. I forced Choso to sit next to me so we could watch the fight together.

Sukuna climbed into the ring and walked around the perimeter of the ring, listening to the screams of his fans. Even though Yuta had entered the auditorium, he couldn't take his eyes off Sukuna. He looked better than ever. I missed seeing him through the fence. His strong body glowing under the white lights, his hair swinging from side to side as he warms up and his eyes watching me closely.

It didn't take long for the fight to start. Yuta lunged at Sukuna to hit him. Being smaller in stature, he was more volatile and flexible. His feet moved quickly to strike and defend with ease. Sukuna tried to catch him and hit him, but Yuta always escaped him. The king was engaging in an extreme game of whack-a-mole.

Until now, Yuta was the only one who had thrown punches so far. Sukuna tried to throw his best punches, but none of them managed to connect completely. His upper movements looked stiff and slower than usual.

"Come on, Sukuna. Stop playing." I whispered to myself.

The pace of the fight was guided by Yuta. He was the one moving, punching, kicking, it was like he was fighting against a steel wall. Sukuna tried to keep up with him, but his body was not up to it. He threw a punch, Yuta dodged it and landed a blow with his right shoulder. Sukuna's scream could be heard throughout the auditorium. I knew that cry very well. I stood up from my seat, like most of the audience, in an attempt to find out what was happening. Sukuna backed up to lean against the fence, holding his shoulder. Yuta took advantage of this to arrive and knock him out with a blow to the jaw. Sukuna fell like a sack of potatoes at that. The referee quickly arrived to assist him and declared the fight over. Shoko soon got into the octagon to check it out.

"Sukuna…" I whispered in shock, seeing him unconscious on the floor on the giant screen.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine." Choso told me.

"That scream was not normal," I said worriedly, stroking my neck when I remembered I was in Sukuna’s shoes.

"He just need to go to the doctor. Shoko will treat him and he will be fine,” He tried to calm me down again. "Let's get out of here, they are waiting for us to go celebrate,” He took my arm so we could leave.

"What kind of brother are you?!" Finally, I exploded in his face. Choso looked at me surprised. "Your brother is suffering on the ground, and you are thinking of celebrating?!".

"I only worry about you."

"No! You've never cared about me! You only care about yourself!” I yelled, furious. I didn't care who listened to me. I could not take it anymore.

"That's not true... You know I love you." Choso told me.

"Oh really?! And why didn't you tell Sukuna that?!” I didn't hit him again, but I did give him a verbal slap. "I'm not going to be your little consolation prize…"

"You are not," Choso interrupted me.

"Just stop lying!" I screamed tiredly. "It's over!"

"Y/n... Please, are you really going to choose him?" Choso wondered.

I was going to answer him, but I saw that the paramedics quickly arrived on the scene. This couldn't be happening. Not again. They put Sukuna on the stretcher and took him away from the chaos.

"I do…"

"What?"

"I do choose him, I should have done it from the beginning,” I answered firmly before dodging him.

I ran out to where they were taking him. Being a fighter, I had almost access to any part of the auditorium, so they let me pass. Escape the crowd to get backstage to the medical wing. Sukuna was still unconscious and with a mouthpiece in his face. My mind transported me back to 3 years ago, where I was the one on that cold stretcher and had no idea what I was going through having to tolerate the pain.

"Y/n!". Yuuji called me as he saw me with his teary eyes as we watched Sukuna being loaded into an ambulance. Once I hugged him, he collapsed in my arms. Gojo and Shoko got on into the ambulance with him and the paramedics closed the door behind them.

"What the hell happened to him?!" I demanded answers while holding Yuuji.

"Let's go to the hospital," Nanami told me without the intention of answering my question.

I stood watching the ambulance speed away with sirens blaring while my friend sobbed for his brother. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were already dry. I had already cried a lot that day, I had to hydrate myself.

Returning to the hospital gave me chills. The cold hallways, the people in a hurry and the strange clean smell. Being in the waiting room was no better. Being sad in a place surrounded by sad people only made my mood worse. We had already been here for two hours and the only thing they told us was that he needed emergency surgery for a throwing shoulder injury. A common injury among high-performance athletes is a tear due to stress on the shoulder.

"Congratulations," Gojo told me as he gave me a bottle of water to wake up from the trance.

"I'm not in the mood for congratulations," I said sincerely.

"It's not from me, it's from Sukuna." He clarified. "He watched the fight and was fascinated, you did a good job,” he told me before messing my hair.

The thought of Sukuna being proud of me calmed my tortured heart a little. Despite his coach’s good intentions, I wanted him to tell me himself. The door to the emergency room opened, and they called out to those who came to see Sukuna Ryomen.

"The surgery was a success. I already informed Shoko privately,” The doctor said. Yuuji and I sighed in relief.

"How long will it take to return to training? One, two years?” I asked excitedly. I didn't get a response. "Maybe three like me?" The emotion decreased with every word seeing that no one was excited by the news.

"When I said that the surgery was a success, I mean that he did not lose his shoulder and that he will be able to move it with a lot of rehabilitation, but not enough to return to the ring." The doctor explained.

"What?!" Yuuji and I exclaimed at the same time.

"But this is his first injury, right?!" I exclaimed, worried that we would be given the wrong diagnosis.

"Yes, but it was not treated on time. Sukuna completely refused to have the surgery because he would stop fighting for a couple of years,” Shoko answered.

"Since when?" I asked angrily. I clenched my fists to stop myself from screaming, but I couldn't. "Since when have he had that injury?!" I screamed.

"Two years ago," Nanami replied, avoiding my gaze, clearly ashamed.

Two years ago I was his coach. During that year, Sukuna was suffering and didn't tell me? This day I couldn't get any worse. First Sukuna ignored me, then Choso mistook me for his ex-fiancée. It also turns out that my boyfriend doesn't love me. Now Sukuna will never be able to fight again because an injury that I could possibly worsen with exercise routines was not treated.

"And why didn't you tell me?!". I screamed inconsolably. Now it was Yuuji's turn to hug me to calm me down. "How could you let him fight in that state, you fucking idiots?!" I cried out loud against his chest. The only response I received was Yuuji's sobs. Out of anger, I pushed him away from me. "Why are you crying?! You surely knew, and you didn't tell me anything, you fucking gossip!” I screamed from the deepest part in my chest.

"I didn't know! If I had known, I would have helped him!" He yelled back at me with teary eyes.

That made me calm down a little. I was getting out of control. I took a deep breath and analyzed the situation. How did Yuuji, who is by Sukuna's side 24/7, not know about this? Wait… Yes, I knew that, but not the truth.

"The thing is, he has… “Sessions” with the physiotherapist. You know what I mean?" I remembered when Yuuji secretly told me that Sukuna was sleeping with Shoko. Did Sukuna lie to his own brother so he wouldn't know about his shoulder back then?

"Shoko" I called her. She looked at me curiously. "How many times did you sleep with Sukuna?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I am a lesbian," she answered with her eyebrow raised.

I was already tired of crying. All he could do was laugh at the ridiculous situation he was in. Sukuna was a huge idiot. A stubborn bastard who will do anything to be on top. Poor him… now he is on the slopes of the mountain while I am conquering him. Yes, you are the king of the assholes.

The nurse who was treating Sukuna left the room. I went ahead of everyone to go in first and close the door behind me. The others tried to open the door, but it was impossible from outside without a key. I approached the stretcher. He had a wet towel covering his sharp face. He had his arm posed with bandages and an angle where it wouldn't hurt further.

"You have 5 minutes to tell me the truth." I ordered bothers by removing the towel and throwing it across the room.

"Weren't you a pitcher in your past life?" He asked me sarcastically.

"Don't try to be a smart ass! Tell me the whole truth now! I know you've been hiding things from me since I've been your coach,” I ordered under my breath.

"I have a pitcher's shoulder injury and I didn't treat it because I didn't want to stop fighting. Happy?" He answered me dryly, without looking me in the eyes.

"What else?"

"There is nothing else," Sukuna lied to me.

"Please, Sukuna…" I begged him. "Do not do this to me. You know you've hidden other things from me. Just say it".

"How much do you know?" He asked me looking into my eyes.

"I know more things than you think."

"So if you already know, what's the point of me saying it?" Sukuna answered, closing his eyes and facing away. I squeezed the railing of the stretcher out of anger.

"So you're not going to tell me that you love me?" I asked offended. He turned to look at me faster than lightning, but he didn't say a single word. We stared at each other for a long while in silence.

"I'm not going to say that to my brother's girlfriend." He answered dryly.

"Who in their right mind would stay with an idiot who can't get over their ex?". He just looked at me surprised at that statement. "So say it… You have a free field." I asked him.

Sukuna just stared at me in disbelief, debating in his mind whether this was real or a test. Say it, say it, just say it for the love of God! Tell me you love me, tell me I'm special to you, tell me all the things you bravely said to Choso, but you're ashamed to tell me when I am in front of you. After a couple more seconds of silence, I decided to give up. It was okay that I wanted answers, but I wasn't going to beg him to give them to me.

"Fine. I won't bother you anymore, get well soon." I let go of the railing to get away from the situation.

As soon as I turned around, his hand took possession of my arm and returned me to my place, this time pulling me towards him. Our faces were inches apart. I could see his features in great detail. His tribal tattoos framing his face, his penetrating eyes, his straight nose and his full lips. He grabbed my sweatshirt to close the distance with a deep kiss that made me melt inside. That's when I realized why I missed being his trainer or watching him fight, actually, I missed him. Being close to him, spending time with him, kissing him. I felt complete and complete every time Sukuna took me as his.

"I love you…". He whispered into my lips. "I love you so much that I let you go because I thought you would be happier with someone like Choso," he explained as he caressed my cheeks with his fingers.

"What's the point of being happy if everything is a lie?". I asked him with a smile.

"But I'm a mess, dear," he warned me.

"If you're a mess, I'm a damn chaos." I replied before meeting our lips again.

His lips traveled over my mouth as if it were newly discovered terrain. Even though we had already done this behind everyone's back, it felt like it was the first time. I loved him, and I was no longer afraid to admit that that love that I thought I had buried deep in my soul was still there. Only this time he would do anything to stay by her side. We were both being consumed by the agony of wanting to be together. Sukuna pulled me by the waist with his free arm to lift me onto the stretcher with a strength I didn't think I would have in this situation, making me sit on top of him.

"We can't do it here. Everyone is outside,” I whispered to him.

"I just want you to stay close to me, you damn pervert," He said with a mischievous smile. My face blushed with embarrassment.

I lay on his chest, on the side that wouldn't bother his injured shoulder. He drew imaginary circles on his chest as he told me everything he already knew. That Choso asked him to stay away from me so that she could trust him again. That he had lied to Yuuji about sleeping with Shoko so that no one would find out about his injury for fear of it becoming news. That he had hidden his feelings towards me, and he never thought that his feelings were reciprocated.

"And why did you lose the fight? What happened to your good luck ritual? I asked him confused.

"It hasn't worked since my fight with Aoi Todo." He answered with a smile just for me. That meant that all this time he had been fighting without luck on his side. "No one satisfies me like you." He purred against my cheek.

I smiled flattered by that strong statement. I snuggled closer to his strong chest and slipped my hand into his robe to caress his bare skin. My body felt light with each passing second and each time he brushed my hair between his fingers. It had been such a long day and I needed a break.

SUKUNA POV

Even though Yuta Okkotsu massacred me in the octagon, having her in my arms made me feel like I was still the champion. Little by little she fell asleep. I was sure my arm would fall asleep, but I didn't care at all. His warmth made me feel more alive than ever, and I never wanted him to leave me again.

I heard the living room door open. Yuuji was going to shout something, but I silenced him from my place. The rest of the team came in behind him to ask me how I was feeling.

"Do you need something?" Yuuji asked me in a low voice.

"I already have everything I need," I said, looking at Y/n.

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neonacity · 8 months ago

Text

Limerence | Haechan x Reader (A Lucid Special Chapter)

Limerence (n) - a feeling of all-consuming longing or desire for someone.

Summary: After years of longing, can strangers find it upon each other to forgive and remember again?

Warnings: Note: This story will NOT make sense if you have not read Lucid. Haechan is aged-up and in his early thirties. There are mentions of torture, abuse, and kidnapping. Haechan and the rest used to be really toxic.

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. I do not claim any likenesses between the characters here and their real-life counterparts. I reserve all rights to this work and I post nowhere else but Tumblr.

Read here for: LUCID SERIES | JENO’s VERSION | JAEMIN’s VERSION | RENJUN's VERSION

And with this, the story finally comes to a close.

"TO BE LOVED IS TO BE REMEMBERED."

“This room has more smog than a city center. How many packets have you smoked?”

A sigh from somewhere made Mark blindly turn towards the only lit part of the space. Peeking in between wisps of heavy scented smoke, a bronze plate with several burning sticks stood against the light of a yellow lamp. The apparatus was resting on a handsome oak table, puttering away silently to screen the figure of a dark-haired man sitting beyond it. Mark smiled wryly to himself before taking deeper steps inside the room.

“It’s called incense, my uncultured big brother. It’s supposed to make you feel relaxed and inspired,” came the low but lazy drawl of someone. Mark stopped just a foot away from the desk, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Let me guess, Renjun gave them?”

The other shrugged before slightly frowning at the paper in front of him. It’s obvious that he is not much up for a conversation right now, but Mark didn’t fly 15 hours to Seoul just to be snubbed by his little brother. Slowly, his eyes dropped on the pages laid out on the table, noting the scribbles and crossed-out words there.

“Let me make another guess. The smoke isn’t really cutting it for the ‘inspiration’ part?”

At that, brown eyes snapped up to glare at him, hidden behind the slight reflection of black-rimmed glasses. The next second, he had a balled piece of paper thrown straight at his face, one he easily caught with a light laugh.

“Did you just come here to be stabbed by me?”

“Well that’s better than being ignored by you after a long flight. Jisung asked me to make sure to check on you before I go to South East Asia. He said you haven’t been answering any of their calls.”

The other scoffed. “Since when have we been on daily calling terms?”

“And since when have you been so against it? Or is the great best-selling author Lee Donghyuck too popular for his brothers now?”

Another piercing glare, then followed by a roll of the eyes. Mark laughed again, noting how the shoulders of the other just ever so slightly softened.

“Well… how are you, Haechan?”

*******

Haechan placed the steaming pot of tea on the table without even bothering to pour one for his guest. To be honest, a visit from Mark was something that he wasn’t expecting tonight, and he would have for sure bolted if not for nosy Jisung making sure he didn’t have any idea about it until the last minute. Now he is cornered and has to deal with something worse than a creative block—a brotherly talk.

“How’s the book going?”

He waved a hand towards the littered surface of his table before taking a sip of his once scalding coffee.

“It’s going swimmingly, as you can clearly see.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Mark’s lips slightly tighten into a line. It was an expression he knew far too well, especially with him in the context. With an internal groan, he took another drink from his cup in an effort to hide his wince.

“I don’t think being back in this place is helping you at all. This manor, of all places… I still don’t understand why you think being here will help you finish your book.”

“Would you rather have me camp out in Rosewood then? Because I would have. If only it hadn’t been burned down.”

Great. The words were out before he could even realize what he was saying. With a frustrated sigh, he finally looked up to see his older brother with a stoic expression, one that only clouds his usually accommodating features every time their past was mentioned. Haechan looked away guiltily, but kept his silence.

Ten years. A long time, but a short one all the same. Even now, mentions of their old home still feel like a strike of burning metal against their insides, a proof that sometimes, your ghosts can still catch up with you at the mere mention of a word or a slip of memory. He could see it on his brother’s face now, and there is no doubt the other sees the same on him. They were older now, but under the dim lighting of the room, they looked like the same boys who ran away from the nightmare that shaped up their younger years.

So much has changed… and yet so much has remained the same.

Mark moved on to be the official heir of the Rosewood wealth, working hard to bring back public trust on their family after they were officially cleared of suspicions of kidnapping. He rarely visited Seoul, opting to jump from one country to another to make sure their ‘businesses’ run smoothly.

Renjun moved to Paris to start an orphanage, which also doubled as a school for children who were abused or shunned by their family. It’s where he also continued his career in art, though he opted to keep his works anonymous and mostly hidden away from the public eye.

Jaemin is a father now to a daughter—a chatty adorable girl that he met on a visit to Renjun’s school. Both relocated to London where he had built a career as a photographer under a different name and identity.

Jeno… None of them really knows where Jeno is, only getting letters from him every now and then from different addresses. He makes sure never to miss their birthdays though, sometimes even sending some trinkets that could only give the slightest hints of where he could be living his quiet life.

Jisung and Chenle both decided to settle in China, the latter having had the need to trace down his real family before he was taken to Korea. He found nothing but a sister who accepted him back to the fold and he had been in close relations with ever since. Finally, there's their youngest Jisung who also found family there but in a different way, now a happily married man—and a father soon.

As for him? Oh he had moved on too for sure, if you could call being an author hiding under a pseudonym that, at least.

Haechan tried his best. He really did. On his good days, he would wake up and feel like the wounds have finally closed and turned to scars. Writing helped him cope for the most part, because it was a way for him to escape reality and repent for things he could never grovel for in the flesh. It kept him sane. Grounded. But more than that, it made him still feel connected…

To you.

Of course, he knew better now to even consider himself worthy of even remembering you. He hurt you badly, stole you away from the world, and left you wounded in ways that he’ll probably spend a hundred more lifetimes to repent. Yet in those dark days when he thought what he was doing was out of love, there were also moments when you two connected from the stories you both loved. In those slivers of time, he thought—hoped—that maybe, you wanted to be with him too.

“You didn’t have to come back here. There’s nothing to come back to anymore.”

Mark’s voice was what he needed to pull him from his spiraling thoughts again. Hand stiffening, he kept quiet, because he knew his brother was telling the truth.

Being in the same house in the middle of the woods where he shared the days with you is not going to heal him of anything. It was not going to give him forgiveness.

Nor was it going to give you back to him.

The slight sound of rustling made him look up just in time to see Mark pushing a long slip of paper towards him from across the table. He picked it up and frowned at the print there.

“Come to Hong Kong with me. You can stay there for a few months, or weeks, I don’t care. You can try and finish your book there and decide what you want to do after. You can go anywhere, except here.”

Haechan’s gaze didn’t leave the plane ticket. He was barely touching it, and yet it felt like it was burning the pads of his fingers. From across him, he heard the sound of a chair pulled back across the floor, followed by his brother’s voice before he closed the door.

“I leave in two days. Think about it. I hope to see you in the airport, Haechan. I know it's hard... but it’s time to finally let her go."

*******

“What are we going to say if they ask you for updates about your book? We don’t even have a publish date yet!”

Haechan tried his best not to bash his head against the brick wall he is leaning on. He was currently on his third stick of cigarette, and yet the nagging of his publisher was doing more to his blood than the nicotine pumping in his veins. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose at the hopes of staving off an oncoming migraine.

Why the fuck did he even agree to do a book signing in the first place? And is it too late to bolt from here?

“Xiaojun, if you don’t shut up, I will walk away and not do this at all. Stop worrying too much.”

The poor man pacing in front of him stopped and looked at him with eyes as big as saucers. If he wasn’t so irritated, he would have laughed at his reaction.

“What?! You can’t do that! There are already people waiting for you outside!”

“Yeah? Well those people only know Lee Donghyuck, not my face. I can easily walk out the door without them recognizing me.”

The threat holds true though. In his career, he had only held a few exclusive book signings that all required guests to turn over their phones and cameras. It was the only way he agreed to do them after Xiaojun finally cracked him down with his incessant pestering. Surprisingly, the man loved the idea, saying that his mysterious persona will add on to his popularity.

“Okay, okay fine. I’m going to stop and go back inside. But please, can you have that as your last stick? We’re about to start in five minutes.” The same man blurted out now, face pale. “You can’t ditch this. This is your first ever book signing in Seoul!”

And probably the last, came his silent, sour thought.

“Just get in. I’ll be there on time. Make sure nobody takes pictures,” he said as he shooed the other one last time. With one last suspicious look thrown at him, he finally heard the clicking of the door. He sighed and took one last hit of his cigarette before crushing it on the bin beside him.

“Stupid Mark. This is all because of him.”

*******

“I love your book so much. I’ve been such a fan since the first one!”

Haechan gave the woman a smile as he started scribbling on the copy of his book. He had lost count of how many people had said the same thing to him since the line started moving, but he accepted each one with practiced grace anyway. He might have lived as a hermit for the past few years, but that doesn’t mean he had lost his flair for charm for necessary situations like this. At least that’s what he can say from the way the guests, especially the women, seem to blush and look just a little disoriented when speaking to him.

“Thank you so much. Who is your favorite character?”

“Oh I love IL Bagatto! The Magician! I think he is so different from the rest.”

He gave a slight laugh as he flicked his wrist to finish writing his signature. “Good choice. He is my favorite too. Thank you so much for supporting my work.”

“Only five more,” Xiaojun mumbled quietly behind him as the man placed the final fresh batch of books on the table. As he waited for the next person to come, Haechan took the chance to reach out for his glass of water to take a sip.

“Thankfully. I need a new pen. This one’s out of ink,” he grumbled back.

He had just uncapped the new marker he was handed when a shadow fell over his table. Like auto-pilot, he reached out for the top book from his pile when a soft voice stopped him.

“Oh. I’m so sorry… But would it be alright if I have my old copy signed instead?”

It felt like the floor dropped under him with the way his lungs stopped breathing. Like the flip of a switch, everything around him fell silent, except for a heavy thudding that banged against his ears. It almost seemed like an out of body experience as he slowly looked up to meet a pair of eyes he had begged all that is holy to never let him see again in his living days.

You smiled at him, and all of a sudden there was a God that cared for the heavens again.

“Yah… Hyuck… there are people waiting.”

He barely felt the slight nudge that Xiaojun gave him as he continued staring at you like you were a ghost. The world could be burning around him right now for all he cared. It was only when your smile slightly wavered did he snap out of his trance, your gaze hesitantly moving to the book that you have placed on the table.

“A-ah… it’s fine if I get a new copy. I don’t want to hold you back,” you said in the same voice that he remembered even after all those years that passed. Haechan felt his heart constrict as he tried to search for something else in your face.

You… Do you remember…?

“Your name. What’s your name?”

You looked a little worried yourself as you heard him croak a reply. Quietly, you answered as he blindly pulled the book towards him. It was only then that he realized it was not the same one as the title he is signing for today, but his very first story.

The Girl By The Window.

The same book he was drafting when he last saw you in the hostel by the woods. The one whose pages you picked up and read under the dying light of the sun before he lost you again.

“I know this is just the start, but the way you wrote her makes me feel like you love her deeply as an author.”

It took him his last strand of self-control as he heard your voice utter your name. Fingers shaking, he turned the battered cover of the book and flipped to the first page where his author dedication was. The copy was a soft cover version, and he noticed how well-loved it was from the yellowing paper and the earmarked pages. Shakily, he started writing there, barely aware of the words he scrawled.

“That’s my favorite page. That dedication,” you said with a breathy laugh as you watched him sign. “To be loved is to be remembered. I think it’s a very beautiful quote.”

Haechan looked up and felt himself drowning in your eyes. It only lasted for a few more seconds, but the way you held each other’s gaze felt as if every single day you spent apart came together as a singular unit in that moment. When he handed you back your book, he knew he had once again crossed a boundary he promised himself he would never tread again.

“Can you wait for me to finish the signing? I want to talk to you… About this book.”

He watched as your eyes rounded in slight surprise, before giving a slight nod to hide away what he just whispered from a curious Xiaojun over his shoulder. Without another word, you walked on, clutching the still warm book against your chest.

*******

He found you at the end of the classics aisle, silently reading a book opened on your right palm. The bookstore is mostly empty now, except for a handful who mostly stayed at the front of the shop where the new releases are. The aisle where you are is a long one, and he simply stood at the end of it in silence, giving himself a few seconds to admire you from afar.

You looked so beautiful that he almost wished he could spend longer to just stare at you from a distance. The vision of you standing there, content in your silence and peace sent a painful throb through his chest. You looked so… safe with yourself. So free. All of the things he had only seen in his dreams, none of which consisted of him. In that moment, Haechan realized what he was about to start the moment he takes another step closer to you. This couldn’t be right… It has been ten years. He can’t throw that all away and mess it all up for you again.

He took a step back to walk away…

But then you looked up and said the words that turned his world upside down again.

“Haechan.”

It felt like he had swallowed fire at that moment. Every part of him was burning—his hands that want to reach out to you, to his heart that seemed ready to burst out of his chest. He walked towards you slowly, as if afraid the image of you would disappear like an illusion if he approached you too fast. But you stayed there, resolved and unafraid.

“You waited…” he whispered, breathless. You turned your body to him fully now, closing the book you were reading.

“You asked me to…”

His eyes fell on the cover that you were holding and he felt his breath silently catch in his throat again. Shining in gold letters etched against the cover were two words.

Wuthering Heights.

“What do you want to talk to me about?” Your voice shook him back from his trance. You were looking at him so openly and yet he can’t read a single thing from you. Do you remember? Are you here to punish him? Or do you still not know him?

“How do you know my name?” It was not how he intended to ask the question, but it was the only thing he managed to push out now. You stared at him for a few heartbeats before finally giving a small smile and showing him the other book on your hand.

“You wrote it in the dedication you signed for me… Here,” blankly, he blinked at the page he just wrote on earlier, the black ink still fresh there. He didn’t even realize that’s how he signed.

“Oh…”

Silence fell on both of you then. You patiently waited for him to say more, while he was right there, combusting and putting himself together again and again internally. He didn’t plan ahead of this. How could he? He was never even meant to see you again.

“I was just—I was surprised when you brought my first book out. It has been so long since I…” he fumbled now, at a loss of what to say. It’s not too late yet, a voice inside him said. She doesn't remember. You can still walk away.

“I wanted to know why you like it.”

No. No, I don't.

“Ah…You must be curious as its author,” you said kindly as you looked at the copy fondly. “It just felt so raw and real. To be honest, I stumbled upon it at a low point in my life and it helped me a lot. I can see how much you felt for her… the character you wrote.”

His throat felt dry. He didn’t know what to say to that.

“May I ask a question?" you asked again when it seemed like he has lost his tongue.

Do you still feel the same?”

His gaze snapped back to you. The way you stared at him was still unreadable, but there was something in the light of your eyes that made the chaos in him slowly quiet down. It was as if you took hold of a thread inside of him and slowly pulled at it to unravel him slowly.

“Feel what…?”

“Love her. Do you still love her, Haechan?”

That was all it took for the rest of the world to fall away around him. Fear was replaced with something else. No, that's wrong. He is still afraid, but he is willing.

“I do. It never changed,” he said softly as he took another step towards you. You didn’t move back, even when he slowly raised his hand to cup your face.

“And you? Do you still like the way I loved her?”

“I do. And do not at the same time,” you paused, and for a moment he could see it. All the answers he was looking for as he gazed down on your face.

“You hurt her.”

“I know.”

“You abandoned her. All of you did.”

“We did…”

“You didn’t come back after taking everything from her.”

“We didn’t think we deserved to come back. None of us did.”

“And now? What do you think of it now?”

Haechan paused, allowing himself to review every right reason why he is wrong for you. Yet, for every mistake and every risk, he found an excuse to never let you go again.

“I’ll stay. Even if I spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you… If you let me.”

You watched him, thoughtful and doubting. He was ready to grovel to your feet at your denial. He'll beg you if you want him to, like the lost man he is.

But then you smiled.

“Even if I make you suffer for every wrong thing you did?”

He stilled, surprised, before a soft laugh broke his silence. Gently, he lifted his other hand to cradle your face and tip it back. With a sigh, he leaned over to press his forehead against you.

“You can torture me every day of our life and I’ll still thank you at the end of it, noona."

This time, it was your turn to chuckle. You waited as he slowly dipped his face to yours, but stopped him just before your lips met.

“Haechan?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite story?”

He smiled before finally meeting your lips together.

“You. Forever you."

-------

Taglist: I only added those who were part of my taglist for Lucid previously (those who still haven't deactivated, at least!) @marijmin, @cabaretyun, @jhornytrash, @pukupukupawpau, @vsszn, @grandmasterslickfox @haoshitt , @furryllamas , @mindofthescattered @bettyschwallocksyee , @strawbunnyjaem , @huangberryyy

#haechan fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic #haechan yandere #yandere haechan #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere fic #nct dream imagines #yandere nct #nct yandere fic

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minik0u · 4 months ago

Text

A New Dawn 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 | Chapter one

🍮 Various!MyStreet X Reader

When you move in with your best friend Kawaii~Chan and two new roommates, out of convenience to move out of your brother's apartment.

This fanfic will follow the events of season one of mystreet but quite differently! The characters will be the same but with a few headcanon's sprinkled in! some characters will go through different arcs that they didn't go through season one *cough* laurance and garroth learning not to be creeps towards aphmau *cough*

I really hope yall enjoy my passion project!

WC: 7,000k

“Wow, this place is amazing!”

You could not help but agree with Kawaii~Chan this is certainly the nicest place you ever lived in.

“I know, right? It’s so big and nice looking.” You smile complimenting the exterior of the house. It looked newly built ( it probably was ) The house had two stories and was made out of brick.

Oh, and the grass was so green too!

“I’m glad you guys like it so much!” Aphmau smiled, admiring the new house she purchased with the help of her friends.

Katlyn looks at the house skeptically “Are you sure we can even afford this place?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Aphmau replies immediately.

“What do you even do for a living?”

“Uh well-” aphmau stumbles on her words “It's a night job..”

Aphmau notices how Katlyn looked at her and tries to clarify. “I don’t want word getting around on where exactly I work… it’s a part of my contract.”

But Aphmau's vague answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Katlyn’s curiosity “That’s weird? Never heard of that before.”

“Trust me the whole job is weird.”

Both you and Kawaii~Chan look at each other, raising your eyebrows at the strange situation.

“Weird, how?” Kawaii~Chan asks.

You knew how nosy your best friend was. If she doesn't know the answer to something, she’ll ask millions of questions or unintentionally annoy them till she finds out.

“No comment..” Aphmau leaves the conversation at that.

“Wahhhh! You can't trust us?!”

Aphmau sighs, “Kawaii~Chan! You're the one who was snapping pictures of me and Aaron on the side! Of course, I don't trust you! But I'll live with you.”

“Aww, poo…” kawaii~chan pouts.

Katelyn chuckles “Heh, fine, keep it a secret. We live with you now, so we'll find out eventually.”

“B-but, Katelyn~Sama! Kawaii~Chan wants to know now!” Kawaii~Chan wines.

“Patience, Kawaii~Chan. Let's play Aphmau's game. If she's keeping it a secret, then this is gonna be good.” Katelyn gets one last snarky remark before walking inside the new house.

Aphmau looks baffled at Katelyn’s statement. “Uh.... okay...What did she mean by that?”

“I’m sure she’s just playing around?” You suggest but honestly, you had no idea what she meant by that either...

Granted, you didn’t know Katelyn that well.. heck you didn’t even know Aphmau that well either.. Your first time meeting her was last week to talk about the whole rent situation.

The only reason why you moved in with them was because Kawaii~Chan so kindly suggested you to aphmau as their fourth roommate knowing how desperately you wanted to move out of your brother's apartment.

It’s not that you hated your brother.. quite the opposite you adored him. But he’s already in the stage of his life where he has a child and a fiancé, you just didn’t wanna feel like you were freeloading off of them.

Kawaii~Chan nods in agreement with your suggestion “Oooh, you know Katelyn~Sama... she just likes to get in a snarky remark.”

“Anywho, Aphmau~Senpai! You should have the biggest room! Katelyn~Sama, Y/N-Chan, and Kawaii~Chan all agreed before we came out here, that since Aphmau~Senpai is paying more on rent, you should get the biggest room!” Kawaii~Chan explains excitedly.

Aphmau looks at Kawaii~Chan in surprise “Uh, what? No, no. Kawaii~Chan, I-I'm fine with whatever!”

“Nono you deserve it! You did all the work to find the house and you’d even let me live with you, without even knowing me well.. the least you deserve Is the biggest room,” you added, you wanted Aphmau to know that her having the biggest room is just a gift of gratitude from all of you for her for setting all of this up.

Aphmau looked genuinely touched by your words, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with gratitude, and her words were soft and sincere. “Thank you, Y/N, seriously. I appreciate your offer, but I truly don’t mind which room I end up getting. Plus, you’re a pretty cool person to hang out with, so I don’t mind you living with me.”

You smile at Aphmau, appreciating her kind words.

Kawaii~Chan lightly pushes Aphmau towards the house. “Now, go on and pick! Kawaii~Chan is going to be here to get her stuff down!”

Then Kawaii~Chan goes into the van and gestures for you to follow.. and you do.

Aphmau gives you and Kawaii~Chan one final grateful smile, before grabbing her stuff and heading inside the house. While you help Kawaii~Chan get the boxes out of the van.

You smile at Kawaii~Chan, taking out your first box from the van. “I can’t believe we’re living together! I’m so excited.. this is the first time I’m living without one of my siblings.”

Kawaii~Chan returns your smile, as she puts a box onto the ground too. “It’s such a huge upgrade from your old place.”

“I know! It was so cramped living with my brother and his fiancé.. it was nice— don’t get me wrong but I felt out of place. Y’know?” You explain trying not to come off as ungrateful towards your brother for even lending you his space.

Kawaii~Chan nods in understanding, her expression soft and empathetic. “Having personal space is one of the best things about moving out. But kawaii~Chan is sure your brother and his fiancé appreciated having Y/N~Chan around.” She chuckled, picking up another box. “Although, Kawaii~Chan is sure they needed some privacy too—”

Kawaii~Chan winked at you, giggling to herself.

You roll your eyes at your best friend, not wanting to think about the implications of her joke. “Though, I’m sure they never do with their son running around.”

“Oh yeah, kids can be quite the barrier when it comes to that.” Kawaii~Chan laughed in agreement, taking one of your last boxes out of the van.

While you pull one of your many paintings out of the van.

Kawaii~Chan smirked teasingly and glanced at the painting in your hand. “Ooh, is that another painting? Can Kawaii~Chan see?”

You hand Kawaii~Chan the painting, “Sure even though I’m sure, I’ve already shown you it before.”

Kawaii~Chan carefully takes the painting from you and inspects it closely. The expression on her face lights up as she looks at the art, and lets out a quiet ‘whoa’.

“Geez, Kawaii~Chan swears, how is your art always so good?! Like, Kawaii~Chan is pretty sure you’ve definitely shown her this painting, but no matter how many times she sees it, it never fails to impress her.”

You blush at your best friend's compliment. “you say that every time.”

Kawaii~Chan laughs in return and continues to admire the painting for a few more seconds, before handing it back to you. “Of course Kawaii~Chan does! She is not lying when she says you have a talent. Kawaii~Chan is serious, if you opened an art shop, you’d be rich in seconds.”

“It’s just a hobby.. y’know that! Plus I’d be way too shy to ever do something like that.”

Kawaii~Chan nods, knowing exactly how introverted you can be. You know she can't help but feel a bit worried about it since you have such a difficult time making friends or even socializing properly.

“Kawaii~Chan knows. But still, she wishes you were more confident. It would be so good for you if you put yourself out there a bit more, and maybe get yourself a man in the process?”

You scoff at your friend “Nana.. men don’t even notice me.”

Kawaii~Chan rolls her eyes, and gently punches your shoulder. “Men are just blind and have no taste, that’s the problem. You’re perfect! Well… except for you being a social recluse, that's a problem. But honestly, you’re a catch! Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Nana, that's really sweet..” you smile, getting the last of your paintings out of the van.

“Wanna check the house with me?” You ask

Kawaii~Chan shakes her head no, probably because she has a few more boxes to take out of the van. “You go ahead, Kawaii~Chan still needs to take care of a few things.”

“Kawaii~Chan, come to find you when she’s done here, so try not to get lost, okay?” She chuckled while wiping some sweat off her forehead.

“no promises!” You tease grabbing your boxes and paintings before heading inside the house.

⋆˙⟡♡

You place everything down in your room. It wasn't the biggest but it was more than enough to hold all your stuff.

You open your biggest box named “room decorations.”

It was mostly fake plants, posters, and tiny anime figures...

You had a massive collecting problem..

And that brings a dent in your wallet with your librarian salary...

You wouldn’t be able to set up any of your figures today because your desk and all your bigger items wouldn’t be here till later this evening...

You sigh just deciding to decorate your room with posters till then...

You pulled out a few of them from the box, most of them were posters from your favorite game series, Animal Crossing, Kingdom Hearts, and Final Fantasy..

You weren’t the biggest gamer.. You’ve always been more into books rather than games but you quickly got into those franchises once your sister introduced you to them.

Since your sister introduced you to games you in return begged her to read some books that you thought maybe she would love.

She agreed.. Even if it took a while, she ended up loving it.

Ever since then it’s been a tradition between the two of you to recommend each other video games or books.

You smile at the memory fondly.. reminding yourself to text your sister later about the move.

Suddenly you hear Katlyn’s crazy laugh running down stairs as Aphmau chases her.

You walk out your room to figure out what’s happening to only see Katelyn nowhere in sight and aphmau trying to catch her breath by the stairs .

You walk down the steps and you hear

Aphmau mutters “Geez, Katelyn, get back here! I- I swear, Katelyn, I just- ugh-”

You were about to ask Aphmau what happened exactly, only to be shocked by Kawaii~Chan's voice.. you didn’t see her in the kitchen.

“Aphmau~Senpai! Y/N-Chan let's go introduce ourselves to the neighbors! Come on!”

Aphmau lets out a groan, looking at Kawaii~Chan with slight irritation. Her jet, black hair is messy, and she looks out of breath and extremely annoyed.

“Y-yeah, sure, we can introduce ourselves.”

Aphmau sighs in defeat, before a small smile appears on her face. “But we’ll have to be quick, I think I need a mini break after all that.”

“But do we have something to give them?” You ask

Kawaii~Chan picks up a fruit bowl from the counter.

“Here, Kawaii~Chan has a fruit bowl. She only has one, so we can only meet one neighbor.”

“Uh, alright. I guess that's better than nothing. Come on, let's go.” Aphmau says before just leaving through the front door expecting yall the follow along.

⋆˙⟡♡

Aphmau points at a house

“Let's go over there.”

You look at many houses, they all look the same but slightly different but you guess that’s just how all suburban neighborhoods look.

“this whole neighborhood looks really nice!” Kawaii~Chan exclaims looking around in child-like wonder.

You smile at your friend's excitement and nod in agreement, “Every house here is so fancy..”

Aphmau nods, glancing at the houses she passes by, “Yeah… it looks better than what I expected. I guess we just picked the good side of the neighborhood, huh?”

Once you were at the front door, Aphmau stopped in front of it, and turned towards you and Kawaii~Chan.

“Alright… So who's going to ring the doorbell?”

Both you and Kawaii~Chan look at aphmau shaking your head no..

Aphmau does it with a sigh, The door opens behind her, and she turns to see a guy with black hair and green eyes at the door.

“Well well well. I didn't know cute girls were delivering pizza these days.” Your neighbor flirts with yall with a smile.. but it came off as more dorky than anything else.

“Are you serious? You live here, Brendan?” Aphmau sighs.

“You know this guy?”

You meant to say that softly towards aphmau but it was accidentally loud enough that everyone heard.

Brendan turns his head towards you, before turning back to Aphmau with a look that clearly says 'is she with you?’

Aphmau crosses her arms.

“Yeah… this is Brendan, he's a friend of mine and he’s also an idiot.”

Brendan rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by her statement. “Oh c’mon, don’t be rude, Aph. At least I’m a charming idiot.”

“Hahaha, um, no, anyway we actually just, uh, moved next door. Kawaii~Chan and Y—“

“BRENDAN~KUN! LONG TIME NO SEE!” Kawaii~Chan interrupts Aphmau, seemingly happy to see this guy.

“K-K-K-K-K-KAWAII~CHAN! I DIDN'T THINK Y-YOU WOULD BE—”

Then he faints..

You and Aphmau both jump a bit in surprise, not exactly expecting Brendan to suddenly just… fall on the ground. Aphmau quickly shakes off the shock, and crouches down next to him.

“Oh jeez, he just… fainted.”

Aphmau lets out a small huff, glancing at Kawaii~Chan.

You all turn when you hear noise and look across the street.

There was another moving van by the house across from you

“Huh? Uh, someone's moving in right across from us. The same day we are? What a coincidence! Come on, we should go say hi.” Aphmau suggest

“Maybe we should bring the unconscious man into his house first?” You look at the unconscious man on his own doorstep.

Aphmau looks down at Brendan’s still unconscious body, and her expression shows a hint of disbelief. “You’re right… We should probably get him in his house. I would hate for him to wake up on the ground, that can’t be comfortable.”

She stands up, and turns to you and Kawaii~Chan. “Can you guys help me out here? I’m way too weak to carry him on my own.”

You and Kawaii~Chan nod, and go over to Brendan’s body, each grabbing one of his arms and hoisting him up from the ground. You try your best to carry him into his house, though he’s pretty heavy.

You got him onto his couch .. and you caught your breath. This was definitely the most athletic thing you did all year.

“I hope he’s okay.. I’ve never seen someone just faint like that”

“Yeah, I hope so too. But knowing Brendan, he’ll probably be okay in a few hours? He’s a lot tougher than he looks… which is kind of sad.” Aphmau walks out of Brendan's house then turns to you.

Aphmau waves at you and Kawaii~Chan to follow her. “Come on, we can check on him later. Right now we have new neighbors to greet.”

⋆˙⟡♡

“Hey there, new neighbors. My name is Aphmau, and this is— Garroth?! Dante?! Laurence?! Uh—”

Aphmau looks at the mystery men in shock.

You're just shocked you’ve never seen such beautiful men before..

Well you have but only in movies, not in real life.

The first guy you laid eyes on, had the most striking appearance in your opinion.. He had medium-length, dark brown hair, and a captivating shade of blue or green you couldn't exactly tell.. but it really matched his tan skin!

Oh! And he was stylish too, wearing a sorta dark academia type of outfit.

The guy in the middle was a total hottie too!

He had a very noble appearance. Like he’d be a knight or as a prince in a fantasy novel? Maybe even both.

He had short neatly kept blonde hair that compliments his strong facial features. His eyes are very striking blue, and he was tall and muscular..

The last guy was cute too!

He had a more approachable appearance, He has longer dark blue hair but it looked more dyed then your roommate's more natural blue. That didn’t mean you hated his hair, you loved it actually! It reminded you of the emo hair you’d seen on tumbler.

His whole vibe just screamed “I’m in a band.”

Especially since he had so many piercings. You noticed a lip piercing, an eyebrow piercing, and from what you can see a few ear piercings also.

You blush a little.. shaming yourself for looking at these men like eye candy..

Your twenty-four for Irene sake!

Pull yourself together!

“Yo!” The guy with the dark academia vibe said to aphmau.

“Wow.. Do you guys just know everybody in this neighborhood?” You ask Kawaii~Chan but she just shrugs her shoulders without giving any clear answer.

“Hey, Kawaii~Chan. Let me ask you, do you think I'm handsome?” The guy with blue hair ask

“Huh? Why do you ask such a question?”

“Hm, just trying to prove a point.”

“Well, Kawaii~Chan thinks Dante~Kun is cute, but... she can't see her shipping you with Aphmau~Senpai or anything like that.”

“W-What!?” Dante looked shocked by Kawaii~Chan words and the other men just laughed.

“Told you he was no threat.” The brunette man gloats.

“D-don't you start with me!” Dante argues

Kawaii~Chan chuckles awkwardly “Speaking of shipping, uh, Kawaii~Chan has to go set up her... uh, never mind! Be back, and don't follow me! Especially you, Aphmau~Senpai!”

“Uh, well, that was weird.” Aphmau glances back at the road where Kawaii~Chan went down, a bit confused.

Aphmau turns back to the boys, and crosses her arms, giving them a bit of a frown. “So, why are you guys all here? This isn’t exactly where any of you live.”

“Now now, we can explain... you see, since you were moving, we... uh, decided to move as well! And uh... this place just so happened to catch our eyes, and uh... so we moved here! W-we had no idea you were moving here as well!” The man with brown hair rambles, refusing to make eye contact with Aphmau.

“Laurance, look me in the eyes. Are you lying to me?” Aphmau asks Laurance.

“Lie? To you? Pft, No, never! I mean, you know what, G-Garroth can answer that. GARROTH!” Laurance runs into the house, leaving Aphmau to walk up to Garroth with you in hand.

“Garroth.”

“Garroth, did you guys find out I was moving here, and decide to move here as well?” Aphmau ask again

“Y-Ye-NO! Dante was the one who moved us here because he was um... he set up the viewing this morning! YEAH! THAT'S IT! GO... TALK TO HIM!”

Garroth runs into the house too, just leaving you, Aphmau, and Dante..

“I— Garroth, Garroth! Ugh! Oh my gosh, rgh! I swear, these guys are just—” aphmau takes a breath “Fine. You know what, I will go talk to Dante. Dante!”

Dante walks over to you and aphmau with a smile, “Why hello there Aphmau” then looks at you “oh! And her very cute friend”

You blush at his compliment, not used to people, noticing you at all.

Aphmau scowls when Dante starts to turn his attention towards you, giving him a glare.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting distracted. I’m not done talking to you. You’re going to give me a straight answer, right now, mister. “

Aphmau taps her foot on the ground with impatience.

Dante flinches, and holds his hands up in surrender, a nervous smile on his face.

“Okay, okay! Jeez, you’re intimidating when you want to be, you know that?”

Aphmau rolls her eyes, “Yes, I do know that. Now. No more distractions. Did you all move here because you knew I was moving here?”

“I did... you know why? Because I wanted to be next to the two most beautiful girls in the world.”

Dante blows kisses specifically looking at you and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

Aphmau rolls her eyes once again, becoming annoyed by Dante’s flirty tendencies. She glances over at you, and huffs a bit.

“Dante, stop it. You’re embarrassing Y/N…”

Dante chuckles, and shrugs his shoulders. “ Aww, come on. I’m just complimenting her. Plus look at her. She’s cute when she’s blushing, don’t you think?”

Aphmau’s expression deadpans, not amused by his words. “I see you’re being as persistent as usual. You know I'm not happy about this, right? I mean, you all just decided to move here, with no warning or anything, just because I’M here.”

“What can I say? I love looking at beautiful things.”

“Anyway I’m ordering pizza tonight, I’d love to see everyone there.” Then Dante looks at you with a smile “Especially you cutie! But seriously it's just going to be a nice housewarming party and a treaty for you not to kill me aph.”

Aphmau sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Oh my gosh… Alright, alright. We’ll come, but keep your hands to yourself, got it? You can’t just flirt with Y/N. Or me, for that matter.”

Dante pouts a bit, and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t even flirt? Not even a little?”

Aphmau gives him a look, and crosses her arms.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Dante pouts a bit more, clearly not happy by the fact he can’t flirt. Before putting on his signature smirk.

“Aw, you’re no fun, you know that?”

Aphmau rolls her eyes yet again

“Yeah, and you’re a pain.”

With that you and Aphmau walked off back to your guys house..

Aphmau walks along with you, holding your hand as she gently rubbed her thumb against it.

“I’m so sorry about Dante. He can be so… annoying at times.”

“Nono it’s fine.. I’m just flustered..”

Aphmau nods her head, and gently squeezes your hand. “Yeah, I get that. Dante, and hell all the boys really, can be pretty flirtatious. They don’t know when to back off sometimes.”

“I’m sure most of them are only flirty with you though.. I mean you are very pretty” you suggest

Aphmau flushes a bit

“Oh, stop. You’re just saying that. And besides, I don’t think I’m that pretty… They don’t flirt because they think I’m pretty. It’s just because I’m a girl.”

After Aphmau words yall just silently walked the rest of the way home hand in hand.

⋆˙⟡♡

You ask Kawaii~Chan to help you pick out your outfit for tonight at Dante’s house.

She excitedly helped you, being more than happy to assist with anything to do with fashion. You and Kawaii~Chan sat on your floor with a few different outfits spread all across the carpet.

You wanted to find the most perfect outfit to wear to Dante’s housewarming party to make a good first impression.

You cringe about how silent you were earlier when you first met him.. He probably thinks you are so weird.

“So have you picked an outfit yet, Y/N~Chan?” Kawaii~Chan asks, her words break you out of your train of thought..

You liked all the outfits on the carpet but you didn’t think any of them were good enough.

“I don’t know which to choose.. I don’t want to make a bad first impression”

Kawaii~Chan picks up an outfit, and holds it up for you to see. It was a simple white dress with matching shoes and hairpins.

“You’re overthinking it, Y/N~Chan. Even if you wear your PJs to that party, kawaii~Chan guarantees the boys are just gonna think you’re as cute as always.”

“Nana, I’ve just never hung out with anybody besides you.. I’m just a little nervous”

Kawaii~Chan smiles, and sets the outfit back on the floor. She grabs your hands, and squeezes them gently. “Don’t worry, Y/N~Chan. It’s going to be fine, she promises . The boys are really nice. They won’t think anything bad of you! Besides, kawaii~Chan will be there the whole time!”

“you will?” You ask

Kawaii~Chan nods.

“Of course she will! You’re her best friend, kawaii~Chan wouldn’t just leave you by yourself.”

The two of you continued to go through your boxes, laughing to each other as you searched through the mountains of clothing.

“You have so many clothes, Y/N~Chan! Have you ever even worn half of these?” Kawaii-Chan picks up another piece of clothing.. and after inspecting it, she seems not to like it, she then throws it to the side of your room.

“Not all of them.. most of it is my sister's old clothes she didn’t want anymore..”

Kawaii Chan nods her head, a smile on her face.

“Makes sense. kawaii~Chan has a bunch of clothes she doesn't wear anymore too. But kawaii~Chan don’t think she has nearly as much as you do.”

Kawaii~Chan starts to go through a box in the back, pausing as she pulls out something.

“Oh~! What’s this?”

Kawaii~Chan holds up a black and white dress, and looks at it with a curious expression.

“Have you ever worn this, Y/N~Chan?”

“A few times.. I use to be obsessed with stripes back in highschool”

Kawaii~Chan laughs, holding the outfit up to you.

“kawaii~Chan can see why you look so cute in stripes. You should wear this tonight!”

“Really?” You replied

Kawaii~Chan nods her head, a big smile on her face.

“You look adorable in it! Try it on, go on!”

You go into your closet and put on your old dress.. With a few accessories you added. A red beret with some funky tights and a long brown boot!

You thought it gave tumblr girl vibes.

You walk out the closet and you hear your best friend clap her hands together and grins as she sees the finished outfit. She let out a small squeal.

“Cute! Adorable! You look amazing, Y/N~Chan!”

“I.. I do?” You questioned.

Kawaii~Chan nods her head again, her grin only growing.

“Definitely! You look super pretty!”

“I bet everyone love your outfit too, Nana” you says softly

Kawaii~Chan grins once again, and twirls around in her own dress.

“You think so? kawaii~Chan did try to look her cutest tonight.”

You loved, Kawaii~Chan style. It's so unique.

“and you did a great job!”

You hear a scream from down stairs. It definitely sounds like Katelyn.

“Hurry up! I’m ready to go eat, I'm starving!”

Kawaii~Chan giggles at Katelyn’s demand.

“Oh boy, Kawaii~Chan guessing someone’s getting a bit impatient.”

Kawaii~Chan grabs your hand, and leads you down the stairs.

⋆˙⟡♡

When you finished walking downstairs you saw Katelyn was wearing a red tank top with black shorts, and casual sneakers. Aphmau on the other hand, was wearing a black long sleeve crop top, and matching leggings with a pair of black combat boots. Both of them turn to look at the two.

“Oh, you guys look cute. Ready to go?” Aphmau compliments, gesturing towards the door.

Both you and Kawaii~Chan nod your heads, then the four of you leave outside to walk to the house next to yours.

When you get there aphmau knocks on the door.. The group waits for only a few minutes before Dante throws the door open, the same signature smirk on his face.

“There you all are! I thought you would never get here!”

Dante ushers you all inside, seemingly excited to spend time with you all.

When you're all inside the house you see Laurance and Garroth casually playing Mario kart. Once they noticed your presence they looked over their couch and smiled after seeing everyone but especially Aphmau.

Laurence and Garroth pause their game and get up from the couch, quickly moving over to greet the group of girls.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Garroth greets you all warmly

Laurence slings his arm around Aphmau’s shoulders, and smirks a bit. “It took you all forever to get here, we were starting to think you all were ditching us.”

“Nono, just some people took forever to get ready…” Katelyn says, looking at you and Kawaii~Chan.

Both you and Kawaii~Chan roll your eyes at Katelyn’s comment, giving her a look. The guys chuckle a bit, and Dante pipes up with a smirk.

“Well I think both of you look great. You took just the perfect amount of time to get ready!”

“oh um thank you?” You responded sorta hiding behind Kawaii~Chan.

Dante looks over at you, “Wait, now that I think about it, I never caught your name. Mind giving it to me, beautiful?”

“Y/N..”

Dante smirks and nods his head.

“That's a pretty name, Y/N. It definitely fits someone as cute as you.”

Dante notices Aphmau’s look, and just smirks at her, trying to get under her skin. Laurence seems to notice all this, and gently taps Dante on the shoulder.

“Dude, knock it off. You’re gonna piss her off again.”

Laurence turns to look at you, and gives you a smile. “Hey, I don’t think we ever properly met this morning. I’m Laurence.”

He gives you a small smile, and extends his hand out for you to shake.

And you accept it by shaking his hand..

It surprise you how firm his grip was

“it’s nice to meet you..”

Laurence gently lets go of your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N. Hopefully we’ll be able to make your first real hang out with us guys a good one.”

You nod in agreement..

Hopefully you do have a fun night tonight

laurance pushes garroth forward probably for him to introduce himself also.

Garroth gives you a quick, awkward smile

“Oh, um, hi. I’m Garroth. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Same..”

Now that formalities were out the way Garroth asked the whole group a question “Since we’re all here, you guys wanna play Mario Kart?”

Kawaii~Chan smiles a bit, and gently pat you on the back. You two loved playing games together even if you both weren’t the best at it.

“Hell yeah. We’re totally gonna kick all three of your asses.” Aphmau started competitively.

Dante looks at all the girls, a smug expression on his face.

“Ha, as if that’s ever gonna happen! I know none of you can out race me.”

Laurence rolls his eyes at Dante’s comment, obviously disagreeing.

“Please, Dante. You get last in every match, there’s no chance you can beat any of us.”

“It’s true, bro. You almost always lose.” Garroth laughs, agreeing with Laurence.

“Oh whatever, all of you guys are just jealous of my Mario Kart skills. I could totally kick all of your asses if I wasn’t so nice and let you guys win.”

⋆˙⟡♡

You and Kawaii~Chan cuddle on the couch with a blanket. Next to you was Dante and at the end of the couch was Katelyn.

While Laurance, Garroth, and Aphmau sit on the floor with the Wii remotes.

“I’m not that good at mario kart..” you tell Kawaii~Chan.

Dante turns to look at you, and jokingly rolls his eyes.

“You'll be just fine. Trust me, the game is easy as crap. All you have to do is not crash, which really isn’t very hard!”

“but everyone says you suck at this game?” You questioned.

Dante looks at you with a fake offended look on his face, before laughing.

“First of all, rude. Secondly, that is not true! They’re all liars, don’t listen to them! I’m a Mario Kart legend!”

Aphmau throws a pillow at Dante.

“Dante, we all know damn well that you can’t race in Mario Kart to save your life.”

Laurence and Garroth burst out laughing, Dante just looked at them all with a pout, annoyed that they were all ganging up on him.

��˙⟡♡

You played Mario Kart for at least an hour, the game consists of constant screaming and yelling.

And occasionally Aphmau would flip off one of the guys if they beat her in a race and they typically didn’t..

She was like really good

Everyone had their main and there own playing style

Dante only played as Mairo because he said “Playing as the main character will get me plot armor” He explained to you and kawaii-Chan that’s the way to get first place..

But he constantly got last place.

Kawaii~Chan just played princess peach because she’s pink and cute. She didn’t really care about winning the game; she was there for the vibes.

Aphmau played Rosalina, and absolutely killed it.. the lowest she got was second place but consistently kicked everyone’s asses

And since she’s so competitive she wouldn’t let it go that she was in fact Mario Kart legend and Dante’s wasn't.

Katelyn played toad, she was also extremely competitive but not as bad as the rest but she constantly threw the green shells at laurance to piss him off.

laurance played Luigi, you were surprised on how competitive he was he seemed so laid back but no he constantly looked like he was one Banana peel slip away from throwing the controller across the room.

Garroth played Bowser, for the most part he was chill and actually gave you a few pointers on what you should do during the game. He was very helpful.

and you played Daisy cause you felt like she was underrated.

Though you feel like you didn’t do your girl justice cause you constantly got last place.. and often not even finishing the course.

Though you still had a good time playing with the others and watching them all get riled up over a simple video game.

Once the pizza came ( That Laurance very kindly paid for. ) Everyone started eating in their own groups.. Laurance and Garroth stay close to Aphmau eating on the couch, while Katelyn and kawaii Chan chat sitting at the table.

So that left you and Dante eating pizza together on the kitchen counter.

You sat on top of the counter criss-cross while Dante just stood.

You looked around the house realizing how furnished the house was already.

They had pictures on their walls, their tv set up, already built their couch and kitchen table and chairs..

It looked lived in versus your house it was still so empty in comparison.

“Your house is very furnished for only being here for less than a day.”

Dante looks at you and shrugs, taking a bite from his pizza.

“Eh, Laurence and I like things to be organized and clean, and I guess we also like our furniture, ya know? We might have just moved in, but all my stuff is from my apartment before that, and Laurence had most of his stuff from home before too.”

“What about the other guy?” You ask

“Garroth? Hah, you have no idea. That guy’s so damn picky with all his stuff and how things look. He was practically nitpicking everything Laurence and I were bringing in while we were moving everything in.” Dante rambles.

“I would’ve never guessed that he seems very chill? If not a little awkward.”

“Yeah, he’s a good bro, but when it comes to his stuff and his looks, he’s the total opposite. You should’ve seen his face when he saw a single scratch on one of his desks. He damn near freaked out! It was hilarious.” Dante snickers as he takes another slice of pizza.

You laugh “you all seem to know each other so well.”

“Well, we've all been friends since high school. The three of us just clicked, and became super good friends. The guys even let me move in the house with them when my old apartment got too expensive.” Dante chuckles a bit, taking a bite of his pizza slice.

“they seem like good friends”

Dante nods, setting his other pizza down.

“They’re the best friends I could ask for.” He takes a sip from his soda. “Hey, I realized I never asked, but how are you friends with the girls? I’ve never seen you around before…”

“Uh.. I know of aphmau and Katelyn through Kawaii~Chan.. she’s my best friend” you clarified

Dante looks surprised for a moment, but then smiles a little. “Oh, okay. So you and Kawaii~Chan have known each other for a while, I’m guessing?”

“Since college.. My sister was her dorm mate my freshman year and I would often crash there cause I hated my roommates.. Me and Kawaii~Chan got pretty close from there even after she graduated we still stayed in contact.” You explained

Dante nods his head, “Ah, I see.. I didn’t know you had any siblings.. Is she still in college, or is she out too?”

“Oh she’s my triplet.. She’s off living in New York with her best friend Ava” you stated

Dante raises an eyebrow at that, looking a bit amazed by your words. “Triplet, huh? Man, is it true that people who are triplets get some kind of weird triplet connection thing?”

You giggle “That be cool but no”

Dante chuckles a bit at that.

“ Damn, that’s a shame. I was hoping you could read each other's minds or something. That would’ve been cool as hell.”

“Sorry, it’s not as cool as you imagined. Total let down.” You joked, acting hurt by his words.

“You’re not a let down, I swear. I think you’re plenty cool, especially for a girl who supposedly sucks at Mario Kart.” Dante smirks at you, and leans in a bit.

“I got last place every round..” you lean in

Dante chuckles a little, and gently pats your head.

“Yeah you did, and honestly, it was hilarious. You do not have the skills to become a professional Mario Kart player, sweetheart.”

You place a hand on your chest acting wounded “Aww man.. my dreams of being a professional Mario kart player are crushed..”

Dante laughs again, amused by your response.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry to break it to you, but it wasn’t looking good for you. I’ll start a go fund me for you.”

“thanks, I need it desperately”

You look over at the other boys and Aphmau and they look downright obsessed with her.

They were truly in a whole other world with her..heart eyes and all.

“Wow.. those two are really into aphmau they have been hogging up her attention all night” you blurted, not meaning to say it out loud.

You place your hand on your face in embarrassment but Dante looks over in the there direction, and smirks a bit.

“You’re just noticing that now? It’s pretty damn obvious that those guys are in love with her. They keep fighting each other over her attention, and honestly, it’s pretty funny to watch.”

“Do you think she’s into them?” You ask curiously.

Dante shrugs, and looks back over at them.

“Honestly, who knows. She seems a little oblivious to their flirting most of the time. I honestly doubt she likes either of them, but with those two dumbasses fighting over her every chance they get, we might never know for sure.”

You hum in response leaving the conversation at that.

Dante pulls out a blunt and light it, gesturing to you if you want to try it but you simply shake your head no.

“oh.. I don’t smoke.”

Dante takes a puff from the blunt, and nods his head. “Ah, okay, that’s cool.”

He blows the smoke out into the air, and turns a bit to face you

“I’m guessing you probably don’t drink too, do you?”

“nope” you answer immediately.

Dante chuckles a bit, probably not finding it surprising.

“Damn, you’re pretty straight edge. So I’m guessing you don’t go to many parties then, huh?”

“never been too one”

Dante nearly chokes at your response, honestly looking stunned.

“Wait, seriously?! Goddamn, you really are straight edge. You’ve never been to a single party? At all?”

you shrug your shoulders “it’s not my scene..”

Dante nods his head, and takes another small puff from the blunt. “I get what you’re saying, but damn, never going to a single party ever seems a little excessive. Like, you should at least go to one, live a little ya know?”

You shake your head in disagreement “I’m very much living my life at home”

Dante smirks a bit, leaning forward so he’s facing you more.

“And what kind of life is that, huh? Never having any fun, never going to a single party? That’s a pretty dull life, sweetheart.”

“maybe for you.. I quite enjoy my life, it's peaceful” you counter his response.

“Peaceful? What, do you sit at home, watch tv all day, and knit or something?” Dante huffs a bit, and shakes his head.

You don’t look Dante in the eyes anymore, looking anywhere but him.

Dante bursts out laughing.

“Are you telling me you’re really like, little miss perfect? You actually sit at home and knit or something dumb like that?”

“It's not dumb..”

Dante snickers, and takes another puff from his blunt. He thought this was the funniest thing he ever heard.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re right, it’s not dumb, it’s hilarious.”

Dante looks behind you and then taps a bit on your leg.

“Hey, hey, look at that. I think the girls are about to head out.”

You turn around and you see the girls getting their stuff to head out, so you get off the counter.

“Oh really? It feels like we just got here”

Dante nods in agreement “Yeah, I know what you mean. Time really does fly by when everyone’s talking, huh?”

“mhm, it really dose”

Dante looks back over at the other specifically garroth and laurance.

“Yeah. The guys are gonna be pretty bummed that they won’t get to drool over aphmau much longer.”

Dante jokes taking a final puff from the blunt.

“Well I’m sure they’ll see her soon. We are neighbors after all..” you say before turning to leave but turn back because you forgot to say something.

“Dante.. I had a lot of fun tonight talking to you”

Dante’s eyes widened a little at your comment, “Yeah, I had a ton of fun chatting to you too. You’re pretty cool.”

“Well.. see you later?”

Dante smiles at you one last time then nods his head.

#aphmau #aphmau x reader #laurance x reader #laurance zvahl #laurance zvahl x reader #garroth ro'meave #mystreet garroth #garroth x reader #garroth ro’meave x reader #zane ro'meave #zane ro’meave x reader #kawaii chan #aphmau laurance #laurmau #laurance x aphmau #garroth x aphmau

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chosotallgf · 6 months ago

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UNEXPECTED TURN - CHOSO KAMO [chapter 1]

SUMMARIZE.. y/n never bothered getting to know choso after the shibuya incident happened and he became an ally to jujutsu high but what happens when he decides to try and get to know her on a personal level and they start getting put on mission together

TAGS.. choso x fem!reader, shibuya incident arc spoilers!!, post shibuya incident au, character dearth mentioned, slow burn, smut, angst, reader is a sorcerer, oral sex, masturbation + more

A/N.. hi this is my first fanfic ever also I posted it on A03 under the same username. keep in mind I’m a beginner at writing lol. like & rebolgs are appreciated | DONT NOT REUPLOAD :D

………………………………………………………………………………….

you and choso where out having lunch discussing your plans for an upcoming mission later that day. It’s been half a year since the shibuya incident, even after the many deaths that took place that night you ended up finding yourself making a new connection later down the line

choso become an ally for jujutsu high short after the incident, first it started off with you two getting place together to go on small missions together outside of Tokyo. When you first heard of the idea of you and choso being partner up you weren’t a big fan of it, everyone seem to connect well off of first interaction and start to enjoy choso company especially after finding out that he is yuji half brother but you? barely even talk/avoided him outside of missions.

“what are you thinking about”? choso asked as he saw your blank expression as you two were waiting on the food to come out “Huh? oh.. just that how much I hate working with you that’s all” you softly smirk at him. you love teasing choso so often that become y’all daily thing to do to each other. One day after you and choso got back from a mission you were about to head out of jujutsu high until you heard fast steps catching up to you.

“hey.. um y/n you have a moment?” choso asked awkward while scratching the back of his head. you then turn around and sign “yeah what is it?” choso honestly wasn’t sure how he should approach you, when y’all get sent on mission its just strictly about the mission no personal stuff about each other lives, nothing.

he kinda took the hint that you didn’t want to conversation about anything outside of that 3 weeks after the incident when you both were on the train headed to koyto and he asked how long you been a sorcery at jujutsu high and you responded with “why do you care just let’s just do our jobs, the faster the better”

every since then choso didn’t dare to bring up anything after that until the day he generally was curious and had enough of this ‘only talk during and about the mission thing’ he wasn’t a pushy person but he can bet there has to be more to you than this nonchalant mask you are pulling because of the story’s yuji told him when he himself first started out and you and gojo teach him. he had to know why you were so casual with everyone but not him

“Sorry to bother you y/n, don’t take this the wrong way but did I genuinely do something to offend you? every since I came to jujutsu high and going on mission I feel like you been bothered by my presence of that makes any sense” your response could go south either way choso though he didn’t know if you would just curse him out or just turn around and keep ignoring him like you been. “Are you that much of new puppy that you need everyone attention and become friends?”

“hey wait a min don’t go yet” as you turned your head a little bit choso could see your eyes get glossy. “Let me go pls” you barley spoke. A single tear fell down your face. “I’m sorry if it’s becaus-“ choso was about to finish his sentence until gojo loudly interrupted them.

“Heyy choso how have you been? Oh y/n you there too? did you file the last mission yet I haven’t seen it yet if you did” gojo said when he got a glimpse of your hair behind choso back as he was walking up to y’all. as soon as you heard gojo voice you quickly pull your wrist back from choso and he let go.

you then quickly rush off campus and into your car. “Hey come back” choso shouted. You thought how embarrassing that was,now you wouldn’t even dare show your face in front of choso now after he seen you in that state. “I guess she really doesn’t like doing reports after all” gojo said confused.

part 2 coming soon… don’t forget to like & reblog :)

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mrsstruggle · 2 months ago

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The Beast of War - Chapter 2 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

This is the second part of the Shadow Wolf Series. Read The Lost Child First if you haven't!

Series Summary: In the aftermath of discovering her true identity and reuniting with her long-lost family, Y/N Stilinski finds herself adjusting to a new chapter of her life in Beacon Hills. With her brother and his friends in their senior year at High School, the town faces a fresh new threat. Y/N must navigate the complexities of her new life while confronting the looming threat that threatens to hurt her and the people she loves.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Series Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate (for now), Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 4.9k

Note: This is not my best work, but here it is! Also, looking for penpals if anyone would like to be penpals with me!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Beast of War Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

---

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/N notices that Derek isn’t in bed next to her. Rolling over, she sees that Stiles isn’t in bed either. She rolls back over to look at the clock on Derek’s bedside table—it reads 10:28 AM. Sighing, she debates whether to get out of bed or stay there a bit longer.

She grabs her phone from her bedside table and scrolls through it aimlessly. She starts to type a text to send to her dad when the bedroom door opens. Y/N looks up from her phone as Derek walks in. His plaid pajama pants hang low on his hips while his chest is free of clothing.

“I see you’re finally awake,” Derek teases, lying down next to her. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m surprised I slept this late. With all my morning shifts, I’m used to getting up way earlier than this.” Y/N replies, cuddling into Derek’s embrace. “When did Stiles leave?”

“He left earlier to get to school. He was running behind, so I told him that we’d put the mattress back so he didn’t have to do it.”

“You are a big softy.” Y/N teases.

Derek rolls his eyes, “Shut up.”

“When do you go in to work today?”

“I took the day off today. Peter and Isaac should be fine on their own today, and Cora will keep them in line anyway.” A month after the fight with Kate, Isaac moved back to Beacon Hills. He says it’s because he got bored of France, but Y/N knows it’s because he missed his friends and pack. Not long after he moved back, Cora did the same. After seeing her brother and his girlfriend plastered all over the internet, she decided to move back for moral support and to protect her brother—not that he needs it.

Isaac and Cora now both work at the Hale Garage. Isaac mostly does smaller things, such as oil changes or dent removals, but Derek has been teaching him other things to help his skills grow. Cora mostly likes to sit up front and work at the front desk. Other than the occasional phone call, appointment setting, or dealing with people who go in, she doesn’t have to do much. She likes that there is not a lot of work that she must do, and Derek likes getting to work with his sister—and he needed someone to take over Lydia’s job with school starting back.

“What about you?” Derek asks.

“I should probably get up and get ready,” Y/N groans. “I’m supposed to meet Steve and Bucky at noon, remember?”

“What are you helping them do again?” Derek asks, watching Y/N roll out of bed and walk to their bathroom.

“I’m supposed to help them move into their new place. I don’t even think they really need my help. I think they are using this as an excuse to hang out with me.” Y/N replies with her toothbrush in her mouth. “It’s also why we got them that stuff yesterday.”

“Do we need a code for if it gets too much for you?”

Y/N laughs, spitting out the toothpaste in her mouth and wiping her face clean, “I think I’ll be okay. Did you want me to speak to Bucky about the open position at the garage?” She wasn’t going to say anything about it, but she does know that Bucky needs a job.

Derek watches as Y/N walks out of their bathroom with clothes in her hands, “What do you think about it?” After Tony and Peter left last night, they didn’t speak about Tony suggesting Bucky for the open position. Derek hasn’t thought about it much either. He’s aware of Bucky’s dislike of him, so he assumes he won’t apply.

“I think,” Y/N says, stripping off her pajamas, “that he needs a job, and Tony thinks he would know what to do. Plus, I know you and Stiles are still a little wary about any of them, so this would give you an opportunity to get to know him a bit.”

“And you’re not?” Derek questions, leaning back against the headboard and watching Y/N as she slowly and teasingly puts on her clothes.

“I am, but this is a way for someone who isn’t me to check one of them out. Since my judgment is clouded, I’m scared I’m going to miss major signs I should be seeing.” It’s not that she thinks they are this group of evil people who are out to get her, but it’s hard for her to trust new people. She has her memories back, and she knows that they love her, but fifteen years is a long time—people change.

She’s changed. She’s not the toddler they knew her as. She’s an adult now with a life that, up until recently, didn't include them. That’s what scares her. It took her three weeks after the war against Kate to cave and look up everything she could about the Avengers. While she knows the media can’t be trusted or believed, she still saw a lot of concerning things.

They are public figures, and how they handled the grief of losing her is plastered all over the internet. From articles to YouTube think-pieces, people never gave them a moment of peace. There are even true-crime podcasts and YouTube channels where people do their makeup with smiles on their faces and talk about the mysterious disappearance of 3-year-old Y/N Stark. She can’t imagine how much pain they were in—and still in.

Y/N is scared that one day, they will pack up her things and take her back to the now-old compound. She sees the pained look in their eyes when she tells stories about herself growing up or when she calls Noah, Dad. What if one day they decide they want to go back to the way it was before Pepper gave her to Hydra and no longer accept her new life?

This isn’t something she thinks of often, and she knows, realistically, that they aren’t going to do anything that she doesn’t want, but the little voice in the back of her mind likes to worry. She hasn’t voiced her concerns to Derek, but he knows how she feels because he feels the same way.

“You think my judgment isn’t clouded?” Derek questions.

“I think that they are putting in an effort right now, so we need to do the same,” Y/N says, crawling into the bed and Derek’s lap to straddle him. “I can just tell him about the position. It doesn’t mean he will apply. And if he does apply, you don’t have to give him the job if he won’t fit. I want us to put in an effort, but not if it’s going to hurt your business.”

Derek stares into Y/N’s eyes before sighing, “Fine, you can tell him about it, but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Y/N smiles, pressing a kiss onto his lips.

Derek smiles at the happiness radiating off her. She hasn’t said anything to him, but he knows her thoughts around her ‘new family’ are complicated. He knows that he should be putting in more of an effort to get to know them, but it’s hard when some of them don’t seem to like him—some of them being Bucky and Steve.

Steve is, at the least, friendly with him when they come over from time to time. He puts in a little effort for Y/N’s sake, but Derek can tell that Steve isn’t his biggest fan. Bucky, on the other hand, hates him. The few times that Y/N has invited them over for dinner, Bucky puts in the effort to ignore him or glares at him when he speaks. Y/N tries to ease the tension between them, but nothing works. Derek thinks it’s because they are both so protective of Y/N.

Y/N thinks it’s something deeper. Bucky is the only member of the Avengers who hasn’t tried to get to know anyone but Y/N. She doesn’t think it’s because he resents the life that she has outside of them, she thinks he’s scared about what the others think about him and what he’s done. She thinks he’s scared that the others won’t want him around her if they truly know about him.

She knows that dealing with Hydra and knowing about what Hydra has done to her has triggered old, hidden memories and insecurities that he had long buried in his mind. Even though they haven’t spoken about their experiences, she can see the way it’s brought up some old thoughts.

She sees the way he flinches when Stiles refers to him as ‘Winter Soldier.’ She sees the way he withdraws within himself when Scott talks about how he believes he can save everyone and goes on his moral high ground I’m better than everyone spiels. She sees the way he flinches when people touch his metal arm—even Steve.

Y/N wishes that Bucky would give the others a chance and get to know them or even spend some one-on-one time with her without Steve or someone else so she can tell him about them. If he did, he would realize that he has a lot more in common with them than he thinks, and they don’t judge him for his past.

If he spoke to Stiles, he would realize that he understands what it’s like to hurt and be responsible for people’s deaths while not in control of your mind and body. If he spoke to Liam, he would realize that Liam understands what it’s like to fear losing control. If he spoke to Lydia, he would realize that she understands what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind. She’s sure if he spoke to them and got to know them, he’d find even more in common.

“You owe me for this,” Derek says, his hands settling on her hips.

“What do you have in mind?” Y/N smirks, running her hands up and down his abs.

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

“I’m sure you can.” She leans in to kiss when his phone goes off on his side table.

“What now?” Derek groans as Y/N reaches over to grab his phone. He takes the phone from her hands to see a message from Peter. “I guess I will be going in to work today.”

“What happened?”

“Someone just dropped their car off, and it needs its brakes replaced.” He says while he types back a response to whoever texted him.

“Doesn’t Peter know how to do that?”

“They apparently requested me specifically.”

“I don’t blame them.” Y/N teases, her fingers running along the waistband of his underwear. “I’d specially request you too.”

Derek sets his phone down next to him and grabs Y/N’s hands to stop her from teasing him more, “If you keep teasing me, we both won’t be leaving this bed today.”

“That’s not much of a threat.” Y/N rolls her before sliding off him and fake sighing in disappointment, “But if you insist on going to work…”

“Well, it is what’s paying for the remodel of the house.”

“I assumed your large inheritance and the money made from the people living in this building was going toward the remodel.”

“No, most of my inheritance is still safely tucked away while the money made from this building has gone toward my new Camaro and making sure you and the pack are taken care of,” Derek presses a quick kiss to her forehead before getting out of bed.

“If Peter has $117 million in inheritance money, how much do you have?” Y/N asks, watching Derek walk over to the dresser.

“Let’s just say if we wanted to, we would never have to work a day in our lives, and neither would the people around us.”

“You have that much money, and you still make me go to work?”

“Is this you trying to tell me that you’re only with me for my money?” Derek teases, walking into the open bathroom to finish getting ready.

“No, this is me wondering why you force your hot girlfriend to work if you have enough money to have her naked on a beach somewhere with nothing but time to do other things.” She can hear Derek’s laugh echo throughout their bathroom. “If I knew that I could possibly marry into old money, I wouldn’t be trying so hard for my bachelor’s, and I would’ve dropped out of school a while ago.”

“Possibly marry, huh? Who said I want to marry you?” Derek questions teasingly.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, “Oh, so you don’t want to marry me? I guess I better start packing my things then…”

Derek laughs as he walks out of the bathroom, fully dressed, toward Y/N, “I think we both know that one day you will be Mrs. Y/N Hale.”

“Who said I’ll take your last name?”

“You don’t have to take my name if you don’t want to.”

Y/N thinks for a moment, “Actually, I think we should get married as soon as possible so then I don’t have to have the awkward conversation with anyone about whether I’m going to stay a Stilinski or become a Stilinski-Stark. If I’m a Hale, then there will be no room to argue.”

“Save something for the vows.” Derek jokes before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’ve got to go. Hopefully, I won’t be gone too long. What time will you be back?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be at Steve and Bucky’s, but tonight I’m going to the station to help my dad get ready for his date tonight.”

“I can join tonight if you want me to.” Derek knows that Y/N is happy that her dad has finally decided to get out there and go on a date after years of throwing himself into his work and struggling with the death of his wife, but he wants to be there for her in case seeing her dad with a different woman brings up some old feelings.

“Sure. I’ll come back here before the station if you’re done with work by then.”

“Okay.” Derek grabs his phone and presses one last kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Love you. I’ll text you when I get off.”

“Okay. Love you more.” Y/N smiles widely at him, watching him leave as he rolls his eyes at her childishness.

After he walks out the door, she grabs her phone to check and see if she has any notifications. Turning her phone on, she notices that Steve has texted her saying the moving truck arrived a little early if she wants to go over now. She quickly replies to him before grabbing her stuff to head over to his new place.

---

Y/N steps out of her car in front of Steve and Bucky’s new rental house. The four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath home is smaller than what Steve and Bucky are used to but considered average-sized in Beacon Hills. It’s also only two blocks away from the Stilinski house. Even though Y/N doesn’t live there anymore, she still considers it her home and is there quite frequently. She knows that is part of why they chose to rent it.

Walking up to the open storage container sitting in the driveway, she sees Steve and Bucky removing boxes from it and carrying them into the house, “Hey!”

“Hey! Thanks for coming.” Steve says, setting the box down in the garage so he can hug her. “We’ve moved all the big items into the house already. The only thing left are the boxes.”

She looks into the open storage container to see a few left, “How is there only three boxes left? Didn’t this just get here?”

“We don’t have that much stuff.”

“How?”

“We lived at headquarters. Most of the stuff there was Tony’s.” Bucky replies, walking into the garage with a rare smile on his face. He pulls Y/N into a tight hug in greeting.

“Did you never think about getting your own place?”

“We did, but a certain incident put that thought to a halt.” Steve answers. From the sad he’s looking at her, Y/N can assume he’s talking about her disappearance. She wants to ask more questions, but she’s not sure that she wants to know the answers. Most of what she knows about how they, and the other Avengers, took her disappearance is from Stiles and the extensive research she did on them.

“Well, then, I guess we need to do a bit of shopping,” Y/N says, moving to grab a box from the storage container. She sets her phone and keys on top of a box before picking it up. “You also need to show me where to put this.”

Steve picks up the box he previously set down and motions for Y/N to follow him into the house. She follows him through the laundry room and into the open kitchen and living room area. Y/N sets the box in her hands down on the other boxes that are piled up against the far living room wall and grabs her phone and keys from the top of it.

“Do you have any furniture, or is it just boxes of stuff?” Y/N asks, noticing that she doesn’t see anything other than boxes.

“Our couch and bedframe should be here tomorrow,” Steve replies.

“Is that it?”

“We thought that maybe we could go shopping together one day when you aren’t busy,” Bucky says, walking in with the last two boxes. “If you’re interested?”

“Sure. I’ll have to check my schedule and see when I’m available.” Between work, rebuilding the Hale house, and splitting her time between her two different families, she feels like she’s always doing something or having to meet with someone. She knows she needs to start saying no when people ask her to do stuff, but she has a hard time doing that. She sets her purse and phone on the kitchen counter but keeps her keys in her hand as she turns back to them, “Where’s your cleaning supplies?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we should probably scrub the place down before we start unpacking, so what box is your cleaning stuff in?”

“We don’t have any cleaning stuff,” Steve says, double-checking the labels on the boxes even though he knows they don’t have any.

“Then how did you clean at the compound?”

“Tony had people that did that,” Bucky replies.

“Even your room?” Y/N doesn’t understand how they don’t have any cleaning stuff. Even if they didn’t clean at the compound, they should have bought stuff for their new place.

“Yes.” Steve and Bucky look a little embarrassed that they are unprepared.

“Did you plan on hiring someone to clean this place too?”

“Um,” Steve doesn’t know how to answer that. He and Bucky hadn’t discussed much about their moving situation. They just wanted a break from the Avengers and wanted to be closer to Y/N.

Y/N smiles teasingly at the scared and embarrassed look on their faces, “So you have no furniture, nothing to clean with, and judging by the labels on these boxes, nothing to eat with either. Did you own anything at the compound, or did Tony own everything?”

Steve and Bucky glance at each other with wide eyes. They should’ve done some shopping before moving in. Since she said it out loud, they realize they don’t have anything to cook or eat with. Steve is also realizing that they don’t have any toilet paper, laundry detergent, or other things they will need. Anything they needed at the compound was always there. They never needed to buy anything. They also never needed to restock because people would restock things for them.

Y/N laughs a little at them, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of assumed this would happen. Follow me.” She turns and walks to the front door as the trail silently behind her. Unlocking and opening the door, she walks over to her parked car, unlocks it, and opens her trunk. “I stopped and got a few things for you yesterday.”

Stepping back from her car, Steve and Bucky can see that it’s full of things they need. With her back seats down, she was able to get them more than she planned to. She bought them a nice vacuum, a broom and dustpan set, a Swiffer mop, rags, dusters, and various cleaning sprays and scrubs. She even bought them toilet paper, laundry detergent, dryer balls, dish soap, towels, and other various necessities.

Closer to her front seats, there are boxes of pots and pans, plates, silverware, cups, and a few other kitchen items. In her passenger seat, there is a stack of organizers and containers. She even got them a few games and puzzles for fun.

“Thank you, but there’s no way we need all of this,” Steve says in shock, giving Y/N a little side hug to show his appreciation.

“Do you want your place to be semi-clean or clean-clean? Also, not everything is for cleaning. From the way you and the others talk about the compound, I assumed you would need a few things.”

“This is still a lot of stuff. You didn’t need to do this,” Bucky says, pulling her into a hug too, “but thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m not the only one you need to thank. I might have been the one who picked everything out, but Derek was the one who paid for it.” Y/N says, pulling away from Bucky. She can see the smiles on their face falter at her Derek paid for it.

“We will make sure to thank him the next time we see him,” Steve says, his smile a little more forced than before, “right, Buck?”

Bucky hums in fake agreement. It’s not that he’s less grateful now that he knows Derek paid for it, he just doesn’t like Derek. He swears he’s just protective of Y/N, and he doesn’t trust Derek, but Nat thinks he’s jealous. She also thinks he’s bitter that Y/N has this whole life that, up until recently, doesn’t include them.

“Well, let’s get all this stuff inside and start scrubbing everything down,” Y/N says.

---

They spent two hours scrubbing and wiping everything down before taking a break for lunch. Steve ordered two pizzas and a few drinks for them. Now, they are standing around the kitchen island as they quietly eat their lunch.

They haven’t spoken much since they started cleaning. Y/N put on some music, and she showed them what to do, but they didn’t say much after that. Part of it was due to them concentrating on their tasks; the other part was due to them not knowing what to say.

“How has work been?” Steve asks Y/N.

“It’s been good,” Y/N replies, “With no current threats in town, we haven’t been as busy as we sometimes are.”

“Tony said another journalist visited you at work recently.”

Y/N rolls her eyes a little at his protective tone, “They were just some college kid that had a few questions. They were mostly just asking about my thoughts and feelings on everything.”

“What did you tell him?” Buck asks curiously.

“Nothing that he couldn’t have guessed himself. How’s your job search been?”

Bucky huffs in frustration at that question, “I had a Zoom interview two days ago, but they only asked me questions about Steve the whole time. From the Captain American photo I could see in the corner of the room, I’m guessing she was a fan.”

“Well, I know of a job opportunity if you’re interested.” She knows he’s not going to like her suggestion, but she told Derek she would tell Bucky about it.

“It’s not at the hospital, is it? I’m looking for something less stressful, not more stressful. I also don’t think I’m qualified.”

“No, it’s at the auto shop. Derek is looking for someone to help out, and Tony said you would know what to do.”

Bucky almost declined immediately, but a sharp look from Steve stopped him, “I don’t know…”

“You can always just apply and think on it. His interview process is pretty simple. He’ll ask you some questions, and then he tests you out for about an hour to see if you’re a good fit. There’s no guarantee that you’ll get the job, and if you do, you can decide whether to accept or not.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she wipes the pizza grease off her hands.

Bucky thinks for a moment. On one hand, he wants a new job, and this one would allow him to learn more about Derek. On the other hand, Derek would be his boss, and he would have to spend time and speak to him too. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” From the smile on Y/N’s face, Bucky could tell that was the right answer.

They finish eating their lunch before unpacking the boxes. After they unpacked the last box, they said their goodbyes, and Y/N left to go home to pick up Derek.

---

“Maybe I should’ve gotten a haircut.” The sheriff mumbles, looking at himself in a handheld mirror.

“I think you should be lucky that you still have hair to cut,” Stiles says.

“I think you look great,” Scott counters.

“Thank you, son I should’ve had.” The sheriff smirks at Scott.

“Don’t listen to Stiles, Dad. I think you look handsome.” Y/N says, fixing his hair a little with her hand.

“God, what am I doing?” The sheriff struggles with his tie before Y/N stops him.

“What you’re doing is taking a night off and going to enjoy a lovely dinner with your date,” Y/N replies, fixing his tie.

“And who are you having dinner with?” Stiles asks.

“None of your business,” Noah answers.

“Why does Y/N get to know and not me?”

“I didn’t tell her who it was. Derek was the one who figured it out.”

“Derek knows too?!”

Derek just smirks and sits back against the sheriff’s desk. He likes that he knows something that Stiles doesn’t.

“Stilinski!” Someone yells somewhere in the sheriff’s station.

They follow the sheriff out of his office to see the boy who yelled for him. His lawyer is standing in front of him as Parrish and another officer stand next to him.

“I’m going to kill you,” he says, staring at Noah.

“Donovan, if you think that shocks me, remember it is well-documented in your Anger Expression Inventory. Officers, take him out of here.” Noah says, nodding his head at the officers.

“When I say I’m going to kill you, I mean I’m going to get a knife, and I’m going to stab you until your heart stops beating.”

The station is silent for a moment before Stiles breaks it, “Wow, that was awesome. Really, that was great. Do it again, but as Christopher Walkin.”

“Maybe shed a tear this time. I want to see the anger issues overwhelm you as you think about the little cell you're about to live in.” Y/N adds.

Donovan nods his head, stepping back before lunging forward toward them. Scott jumps in front of Stiles as Derek jumps in front of Y/N. Donovan continues to yell as the officers pull him out of the station and toward the transportation van.

“Well, he’s got some issues,” Y/N mumbles, slipping her hand into Derek’s to reassure him that she’s okay. “We should get out here so you can get to your date.”

“Us too,” Stiles says after he finishes his quiet conversation with Scott.

“You have to promise to call me afterward and tell me how it went. If I don’t hear from you, I will call you myself.” Y/N says, fixing her dad’s tie one last time.

“I will text you afterward,” The sheriff compromises.

“Thank you.” She hugs him goodbye, and Derek whispers a little dating advice to him before they leave. Stiles and Scott trail behind them before breaking off toward Stiles’ jeep.

“Do we want to pick something up or make something at home?” Derek asks as they sit in his Camaro.

“I want you to make that dish of yours I really like. I think we have the stuff for it.” Y/N replies, trying to give Derek her sweetest look so he won’t turn her down.

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes as he turns the car on, “The things I do for you.”

“Do you think I should be worried about what that guy said to my dad?” Y/N asks quietly. She made fun of him in the moment, and she likes to think that nothing will ever happen to her dad with her and everyone else around to protect him, but they do live in Beacon Hills, where anything is possible.

“With the things he has to deal with, I think some angry human boy is the least of his worries. He’s probably more worried about his date than him.”

“That’s true. It’s just that everything has been calm here recently. I can’t help but worry that something is coming. Stiles seems to be worried about something, so I’m worried too. Maybe it’s nothing, but there’s this feeling in my gut that something’s not right.”

---

@xxemmarldxx @esposadomd @ladyjenjay @ts1mp0ne @misshale21

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @xoxoloverb @hizzielover @remuslittlesister @oscarissac2099

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alltheirdamn · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click.

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click.

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins.

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together.

“Hey, Will!”

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny.

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you.

Unlike the majority of the sports world.

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry.

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you.

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens.

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect.

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand.

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him.

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you.

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes.

Frankie. You can do that.

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond.

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument.

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past.

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up.

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field, trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him.

You liked that.

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos.

That was the end of it.

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field.

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium.

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him.

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching.

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout.

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise.

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best.

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot.

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat.

Strike two.

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends.

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles.

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles.

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her.

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.”

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step.

Focus.

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes.

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine.

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage.

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back.

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five.

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin.

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows.

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him.

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask.

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie.

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you.

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks.

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect.

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice.

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says.

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug.

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second.

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand.

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname.

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse.

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day.

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one.

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it.

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.”

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him.

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again?

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave.

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?”

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him?

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo.

The same one he told her he liked the most.

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera.

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It’s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid.

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone.

Red has accepted your follow request.

Red started following you.

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen.

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you.

Frankie: Absolutely.

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too.

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos.

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me?

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message.

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with.

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around.

Red: I’m holding you to that.

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #baseball!frankie #frankie morales x ofc #baseball!frankie x ofc!red #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales fic

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brighttears · 20 days ago

Text

Stranger Chapter 2

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description

Summary: After your argument, Tommy finds Joel, and they talk at the bar. Joel learns more about what has happened to you since he left, and is once again left reeling, and has to reconsider his attitude. As it turns out, you’re neighbors, and he catches sight of you that night.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Talk of violence, reader is traumatized, Joel hates himself.

A/n: May have pushed it a little far with character building here but stay with me. Also a brief moment of lightheartedness between the boys

series masterlist

—

A cold and desolate breeze and Joel’s huffed breaths are the only sound as he stands there on your porch, staring at the door. His legs feel numb, preventing him from retreating as he's struck with an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and loss.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy, shaky sigh, as if he’s gotten the breath knocked out of him and is just now getting it back. He’s still tense, body like a coiled spring.

Finally, he turns and steps off of your porch, shoes crunching in the thin blanket of snow covering the dirt road, and is utterly lost.

Hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the winter wind, he walks, trying to process what just went down, as well as the unfamiliar world around him. Despite the general friendly air of Jackson, he feels just as alone as he has for the last few months. Out of place, alien, dazed, the memory of your snarl, the raging fire in your eyes, etched into the forefront of his brain.

You’ve changed into someone almost unrecognizable, and it’s just as disconcerting as it is depressing. What happened to that kind girl he used to know? The one that took the time to sit with a deer after she’d killed it, that never gave up her soft spot for children, who would sing softly in the night when she knew he wasn’t really sleeping?

He doesn’t know where you’ve gone, or if he’ll ever get you back, and the realization gives him a horrified kind of goosebumps, sucking a sharp breath out of him.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t register the footsteps behind him, not realizing Tommy’s there until he speaks, “So, how’d it go?” There’s a hopeful grimace on his face when Joel turns to him, but it only gives him a surge of frustration, suddenly feeling like Tommy knowingly set him up for failure.

“Poorly.” Joel states flatly, shooting him a look before turning back to walk aimlessly down the road. Tommy jogs to fall in step beside him, eyes flicking over the near scowl on his brother's face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” He says, but Joel doesn’t reply. “Wanna get a drink?” Tommy tries, and after only a short pause, Joel nods curtly. “Yeah. A drink sounds great right now.”

It’s a silent walk to the Tipsy Bison, Joel’s thoughts still churning, his brother glancing at him from time to time, a concerned pinch between his brows, all the way until they’re sat down at the empty bar, a couple shots of whiskey in each of their glasses.

“So,” Tommy starts, still watching him as he traces the thick ribbing on the side of his glass, eyes locked on the golden liquid. “…How bad was it?”

“Pretty fuckin’ bad.” Joel grumbles. “I think she would’ve ripped my god damn throat out if I’d said one more word.”

Tommy pauses, holding his breath for a moment. Joel flicks his eyes up, seeing that look, and he suddenly feels his stomach drop. “What?”

“She uh…” Tommy looks down at the table, holding his breath for another short moment before he bluntly answers, “she did that once, ripped someone’s throat out.”

Chills run through Joel’s entire body at that, shocked into silence for a moment, staring at the grave look on his brother's face.

“She what?” He finally manages to speak, voice tight.

Slowly, Tommy nods, looking down at his glass as he fiddles with it. “She told me the story about a month after she got here. Just last year, some big guy… you know, tried to do what guys sometimes try to do to a woman they find alone. Came pretty damn close, apparently, too. Had her all, uh, tied up, but… she still had her teeth. So, she bit. And pulled. Ripped his jugular open, I guess—not his throat, exactly, but…” Tommy trails off, swallowing, brow knit as he stares down at the bar.

Joel gawks at him, unable to find a way to respond.

He can’t imagine you doing that. At least, not the you that he knows. But then Tommy responds to that thought itself, voice almost hoarse as he looks back at him, grief in his eyes, “She’s not the girl we used to know.”

After a moment, Joel nods. He knew that. He understood it the second your eyes changed, by the way you had bared your teeth—and when he thinks of that, he can imagine you sinking them into a human being. One that deserved it, but a human being all the same.

The days of mild annoyance over your inclination for mercy are over, but it only makes him feel sick to his stomach.

With a deep sigh, Joel rubs his hand over his face, trying to collect himself, not show just how disturbed he is by the image of you being that violent, by the confirmation of that thought, that you’re gone— “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He grumbles. “I knew she’d be mad, but, fuck. I thought she might be a little happy to see me.” He sighs through his hands before dropping them to the bar, shaking his bowed head. “It was stupid.” He mumbles.

“You had no way of knowing what she’d been through.” Tommy says, the dripping sympathy only irking an already sensitive Joel. “I didn’t either.” He continues, “And, I thought that… the way she was when she got here would go away, but… well it did a little bit, but…” he shakes his head slowly, “Not much.”

Joel nods back, a sense of resignation in the gesture. He takes a sip of whiskey, wanting the burn down his throat to drown out that wave of nausea in his stomach. Memories of the way you used to be play in his mind, mixed with the image of that feral gleam in your eye, right before the door slammed shut in his face.

After a moment, he speaks quietly, “She was so angry. …I’ve never seen her like that.”

In vain hopes of somehow scrubbing the images off of the backs of his eyelids, Joel rubs his hands over his face with another deep sigh.

“I know.” Tommy replies, pausing, his eyes flicking over the bar. “I get glimpses of her.” He nods softly, “here and there. She’s… she’s not gone, just… different.”

Despite his words, Joel is suddenly hit with a screaming sense of grief, as if it only just sunk in now that he has to mourn you. The one that he knows. Someone that he may never, ever see again.

He swings his glass back against his lips, taking a gulp of liquor, welcoming the burn. He wants to drown it out. Memories. Reality.

He just got here, finally, the place he’d been aiming for for months—harsh, bleak, soul sucking months, the place he shed buckets of blood, sweat, and tears for, finally, sitting here having a whiskey with his brother, and he wants to drown.

Because it’s his fault.

He’s silent for a while as he ruminates, a heavy, grim air between the two. There’s an empty sort of feeling in Joel’s gut, and it suddenly makes him chuckle—a bitter, sour huff of a laugh. “Feels wrong.” He says, cutting the silence.

“What does?” Tommy asks, giving him a puzzled look, clearly caught off guard by the laugh.

“It feels wrong, knowing she’s… she’s right there, but… she’s not.” He explains, tone grim. He sighs, thoughts still swirling, but there's one thing that he knows for certain. “I shouldn’t’ve left her.”

Tommy shakes his head softly, unable to help but offer, “You just did what you thought was right.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong.” Joel retorts, looking at him. Anger again starts to bubble up, a familiar one towards himself, an intense irritation at his own stupidity, his own short-sightedness, and, he realizes, his own selfishness.

After a beat, Tommy sighs, sounding defeated as he replies, “No, it doesn’t.” He takes a sip of his drink, letting a silent moment go by before he speaks again, “Just don’t give up on her, Joel.”

The gentleness of his tone is sudden and unexpected, and Joel pauses, staring at him. But then he just shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do, Tommy? She wants nothing to do with me. I try anything and she’s gonna bite my fuckin’ head off. Maybe literally.”

Pursing his lips, Tommy shakes his head, tone soft and earnest, “She ain’t got no one else, Joel. We’re it. She needs us, even if she says she doesn’t, even if she doesn't believe it herself.” Joel lets out a weary sigh at that, suddenly feeling a familiar and unwelcomed weight.

He never wanted to feel responsible for you, because it comes paired with a foreboding dread, because he’s going to fail. And he did.

But regardless, he didn’t have a choice then, the need he felt to do anything he could to protect you. And now, with things so dire, of course, he still can’t help it.

“I don’t even know where to start.” He replies dimly. “She’s like a wild animal.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods. “You kinda gotta…” he shrugs, words almost measured, “treat her like one. Like she’s… some, feral stray, around people for the first time.”

At the notion of you actually being comparable to some wild animal, Joel’s heart drops. But then he gets another flash of that look in your eye, and, regretfully, he accepts the sentiment. Gruffly, he then asks, “How the hell do I do that?”

“Let her come to you.” Tommy tells him, leaning his arms over the bar. “Let her… sniff your hand, y’know? Expect pushback. But don’t give up.” He pauses. “She ain’t that vicious all the time. I’ve had some good times with her since she got here. She likes to help out at the stables, and, garden, you know, help grow vegetables and fruit and all that. She’s calm then.”

It's relieving to know that you do have your moments of peace, both for your own sake and for his own faint yet pressing sense of hope; that maybe he’ll see you again. With another gulp of whiskey, he looks at his brother, “You been spending a lot of time with her?”

Tommy shrugs. “A bit, yeah. She doesn't really talk much to anyone else. A few people, here and there. I guess I’m just the only person she trusts.”

That pushes a huff of a chuckle out of Joel, the sound tinged with a sudden irritation that he finds is a seed of jealousy. He tries to shove it down, not wanting to give any weight to such a childish, immature feeling, not wanting to direct it onto his brother. But still, the jab falls out of his mouth, “Lucky you.”

Tommy pauses, eyeing him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks away, unable to meet Tommy’s questioning gaze. His shoulders are tensed, defensive, and he feels yet another wave of irritation, mostly towards himself, but there's also that nagging bit of jealousy.

It used to be him. It’s supposed to be him. Him and you, against the world. He’s the one you should trust, the one you always did—looked to, relied on, he’s your shoulder to cry on. But at the same time, the opposite is why he left you. Because you shouldn't rely on him, you shouldn’t trust him, because he’ll let you down, and get you killed, and he doesn’t deserve you. And it’s been proven right—just look at you now. You’re right: he fucks up everything, hurts everyone he loves, he’s a failure. It’s all he ever does. He’s poison. No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, everything he thinks he’s doing right, he’s done wrong.

He hurts everyone.

Everything hurts.

It’s his fault.

Failure.

“Nothin’. Nevermind.” He mumbles.

“I want her to make friends, Joel.” Tommy replies quickly, “I don’t want her to just trust me, I want her to be a part of a community again.” With a huff, he pauses, reading Joel’s implication, tone firm but gentle. “She trusts me because I’m the only person she knew when she got here, and we don’t… have a history, any bad blood. But that don’t mean she’ll hate you forever.”

Still staring down at the bar, Joel nods along to Tommy’s words, running his tongue over his teeth. He knows he’s right, he understands why you’ve lost all of it in him—of course you have. And he wants that too, for you to have a community, support, some semblance of peace, safety.It’s all just so much to take in, so much confliction, so many heavy emotions, hitting him like a Mack truck, and he’s just been a deer in the headlights.

But there he remains, staring it down. Because god damn it, he loves you, and he doesn’t know how to stop.

He has no real choice in the matter. He knows he has a long, uphill battle ahead of him if he wants any chance to fix things between you and him, to be able to be in your life again, to be able to do something to help you. And then there's that tiny seed of hope, stemming from a sense of need.

You may have told him you don’t need him, and never did, and he may never admit it out loud, but he needs you. He couldn’t even explain why. But he feels it, that pull in his chest, stronger than ever before, now that he knows where you are, could retrace his steps right back to your door. He needs you. So, he’ll do whatever it takes. To make it right. To be there for you. If there’s any softness left in you for him, anything salvageable, he’ll work himself to the bone for it. It doesn’t matter what it takes, if he needs to strip himself bare and flay himself, if he needs to rework is fucking life for it, if he has to face himself, he will.

Because he owes you that. And he needs you. Not just to know you’re alive, safe. He needs to love you.

“Just… don’t give up on her.” Tommy says again, voice soft, expression almost pleading, not knowing that Joel has already made up his mind, responding with a firm shake of his head, set and determined. “I won’t.”

Tommy looks at him for a moment before the edge of his lip tugs up, a small, hopeful smile crossing his face. Then he sighs, looking down at the bar. “I’m sorry your introduction to Jackson had to be so… rough. Uh, you hungry? Tired? I can show you where you’ll be stayin’ if you wanna sleep.”

Joel shakes his head, sighing as he leans off of the bar, “Don’t really have much of an appetite right now. Sleep sounds nice, though.”

Tommy nods, smile pulling, the weight of the conversation sliding off of him much easier than it does for Joel, “Alright. Come on, then. I’ll show you the way.” He cocks his head towards the door, getting off of his stool. “We’ve got a few vacant houses. All come pre-furnished—when’s the last time you slept in a real bed?”

Having to really think about that, Joel lets out a low whistle as he stands and follows Tommy out of the bar. “Almost half a year ago now, give or take.”

“Damn,” Tommy chuckles, shaking his head as he pushes open the door and steps back out into the cold winter air. “Well, you’re about to have the best damn sleep in probably longer than that.”

Joel sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets and squinting against a harsh wind, watching the dusk starting to settle down over the sky. Part of him is a little apprehensive nervous about his ability to actually sleep, having a feeling that his brain will refuse to shut the fuck up, but there’s also a good chance that he’ll pass out within a minute of finally setting his head down on a pillow; he barely sleep a wink last night, the last couple days before he finally stumbling into Jackson’s territory happening to be particularly rough. “I hope so.” He mumbles.

“Well… the bed ain’t going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of chances.” His brother gives him a small smile, eyes flicking over his face for a moment. There’s a hesitance before he speaks again, sounding almost nervous, “Right?”

Joel pauses, caught off guard by the fact that Tommy would even think that he wouldn’t be staying. He really doesn’t have an idea of how hard he worked to get here, does he? How he fought his way across the country to get to him. “Yeah.” He nods curtly. “Hell, this isn’t just some wellness check, Tommy. I’m stayin’.”

Tommy breaks into a larger smile, patting his shoulder and letting it rest there for a moment before putting his hands in his pockets. “Good.”

Joel smiles back at him, pausing to admire the way his brother's eyes crinkle like that, before turning to glance around the town, actually taking in his surroundings for the first time since he got here. There’s not many people around, which makes sense with the falling sun and biting air, but it still feels strange, with the streets of Boston being so constantly overrun, even in the harsh winters. What’s stranger than that, is the peacefulness about it, the relative normalcy. Hell, almost some holiday cheer. It feels alien, and despite it all, he feels a drip of dread in his gut.

“We got about 300 people here in Jackson, including children.” Tommy begins to inform him, noticing his gaze. “We got electricity, obviously. Running water, sewer, the works, all powered by a hydroelectric dam. Greenhouses—we grow and slaughter all of our own food. Clinic, jail, house of worship, we even have movie nights every Friday.” He passes him a proud smile. “Stables with about ten horses. Those people that found you out there, those were our patrol volunteers. We have a patrol every morning, noon, and night. Try to keep this place as safe and quiet as we can. Everybody helps out.”

Joel nods along as Tommy speaks, making a mental list of the information about his new ‘home’. It sounds pretty solid, he likes the self sufficiency, the seclusion, despite it being the reason it was so goddamn hard to find him.

“Movie nights, huh?” Joel inquires, that one bit of information sticking out in its oddity.

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, flashing another smile. “The kids love it.”

The image of a group of children sitting and casually watching a movie, just… being kids, is a strange one, to say the least. He imagines watching them run through the streets, laughing, kicking a ball or throwing snowballs or something normal like that, and feels his brow twitch. Something like that is so far removed from what he’s known for the past, hell, couple decades, the brutal reality of the world. He’s not sure how he feels about it yet, so he grumbles a different question. “Who picks the damn movie?”

Tommy chuckles. “We vote.”

“Vote, huh? You runnin’ a democracy?”

“Well, uh… I’ve been told it’s more like… communism.” Tommy replies, eyes suddenly glued to the snow as they make their way back up the road towards the houses.

Joel raises his brow, amusement making his lips curl. “Tommy Miller, a communist.”

Tommy sighs, an embarrassed smirk pulling his lips. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah? And how long did that take?”

Tommy shrugs, turning his head to him again with an almost cheeky smile. “A few solid meals and a shower.”

This makes Joel laugh, the feeling almost startling him, but it's extremely refreshing, the smile sticking to his lips for a few more moments. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

There’s a beat, the only sound being the crunch of snow under their shoes, before Tommy speaks again. “You’re gonna like it here. It’s nice. Peaceful. People are nice.”

Joel hums. He’s never been a fan of optimism, and seeing it in his brother normally makes him both nervous and annoyed, but he’s tired of fighting. So he changes the subject, mind still stuck on the idea of watching a movie. “You remember when we used to watch those old, shitty Schwarzenegger movies every Saturday?”

Tommy breaks out into a laugh, and the sound raises another smile to Joel’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, I do… by the way, the second Terminator movie is still better than the first one.”

Joel’s smile widens into a grin, the familiar debate a welcome interruption. “Hell no. The first Terminator is way better. T2 was good, but there’s no topping the original.”

“Nu-uh.” Tommy shakes his head, still smiling. “Special effects got way better, better storyline. Huge improvement.”

Joel scoffs, looking at his brother with feigned offense. “Special effects don’t make a movie good. It’s just flash and bullshit. Judgment Day was just a cash-grab sequel.”

Tommy snickers, shaking his head. “You’re never gonna admit I’m right, are you?”

“Nope. Just like I’m never gonna admit you got better aim than me—same story, you’re just wrong.”

Tommy huffs a chuckle through his nose, grinning. “Still a stubborn old bastard, huh?”

Joel rolls his eyes, though he can’t wipe the smirk off of his face. “Still a pain in my ass.”

“Guess some things never change.”

“Guess so.”

There’s another lull in conversation as they walk down the street of houses before Tommy raises his hand to point, “That’s me, right up there. House across the street is empty, so, I figured we’d post you up right there. That way, if you ever need me, I’m just a hop, skip, and a jump away.” Joel is about to make fun of his brother for using such a goofy phrase, but as looks to where he’s pointing, his eyes flick to the house just next to his—it’s yours.

Instantly, he shoots Tommy a glare. “Really?” He says in a hushed tone.

Tommy shrugs, a tight lipped grimace on his face. “Hey, the next open house is a ways away. I wanted to keep you close.”

Joel just huffs, shaking his head as he glances at your house again. “Jesus, Tommy… what if she gets a wild hair up her ass and decides to come murder me?”

“I mean… she could do the same thing if you lived anywhere else. And, at least I’ll be able to come right over if I hear you screaming.” Joel shoots him another sharp glare, and Tommy has to hold back a chuckle. Rolling his eyes, Joel grumbles, “Great. Thanks.”

“Come on,” Tommy begs, grinning. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be good. Just go get some sleep, alright?” He places a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder, and he nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.”

“I’ll come grab you in the morning, alright? We do meals all together. Like, whole town, serve yourself type’a deal. We’ll go together.”

Joel nods. Whatever that is will be a tomorrow problem. “Alright.”

“Good.” Tommy nods, digging into his pocket for a key to hold out to him. “Then I’ll uh… let you settle in, and see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” He nods back, letting him drop the key into his palm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he hears Tommy’s footsteps recede, Joel stares down at the key, seeing it as a concrete signifier that he lives here now, in a house, in Jackson, this small, peaceful little bubble, where his brother is, and where you are. “Hey, wait,” he croaks out after his brother, tearing his eyes away from the key in his palm.

“Yeah?” Tommy answers, turning around to face him again.

He hesitates, shifting on his feet as he feels a pang of anxiety. After a short moment, he swallows his pride and pushes out, “Could I, uh… ask you for a favor?”

“‘Course.” Tommy responds almost instantly, stepping back over to him.

Joel swallows, a hint of uncertainty about the question pulling him, but, though he looks down at his feet while he does, he can’t help but ask, “I was wondering if you could uh, just… talk to Y/n for me. I just think it might, uh…”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Joel looks up at him, relieved by the painless answer. He swallows again, giving him a small nod back. “Just… try to convince her that I didn’t come all the way out here to make her life miserable. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m trying. To… be better.”

Tommy nods again. “Yeah. I know.”

Joel gives him another short nod, a pang of guilt and unease already starting to settle back into his heart, but all he really wants is to fucking sleep. “Alright, thanks, Tommy. I’ll uh, see you in the morning.”

“See you tomorrow.” He replies, giving him another light smile before turning back to walk back across the street. Joel watches him disappear into his house before turning to his own. Two stories, a dark, muted blue, with a roofed porch. He walks up to the front door, analyzing the state of the wood—sturdy—and seal around the door—secure—before he turns the key in the lock, and pushes the door open.

It’s dark, silent, but there’s a blow of warm air from inside, and he cautiously lets himself in, slowly closing the door and locking it behind him. He looks around for a light switch, finding one just beside the door, and flicks it on. Looking around, he becomes acutely aware of how unfamiliar the space is to him, despite the homely furnishings. It looks like a real home—a couch, armchair, fireplace with a rug before it, artwork on the walls.

Slowly, he makes his way through the house, exploring every room. Towels and basic toiletries in the bathroom. Bowls, plates, cups and mugs in the cupboards in the kitchen. An office, a leatherbound journal and pencils in the drawer. A smaller bedroom in the back of the upstairs, a master in the front. A note in the dresser drawer with the address of where they’ll, apparently, “give you” clothes.

After shutting the drawer, his eyes finally land on the bed. Made, military style, with a clean, white, floral print bedspread. A couple layers of blankets. Mouth basically watering as he stares at it, Joel shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the door, untying his boots and setting them beside it, before he finally sinks down into the mattress. Fuck its comfortable. He has half a mind to stay right there, laying on top, but he decides to crawl under the covers, and laying under the heavy layers is where the exhaustion finally overtakes him.

He drifts off quickly, sleep coming to him in almost record time. It’s deep, and delightfully dreamless, before it comes to an abrupt end.

He wakes up with a start, jerking up in bed. Despite his groggy haze, his heart is racing, eyes blinking through the darkness, trying to discern the unfamiliar surroundings. When he remembers where he is, he lets out a sigh, but then everything comes flooding back, and he leans his forehead into his hand with a quiet swear.

He takes a few more breaths, trying to gauge if he’ll be able to just fall back asleep, before letting out another gruff swear when he realizes the answer is likely no. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:20am. Not even close to sunrise.

With an annoyed sigh, he pushes the covers off of himself and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, sighing again. There’s still an unexplained feeling of unease in his gut, but he can’t tell if he should follow it or just wave it off as paranoia. However, he has literally nothing else to do, so, with a soft groan, he pushes himself off the bed and shuffles out into the hallway.

The moon casts a soft, gray light through the window, floorboards groaning softly under his socked feet, knees cracking as he makes his way downstairs, examining a hung painting of flowers that reminds him too much of a Clicker’s face. With a sigh, he carefully removes it, folding under his arm as he walks the rest of the way down to the first floor and then carefully sets it against the wall. He pauses, hands on his hips as he stares up at the nail left, inclined to take it out now and see if there’s any chance of there being supplies to fix the hole hiding somewhere in the basement, then making a mental note to go on a shopping spree at the general store for the things that will always be in a Miller home, god damn it. Just as the groggy annoyance at this sudden problem starts to set in, his ears perk, head turning to a sound coming from outside. Tilting his head, he shuffles over to the window beside the stairs, squinting as he parts the curtains and looks around, searching for its origin. It’s faint, and soft, but he could recognize it anywhere.

You’re singing.

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filipinoizukuu · 1 year ago

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what comes next though? (MHA ch. 413)

// major spoilers for mha ch. 413 since its leaks, so please stop reading if you arent quite caught up. i havent written one of these in a LONGGG while lmao.

ANYWAY, with all that being said.... this week's leaks huh?

We saw it coming a long time ago, we speculated it to hell and back, we made aus and fics, and now it's finally here. The conclusion we've reached and the one that's been hinted at since the release of Heroes Rising in 2019:

bnha is going to end with deku giving up one for all and becoming quirkless.

(LOTS of words under the cut -- youve been warned.)

For those who are a little lost; the basic premise of the ending we are hurtling towards is that Kudou (the 2nd user of ofa) has a plan to take down Shigaraki. With AfO dead and gone + Shigaraki becoming so powerful he is essentially invincible -- theres no other choice for the heroes other than destroying him inside out; the plan being the equivalent of charging a battery so much it explodes.

the way they're going to go about this is by essentially, feeding Shigaraki bits of One for All until he's given all of it -- then allowing the vestiges of the previous wielders to create a massive revolt similar to what SnS did until they can successfully tear him apart from inside the "quirk realm" and shut him out. Kudou volunteers to go next since danger sense has already been taken, and if Shigaraki uses gearshift again after Deku already used it twice, Tomura's body will likely shutdown and receive twice the backlash Deku does when he uses kudou's quirk.

(sidenote: funny as fuck that deku only understood once kudou equated the strategy to bkg throwing papers at him. bro stupid af.)

its a sensible(ish) idea. one that seems plausible given the context of the last hundred or so chapters with heroes like Hawks and SnS having their quirks revolt against both AfO and Shigaraki in a way that makes it clear that its not uniquely OfA that animates the souls of peoples quirks. Its inherent. Quote, Nana Shimura, "romantic" even.

(let it be known though that i think hori absolutely did not plan on delving into this plot point as much as he is now. ill explain in a bit, but heroes rising was 100% a major factor of why he moved in this direction.)

That being said, the conclusion of the plan (and subsequently, the major plot of bnha) is as follows: Deku gives up One for All to Shigaraki. One for All unites with All for One within Shigaraki and destroys it in one final clash between Yoichi and his brother. The break in the barrier of Shigaraki's hatred will part, letting him find the consciousness of Shimura Tenko behind it after years.

Shigaraki dies, taking OfA and AfO down with him,

and then Deku is quirkless once more.

Sad conclusion aside for now, I firmly believe that no matter what way you look at it; Deku was always meant to end the story without a quirk. Given some of the original drafts of bnha where Deku was never supposed to be given a quirk in the first place, this is clearly unsurprising. What's more is my favorite piece of information relative to katsuki and deku's character development:

the fact that heroes rising was (one of the) ideas for the original ending of bnha.

a refresher for some of you: heroes rising is about class 1a going to the isolated village of nabu island and defending it against an upcoming big bad villain named "nine" with a quirk that is essentially a scaled down version of all for one. katsuki and deku eventually resolve the conflict together via brute force by deku giving katsuki ofa, them rushing in while the quirk is transferring and both of them have it, and then ultimately defeating nine at the end. the movie then of course circles back on deku losing one for all, undoing that consequence by saying the transfer never completed bc ofa chose him over katsuki and they all move on to the endeavor agency arc with katsuki remembering absolutely nothing of the final battle.

many fans often misunderstand one of horikoshi's quotes about the movie in that it was, without a doubt, the original ending of bnha. for the sake of accuracy, that is not what horikoshi really said; what he ACTUALLY said was something closer and to the tune of of how it was "one OF the endings" he planned on using for bnha, but his original idea for how the story ends "has not changed one bit."

obviously disregarding the cop out where ofa sticks back to izuku in order for the series to continue as normal; this can only confirm that bnha was going to end with midoriya izuku quirkless whether katsuki was involved or not.

so what's different this time?

its hard to figure out how far horikoshi had planned the ending of bnha with heroes rising's prototype conclusion in mind. if heroes rising never pulled through and horikoshi had planned on bnha ending with the shared ofa transfer and katsuki continuing deku's legacy -- then that means katsuki wouldve died an early death because of all might's confirmation that only quirkless people can hold on to one for all without dying young, meaning he either intended on katsuki dying soon after the story ends or only planned that plot point after heroes rising was released.

the plot as well of heroes rising's conclusion cannot have been thought of all that early on because of ANOTHER tidbit of information that changes perspective of the entire series: in that,

bakugou katsuki was never supposed to be a major character to begin with. (keep an eye on this link; i reference this interview a LOT)

he was not supposed to have an arc. he was not supposed to become a major focal point of the series. he was not meant to be the hero he is in the story today. bakugou katsuki was not written with the intention of being a major narrative this late into the story -- instead originally only existing as a character that deku would surpass within the first few arcs.

but then katsuki cried, and deku apologized, and then opened his big fat mouth, and then told him a secret he didnt even tell his own mother -- and suddenly bakugou katsuki was not just another footnote in deku's story, but a legitimate character that grew and created one of the most loved (and hated) character turnarounds in shonen history. he started of as a literal EXTRA before snowballing into the very same character horikoshi decided would defeat all for one, the original scariest antagonist of the entire series. someone not even ALL MIGHT could defeat.

but circling back, yeah. heroes rising was definitely not the ending horikoshi thought of first, nor was it the ending he thought of last. ultimately, it was simply another route he couldve taken into wrapping up deku's fate into what it was (probably) always meant to be:

deku was gonna lose one for all no matter what.

it's kind of fitting, honestly -- for this to be the ultimate conclusion to the series. it makes the most sense, since what sent deku down this path so many years ago was his mother apologizing to deku for being quirkless; as if being quirkless meant he was born inferior to those who had quirks. people, after all according to deku's famous beginning monologue, are not born equal.

Even still, i thought to note: deku never stopped wanting to be a hero. we all know this, obviously. this was his driving force -- but then when you REALLY think about the implications, you have to ask. what the heck was deku even planning to do?!

he had ideas. he had hope. he wrote notebooks for the future and thought of his costume for being a hero -- but not once do i remember him writing about his hero experience as if he was suddenly going to develop a quirk. he was planning on saving people quirkless -- an extremely interesting motivation especially when he couldve so easily chosen to walk the path of being a doctor or engineer instead if he wanted to save people so badly. its a story about conviction, about doing the things you wanna do in the way you wanna do it no matter what ANYONE else says and hey wait a minute that sounds familiar

it doesnt quite read that way at first, especially because of how izuku almost listened to all might about "being realistic" when the first met and nearly gave up on becoming a hero entirely, but izuku is a lot similar to katsuki in the sense that no matter what gets in his way -- he is determined to achieve his dreams in the way HE CHOOSES, and not the way that is more "convenient".

even when you look at just his name, "deku" in the way that uraraka had interpreted it (dekiru -- "you can do it!") and the way deku reexplains it to katsuki in deku vs kacchan 1 ("the deku that doesn't give up!") you can so easily tell that deku from the very beginning has only ever needed the slightest push to pursue being a hero, quirk-or-not-be-damned. hell, we even see a glimpse of this possibility in the sports festival race when deku absolutely DECIMATES not just bakugou but also TODOROKI (as well as every single other damn student participating in the festival) with nothing but robot scraps and his balls of steel. it just so happens that until the promise of one for all, no such encouragement or push was ever given to deku in his pursuit of heroicism, most especially in comparison to katsuki who had been receiving praise and validation for his goals his whole life.

i'd argue that deku's conviction is even stronger than katsuki in a way no other person seems to recognize (except maybe katsuki himself). katsuki had received only positive feedback and zero competition for his goals growing up while deku received nothing but discouragement. both of them kept the conviction of being a hero for TEN YEARS; neither wavering til the day of the sludge incident.

that aside; what comes next?

we know the story after that. deku gets his quirk, he goes to school, he fights, he drops out, he fights some more, and now he's standing before shigaraki tomura with every quirk of one for all unlocked and over twice the power that all might had in his prime -- fully knowing he's about to lose EVERYTHING in order to defeat shigaraki.

this is deku we're talking about. he doesn't care. he knows the implications and what that will mean for his dream -- but his goal right now is in front of him. his goal is shigaraki, consumed by hatred, threatening to take down the world izuku loves most into a pit of misery and decay because society failed people like them. does he care? probably. will he refuse to give up his power if it means not saving the world and fulfilling one for all's purpose? absolutely not.

deku has made all might's quirk his own, but one for all does not belong to him. it belongs to yoichi. and kudou. and bruce and nana and all of the other users who built that quirk for generations in hopes that one day, someday, someone would be able to yield it all and bring down the monstrosity that created it in the first place. deku will not hesitate, but also deku knows what he will lose.

i have... a few things i dislike about this.

Admittedly, i do think that this is a better resolution than the simple brute strength approach of Heroes Rising. For one, while i do love heroes rising with my entire heart and soul, i firmly believe it would not have been a satisfying conclusion to the core lessons and teachings bnha tries to impart throughout the story. simply outnumbering and outpowering afo/shigaraki would not be enough to close yoichi's story and one for all -- much less the story of shigaraki himself as tenko, the boy consumed by hatred.

Still, this new ending that horikoshi has laid out leaves me with more questions; as well as large expectations for how izuku's character will close out. its complicated, because deku's evolution and development is subtle and intricate in a way i havent seen from other shonen protagonists and i worry about doing it justice.

but most of my problems have to do with bakugou katsuki.

(aint that the truth)

i know i mentioned that bakugou was never intended to be a major character, but i want it to be known that that was only in the beginning. season 1, maybe even season 2 -- but horikoshi had said it best himself in that bakugou katsuki, against his permission, had gained a life of his own and inserted himself into the very grain of mha's story. you cannot deny this.

he is the series deuteroganist inarguably. one of the most beloved characters and one of the most attentively-written development arcs in the whole series. katsuki in and of himself embodies major themes in bnha that make it so that ditching his development and impact last minute after defeating all for one would reflect poorly upon the conclusion of the story itself. he and deku are intertwined in arcs -- even if they do have separate paths at the end of the day. katsuki is the one izuku told about the quirk. the one who followed izuku during the paranormal liberation arc. the one who understands one for all and is determined to learn about it more than anyone else barring all might and deku himself. the one who is closer to izuku than anyone else.

it can't be over for their arc, no matter what way you see it. friends? rivals? hero partners? what comes next, when the smoke clears? what comes next when izuku gives shigaraki hell, like katsuki told him to?

katsuki's atoned. we accept that, have known it since chapter 285 and have continued to know it until the iconic apology in the rain. that's not where katsuki stops however, because we know that its not all about begging for izuku's forgiveness nor atoning for himself. its about catching up to izuku -- the last words he uttered before shigaraki crushed his heard say it all.

"can i still catch up to you, izuku?"

since the moment katsuki died, we've been given a metric ton of material to read through what he and izuku have become in the story. firstly, the point of katsuki being the person closest to izuku. what does this mean? what does that say about katsuki? is he supposedly the person izuku loves the most? the person izuku believes in the most? i'd argue these two criterion would easily fit his mother or all might a lot better -- not his childhood friend turned bully turned rival turned barely-friend. katsuki sure as hell didn't believe he was the person closest to izuku before shigaraki brought it up as evidenced by the fact that he let IIDA bring deku back to UA -- and neither does izuku as far as i bet. what was shigaraki's intention?

katsuki heard that statement. he hasnt said anything, but he definitely heard it. its an open end that is left entirely unanswered PRECISELY because katsuki fought afo on his own and izuku is about to tackle shigaraki without katsuki by his side. if it was heroes rising's ending wherein they would both fight shigaraki and take him down together -- then that statement would easily be answered by how their strength and bond is the one thing that gave them an upper hand in the final battle. other than that... i'm not entirely sure how they're going to have katsuki and izuku acknowledge katsuki's brief "death" and Tomura's reasons thereof.

But fine, lets ignore that for the time being and move on to what happened when Katsuki came back.

katsuki answered izuku's cry for help. he came back to life in the last moment to save all might when izuku was too busy fighting tooth and nail to win. they are the penultimate example of two sides of a hero; the win and save. not one without the other. every single parallel thus far between izuku and katsuki have always been to draw attention over and over to each of their stubborn convictions to win and save under all might's tutelage.

katsuki has chosen to prioritize winning and fighting over saving and rescuing over. and over. and over. and over again. at every single opportunity from the very beginning of the series. in usj, in sports festival, in the final exam, every choice he's made up until --

chapter 285 - bakugou katsuki: rising.

he chooses to save izuku in this instant. as he says, his body moved on its own -- or in other words, he felt like how izuku has always did since the sludge villain incident. this is bakugou katsuki catching up to midoriya izuku. its katsuki realizing that he needs to save so deku can win, and actually being okay with that for once. it's a major turning point in his character that clearly tells even horikoshi that there's absolutely no way katsuki can go back to being a side character within the plot of bnha after a development like this.

and then, after this instance, we notice it happen again and again. katsuki choosing to save to win instead of winning to save. katsuki protecting best jeanist against the nomu. katsuki coming to chase after izuku when he runs away from UA. katsuki (in a way) saving aoyama when its revealed he's the traitor. hell, katsuki saving ALL MIGHT as soon as izuku -- the savior -- begs someone to save his idol when he can't because he's too focused on trying to win.

so what changed?

what changed since the moment of chapter 285 was katsuki accepting his fears and anxieties. katsuki letting go of his aversity to working with deku. the reason katsuki started accepting the path of saving to win was because he TRUSTED deku to win where he couldnt.

this is katsuki accepting that him and izuku already surpassed all might together.

but katsuki said it himself. it's not over. he accepts that him and izuku are finally on equal footing -- hell, he admits he's the one who needs to play catch up. it's not about katsuki conceding to weakness, but katsuki being able to trust in izuku to finish the job. the point is that they both will break and break until they win the way they choose to, and the other will be there to win while they save and save while they win. moreso, katsuki still wants to be number 1. he still wants to catch up and surpass deku. he wants to fight by deku's side. but ... as we've established:

deku will be quirkless soon.

my problem (or, i guess, curiosity?) with the path horikoshi seems to be going down for the end of this story is what happens to this end? what happens to the wonder duo? i believe in a quirkless deku plot as much as the next person -- but any reader would find it easy to see that once deku loses one for all, he will not be nearly as efficient nor quick nor capable of a hero as he once was. especially not against a developed katsuki with mastery over cluster explosions.

he will lose one for all and he won't ever be the pro-hero he was going to be before the final war arc. katsuki will get number 1 surely, but will he be happy about this resolution? i don't think so. All Might himself had said it when Katsuki spoke to him about his relationship to Izuku; that the twin stars reminded All Might very much of his own rivalry with Endeavor and the bitter feelings it created.

endeavor expressed regret and a bitter end to their rivalry; the acknowledgement of the bitter truth that the only reason he was the number one hero is because all might lost his own quirk. he knew he didn't deserve the mantle all might had held for a long time before him. he knew that he was still only just playing catch up with the wisdom and understanding of heroicism that all might had in his heart from the beginning. endeavor will likely retire from being a pro-hero unsatisfied with this truth and his own victory at becoming the no.1 at the very end -- never feeling like he truly surpassed all might of his own accord. both enji and toshinori -- victims of their destiny.

is this the fate that will befall katsuki once izuku is quirkless for good?

There are many questions I have in wake of the recent chapter. The end of the series is here, and that's a whole can of worms i haven't touched in and of itself. We all saw this coming; some of us know that this was always going to be Izuku's fate since the beginning of the series. But now that it's more than just izuku's character involved in his dreams of being a hero -- i dont know how this series is going to conclude and if it will be satisfying to any means. there's a lot of questions i still have; bakugous arc feeling incomplete ever since he came back to life, the conclusion of all might and one for all's dreams now that they will disappear altogether. where does deku go after this? where does bakugou go? where do any of them?

i guess i gotta wait and see lol

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha #bakugou katsuki #toshinori yagi #all might #midoriya izuku #deku #kacchan #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha meta #bnha meta #this was a long one ouf #anyway this is ship free technically; its just mostly me going BUT KACCHAN?

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heygerald · 8 months ago

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Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 4

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he starts being less of an asshole, and more of a person, Parker finds that he isn't so bad. Not that she would tell him that, though.

read the story here: prev / next

Parker doesn't get much sleep. Not necessarily because she's so busy that she doesn't have time, and not definitively because of the sleep disorder she has self-diagnosed off of a sketchy website she found while browsing her symptoms one day.

In truth it's because she thinks too much.

She overthinks what her to-do list for the following week should be; overthinks the plot of her favorite tv series and whether or not they are going to kill off her favorite character in the mid-season finale; overthinks whether she should spend more one-on-one time with her brother while they're both in the same city, able bodied (with his career, there was no guarantee), and with the time to waste on stupid memories. On the really bad nights, Parker overthinks whether or not she made a mistake in purchasing an old, dilapidated bookstore that has drained her bank account over the last couple of years. She worries that her life is going nowhere, that she'll soon have failed at her dream venture, and that when she dies, she'll have no accomplishments to her name.

On those nights, she ends up washing down a handful of melatonin gummies with two boiling cups of sleepy time tea.

It helps, but it also leaves her floating in a state between unconsciousness and squirrely dreams that is hard to shake off in the morning.

Harder still to shake off when her phone lights up the room in the middle of the night, the shrill song of her ringtone bleating through the pitch black of her bedroom shocking her awake in delirious fright.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Parker swings her hand towards the nightstand in such a rush that she ends up knocking her cellphone onto the ground. It bounces on the hardwood floor—she doesn't even care if it breaks, the damn thing—before skidding underneath her bed. The light from it casts shadows in all directions.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date, gotta get home...

It takes her half crawling out of bed, sheets tangled around her bare legs, elbow braced on the cold floor as she blindly grapples for the device to find it. Colt always made fun of her ringtone—if you're going to pick a song, at least pick a good one, he would taunt while listening to Taylor Swift on replay—and while Parker had adamantly told him where to stick his opinion, at the moment, the song blaring in the middle of the night has her half-prepared to scratch out of her own eardrums in frustration.

The stanza continues: before the morning comes...

She grabs the phone and wrenches it—and herself—back onto the bed. The number isn't saved in her phone, and panic wells in her chest. She's gasping as blood rushes back down to her toes. "Hello?"

"Jesus, finally. I thought you weren't going to fucking answer."

Whether it's the tea, the overdose of melatonin, or the fact that she had just been woken up in the middle of the night, Parker can't seem to make sense of much. The only thing she can think about is how she has a brother who does stupid stuff for money, and has called her from the back of ambulance three times and counting.

Once on her birthday.

"Oh my god," she mutters, a hand already clutching to her chest as she can feel the cavity caving in. Clarity has no place in her spiraling panic. "Oh my god, he's finally dead, isn't he? Oh my god, Colt is dead!"

"What the fuck are you on about?" the voice interrupts her panic with a modicum of disbelief. It sounds familiar, but Parker is far more focused on regulating her breathing before she throws up than placing a voice through her half-broken speaker. The room, pitch black and without anything to see, is spinning. "I'm not even with Colt."

"Fuck," she curses, before recklessly scrabbling with her nightstand. It's a total fucking mess, and in her haste, she knocks a lamp and stack of books onto the ground. The least of her problems if her idiot of a brother is already fucking dead. "Fuck! Where are you? I didn't even know he was on a job right now. Um, what hospital is he at? Wait—shit—I need to find a pen and paper..."

"Parker, Jesus, Colt's fine. Stop spinning out for two seconds. Are you on drugs?"

She blinks, unsure if she just heard what she heard, and slowly withdrawals her hand as she tries to compute what is being said.

"He's... not dead?" she croaks hesitantly.

"He's fine. I mean, well, as far as I know," the voice drones on; it's clearly annoyed now. A scoff. "Why in the hell would you assume that he's dead?"

"Because—it's—" she wipes a hand over her face tiredly, sweeping tufts of hair off her forehead to peer at the clock in the corner. Large, red numbers blink at her showing that she had only been asleep for two and a half hours. Worse still when she makes sense of what she's seeing. "It's two thirty in the morning! Why the fuck would an unknown number be calling me in the middle of the night if it wasn't for Colt?"

"Are you—wait—are seriously his emergency contact?" the voice goads, teasing and judging all in one tone. She hates it. "That's a little pathetic, honestly."

Her left eye twitches. "Who the fuck is this?"

"It's Tom."

Parker doesn't know a Tom, she's never known a Tom in the entirety of her life, and as she struggles to clear her thoughts, the idea that some asshole with a stupid name like Tom would call her out of the blue at this time of night starts to really piss her off.

"Tom who? I don't know a fucking Tom!" she shouts into the receiver.

There's a thump against the wall, a muffled call of "shut the fuck up!" rings out from her roommate's room. Too many things are happening though, and Parker clutches her head between her hands while trying to stay on topic.

"Fucking Tom Ryder, smartass," the voice chides. "Who else?"

And—

Fuck.

Yeah, alright, maybe she did know a Tom, and, yeah, now that she thought about it, he was a raging, grade-A asshole that would call someone up in the middle of the night for no reason other than to ruin the first good sleep she had in a week. All while getting upset at her for her negative response to the impromptu gab-sesh.

You know, in the way that all assholes did.

"Why—?" she starts, before realizing that she is shouting. Parker clears her throat with a glance towards the wall and tries a second time in an angry hiss. "Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning, Ryder?"

"I finished the book and I want to talk about it."

The words don't compute for half a second, but when they do, Parker can feel a migraine spiraling behind her eyes. She sort of feels like she's having a seizure before realizing that it's just pure anger spiking in the bottom of her chest.

She's pretty sure this is how someone feels right before committing a violent crime.

"Are you—? I was fucking sleeping!" she hisses. "Good—fucking—bye!"

Hanging up the phone certainly isn't as satisfying as it used to be when flip phones were in fashion, and you could slam the top down to end a conversation. But pressing the big red END button on Tom Ryder does grant her a small moment of satisfaction. Even more so when she imagines the shocked furrow of his eyebrows or the crease of his mouth as he frowns.

Good, she thinks sourly while flopping back onto her pillows with a sharp huff, maybe Tom Ryder could use a few wrinkles in his life.

Her peace lasts all of twenty seconds.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the morning...

Parker grabs a pillow and smushes it against her face hoping that it will drown out the noise. When it doesn't, she hopes that maybe suffocation will knock her out for a couple hours of sleep. But then there's another thump against the wall and she realizes that if she dies right here and now, the last person she would have ever talked to would be Tom fucking Ryder, and she's not so sure she's okay with that.

So, she removes the pillow to take a deep breath. Then she answers the phone.

"Did you just hang up on me?" he asks incredulously.

"It is two-thirty in the morning, and you want to talk about a book?"

A huff. "Yes. Why else would I ever call you?"

If she was more awake, Parker might have taken offense at the insult. She's much too groggy to do that, though. Besides, almost everything out of his mouth was some sort of judgement. At this point, she didn't think he would be able to speak without being rude.

"Couldn't you have called me during a normal hour?"

"My audition is on Friday," he said, as if that was any sort of excuse for his behavior. "I still have to read the other two books by then."

"Wait, I'm sorry," Parker interjects with a mean laugh, pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Have you been up all-night reading?"

"You could sound a little less judgmental about it," he snarks. "I do read, you know. Bad scripts and the like."

She huffs. Not quite a laugh, but not just an expression either. It's a little hard to take anything serious when she's sleep-deprived and delirious. And, certainly, he can't be serious. That's her justification for giving up, anyway. "Okay, alright, fine. Which book did you finish?"

"Contact."

"That's a good one to start with," Parker murmurs, shifting on her mattress so she can cradle her PillowPet.

It has lost of all of its stuffing, an eye, and any joy it once had, but the penguin was a gift from Colt that she can't convince herself to trash. It mirrors her frown.

"No, not a good one. I didn't understand it at all."

"What didn't you understand?"

"Any of it, all of it. Why the hell did you tell me that Dune was too complicated and then hand me this shit?" he complains. There's something odd in his tone though. Something she can hear creeping through the syllables somewhere between annoyed and confused that reminds her of their conversation weeks prior at Gail's—you don't even sound like yourself, she had said. It's only now that she realizes he hadn't sounded like himself because he was doubting himself, which was the most un-like Tom Ryder thing anyone could ever do. She frowns at the thought as he continues. "It's all about math and pi and something called a transcendental number. I should have just watched Altered Carbon."

Parker sighs. "You're getting yourself all worked up over things that don't matter."

"Don't matter? It's all the book fucking talks about!"

"That's sci-fi," she says. And while it's a piss poor excuse, it's the truth. A moment later and Parker realizes that if he really had never read anything sci-fi before, he likely wouldn't realize the rules of reading it. Sighing, she takes some pity on him to explain, "okay, look. You know when you watch an action film and there's some ridiculous sequence that makes no sense; like when the ground is crumbling beneath their feet and the character jumps at the last second and is totally okay?"

"Like in the Fast and the Furious."

"Literally every single scene in those movies."

"Okay...?"

"Right, well, you watch those scenes and tell yourself not to take them seriously. They exist because it's an action movie, right? It doesn't have to be realistic."

"Sure," he agreed, but she could tell he still wasn't getting the point.

"It's the same thing when you're reading sci-fi. Okay? All the math and theoretical physics and calculations they do—whatever it is—they throw that stuff in there to build up a universe that feels real. The audience doesn't have to understand quantum mechanics to know that Chris Pine can fly a really big spaceship in Star Trek."

"You really have a hard-on for Chris Pine, huh?"

Parker ignored his comment entirely, barreling on. "The point of the book is not that the audience is stupid and needs to take some math classes even if that's how it feels sometimes. The point is that Ellie is a genius that no one else understands or believes in. When she talks about transcendental numbers and you have no idea what she means, that's exactly how the other characters in the book feel. They don't believe her because they don't understand her."

"So, it's... like an attempt to make the audience sympathize with her but also so the author can explain how everything happens."

Parker smiles. "Right."

"That's stupid," he says, and her smile immediately disappears behind a groan. "I just don' think the author needed to spend so much time trying to sound smart."

"It's a book about interstellar travel and the existence of intelligent life," she deadpans. "It's supposed to sound smart."

Tom mulls that over, and while he does so, Parker shifts once more in bed. The red numbers blink at her are only going up, but now that her heart rate has returned to a normal level, she finds it's far from the worst conversation she's had with Tom. Especially since she gets to talk about one of her favorite books.

Even if he is an ass.

"This would have been better as a movie," he finally settles on. It's not a sophisticated opinion by any means, but it certainly is him.

"Actually, it was originally written to be a screenplay. The movie got cancelled, and Sagan adapted it into a book."

"Seriously?"

"Sure," she shrugs. She spares a glance towards her nightstand where a copy of the book lays in tatters from how often she has read it. "Ironic considering the book became so popular that it got a second movie deal a few years later."

"...you're telling me that I could have watched this instead of reading it after all?" he barks. But, well, his tone isn't so annoyed as it sounds impressed. Parker hears the taping of buttons on a remote, before he's yelling. "Jodie Foster! Seriously?"

She can't help it. Parker laughs. "It's not a bad movie, but the book is way better."

"I have to watch this now."

"I have a copy you can borrow if you don't want to rent it."

"It's three dollars. How poor are you, exactly?"

She scoffs, an eye roll that has become habit when talking to the prick even though he can't see it. Snootily, she tells him, "I just rolled my eyes at you, asshole. In case you were wondering."

A harrumph. "I do think I caught something from your bookstore. I've been sick all day. It's disgusting—it's making my mouth all dry and it practically ruined my breakfast. I couldn't even eat my avocado."

"First the cappuccino, and now the avocado. Is there anything you don't blame me for?"

The teasing got the exact reaction she wanted, and as Tom starts complaining on the other end of the line, Parker smothers a laugh into her penguin. "It was a flat white! And—"

"I'm going to hang up on you now," she sing-songed. "And fair warning: if you call me again before eight am, I'm going to post your phone number on Reddit. Gail can eat shit with her lawsuit."

"Don't you fucking—"

Parker finds a lot more satisfaction in hanging up on Tom Ryder the second time, and when the phone screen stays dark, she plops it down onto her nightstand with an amused hum. It's past three am now, something she will be regretting come morning.

Then again, it seemed that Tom Ryder was all about regrets.

Right?

----

"Do you think I'm cool?" Parker ponders two days later, a glance tossed to her brother as she idly tries on a pair of sunglasses that are in the shape of trout. They're overpriced, but she's also incredibly bored, and about five minutes away from throwing a toddler-style meltdown in the middle of the bait and tackle shop.

"Of course you're cool," he says as he models a rash guard that he's been trying on for the last half hour. He twists in the mirror, left and right, before giving himself two thumbs up. There's something dangerous about the way he grins at her. "You have me for a brother, after all. Coolest kid on the block. Always have been, always will be."

"Right. Didn't they call you Shitpants in high school?"

A passing employee coughs into their hand to hide their laugh, and Colt turns a bright red.

"She's totally joking. They didn't call me that, my nickname was something totally different," he calls after the retreating sales associate, always attempting to save face but never quite succeeding. A moment later and he's glaring at his sister. "That was one time, and it was an accident. The potato salad was—"

"Bad," Parker finishes for him with an eyeroll. "Yeah, I know. I've heard the story."

"Then why do you insist on bringing it back up all the time?" he hissed.

There isn't much activity in the oceanfront store beside the pair wandering from aisle to aisle. It's a small shack that they've frequented for years. Colt pretends to be good friends with the owner, and Parker never minds because there's a great lemonade stand right down the block. It's usually the first stop of the day when they decide to hang out on the beach. Just a place to buy ice and snacks before moving on to better things.

Which is good considering there being little to no airflow when sitting inside, and the radio seems to be on a constant loop of Justin Bieber in his pre-puberty phase. It's not so good, however, when they spend more than five minutes inside.

Today, it seems to be the first and final stop given how long they've been there. She feels her bones getting weary from all the pandering her brother has done, and she's starting to suspect that his reasons for picking her up that morning weren't as innocent as he initially claimed.

Deprived of breathable air and sleep, Parker isn't all too enthused when she props the kiosk sunglasses onto her head with a pleading look towards her brother. "Because I'm bored!" she whined, in a way that was far too little-sisterly like for someone her age. Decidedly though she doesn't care when he makes no move to leave. "I thought we were just going to buy some sunscreen before heading towards the point. That's what you said, anyway."

"We are!" he says, arms thrown wide in exasperation. Parker doesn't buy that for a second, however, and her brother folds under her stare. "Just... in a minute. I need a new rash guard. Maybe some new board shorts."

"You don't even surf."

"I... do," he argues, his head bobbing up and down as if trying to convince himself of such a bold statement. "It's just been a couple of—"

"Decades?"

"Years," he corrects her with a glare. "It's like riding a bike. You know. Probably."

"Just with water and waves and the possibility of drowning or death by shark."

"You're not helping."

She shrugs. "I never said I was here to help."

Colt's response is a melodramatic pout, pausing in his nervous shifting to wave a hand in her general direction. "Well, this would be a lot quicker if you just helped."

He punctuates the statement by performing a full spin for her, hands stuck out before realizing that's awkward. To fix that, he props them even more awkwardly on his hips, but it only makes him look like he's a Ken doll pretending to be a real person.

Parker elects to keep that to herself sensing his anxiety was getting dangerously close to his own toddler-style meltdown.

"What do you think of this? Cool? Not cool?" he continues on muttering, head bobbing in every direction as he smooths the material down over his puffed-up chest. It deflates just as quickly as he turns back to her to ask, "pink's cool, right? I'm going for a laidback look, you know. But not too laidback. Somewhere right in the middle."

Parker returns the sunglasses to the rotating stand before plopping onto a stack of buckets. He seems awfully concerned with this particular task all of the sudden, despite spending the last three years avoiding the idea altogether. Every time he was offered a chance to get back out on the water by one of his stunt buddies, he miraculously came up with an excuse not to.

It all feels weird. And when her brother got weird, there was usually a girl involved.

Ah.

"You told Jody you still surf, huh?" she puts two and two together.

His peacocking in the mirror stopped entirely. A wince. Then a smile. Then a wince again in a ball of pent-up nerves. "That's... maybe one of the—she doesn't—you don't have to hang around here while I try these on. Don't you have something better to be doing?"

"If I had literally anything better to be doing, I would be doing it."

"Okay, ouch."

Parker rolled her eyes at her brother's whining. But really, she didn't have anything better to be doing at the moment than hanging around while her brother tried to impress a girl.

Not to mention she liked this girl.

Sighing, she decided to throw him a bone. Because, what else would she be doing? Parker peered at the rack behind him for a moment before pointing to the top. "Try the blue one instead."

Colt glanced down at his chest with a frown. "But... Jody likes pink."

"Yes, but blue will match your eyes better. Make you look tanner."

"And make me harder to see if I start drowning," he huffed. But, after a moment of consideration, stripped off the pink rash guard to pull on the blue one. Always a fucking argument with him, she thought with a bemused eyeroll. Especially when a moment later, "oh, this one does look better..."

She laughed as he spun in the mirror, attempting to get a three-sixty perspective of the potential garment. Only for the moment to be interrupted by a buzzing in her back pocket.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

Her phone's ringtone broke through her relative boredom, and as Colt ran a hand through his hair and squared his shoulders in the mirror, she plucked the device out of her back pocket.

"You really got to change that ringtone," he said half-heartedly.

Parker stuck her tongue out at him and swiveled on her bucket, so she now had a view of the empty beach outside. It wasn't even that early—nine in the morning—but this particular spot was far enough removed from LA that people didn't tend to populate it unless it was a holiday weekend.

Phone pressed to her ear, she answered with a casual, "hello?"

"Was it not possible for you to give me a book from this century to read?"

A smile teased her face, and Parker returned her attention to the sunglass rack at her side just for something to do. Testing on an oversized pair of cat-eye sunglasses, she asked, "who is this?"

"Jesus, just save my fucking contact in your phone, already."

"Why would I do that when you could just stop calling me to talk about books?" she mused, stifling a laugh when there was a load of huffing and cursing from the other end of the line. He deserved it, though. Especially after ruining her sleep the other night and practically giving her a heart attack. "There are reddit forums for that exact purpose, you know. Maybe you could ask the nerds what they think. Go right to the source."

"You're such an asshole."

"Mhm. Takes one to know one, right?"

"Earthlight isn't a movie, is it?" he barreled on. She could tell from his tone that he was annoyed, and selfishly, Parker hoped that she was ruining his morning coffee and avocado toast. "It'd be a short movie."

"No, not a movie. Could be, I guess. You feel like self-funding?"

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned, and through the phone line she could hear the distant whir of a coffee grinder working. Knowing Tom, the thing probably cost more than her car. "Maybe you should quit your little bookstore and go into stand-up comedy. Probably make more money doing that. Granted, you'd have to sacrifice your dignity, but you don't have much to start with, do you?"

Parker tutted, but the overwhelming failure of her bookstore came back to mind full force at the comment, and so rather than keep up the joke, she moved the conversation on. "So, you liked it?"

"Well don't go sounding too smug about it," he chastised. "I liked it better, but still not much. They're both so outdated."

"Too much science for you?"

"This author really fucking loves the technical bullshit just as much as the last one. Pricks, all of them."

"Arthur C. Clarke is a prick?" she snorted. That was definitely a viewpoint she had never heard before. Leave it to Tom to dislike one of the best sci-fi writes in history because he spent too much time writing, well, sci-fi. "That's a hot take. He cowrote 2001 you know."

"A Space Odyssey?" She hummed. There was rattling and banging noises—the image of a hungover Tom stumbling around his kitchen came to mind—before the sound of a milk frother cut across the line. She jerked her phone away from her ear with a wince. Muffled, his voice returned. "Alright, that's not a bad movie. I'll give him that."

"It's only one of the highest-rated films of the genre," she retorted dryly.

More banging continued on the phone and as Parker tried not to let him blow out her eardrum, a hissing sound of its own came from her end of the line. She glanced up at the airshaft above her warily, but, if the sweat pooling on her back was anything to go by, it wasn't working. She glanced around in search of the noise before a rubber pool toy bounced off of the back of her head.

"Hey," the hiss returned. Pool toy in hand, she turned to find her brother waving a hand at her. The blue rash guard had been replaced with a yellow one. Worse still, he was now wearing a matching bucket hat. He gestured to himself as if he hadn't just assaulted her with a whale shaped toy. "What about this?"

She covered the phone speaker with her hand. "What happened to the blue?"

"This one is on sale!"

"Jesus, Colt. No girl has ever been impressed by that logic."

"I—" he started, then paused, and frowned at his sister like she had just burst his bubble. She might have felt bad if she hadn't been brushing off his puppy-dog eyes for the entirety of her life. The lip wobble was a new touch, though. "...is that a no to the bucket hat too?"

Parker responded by chucking the toy back at him. It bounced off his chest with a squeak.

"Yeah, alright..." he muttered, shoulders drooping, as he snatched the hat off of his head. It left his hair sticking up in tufts.

She kept that to herself.

"—are you even listening to me right now?" Tom's voice crackled back to life. If the incredulous lilt of his voice was anything to go by, he was not used to being sidelined for other people nor did he like it. "Who the hell are you talking to?"

"There was a bucket hat situation I had to deal with."

"...are you with Colt right now?"

She laughed. First, at the fact that Tom Ryder equated a bucket hat with her brother. Second because he sounded so disgusted by the fact that she would willingly spend her Sunday morning's helping her brother shop for bucket hats.

"You mean my brother?" she corrected.

"Did you tell him that I'm auditioning for a sci-fi roll? What does he think about it?"

"Why the hell would I tell him I'm talking to you?" she asked, echoing his sentiments from their last phone call. Parker was only teasing though, while she was pretty sure Tom had meant to be mean. Regardless, she moved on as she stood from the bucket to stretch out the kinks in her legs. "A bucket hat is a bad idea, right?"

"Is this seriously more important than what I want to talk about?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, but my world doesn't revolve around things that you want to talk about," she explained exasperatedly. Not necessarily because of what he said, but because she was fairly confident that he actually believed those sentiments. Worse still, she bet no one had ever told him that before. "Particularly not at two in the morning—thanks for that by the way. My roommate is pissed at me for waking her up."

A pause. Then, "you still have a roommate? How old are you?"

"I was serious about posting your phone number online you know," she threatened idly.

Colt disappeared into the changing booth, and Parker slowly started perusing the now abandoned hat rack. Despite her disapproval, she was bored. Plus, it actually had a fairly impressive selection.

Plopping an oversized sunhat atop her head, she ignored his insult to press on more important matters. "But seriously. Bucket hats. They're out of style, right?"

"Bucket hats have never been in style."

"Fashion is all made up anyway."

"That's just what poor people say who can't afford actual fashion."

She tutted, scrunching her nose up. Derisively, she asked, "did Gail tell you that?"

"Alright, that's it. I'm hanging up."

"It was a joke—!"

Joke or not, the dial tone was the only response that she got from Tom. She stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before huffing.

So that's what that feels like, she thought.

Something bright and ugly popped into her line of vision, and Parker glanced in the mirror to find her brother sporting a cheetah print body suit paired with a trucker hat that said Wine Made Me Do It in big, cursive lettering.

"Now, not to step on any middle-aged ladies' toes, but this is fashion," he clapped his hands with a goofy grin on his face. He gestured to the hat with a crooked thumb. "Get it? Two dollars!"

Parker laughed; couldn't not even if she wanted to.

Her brother was so innocent and idiotic and awful that while she once used to be embarrassed in public by him, now she just appreciated the fact that he was, always, unashamedly himself.

"Here, wait," she poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth while angling her camera at him. "Say cheese."

"Asiago," he cooed, making a Blue Steel type face that looked ridiculous when paired with his clothes.

The picture was even better, and Parker felt tears gathering in her eyes as they giggled. The employee from earlier shot them an annoyed look, but he was promptly ignored. If she didn't care about Tom Ryder's opinion, she certainly didn't care about his.

"That was good, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Jody won't know what hit her," she teased. Colt nodded, looking all too smug with himself, despite the fact that she was joking.

This smug version of himself reminded her of someone else that he looked a whole lot like.

An idea struck Parker, and as Colt started putting back the clothes where he found them, she quickly saved Tom's number in her phone before attaching the picture to the contact. Parker hesitated when she saw his name typed out.

Asshole, she typed in big letters. It was funny for half a second, though, before she realized it didn't quite feel right.

She deleted his name. Thought about it. Then replaced it with nothing more than a simple puking face emoji.

"Are you getting that?" Colt asked, drawing her from her reverie, and when she glanced up, she remembered that she was still wearing the ridiculous sunhat. "Because, you know... I'm not so sure that's something a cool person would wear."

Parker shoved her brother towards the cash register with a laugh.

They left the store with a blue rash guard, a pair of sunglasses, and matching bucket hats.

Twenty minutes later they realized they had forgotten to get sunscreen.

---

Paker had heard a lot of stupid and surprising things in her life; things that were so shockingly idiotic that she often wondered if they had been spoken as a joke. Most of the things on that list were quoted from her brother; a man she loved, but that didn't entirely think before he spoke.

When they were kids, he had argued that fish didn't need oxygen to survive. That's why they live under water, dummy, he had said with far too much confidence that she, younger and far less educated, could only blink at him. Then there was the time in his twenties that Colt had brought up the topic of furries at the dinner table in front of their grandparents. They're not, like, really having sex... are they? he had asked while trying to figure out what costume part would go where if they did do the dirty. And of course, there was the infamous baking soda as a cure all for wounds debate, but she tried to block out the sound of his skin literally sizzling as he screamed.

Tom, in the short time that she had known him, had also said some pretty shocking things that wound up on the list. He was, after all, an unapologetic asshole/idiot that didn't care if the world was flat or round so long as it revolved around him.

But out of shocking thing she had ever heard, it was fifteen-year-old California born and bred girl that topped the list.

"I want a job," Melissa proclaimed.

Parker's pen scratched an ugly line across her poor excuse of an accounting notebook as she glanced up wildly, big eyes blinking slow and dumb, as static hummed in between her ears.

"...what?"

"I want to apply for a job," she reiterated.

The bookstore was empty save for a pair of retirees that were slowly perusing her small selection of bird watching books. An oversized fly buzzed overhead, whizzing an uneven path between the two, as an irritable car stuck in traffic laid on the horn outside.

"Like—like here?" Parker asked. There was nothing fun or young or hip about her store. Just dusty bookshelves, a musty smell she could not get rid of no matter how many Bath and Body Works' scent infusers she plugged into the corner, and a ratty reading chair that had a Melissa-sized depression in the middle. She arched a brow. "You want to work... here. In my bookstore."

Melissa rolled her eyes, shrugging. Duh, the gesture said.

"Yeah, sure, obviously," Parker hummed, despite the fact that there was nothing yeah, sure, or obvious about the current conversation. Specifically given that Melissa, on more than occasion, had complained that her store was boring. "Just... why?"

"I need money."

"Suuuuure," she drew out the syllable, wooden stool creaking as she shifted in her seat behind the register. "But wouldn't you prefer to work somewhere a little more, er, fun?"

"This place is plenty fun."

The fly from earlier buzzed between them before smacking into the windowpane. It spiraled to the floor with a depressing zzzz.

Parker raised a second brow.

Melissa, in response, threw her hands up with a huff. "Okay, so, maybe I've been rejected from Jamba Juice and Target already. Which is so, totally crazy."

"That is crazy because I thought Jamba Juice went out of business—"

"And I can get my driver's permit in three months, and I want to get my license as soon as possible. But there's no way that I'm going to have Mom drive me everywhere, so I need to get a car. And to get a car I need to be able to afford a car—which, like, the economy is awful right now if you didn't know—so I need a job. Mom and Dad said they'll match whatever money I can put towards it. And as of today, that is a fat zero."

Woes of teenage girls, Parker thought.

"That's nice of them," she said instead. Not that she envied a teenager in the twenty-first century, but for her sixteenth birthday she had been given a bike. Not even a new one. It had been Colt's old one that he outgrew, and it still had flame stickers and duck tape wrapped all around it. "But, seriously, there has to be at least one other place a kid your age would want to work."

Melissa, having been slowly circling around the center of the room, paused in her ambling to cast Parker a suspicious look. "Do you not want me to work here or something?"

"No, of course I would want you to work here—"

"Great!"

"—but I have no money. Why do you think I'm the only employee here?"

Melissa considered that. "I just always assumed you were a little uptight and didn't like other people messing with your shelves."

"Uptight?" she cried. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

But Melissa didn't seem to notice that she had just quoted her celebrity crush, and so she instead turned her attention to the bookstore. She cast a critical eye over everything; though there was no smoke, Parker could smell the wheels turning between her ears, and slumped further onto the counter in preparation for what was to come.

"Don't get me wrong, Park, I love your store," she started. "But it could definitely use some updating."

"Updating?" she deadpanned.

"Some new paint for starters. I think it would be so cute if you painted it, um, maybe a soft blue. Then you could paint the bookshelves in different colors—pastels, definitely—and even some flowers here and there wouldn't hurt."

Parker made a face. Pastels weren't really her thing. "You want to paint the shelves?"

"It's just so brown."

"The natural color of wood, yes."

Melissa rolled her eyes, and with a waft of Vanilla perfume, trotted behind the front desk to examine the string of posters tacked onto the wall. Most of them were salvages from the dollar store, and while Parker thought they gave the store some character, Melissa clearly didn't agree. "These totally need to go too."

"Excuse me—"

"You could still keep them," she huffed half-heartedly. Clearly, she wasn't sold on the idea, but Parker would be damned if she pitched her Jane Austen posters based on the opinion of a teenager. "Just cut them down to a smaller size, put them in some picture frames—you can get them super cheap at the thrift store—and they'll make it look less packrat-like and more eclectic."

Parker glared, an argument on the tip of her tongue.

But, well, when she thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea. And, well, maybe giving the store a new coat of paint wasn't either. It still looked like it had when she bought it from Larry. She had spent so much money on the loan payment, that she never considered really updating the place—mostly because, duh, she had no money—but paint and some dollar store frames weren't so expensive.

"How do you know all of this?" she asked with a quizzical look.

Melissa smiled, phone waved in hand as she tossed a plait of perfectly curled hair over her shoulder. "I spend a lot of time on Pinterest. What this place needs is a total cottage-core makeover."

"That sounds so made-up."

The girl frowned. "Well, duh. Everything is made up."

Parker opened her mouth, thought it through, and then promptly snapped her mouth shut. When did kids become so philosophical?

"So," said kid leaned onto the front counter with a conniving smile. She was a pretty girl with a clear complexion, bright white teeth beneath blue braces, and a deep closest of cute, but age-appropriate clothing. When she wiggled her eyebrows, Parker couldn't help but notice how well shaped they were. "Can I have a job?"

It was a tempting offer...

She glanced at the balancing worksheet she was doing, scores of numbers and ugly handwriting sprawled across her notebook, before taking a proper look at her empty storefront.

"I'll... have to think about it," she finally hedged.

Melissa's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"I don't have a ton of money right now," she explained, not at all liking how sad she looked. Colt's puppy dog expression had done nothing to prepare her for Melissa Abernathy's professional one. "So, I'll need to look things over first."

"But...?"

A sigh. "Are you free on Sundays?"

"I thought you were closed on Sundays?"

"I am," Parker nodded. "Which means it's about the only day of the week that I could try to paint this place. If you're serious about wanting a job and wanting to help, I'll consider bringing you in on the weekends to start helping me renovate."

A grin broke out on the girl's face, and she started bouncing on her toes. "Really?"

"Just temporarily," Parker threatened with her index finger. She wasn't sure how much was being heard and how much was going over the girl's head, however, and suddenly this was all feeling like a bad idea. "You can help me paint and decorate, and then I'll look at my finances."

"And you'll hire me?"

"If I can afford it, then... yes, we could work something out."

"Yes!"

"Just a few shifts a week!"

"That's perfect."

"And I'm not paying more than minimum wage."

"Totally fair. This rocks!"

"I said if—"

Melissa was already on her phone, texting and typing away as she bounced around. Parker felt a migraine start whirring between her temples, but—well—the kid was so excited that she couldn't feel too miserable about her decision. Tourist traffic was dying down as the season's changed, and she really needed to do something if she still wanted to be in business come the new year.

There was the sound of a camera clicking, and Melissa grinned from her corner of the room. "Oh my god, Park, you're so not going to regret this. We could totally do a beachy palette—blues and greens and, oh, orange—throw some rugs down, add some little details to the bottom of the shelves that you have to look for to see. Like easter egg, stuff. Oh, this is so exciting! I'm going to get Miranda and Abby to come, they have a great eye for detail."

She watched Melissa disappear down the MYSTERY aisle, all the while chatting to whoever she had already gotten on the phone.

Parker steepled her head between her hands with a sigh.

But, well, the enthusiasm was contagious, and after a moment she was laughing to herself. Maybe a fresh coat of paint would cheer her up.

Speaking of, how much did paint cost?

She was in the middle of a google search when her phone started to ring. The caller ID only showed an emoji and a picture of her brother modeling a ridiculous outfit, and she let out a childish snort in response.

A small smile in place, she answered. "Three books in a week. I have to say that I am a little impressed."

"Hm. I'm impressed you finally saved my contact. I was starting to think that basic technology was beyond your skill set."

"Hardy, har, har," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Melissa was somewhere in the back of store now, likely scaring off her only customers, and she decided to give up on her accounting for the day. Twisting in her seat so she was watching the street outside, she propped her elbow on her knee. "What did you think of Nemesis?"

He seemed hesitant to answer. "I... liked it."

Parker grinned. "Oh, you did, did you?"

A sound halfway between a groan and a whine. "You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"

"For recommending you good books?"

"You don't have to be so smug about it."

"I'm not smug," she said smugly.

He scoffed, and Parker couldn't help but grin even further. The idea that Tom Ryder, pain in her ass, was admitting that he liked her recommendation was the metaphorical cherry on the top of her cake. Even better, she got to be smug to him about something.

Parker continued on to say, "I guess I'm just happy that I recommended something you like. Especially since I didn't think you liked anything other than looking in a mirror, hair gel, and hot lattes."

"For fuck's sake, it was a flat white, and it was one time."

"Was it?" she teased, enjoying the conversation far more than she should be. This was the asshole that drove her brother insane every day at work, after all. But then again, what Colt didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. "You're just so memorable, I guess. Can't stop thinking about it."

"I would hope I'm memorable," he shot back, a whole lot of huffing and puffing from his side of the line that didn't fit the whole "perfect human being" sort of vibe he tried so desperately hard to give off. A dog barked in the distance. A second, more put-off and annoyed huff argued back. "Putain, calme-toi, Jean Claude."

Parker curled an eyebrow, impressed. "Was that French?"

"Impressed?" he said, taking a page out of her book to sound unnecessarily smug.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window—a stupid smile in place, lip pulled between two teeth, eyes twinkling in a way that didn't suit the sleep-deprived bags beneath them—Parker straightened in her seat. "Hardly. It's an ugly language," she said, overcorrecting just a little by insulting what some considered to be the language of love. Not her best move. "Moreso wondering why you're imposing a foreign language on your dog. Seems cruel."

"He's French," Tom said, certainly rolling his eyes.

"Ooh, a French bulldog? I love those."

Something about the insinuation that Tom Ryder would own a bulldog managed to insult him, and she heard the scorn in his voice when he responded with a scathing, "I would never own a fucking bulldog. They can't breathe and can't run thanks to decades of improper inbreeding. What use are they?"

"...they're cute?"

She heard him mutter something in French, before another bark—as if his dog, the French bastard, was agreeing with whatever complaint he made against her—and Parker was so elegantly reminded of what a pain in the ass he could be.

Chin in hand, she rolled her eyes. "You want to tell me about the book or not?"

There was noise from his side of the line; music in the background kicked up, the sound of dog food being slung into a metal bowl, a faucet running, before things quieted down a bit. "I thought the idea of moon colonization is a little overplayed, plus there's the whole bit about the telepathic organism that is so fucking stupid," he said.

Despite his tone though, somehow Parker just knew that he was only complaining so he had something to complain about. She didn't wonder how she knew that.

"The book is from the eighties. I don't think moon colonization was overplayed when he wrote it," she protested anyway, sipping on her watered-down cold brew as she did so. "And the bit about the organism is fascinating to me. Everyone always writes about ET-style aliens, but I thought it was brilliant of Asimov to create something new."

"Brilliant is what I do. Not writing a short story about a family being separated in space," he grumbled. A moment later, "you're awfully hot on these writers. You've never called me brilliant before." Sore about it, obviously.

"That's not true. I think you're brilliantly self-centered and egotistical."

"Elle pense qu’elle est une comédienne, celle-ci," he muttered, much to her English-speaking chagrin. He switched back to say, "I'm the reason your brother has a career, you know. You could give me a little credit."

"Are you?" she mused, knowing it was a load of horseshit. Self-centered and egotistical horseshit that only further proved her point. "Interesting. I thought he introduced you to Gail."

A moment of silence. "He told you that?"

"We tell each other everything," she said. Though, that wasn't exactly true, was it? "Well, mostly everything, anyway."

"Hm. I could argue that's breaking our nondisclosure agreement. I could probably fire him for it, you know," he threatened, idly, though, and without any real heat to his words. There was the sound of water running in the background, and Parker really hoped that he was spontaneously washing some dishes and not talking to her while in the shower.

"Please. We both know that Colt is the best stunt-man out there. And you only work with the best, right?"

His lack of response proved that she was right; Colt was the best at his job, and he just so happened to look a whole lot like Tom Ryder. Not to mention that Tom's entire career was built around bragging how good he was, how talented the people he worked with were, how he didn't settle for anything but excellence. In fact, Parker was half-sure she could break Ryder's nose and the only backlash Colt would get would be a whole lot of bitching.

Granted, she might get arrested, but at least her brother would be relatively fine.

"When's the audition, anyway?" she asked just to be nosy.

"Tomorrow morning."

Parker raised a brow, idly watching as some idiot failed to parallel park out front. "Cutting it a little close, huh?"

"I'm Tom Ryder," he said, in his typical sense of self-importance that she loathed. Though, this time, Parker didn't loathe it as much as she found it amusing. "I know what I'm doing and don't need your fucking opinion about it."

"Do you have that written on a motivational poster somewhere?"

"No," he said immediately. A little too quickly, in her opinion, and Parker narrowed her eyes with a sneaking suspicion that his house was just plastered with photos of himself. "Whatever. I have to go. Unlike you I don't just have all day to talk."

She scoffed incredulously, reminding him that, "you called me!"

Unsurprisingly, however, he didn't care. "I need to practice some more before the audition. Unless you want me to fail."

"I didn't think Tom Ryder could fail."

"Yeah, well," he hesitated for a moment, all that bravado he'd been displaying moments earlier gone in a flash. Parker wondered if he ever talked to anyone without it, and if he didn't, then what sort of friends he had in his life. He cleared his throat. "It's a big deal. Not just for me, but Colt too. This would be our biggest movie yet. Some extra practice doesn't hurt anyone."

Pride swelled in her chest; her brother had always impressed her with how he built his own career, moving to LA without knowing anyone and not leaving until he accomplished what he wanted. And while she was his biggest fan—number one, as she liked to joke—his success was his alone, not Tom's.

Still, without Tom it may have been less consistent, and without Colt, Tom may have been stuck doing rom coms. Parker kept that to herself.

Instead, she said, almost sensing that he needed to hear it, "yeah, well, I know you don't need it or anything, but—you know—good luck on the audition. I think you'd be really good in a sci-fi film. Despite what Gail seems to think, I might actually want to, er, see that movie. Pirated, of course. I don't go to the theaters for just any asshole."

The sound of water cut off, and for a long moment it was silent. Then, a scoff. "You're right," he said. "I don't need it."

Parker hummed, rolling her eyes, and biting back a smile at his blatant audacity. Gail was right about one thing; there was no one in this world quite like him. Maybe that was a good thing, too.

"Sure. You being Tom Ryder, and all. Guess you're a shoo-in, huh?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I do have the blonde hair and blue eyes."

A laugh bubbled up her throat, and she only managed to keep it to herself when the door jingled with the sound of new customers. A pair of teen girls strode inside with sweet, but nonplussed looks on their faces, and mindlessly Parker waved them towards the back where Melissa had disappeared to.

Watching them amble with her phone tucked against her shoulder, she asked, "did you just make a joke? Forget sci-fi, someone should call SNL right now and get you an audition with them."

"You're just as bad as Colt. You know that?"

"And now you're just handing out compliments," she teased. He laughed in response, wasn't quite quick enough to disguise it as a huff or a cough, and Parker bit her lip to keep from smugly grinning like a total idiot. "Just don't forget to send me that agent's fee when you get the part. I accept checks and DutchBros gift cards."

"Jesus Christ, you're pathetic."

"Am I? Because I just so happen to be popular enough to have the one and only Tom Ryder calling me three times in one week."

"Good-fucking-bye, smartass."

The sound of a dial tone came a second later, and when Parker glanced at her screen she was greeted with her own reflection. She didn't mind that he hung up on her. If anything, she almost wished that he had more time to talk. If only because he seemed to be in a rare, friendly mood.

Not because she almost actually liked talking to him. Asshole-ish tendencies notwithstanding.

"What are you smiling about?"

Parker turned to find Melissa and her two friends staring warily at her across the counter. Clearing her throat, she set her phone aside with pink cheeks.

"Er, nothing."

She harrumphed. Teenagers had never seemed so intimidating before, and with a self-conscious smile, Parker smoothed her hair down as subtly as she could.

"Need something?"

"Do you have any John Green books?" one of the girls asked.

Parker nodded, shaking off the conversation to switch into work mode, and smiled a little more genuinely at them all as she stood. "Sure, loads. Come on, I'll show you," she waved them after her, and as they browsed, they filled her in on what paint colors they thought would look best.

Melissa, she mused two hours later with disheveled hair, sweat-tacked curls on her neck, a stack of notes in one hand, and a long email chain of Pinterest posts on her phone, could rule the world one day.

She just needed a car first.

#plot bunny #the fall guy #tom ryder #original female character #tom ryder x ofc #tom ryder imagine #series?

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ladybirdswritings · 1 year ago

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Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - The reader and Miguel finally meet… Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

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three

I hate this. Oh I despise it. This feeling, this day, this music and this fucking limp legged Christmas tree that taunts me from my window.

So many employees and all of them are proving themselves to be nothing more than incapable. All For morale.

For fucking blue elephant.

Truth be told, I could give less of a shit what the Daily Bugle says about me or my company. I could, but not Jessica Drew. Not my right hand. That’s why there is that stupid music, that pathetic tree and that is exactly why I have been forced to stuff red, silk handkerchiefs in my pocket.

All my girls respect me, but Jessica? They worship her. She’s the epitome of the perfect boss to weak minded people.

And fucking Jessica wants to sit in a circle and trade presents with our employees. Just the thought makes my fingers curl, hand balled into an intolerant first.

Presents. It makes me think of lilac, of Lacy.

Lacy is a smart girl, one of my smartest actually. And instead of being buried deep inside of her, using my dick to try and find the spark that once captivated me within her, I, the CEO of my own fucking company have to entertain the persistent brat downstairs.

No puedo más, no puedo más. No. Puedo. Más.

I huff out an annoyed breath and stand, a minute longer where I brood in my seat and I’ll leave the hire to interview herself. I busy myself with gazing out of my floor to ceiling glass. New York greets me like a betrayed brother, icy and bitter. All of the city is strung with icicle lights and nauseating colors for the holiday. So loud and happy, so infuriating.

My reflection mirrors me, cold and in charge— as it should always be. Yet today, today doesn’t feel like it. Today, I have to cater to stupid Cindy Moon and the fact that she’s incapable of being wrong. No Lacy, no sleep.

I never do, anyways.

Time passes slow as I wait, as I gaze out into my city from my castle. Jessica calls my leather seat a throne, and it couldn’t be more fitting.

An agonizing gathering of fleeting moments before I hear Cindy Moon’s heels clicking to the rhythm of whatever the fuck is playing on that radio. There are more footsteps beside her, but those are much less graceful.

Must be the girl.

Great.

I wait for the knob to turn, I wait to be over with this. I have no intentions of taking her on, none at all. I’ll let her down cordially for sake of morale and I’ll find Lacy and get to the bottom of why I don’t feel her anymore.

Not in the way you feel passion when you fuck, no. The excitement, the reminder with each stroke that you’re alive. You don’t have to search for it anymore… but it always fades, and onto the next muñequita that makes my dick stand.

But fucking Lacy. So pretty in her Lilac with those big blue eyes. I thought she’d last longer. She’s too sweet to get rid of so early.

My clock is taunting me, my patience running thinner as I turn and narrow my eyes at the halted shadows under the oak door. Slowing my breathing, I listen. Are they whispering?

Cindy Moon, warning the new hire about me.

I shake my head and take a moment to adjust my silken pocket. Alright, I’ll play generous for the holiday season and walk slower to my oak door. I’ll give them a chance to come inside, to respect me.

One step closer, and closer, two more strides and I’ve reached it. And they? They’re still playing school girl on the other side.

I tug the door open with brute force, prepared to spit a sarcastic insult at little Cindy Moon who has gotten very close to being fired far too many times today.

I don’t get the chance.

A mess of ivory cloth and pink ribbons falls against me, so light and soft I believe her to be a feather for a moment. She gasps, french tipped manicure gripping at my navy suit desperately.

My eyes slim even further, jaw tense and tight. Cindy’s eyes are the opposite. They go wide as saucers, eyebrows pointed and high as she catches a glimpse of the place where my jaw twitches.

I’m annoyed.

The stupid little thing scurries away with only a, “Sir!” and a nod. Lucky girl. Evading her final day with me.

I take a moment to close my eyes and imagine that instead of being here, with an idiot on my chest, I closed my laptop and grabbed my bag. I walked downstairs and met Lacy in the cab, I took her home to my apartment and got her nice and warm by the fireplace. I wrapped her strawberry blonde hair in my fist and started fucking her hard enough so that she couldn’t walk for a week, fucking her so hard I managed to forget how far away the spark feels. So hard that I began to feel excited again, alive.

That’s not how this evening played out, though.

My eyes force themselves open and wander down to the mess of frizzy tresses splayed against my suit. The potential new hire is clumsy, and her face is pressed up against my chest. Thankfully, she rushes to steady herself as quickly as she can.

Dios mío…

Her hair stands tall as if it’s laced with lightning bolts, evidence of the friction my suit caused. Her face is flushed as a reminder of her embarrassment and her skirt is wrinkly and frayed.

My eyes wander down further.

Her shoes are too tight for her feet, her tights are too tight for her curves, and she’s wearing… teddy bear socks?

I’d laugh if I wasn’t at my last straw with the idiots around me. Who told her that wearing this to see me would be a good idea?

Must have been my cruel girls on floor one. That’s why I keep them there, because they’re cruel. Because they’ll send anybody away that’s a waste of my time.

Maybe they’ve fallen sick with this disgusting holiday spirit, maybe it was the morale or maybe they wanted to get a good laugh out of watching the girl with ribbons in her hair and teddy bear socks sob her way out of my building.

The stupid thing, she fails miserably at trying to brush down the electricity in her hair and smooth the wrinkles in her skirt. Her manicured hand shoots out to meet me. I only stare at it.

“Good evening, sir.”

I just look on at her, she shrinks. I don’t have time for this today, and I’m grateful knowing that she’s already made a bad impression. This will be quick.

“Follow me.”

She does, stumbling behind me like a deer with a broken leg. I collapse into my throne and place my glasses to rest on the bridge of my nose. My hands make quick work of finding her paper.

I nearly lose my composure when I do.

¿Cómo es posible?

This girl, this very stupid girl that has been waltzed into my office by Cindy fucking Moon has no chance here.

She has no references, no former places of employment, her bank account is pathetic and the only properties she owns are a shitty little apartment in the city and her pink ribbons, wrinkly skirt and teddy bear socks, apparently.

It’s a wonder, how she managed to convince her way into here. Most of my employees are women, how I enjoy it, so I know she didn’t put that mouth to use. It’s a true mystery then.

A mystery.

I’m curious.

I glance up at her under my brows and am unsurprised to see her standing straight as a pin, awkwardly.

“Sit.” I command. She does.

Good girl.

She collapses into the Italian leather uncomfortably, it practically swallows her. She looks small, underfed. Dark circles hide behind whatever mierda she put on top of them to keep them away. She’s tired. She’s a mess.

A mysterious mess and as I look more at her and her teddy bear socks, I want to know why.

“What’re you doing here?”

My voice makes her jump, that excites me. Reminds me I’m alive, and my words hold power in my building. I like it. Excitement… just what I’ve been needing.

Maybe I can entertain her, just for a little.

“I- um…”

Oh. Her voice is soft, but low. She stuttered, but her words don’t shake. It’s unexpected. She keeps surprising me.

“I’m here for the seasonal position? Morale?”

Fucking morale.

Stupid girl… just when I was starting to like you.

“Are you asking me or telling?”

She blinks at me, and if it weren’t for how observant I am and how well I’ve become at reading people, mostly women, I’d take her as a bland little damsel with no brain in her pretty head.

But I see past it.

She’s digging her nails into my Italian leather. She doesn’t like the way I’m speaking to her.

Good, I like that.

It’s fun.

“I’m telling you, sir.”

Ahí está. Un fuego.

Her voice is sharp and curt, she’s tense. She’s… annoyed with me.

It’s obvious to me that she’s had no experience at all in a professional setting at any point in her life.

I push my glasses up with my thumb and clasp my hands together, leaning back in my seat. Eyes staring into hers, watching… observing. The silence makes her squirm, she’s uncomfortable.

I keep it going.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me questions?” She whispers.

My gaze wanders again, past the ribbons and wrinkly skirt. Past the tight tights and manicured fingers. Right down to those teddy bear socks.

“What’re you wearing?”

“That’s not a relevant question.” She snaps back immediately.

I shift in my seat, more excitement. More liveliness. More surprises.

“It’s a question.” It’s a statement, but it sounds like a command. She answers me.

“They’re for luck.”

Hmm.

I’ll give her a break, for now. With a sigh I grab her paper again and glaze over it quickly.

“You’ve got not a single reference, no former places of employment and no credibility. Answer my first question again, what’re you doing here?”

She’s gone silent again, picking at the white polish adorning her fingernails. I allow her a quick moment, the lucky thing speaks before I do.

“I know how this all looks. If I were you I’d turn me away too…”

“I might.” I interrupt as she takes a breath.

Her nose twitches. Does it always do that when she’s annoyed?

“I know. But give me a chance to answer your question, like you asked me to.”

Maybe she’s not so stupid. I wave my hand as a gesture for her to continue, and with a sharp breath, she does.

“I won’t bullshit you and pretend that me walking out that door wouldn’t be bad for me, because it would. I need this, and I don’t expect that to change your mind either… but it’s the truth. I do need this, and it makes me perfect for the job because I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep it. To perform the best I can. Besides, if it’s a grave mistake on your end sir then, I’m only here for one season. Then you are free of me. I know I may not look it, but I’m determined. I’m obedient and I am capable and I know I can do this better than any other blonde broad that’s set to sit in this chair after me. Trust me.”

She’s desperate, but she didn’t have to give me that speech for me to catch onto that. No, she’s a pretty girl. I can tell from her nails and her ribbons. Office work doesn’t seem like her first choice. It makes me wonder, what has she been doing all this time?

What made her come here?

Her gaze falls onto her teddy bear socks and she must take my silence as an answer, she uses her tight shoes to scrunch them up at her ankles. She’s disappointed in them.

Pretty girl for pretty work.

Maybe she’ll last. Quizás me he vuelto loco.

Carajo.

“You’re hired.”

🏷️’s: @laysmt | chap 3 song 🎧:

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