#for whatever reason i decided to start with the end of chapter two and work backwards so uh its already off to an interesting start

[derinwrites]

How can I make money writing fiction?

I'm gonna be straight with you. There is no guarantee that you'll make enough as an independent writer to make it worth your time. You very well might -- I make a liveable wage as an independent writer -- but many don't. Most writers I know also have a job. And luck plays a big part in it.

If you're interested in going forward in spite of this, you have two main options for monetisation open to you, and you are going to have to pick one. I call them the sales model and the sponsorship model, and you are going to have to pick one.

The sales model involves writing stories and selling them to readers. You can put books up on Amazon or Smashwords, sell them direct from your own website, enlist the help of a traditional publisher to handle that for you and let them decide where to sell, whatever -- the point is that your money is made from the sale of books to readers. If you go with a traditional publisher, you're using this model (though they will give you some of the money ahead of time in the form of an advance). Most indie authors also use this model, publishing through draft2digital, Ingram Spark, direct through Amazon, whatever. I've never relied on the sales model and can't give you any advice on how to do this, but Tumblr is full of indie authors who probably can.

The sponsorship model involves soliciting small amounts of money from various readers over time. This is ideal for web serials, and it's what I use. I use Patreon, which is designed specifically for this purpose, but you can use other sites such as ko-fi. This model involves providing regular content for free, with bonuses for those who support you.

"Can't I do both? Sell books and have a Patreon?" You absolutely can! I know several indie authors with a Patreon. I sell my completed books as ebooks and will eventually sell them as paperbacks. But your time and attention is limited, and so is your audience's, and you're going to have to half-arse one of these in order to have enough arse to whole-arse the other. You're going to make a lo of decisions that benefit either the sponsorship model or the sales model, not both. So pick your primary income source early and commit.

I can only advise on writing web serials and using the sponsorship model, so I'll go ahead with that assumption. If you want to make a liveable wage doing this, not only will you need luck, you'll also need patience. This is not a fast way to build a career. at the end of my first year of doing this, I had one single patron, and they were a real-life friend of mine. When I reached an income of $100/month, I threw a little party for myself, I was so happy. It had taken such a long time and was so much work. I reached enough to cover rent/mortgage after I'd been doing this for more than four years. It's a long term sort of career.

Here are some general tips for succeeding in this industry, given by me, someone with no formal training in any of this who only vaguely knows what they're talking about:

Have a consistent update schedule and STICK TO IT

The #1 indicator for stable success in this industry (aside from luck, which we're discounting because you can't do much about that) is having a consistent update schedule. Your readers need to know when the next chapter is coming out, and it should be coming out regularly. Ideally, you should have no breaks or hiatuses -- if you're in a bus crash or something, that might be unavoidable, and your readers will understand if you tell them, but if you're stopping and starting a lot for trivial reasons, they WILL abandon you. You can't get away with that shit if you're not Andrew Hussie, and I'm pretty sure Andrew Hussie doesn't message me for career advice on Tumblr. If you find you need a lot of hiatuses to write fast enough then you're updating too often; change your schedule. A regular schedule is more important than a fast one (ideally it should be both, but if you have to pick between the two, pick regular).

2. Pay attention to your readership, listen to what they want from you

Your income is based on a pretty complicated support structure when you're using the sponsorship model. this model relies on people finding your story, liking your story, and continuing to find it valuable enough to keep paying you month after month. This means that your rewards for your sponsors should be things that they value and will continue to pay for ('knowing I'm supporting an artist whose work I enjoy' counts as a thing that they value, to my great surprise; there's a lot of people giving me money just for the sake of giving me money, so I can pay my mortgage and keep writing for them without needing a second job), but it also means supporting the entire network that attracts readers and keeps them having the best time they can with your story -- being part of a rewarding community. Because this is advice on making money, I'm going to roughly divide your readership into groups based on how they affect your bottom line:

sponsors. People giving you money directly. The importance of keeping this group happy should be obvious.

administration and community helpers -- discord moderators, IT people, guys who set up fan wikis, whoever's handling your mailing list if you have a mailing list. You can do this stuff yourself, or you can hire someone to do it, but if you're incredibly lucky and people enjoy being a part of your reader community, people will sometimes volunteer to do the work for free. If you are lucky enough to get such people, respect them. They are doing you a massive favour, and they're not doing it for you, but to maintain a place that they value, and you have to respect both of those things. My discord has just shy of 1,300 members and is moderated by volunteers. I'd peel my own face off if I had to moderate a community that large. If you've got people stepping up to do work for you, you need to respect them and you need to make sure that they continue to find that rewarding by doing what you can to make sure that the community they're maintaining is rewarding. Sometimes this means taking actions and sometimes this means staying the fuck out of the way. Depending on the circumstances.

fan artists. Once you have people drawing your characters, writing fanfic of your stories, whatever, treat these like fucking gold. Give them a space to do this, and more importantly, give them a space to do this without you in it. Fanworks are a symptom of engagement with your work, which is massively important. They are also a component of a healthy community, an avenue for readers to talk to each other and express themselves creatively to each other. Third, fanworks act as a bridge for new readers. When readers share their art on, say, Tumblr, it can intrigue new people and get them into the story. Your job in all of this is to give them the space to work, encourage them as required or invited (I reblog most TTOU fanart that I'm tagged in on Tumblr, for instance), and other than that, stay the fuck out of their way. These people are vital to the liveblood of your community, the continued engagement of your audience, and the interest of your sponsors. Some of the fan artists will be sponsors themselves; some won't be. Those who aren't sponsors are still massively valuable for their art.

speculators, conversers, theorists, livebloggers, and That Guy Who's Just Really Jazzed For The Next Chapter. Some people don't make art but just like to chat about your story. These people are a bedrock of the community that's supporting your sponsors and increasing your readership, and therefore are critical to your income stream. Give them a place to talk. Be nice to them when they talk to you. Sometimes, they'll ask you questions about the story, which you can choose to answer or not, however you feel is appropriate. They'll also want to chat about non-story-related stuff with each other, so make sure they have a place to do that, too.

that guy who never talks to you or comments on anything but linked your story to ten guys in his office who all read it now. Some of your supporters are completely invisible to you. You can't do anything for these people except continue to release the story and have a forum they can silently lurk on if they want to. But, y'know, they exist.

If you want to focus on income then these are, roughly, the groups of people that you will need to listen to and accommodate for. You can generally just make sure they have space to do their thing, and if they want anything else, they'll tell you (yes, guys, paperbacks will be coming eventually). Many people will fit into multiple groups -- I have some sponsors that are in every single one of these groups except the last. Some will only be in one group. A healthy income rests on a healthy community which rests on accommodating these needs.

3. If you can manage it, try to make your story good.

It's also helpful for your story to be good. Economically, this is far less important than you'd think -- there are some people out there writing utter garbage and making a living doing it. Garbage by what standards? By whatever your standards are. Just think of the absolute laziest, emptiest, hackiest waste-of-bandwidth story you can imagine -- some guy is half-arsing that exact story and making three times what you'll ever make on Patreon doing it. And honestly? Good for him. If he's making that much then his readers are enjoying it, and that's what matters. Still, one critical component of making money as a writer is writing something that people actually want to read. And you can't trick them with web serials, because they don't pay in advance -- if they're bored, they'll just stop. So you have to make it worth their time, money and attention, and the simplest way to do that is to write a good story.

This hardly seems mentioning, since you were presumably planning to do that anyway. It's basic respect for your audience to give them something worth their time. Besides, if we're not interested in improving our craft and striving for our best, what are we even writing for? I'm sure I don't need to tell you to try to write a good story. The reason I list this is in fact the opposite -- don't let "I'm not a good enough writer" paralyse you. The world is full of someday-writers who endlessly fuss over and revise a single story because it's not good enough, it's not perfect, they're not Terry Pratchett yet. Neither was Terry Pratchett when his first books were published. If you're waiting to be good enough, you won't start. I didn't think Curse Words was good enough when I started releasing it -- I still don't. I started putting it out because I knew it was the only way I'd get myself to actually finish something. I don't think it's all that great, but you know what? An awful lot of people read it and really enjoyed it. And if I hadn't released it, I'd have been doing those people a disservice.

Also, it taught me a lot, and based on what I learned, Time to Orbit: Unknown is much better. If I'd never released Curse Words, if I hadn't seen how people read it and reacted to it and seen what worked and what didn't, then Time to Orbit: Unknown wouldn't be very good. And it certainly wouldn't be making me a living wage, because it was the years writing Curse Words that started building the momentum I have today.

And Time to Orbit: Unknown as it is today has some serious problems. Problems that I'm learning from. And the next book will be a lot better.

So that's basically my advice for making money in this industry. Be patient, be lucky, be consistent. Value your community; it's your lifeline, even the parts of it that don't directly pay you. And try to make your story as good as you can, but make that an activity you do, not a barrier to prevent you from starting.

Good luck.

[ktkat99]

Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” “I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[dotster001]

Daddy End

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Choose Another Ending

Please see me after class

That's what was scrawled on the top of your paper.

"What did you do?" You hissed at your kitty companion, who was usually the reason you had to stay after class. If you could go back in time, you would tell yourself not to accept "beast tamer" as a title.

"Nothin'" he hissed back. "Maybe you're the one who messed up this time."

"Not likely," you hissed back, before seeing Crewel giving you a disapproving stare. You turned back to your cauldron, deciding to grill your roommate later.

"Everything okay?" Alano, your lab partner from Octavinelle, asked.

"Yeah, Crewel just wants me to talk to him after class."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, but I appreciate the offer. It means a lot."

You gave him a reassuring smile, and he nodded skeptically, before adding another item to the cauldron.

After a tense 45 minutes, the class cleared out, and you stood before Crewel's desk. He sat back in his chair for a moment, and sighed.

"As I understand it, I haven't been chosen to be your husband, by your cat."

"Wha-" you started, but he cut you off by pressing a red gloved finger to your lips.

"No, no, it's alright, pup. If I am truly not worthy, then I shall have to accept that."

His finger to your lips turned into a gentle caress, ending with his hand resting on the side of your neck. Your head was spinning, as his cologne clouded your senses. After a pause, he gave another heavy sigh, before saying in a low voice,

"But if you ever change your mind, and want to give me a second chance," he gently squeezed your neck, not enough to hurt you, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, before slowly pulling his hand away, "Even just for one evening, where I can feed you the finest of delicacies and dress you in the finest of clothes, and simply bask in your presence, you know where to find me."

He sat down, and began working on papers, as though he hadn't just told you that your kitty roommate had ignored your orders not to sell you off, while simultaneously making you wish he'd sold you off, specifically to him.

"Um, professor?" Your tongue was lead in your mouth, and you felt like you'd need to drink a lot of water with how dry your mouth felt.

"Divus, my pet."

He wasn't even looking up at you. You made an attempt to clear your throat.

"D-Divus, I don't know anything about what you're talking about…"

He gave an unenthusiastic hum.

"But I wouldn't be opposed…"

Another hum.

"That is, if you wanted to…"

He looked up at you, face blank. Your cheeks started to burn, and you prayed to whatever was out there that he didn't know how flustered he had made you. You weren't that lucky, though. You were pretty sure he knew.

"You know…" you finished, pretty much below a whisper.

He stared at you for a moment, before gasping.

"Could it be, my favorite pet feels the same as I do?" He stood, his eyes widening. "Could it be, I still have a chance with you?"

He reached out his hand to cup your cheek, before faltering, and holding it in place. You gently took his outstretched hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze.

He smiled a gentle, relieved smile, and it struck you how he wasn't that much older than you really. He still was just a lovestruck school boy, who'd happened to be smart enough to graduate earlier than some, and rose through the ranks quickly, probably due to some money saving scheme of Crowley's. He seemed just as nervous about asking you out as you were about him.

"I know this classy little pasta restaurant. It's not overly luxurious, but still fancy. Would you meet me back here in an hour, so we could go together?"

There was that schoolboy light in his eyes again.

You nodded, and he kissed the back of your hand, before gently shooing you out.

You were far too flustered to notice Grim and Crowley standing in the doorway and glaring at Crewel.

"And that's how it's done, gentlemen," Divus said with a smirk, once you were out of earshot. He grinned at Grim.

"Don't worry too much about it, kitty, you'll have plenty of riches and deluxe tuna from me, even though it hurt dreadfully to know you didn't pick me."

Crowley pouted even deeper.

"You're lucky I'm so generous, or…"

"Or what? Face it, Dire, we both know who the better sugar daddy is here."

And with that he brushed past both of them, humming a happy little tune to himself as he prepared for his date.

The End

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any advice for writing with adhd? I can craft these elaborate storyline in my head, but the minute I try to write any of them down I get bored. (Or is that just regular writer block?) It's really discouraging, because I feel like my mind is moving faster then my head, and any time I try to bring any of my ideas to life it just disipates.

Writing with ADHD: 5 Game Changers for Me

Here are some things that have been game changers for me as a writer with ADHD: [Edit: everyone's ADHD is different. This is just what works for me. It may not work for you...]

Planning: It's different for everyone with ADHD, but for me it's essential to spend time planning my story before I start writing. I like to flesh out as much as possible concerning plot, timeline, setting, world, characters and arcs, subplots, and themes.

Summary, Outline, and Scene List: Three items that are critical for me to have in hand before I sit down to write are a beginning to end summary of the story detailing all plot events as far as I know, an outline loosely based on the story structure template/s that feel right for the story (for example, I may use elements of Save the Cat! and some elements of of the Six-Stage Plot Structure), which helps me navigate my plot and hit the relevant plot points. And finally, I need a detailed scene list/timeline combo which lists chapter, scene, date/time, POV character, location, and a one to two sentence summary of what happens in the scene, including the character's goal in the scene, the scene's conflict, and the scene's resolution or how it carries into a later scene.

Gamifying: When I'm struggling with a particular time period or project, it can help me to gamify things. You can do this using a game board strategy, the Yahtzee Method, making a list of bench marks that serve as "levels," race against yourself by trying to bet the previous day's goal, etc. The key to gamifying is to set reasonable benchmarks and give yourself periodic rewards. Rewards can be anything from buying yourself a boba, watching a favorite TV show episode, an hour of playing your favorite game, or going to a movie. Some people like to go to the dollar store and buy a lot of small fun things and use those as rewards. Whatever works for you! Sometimes, turning it into a game with tangible progress and rewards can keep you motivated.

Setting Up a Routine: Although I have my general daily routine, I am without a doubt more productive when I can stick to a more specific routine that includes writing time. For me that works out to writing early in the day before other distractions start ramping up. When I put on my music, sit down with some coffee and a snack, and pull up my manuscript, my brain knows it's time to get to work. That doesn't always mean the work happens, but it's much more likely I'll get something done.

Minimizing Distractions: Anything that can be a distraction when I write is problematic. For that reason, I only listen to music without words and advertising. I turn off my phone or leave it in the other room. If possible, I try to use placeholders for things I need to look up. If I absolutely have to look something up and I get distracted by headlines, interesting articles or videos, or other things, I bookmark them in a special folder and immediately close the window. That way, I know I can go back to them later (I almost never do...) And, for me, as much as I love Scrivener and the ability to organize by chapter, have quick access to character profiles and photos, toggle between scene cards and my story... it's just too distracting for me. I'll sit down to write a chapter, then decide I need to re-do my scene cards, or cast characters, or do mood boards for every location in my story.

For that reason, writing in Word works best [for me] It's simple and there's nothing to distract me. Any story references I might need while writing, such as character profiles and photos, mood boards and aesthetics, setting inspiration photos, etc. are all organized in a special folder, categorized into sub-folders, so I can go straight to the required reference.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: I think a lot of you have been waiting on this one…and stick around after the end for something special!

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Can’t Wait” by Foreigner (if you listen to it, you���ll see why).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and feels. That is all.

Part 7: Until Midnight

Two weeks later, you could admit that Ben was frustrating you in a different way than usual. 

You didn’t want to like him, or be indebted to him. But he was different lately whenever the two of you were alone. Especially at night, when the two of you often met in the kitchen. 

It was the one time where he truly seemed to relax, without his men around him. Without the Soldier Boy persona he wore like a fine tailored suit. 

One night, the two of you were once again sitting together in the kitchen after a marathon of all three Hangover movies. Now you each had a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, of which you’d convinced him to try the “Chunky Monkey” so you could have your “Half Baked” brownie pieces and cookie dough to yourself. 

Ben had all but inhaled his, while you were still chipping away at half the pint.

“You still hate me?” he asked.

You paused in delving into a thick piece of brownie to look up at his bearded face, which was deceptively nonchalant. If he was asking you that, then he really did want to know.

Yet it was a harder question to answer than you would’ve thought a couple of weeks ago. You decided to level him with the truth this time.

“Like I said before, I don’t have a personal vendetta against you or anything,” you admitted. 

Ben rose a brow at you. “But you hate me.” 

You sighed. He could be so childish sometimes.

“Have you forgotten that you’re still holding me against my will?” you pointed out. “Presumably until my team can find me, and you can pick them off one by one.”

“You fuckers came at me first,” he countered. “And I haven’t touched you. Hell, I saved you.”

Yes, he had. You couldn’t ignore that fact.

But there were other reasons that he needed to be put in check.

“You’ve killed a lot of fucking people, Ben,” you said. “I can’t imagine how many of them didn’t deserve it. And before you start, collateral damage is not an excuse. It’s murder. You haven’t seemed to care about that, or much of anyone other than yourself and your own amusement.” 

There. Cards on the table.

Ben set down his ice cream on the counter with enough force to rattle his spoon. He crossed his arms at you.

“You’re pretty fucking high and mighty for someone who probably spent the last few years up Vought’s shithole,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Doing their dirty work. Whatever I did back then, it didn’t end with me. You were part of it too.”

You frowned in annoyance. A hot retort was poised on your tongue.

Whatever he did back then? He’d crashed a skyscraper and killed nineteen people last year! He’d taken out nearly the entire cast of Payback, his old team. However justified he felt about the latter, taking a life was taking a goddamn life!

You wanted to say all that and more…but you paused.

Because he wasn’t exactly wrong, about you at least. You knew you’d done your fair share of shit. And you had taken people out, when you’d needed to.

For self-defense, to stop a criminal, to protect someone…and yes, sometimes, you’d been part of the cleanup crew. Disposing bodies and extracting supes from “unfortunate situations.”

Those times made you feel less than human for being a part of it. And it was the main reason why you’d gotten the courage to quit Vought and join Supe Affairs in the first place…

You frowned at the trail of your thoughts, but his voice soon jolted you out of them.

“Ain’t this a bitch,” said Ben. “If you could, you’d want me dead. Even though I saved you.” 

Your lips pursed. “Dead is a strong word.” 

His angry gaze on you was unrelenting.

“Asleep is as good as dead for me.”

You stared back at him in resignation. Fair enough.

You couldn’t refute that, but you also didn’t know what he wanted from you. He was implying that he wanted you not to hate him, but he wasn’t willing to let you go either.

You got up to put your spoon in the sink, mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

Ben rose from his seat. You felt him approach from behind. You still tensed up as his arm reached around your form to drop in his own spoon. His arm withdrew, but he stood just behind you, at your side. His hand curled around the edge of the counter.

Letting out a discreet, steadying breath, you turned towards him and met his assessing gaze…but you soon looked away.

It was too much. He was too much. Even his musky cologne was invading your senses, threatening to cloud your judgment.  

Before you could back away, Ben grasped your chin, tilting your face up to him so you couldn’t hide. He heard your pulse picking up with his sensitive ears.

“Well, well. Your heart’s just racing away, baby doll,” he said.

He smirked at the blush rising in your cheeks, despite your defiant gaze. You might’ve said you wanted to put him to sleep, but you definitely didn’t seem to hate him. 

“You know, that offer’s still on the table,” he said. Your brow quirked, and you crossed your arms.

“What offer?”

Ben’s hand slid along to frame your jawline, his thumb sweeping across your reddened cheek.

“I can help you end that little dry spell of yours,” he drawled. “Calm that pretty head and have you sleeping soundly tonight.”

Oh, he’d help you fucking sleep, he thought.

He’d help you not be able to sit on that perfect ass for a week. He’d gladly work you up with fingers, lips, and tongue until you threatened to fucking drown him. Until you were writhing at his touch and singing just for him. Until you begged him to fuck you.

But you just rolled your eyes at his offer with a huff. Maybe you didn’t believe he was serious. Oh, but he fucking was.

Overall, you were a pain in his ass. And you had been from the beginning.

You had a dangerously smart mouth for a woman. Along with a stubborn streak to rival his, and a strangely self-righteous attitude for someone who’d mucked through the bowels of Vought and played a part in that world, just like him. You weren’t so fucking innocent either.

But he could also see that you were trying to be different. You had a conscience. A family and friends and a lot of other things that Ben didn’t have anymore. And maybe never had to begin with…

You claimed to want to bring him down, but you cooked for him, hung out with him, and he could start to believe that you actually enjoyed his company, rather than pretended for self-preservation’s sake.

You were a fucking conundrum that he couldn’t totally figure out. And all the while, you didn’t seem to realize how much of a temptation you were. 

It didn’t matter if it was that sexy red dress at the club or these plain-ass jeans you were wearing. His hands itched to mold to your curves, squeeze and tease and familiarize himself until he could find out how glorious it would be to damn near suffocate between your thighs.

Your pretty blush, however, was spreading down your neck. Ben wondered how far he could make it go as he glanced down your V-neck top. His smile edged into a grin.

“I’ll admit, maybe I haven’t been the best host,” he said, injecting some charm. “You gotta be bored as all hell by now.”

You swallowed as his hand moved down the side of your neck. His fingers slid into your hair, but he kept the smooth pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. You didn’t want to admit that it felt nice—and electrifying at the same time.

His touch was raising goosebumps down the back of your neck, tingling down your spine.

“You might be projecting,” you managed to quip. “Is the conveyor belt of prostitutes and drugs finally losing its appeal?”

You studied his face, his smirk, and you had a feeling you had deduced correctly: he was bored too. But now you knew why he didn’t want you to hate him.

He just wanted to fuck you.

That thought wasn’t so surprising. It seemed this man could jump into bed with just about anything with a pulse. But it still made a tendril of heat lick up your spine and your face flush.

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense.

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Ben smirked. His hand tightened in your hair, and he finally began to lean down.

But your breath hitched. You instinctively pressed your hands against his chest before he could kiss you, a firm push.

“Ben,” you uttered.

He stopped, looking down at you with knitted brows. He just thought you were being stubborn now, a fucking tease even…

Until he saw the frisson of fear in your eyes.

He quirked a resigned smile. Stroking your cheek one last time, he let you go.

“All right,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

Your heart was hammering like a Phil Collins drum solo inside your chest as you made your way back to your room.

What the hell, what the hell.

He’d teased and flirted with you before, but not like this. It wasn’t totally obnoxious or disgusting, like he’d genuinely been trying to persuade you. He’d even looked disappointed when you stopped him. And he’d allowed you to stop him.

(And you resisted a shudder at the contrasting memory of Antonio.)

When you were back in your room, you released a relieved sigh. Your hands trembled on the doorknob.

But it wasn’t fear that’d made you nervous with Ben. Not exactly. It was the insane part of you that actually wanted to take him up on his offer.

Fuck, you thought, raising a palm to your still-warm forehead. I really must be crazy. Or sick. Sick in the head.

Or it had been a stupidly long time since you’d gotten laid.

“Seriously, tell me,” he’d said once, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched? ‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a damn shame.”

The memory caused a delicate tingle in your lower belly, pulsing between your legs. You took in a deep, calming breath through your nose.

That’s it, you thought. I’m done with this.

So you tried for a cold shower first. For the record, you locked the bathroom door before you undressed and hopped into the shower. As the water beat against your back and you dutifully lathered soap on your skin, you couldn’t help imagining his heavy hands running over your body.

Fuck. You frowned and quickly dragged yourself out of the shower.

For a few minutes, you were too antsy to get dressed. You paced your small room wearing only a towel, not even thinking really. Just frustrated beyond belief (sexually or otherwise). The truth was, you needed something, or you were going to implode. 

With a heavy sigh, you laid in bed on your side, still wrapped in your towel. You wrapped your hair up in a loose bun and closed your eyes, just taking a few moments to breathe evenly.

Your knees were folded up, almost to your chest. But you relaxed and let your thighs fall open. With a tentative hand, you decided to slide up between your thighs, just teasing the seam of your pussy.

Then with a sigh, you delved between your folds and teased yourself, to start with. Warmth grew in your lower belly, and you sighed louder when you slid a finger inside. You were wet already just with this, and your sighs turned to shallow breaths, and even a moan once heat flooded through your core, and you were getting close…

But a knock at the door just had to startle you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You there?”

Your eyes widened with a gasp, and you moved your hand back to your thigh. Oh shit.

It was Ben. Of course it was fucking Ben.

“Ah, w-wait a minute,” you replied. You scrambled out of bed to lock the door before he tried to come in.

But just your luck, he cracked it open just as you got there. You were met with his handsome face.

His brows rose, his lips then curving when he looked down at you. Or more specifically, you clad in only a towel. You tightened it up on reflex, with a hand on the twisted part at your chest.

“Excuse me,” you said in annoyance. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

His mouth twitched at a deeper grin.

“It’s nothing major. I just had to ask you something,” he said, with an air of nonchalance that only made you suspicious.

Your lips pressed together as you rose an expectant brow.

“Okay, ask,” you said.

Ben reached for your hand, the one holding your towel together.

“Can I see this hand?”

You yelped and secured the towel with your other hand while he examined the one he held.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, with real irritation now. Ben ignored you in favor of staring at your hand, specifically the pads of your fingers. Then his gaze cut to you slyly.

He held your middle and index finger up to his nose, with an obscene inhale.

Your eyes grew wide as your heart stuttered. He did not just…

And Ben smirked.

“I think you’re the one with the fucking problem,” he said knowingly. He took a step forward, but you stepped back. Unfortunately, that just brought your back against the doorframe. Your mouth went dry when you again looked up at him.

“I don’t know what—”

He stopped you before you could deny it further.

“You think I couldn’t fucking hear you?” he asked.

You bit your lip. Oh God.

His brows ran even higher, his smirk ever deeper. His lust-ridden eyes raked over you, but they soon met yours again. His thumb ran down the inside of your wrist, over your quickening pulse point.

“I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while, huh?” he said. “Believe me, I know the fucking feeling. But I can take care of that little problem for you. Take care of you.”

You took in a tremulous breath. His heady voice was a curse, reverberating through your chest and running straight down between your legs, warm and pulsing. He raised your chin to make you look up at him.

“You don’t have to like me for that, do you?” he asked.

It was as honest an offer as you were ever going to get. You had to give it to him though, in this, he was a good goddamn actor. He seemed to have figured out exactly what it would take to soften your resolve.

In fact, he fucking crumbled it.

You released a shuddering breath, and tugged him into your room by his shirt. With a hand behind his neck, you pulled him down into your hungry lips.

That kiss was warm and heady, fueled with a passion that only waiting and wanting could create.

Ben took the invitation to heart, grabbing your hips and already bunching the fabric of your towel. It was thin, and he felt the soft give of your curves underneath. He hoisted you up into his arms.

While a normal man might’ve struggled, you knew it was effortless for him. You willingly wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face with both hands. You broke the kiss for a second so you could brush his hair back and made sure he looked into your eyes this time.

“I don’t hate you,” you told him between panting breaths. “I should, but I don’t.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

Ben paused at that. He roamed your face, maybe judging if he believed you or not.

Then, his mouth curved, and with one hand he reached back to slam your bedroom door shut. It shook on its hinges, but he didn’t wait for it to settle as he walked you to the bed and laid you there beneath him. Your hair fell out of its messy bun and fanned out on the pillow.

Ben gazed down at you, enjoying the sight of you all laid out for him. You were already breathing shallowly, your beautiful eyes bright with anticipation and wild desire. They were honest, and he liked that he finally knew what you were thinking.

He claimed a tight grip on your smooth thighs, parting them so he could find his way in between. He moved his way up to claim your lips next. They were plush and pliant under his.

You sighed against his mouth, diving a hand into his soft hair and running a hand down to the buttons of his shirt. He stopped you and all but tore it off himself.

You blinked in surprise, and then giggled a little at his impatience. But it allowed you to explore the new expanse of golden tan skin, down his neck, over his firm chest and muscular arms.

He relished in it for a moment—your touch. Your hands were soft and warm, and you looked to be genuinely enjoying yourself.

He smirked at that, but he grabbed your wrists before they could venture too much farther than the trail of hair leading below his belt. He trapped them against the bed on either side of your head, and you raised your brows at him with an annoyed little frown. Ben had to chuckle.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” he said. You met him with a challenging tilt of your chin.

“Who says you get to make all the rules?” you asked. Your calf slid up between his legs, brushing insistently against his already rock-hard length. Ben let out something between a grunt and a moan, and didn’t realize that his grip on your arms was starting to get more than bruising.

You winced, with a pained sound caught in your throat. “Ben, you’re gonna break me.”

He amended his grip immediately, frowning at himself. He knew how to control his goddamn strength, even in moments like this (usually). Maybe he was too fucking excited to finally have you beneath him.

But he soothed his thumbs over your wrists and heeded the tug of your hands down to your waiting kiss. He braced an arm above your head and all but devoured you, slipping his tongue past your lips.

He kissed you like a man starving. Like you’d never been kissed in your life, and it was all you could to keep up with his demands.

Eventually he burned a wet trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. He inhaled your floral soap, a scent that had been driving him crazy for days.

He sucked hard behind your ear, and you gasped, thought you were going to see stars.

Unconsciously you gripped at his hair, tugging more harshly than you meant to. But by the pleased sound he made against your skin, you figured he didn’t mind.

Ben soothed a heavy hand up your side and reached between you to untie your flimsy towel. And you let out a slightly shaky breath when he took in your fully naked form for the first time.

“Hmm,” his lips slipped into a grin. “I knew it. Fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but blush, but you didn’t quite know what to say. Ben noticed; it wasn’t too often that he had you speechless.

Amused, he thumbed at your lower lip once more, making you smile almost shyly. (He kind of liked that too.)

And he finally touched you, brushing a hand between the valley of your breasts before palming at one of them. You sighed in appreciation, then moaned as his lips found the other one, his tongue swirling languidly around your nipple.

You arched into his touch, gripped into every groove and dip of muscle in his arms, especially when his fingers rolled and pinched just hard enough on the other nipple.

Your thighs pressed together between the cage of his legs, trying to find friction.

Ben noticed. He let one hand sooth down your belly, half pinning you down as he continued his relentless exploration. You wanted to touch him too, but right now he wasn’t letting up. Everywhere he touched and kissed and sucked set your skin on fire, and enhanced the flood between your legs.

“Ben,” you panted into his ear. If you weren’t allowed to find out what he liked yet (though you had several ideas), then you wanted him to touch you. 

“Be fucking patient,” he said with a chuckle. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

You had no doubt of that. But you were becoming impatient.

“Yeah? Am I gonna be as old as you before we get to it?” you teased. Ben glanced up at you, but seeing your smirk, his own grew.

“All right you little shit,” he muttered. He moved up to claim your smart-ass lips, swallowing your giggle as he took a firm grip of your hair.

His other hand, meanwhile, slid up the back of your thigh to grip a nice handful of your ass. He ground his clothed dick into your core and made you both moan.

He slipped a hand up the inside of your thigh and brushed between your legs, making you quiver with anticipation.

He smiled and glanced down.

“Finally, something I recognize in this century,” he remarked. “A nice bush.”

Your brows raised high, both in surprise and slight embarrassment. No one had ever given you that particular compliment before. But you did pride yourself on being neatly trimmed.

“What?” you still uttered.

“Women are so damn waxed nowadays. Feels like I’m fucking a mannequin,” he said.

“Oh, yeah.” You giggled as something occurred to you. “I’m assuming you encountered some bare landing strips on your tour of Brazil.”

He snorted in response. “One girl actually tried to get me on the waxing table. Something about a ‘manzilian.’”

You couldn’t help it. You pictured how confused he must’ve been at that particular offer. How damn near offended (and possibly intrigued).

And you laughed genuinely so hard that you covered your eyes as they teared up.

It made Ben smirk on reflex, feeling pleased that he achieved that kind of reaction out of you. 

“You tapped out on that one, huh?” you asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Ben shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad, actually.”

At that, you laughed even harder. Oh, how you wished you could’ve seen that. 

Ben quirked an amused brow at you.

“You laughin’ at me, sweetheart?” he warned. He reached between your legs while you were distracted, and thick fingers slipped between your wet folds. You yelped in surprise, but then moaned in pleasure as his thumb found your already sensitive clit.

But he, in fact, knew how to take care of you. His thick digits explored your channel and rubbed persistently against that spongey part near the back, slipping in and out with ease, and circling deliberately around your clit until your inner walls squeezed around his hand.

All the while, you held on tight to his shoulders and shuddered at the warmth cresting deep inside you.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, with a clenching hand in your hair. “Squeeze the shit out of me. Come all over my fucking hand, and then I’ll consider filling you up to the fucking brim.”

With a long and keening moan, you came apart, hot and wet over his fingers. 

“Shit. That’s a good girl,” he praised with a nod. He stroked inside you a couple more times before he withdrew his glistening hand.

You held onto his other one as you panted for breath. “Fuck.”

“Fucking right,” he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but you still smiled as you sat up and went for his belt. You were surprised he hadn’t fully undressed himself sooner, but he sat up and let you do it.

The two of you knelt on the bed as the belt came free, followed by his pants and underwear and socks (he’d long ago kicked off the shoes). His smug smirk came back now that he was in his full glory, so to speak.

Another blush heated your face. You’d seen him like this once before, but there had been…a lot going on that time.

This time you had him all to yourself. Your canvas to explore. You started with kisses down his neck, like he’d done to you, biting and sucking though you couldn’t leave any marks on his skin.

Not fair, you thought in disappointment, but at least you were eliciting some pleased and guttural sounds the further down you went. And then you took his hard, velvety cock in your hands.

He was big enough that you were maybe a little concerned, but not enough to deter you as you teased him with your soft hands, then squeezed and caressed experimentally. He gripped your hips tight.

“Now who’s taking a fucking eternity,” he gritted out. He encouraged you to lie back and raised your hips. You found purchase on his shoulders as your eyes met with his, and after a beat, you smiled and gave a short nod.

Ben aligned himself at your entrance and, slowly as he could manage, pushed inside you. You cried out as he stretched you, filled you deep and bottoming out with mangled moans from both of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so fucking good already.”

You managed to smile and run a hand down his chest. “Uh, you didn’t ask, but I am on birth control.”

His brows furrowed in realization. “What, the fucking pill?”

His team certainly hadn’t supplied you with that for the past month.

You shook your head. “No. An IUD. It’s fine.”

You couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation when he was literally inside you already.

“What? Thought those died out in the 70s,” he said.

“Well, they came back,” you said impatiently. “Just fuck me, Ben!”

Not one to be told twice, Ben continued by slowly pulling out of you, nearly the entire length of his cock, before pushing back in. It was torturous for him, but he knew you needed the time to adjust. By the third stroke, however, he snapped back into you more forcefully.

It elicited a gasp and pleased shudder out of you. Grinning, he picked up the pace from there and pounded into you at a relentless clip. You held onto his arms for dear life, your nails clawing fruitlessly into his skin. You grabbed his hand when he reached a particularly good angle, moaning his name.

“That’s right, crooner. Soon enough I’ll have you singing my fucking name,” he growled. “Knew I was gonna have you just like this, fucking you raw.”

You moaned in response. His words, his voice, his touch, it was all breaking you down and taking you apart, piece by piece.

Meanwhile, your voice only spurred him on. Letting go of your hand, his reached for your cheek. Then it slid down to your neck.

“You got a safe word, baby girl?” he asked, closing a firm, but playful hand around your throat.

But before he could put much pressure, your eyes flew open. Not in arousal, but in panic. Your hands flew to grasp at his wrist.

“Don’t! Please, don’t.” 

Ben looked down at you, surprised enough to pause in all his movements. He released his hand.

He’d very rarely seen wide-eyed panic in your eyes and in your voice. And you’d never said please. 

But then, even more strange, you got embarrassed.

You looked away from him as you caught your breath. Ben called to you uncertainly, perhaps for the first time using your actual name.

You took in a deep breath and sat up. But instead of pushing him away, like he half-expected, you moved so that you were both on your knees and you were straddling his lap.

Using his shoulders as leverage, you resumed the pace of dipping his still hard cock inside you, making you both groan in relief.

Ben helped you, gripping your hips to bounce you on top of him.

Soon enough, he grunted as that familiar tightening and heat of pleasure started to make his upward thrusts wild. He knew he was close…

And he snaked a hand between you to roll over your clit, making sure you were going to get there with him.

A deep tremble went through your lower belly, tightening your inner walls around him impossibly tight as you started to come. Then he followed, finally spilling up and into you.

His arms came around your waist like steel bands as you relaxed on top of him, panting for breath and holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

You gazed down into his eyes, and then his growing, triumphant smirk. It triggered your own wry smile.

And you had to wonder, What the hell did I just do?

AN: Was it as good for you as it was for me? 😏

But ok, seriously, I'm a bit self-conscious when it comes to writing smut, so I genuinely hope you enjoyed the ride lol.

(@waynes-multiverse You probably won't see this for a while, but our convo about the Brazilian wax made it into this chapter. 🤣)

Special Feature:

Check out this lovely moodboard created by @chernayawidow — specifically for this story!

I am obsessed:

She also takes requests, so just message her!

Next time:

You called his name again and took his face with both hands.

“Wherever you are in your mind right now, you’re here with me. Stay with me!” you raised your voice. His skin was getting really hot.

You gasped and had to let go of him when it threatened to burn you. His chest started to glow and hum. Your eyes widened, and finally, so did his.

Keep Reading: PART 8

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[kamaluhkhan]

we were wild and fluorescent (come home to my heart)

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: nostalgia + fluff + a bit of a *steamy* ending ; mentions of sex; swearing; conrad and reader drink alcohol; reader is a competitive swimmer + deals with a lot of pressure; complicated family dynamics (reader has two younger siblings + is eldest daughter); pop culture references (it book/movie, percy jackson series), this chapter is very long + ending is a little cheesy !!

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover, @serrendiipty, @jackierose902109, @lonelywitchv2, @c4rpediem-s, @teensyflowur, @peteronesgf, @percysaidnever

a/n: i literally cannot express how much it means to me that people are reading + enjoying my work!! thank you endlessly for following this story. this chapter is mostly fluff with a lot of banter between the reader and conrad + nostalgia. i'm thinking this will be the last part (....unless?) so i hope you enjoy it :)

part one | part two | part three

on a summer afternoon / i get to thinkin' 'bout the hazy days / under august shade that i used to spend with you (khai dreams, “sunkissed”)

now — summer age 18

you’re already frustrated when you walk over to the beck house, and when the person you least want to answer the door opens it, your mood goes from bad to worse.

"hey. is jere home?" you ask, peering behind conrad to see if someone else, anyone else is there. this is the first time since your argument that you and he were alone together, and you really don't want to look him in the eye. he doesn't look too thrilled to see you standing on his porch, either. he looks at you with tired eyes, wearing a black, short-sleeved rashguard and hair dripping wet. 

"no, sorry." 

"how about steven?"

conrad shakes his head and droplets of water go flying. he says something about prep for the debutante ball.

you exhale sharply, upset that your backup plan just fell through. "okay, bye."

you start walking away, but conrad calls your name. 

"everything okay?"

you're surprised by his follow-up question — suspicious, even. given the harsh words you'd exchanged the last time you were together, you assumed that conrad didn't very much care to prolong a conversation with you, much less whether or not you were okay. whatever his intentions are, you don't really have time to go down this road. 

"everything's fine," you answer loudly, still forging ahead.

"come on, y/n. i know you." 

your hands clench into fists at his words and you finally stop in your tracks. 

"conrad," you huff, turning around to face him. "i really don't have time for this." 

"look, i'm not…." conrad sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "i'm not trying to start anything. you seem a little stressed, and if there's anything i can do….just, let me be there for you."

conrad used to always be there for you in situations like these, and you ignored the sharp pain in your heart earlier when you decided he couldn't be this time. you really, really, really want to stay mad at him — you certainly have enough reasons to be for several lifetimes — but the gentleness of conrad's tone calms you down as much as it throws you off. instinctively, you feel your hands unclench, your heartbeat slow down. 

“so, what’s wrong?”

you sigh. your siblings had planned an overnight trip with their friends at a campground about 3 hours away. they were meant to leave this afternoon, but the chaperones just cancelled — one had car trouble and the other a work emergency. now, they didn’t have a ride or adult supervision, which left you to come up with an alternative, lest you want to spend the rest of your summer drying your siblings’ tears and dealing with a lengthy guilt trip from your mother (who, conveniently, has plans this weekend and can’t reschedule). you left that last part out of your story to conrad, explaining only the basic components of your dilemma.

“but, it’s fine. i’ll sort something out.” as you wait for conrad to respond, you’re already running through a few other alternatives in your mind. you’re just in the middle of estimating the amount of money you would spend on gas when conrad says:

"well, i can come with you." 

you quirk your eyebrow at him. “yeah, you don’t need —”

“you’ll need two cars — and two drivers — to get them there, right? i'm not doing anything right now, or tomorrow.”

“it’s not your problem, conrad. i’ll figure something out —”

“look, you have three options," he interrupts, tilting his head at you. "one, you take two trips yourself to get them all there, which means you’d spend around 10 hours driving each way and waste a ton of money on gas.”

you stiffen. 

you hate that he knows exactly how your brain works….

“two, the twins have to cancel their trip, and you spend the rest of the summer with your siblings upset at you and your mom suggesting that you’re a bad sister, which is not true.”

you hate that he understands exactly the situation you’re in….

“three, you let me help you.”

….and you hate that he always insists on being helpful.

that was the real reason that you didn’t want to ask conrad — because you suspected that he might offer to help regardless of the tension between you two. the conrad you remember was always concerned with doing the right thing, no matter what, and despite how different he’s acting this summer, you knew that caring boy was still there, deep down.

sometimes, you hate being right — it can get a bit tedious.

conrad waits for you to answer, but he obviously knows you well enough to guess your decision. you don’t find the prospect of camping with conrad particularly appealing, but you’re desperate.

you tell conrad to be ready to leave in an hour, before walking back to your place to tell your siblings the good news.

a little over an hour later, your siblings, their friends — devi, khadija, kai, and leo — and all the camping supplies are split in between your and conrad’s cars. you decided to divide the group into threes: you’d drive your sister, khadija and leo; and conrad would drive your brother, devi, and kai. once everyone’s buckled in, you and conrad close the trunk of your respective cars and turn to each other.

“so, we’ve got a spot booked at stardust falls, but the plan is to stop halfway —”

“at sophie’s for a bite to eat,” conrad finishes, a smile creeping on his face. “i know the drill.”

you bite back a smile yourself before nodding at him and getting in the driver's seat.

as your sister cues up a playlist — you had just made her watch lemonade mouth so she was currently obsessed with hayley kiyoko and her music — you get lost in memories of summers past. 

it was a tradition, many years ago: your siblings were too young to join, so for one weekend in late august it was you, conrad, jeremiah, belly, and steven with susannah and laurel, the seven of you piled into a minivan for an overnight camping trip. you spent the drive blasting music and singing along, playing ‘i spy’ while gorging on goldfish crackers and sunny d. about halfway through, there would be a pit stop to refill the gas tank, stock up on snacks, and get something to eat from the nearby diner. you would always get waffles with extra whipped cream and conrad would get chocolate chip pancakes, and you’d always split the food between you. once you got to stardust falls, you’d spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing, and the night roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, stargazing and whispering until sunrise. 

as much as you loved laurel and susannah, you and conrad would dream of getting your driver’s licence and being able to continue the tradition with just the kids. you never got the chance; it was only five years ago, when you were the same age as your siblings now, that you had gone on your last camping trip to the same location. 

it seems your dreams were finally coming true — just not in the way you expected.

when you get to sophie’s diner, you’re relieved to have a chance to stretch your legs. the eight of you get a familiar booth in the right corner and you find yourself squeezed between devi and the window. the waiter distributes menus to everyone, and it isn’t until you look down that you see it: your initials next to ‘CF’. last time you were here, the five of you all carved your initials onto the table when the moms weren’t looking. you forgot that you’d placed yours right next to conrad’s; to be fair, you were always sitting next to each other. now he’s at the other end of the table on the opposite side, examining the menu carefully even after being here so many times. 

this time, you just get a coffee and steal some bacon from your brother; conrad doesn’t get anything, claiming he isn’t hungry, until your sister offers him the rest of her french toast, which he practically inhales. after, you and conrad fill up on gas while your siblings and their friends go into the store for some snacks. 

“hey, can you get me some sour patch kids?” you ask your brother, handing him a $5 bill. your brother nods and starts walking away; you glance at conrad, then add: “and some m&m’s, too!” to which your brother offers a thumbs up. 

“thanks,” conrad says. he removes the nozzle and sticks it into the gas tank; you do the same, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“does listening to the lightning thief musical on repeat make your brother a theatre kid?” 

you turn to face conrad, who’s already looking at you with a lopsided smile. 

“i think it makes him more of a percy jackson kid,” you decide.

“well, he has good taste. i didn’t even know there was a percy jackson musical,” conrad adds. 

“i know, right?” you gush. “my brother and kai went to see it off broadway, and of course i had to chaperone, but i’m so glad i did because how, in the name of all the gods, did we not know this existed?”

conrad laughs. “we would have been obsessed,” he agrees. 

you smile, feeling yourself hit by another wave of nostalgia. 

when you were younger, you, conrad, jeremiah, steven, and belly loved the percy jackson series, rotating the books between the five of you until everyone had read them, the covers well-worn and sand stuck between the pages. so, for belly’s 9th birthday, laurel wrote out a prophecy with an elaborate quest for the five of you to go on - something about searching for poseidon's missing trident - while susannah used the time to fashion the backyard into your very own camp half-blood. you each got ‘assigned’ a godly parent: apollo for jeremiah, ever the sunshine boy; hermes for steven, the trickster of the group; aphrodite for belly, who looked at the world with rose coloured glasses; poseidon for you, because you loved the water; and athena for conrad, wise beyond his years. 

yes, your heart did skip a beat, because of what a perfect coincidence — that conrad was essentially the annabeth to your percy. when would the two of you share the best underwater kiss of all time? 

after a fun-filled afternoon, you each took home a necklace filled with clay beads, as was tradition at the fictional camp half-blood. even after summer ended, you would always wear yours in between swim competitions and practice. somewhere along the way, you misplaced it; it was probably left on the chlorine soaked floor of a locker room. you wondered if the others still had theirs, if conrad even remembered. 

he’s looking at you now with such wistfulness, you have a feeling he does. when he looks at you like that, it’s easy to forget that you’re mad at him and he broke your heart. scratch that: you’re mad at him because he broke your heart. 

and, not that it solves everything between you, but he’s here and didn’t have to be, and that maybe possibly heals something inside you. 

before you can continue the conversation, a sudden click indicates that the gas tanks are full, just in time for your siblings and their friends to exit the convenience store, carrying a significant haul of snacks and drinks. 

your brother hands you the sour patch kids and m&m’s, and you toss the bag of m&m’s at conrad, which he catches effortlessly. you rip open the package with your teeth and stuff a few of the sour candies in your mouth as everyone piles back into their respective cars.

you open the door to get in the driver’s seat, but the passenger side is empty. that’s when you notice that your sister and devi were still walking back from the store, taking their time. your sister laughs a little louder than usual, her smile a bit brighter when devi bends down to steal a sip of her drink. she’s wearing a jacket that you’ve never seen and probably belongs to devi, and your sister’s pair of sunglasses now rests on devi’s head. technically the sunglasses were yours, before you passed them down to your sister, but still — it’s adorable. devi winks at your sister before slipping into the backseat of conrad's car. your sister sighs contently before freezing at the realisation that you witnessed the moment between them.

"what?" she asks, a little flustered.

something makes you glance over your shoulder at conrad, who you now realise had seen the interaction between your sister and devi as well. beside him, the door to the driver’s side is also open, but he doesn’t get in. instead, conrad raises his eyebrows at you and smiles knowingly.

“nothing,” you say, smiling back at conrad, then at your sister. “but hurry up, if you want to make it to the falls before sundown.”

your sister mumbles something and gets in the car, while you check the route one more time. you tell conrad which one has the least amount of traffic, and soon enough, you’re on the road again.

conrad follows closely behind you, never allowing more than a car between before catching up. you glance in the rearview mirror and see your brother belting the words to what you assume is the percy jackson musical, and conrad is even bopping his head along. in your car, your sister is busy reading the song of achilles while the others in the back are relatively quiet. 

“so what’s going on with you and discount james dean?” your sister suddenly asks. she puts her book down, reaches over into the cupholder to grab a few sour patch kids. 

you laugh at the nickname, even if the answer disappoints you, just a bit.

“nothing.” 

out of the corner of your eye, you can glimpse your sister roll her eyes. 

“that seems to be your favourite word today,” she notes.

“fine, how about this for a change of pace….there was definitely something earlier between you and devi.”  

your sister’s jaw drops and she turns around to see if her friends heard, but khadija is asleep and leo has his headphones on, looking down at his phone.

“y/n!” 

“what!” you mock her incredulous tone. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“i’m not…we’re not…” your sister stumbles over her words, turning her head sharply to face out the window. she plays with the sleeve of devi’s jacket, which she’s still wearing despite it almost being 85 degrees. the same music as before fills the space, and hayley kiyoko sings about girls liking girls as you wait for your sister to answer. 

she finally sighs when the song ends. “i like her, okay? but we’re just friends.”

at her words, you’re overwhelmed by an eerie sense of deja vu. if you could have done things differently, maybe you would have. and maybe, just maybe, you can help your sister have a better outcome — whatever that means for her. 

“look, kid, i know it feels like the end of the world, but you have options,” you promise. “one, you tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way; your relationship is forever ruined and your other friends have to choose sides —”

“y/n! seriously?”

“i’m just preparing you for the worst case scenario,” you defend, exiting the highway. “the best case scenario is that you tell her how you feel, or she feels the same way and beats you to it, and it all works out. and there is, of course, the secret third option.”

“what’s that?”

you shrug. “easy. you never cross that line.” you follow the signs that lead you to your destination.

“and bottle up my feelings forever,” your sister grumbles. “is that what you and conrad did?”

you make a right into the campground and put the car in park; conrad’s car pulls up next to you a few seconds later. you turn off the engine.

“not exactly.”

_________________________________________

you and conrad unpack the trunks as your siblings and their friends set up their tents. you hear their giddy banter as they plan how to spend the rest of the afternoon, as well as the sleeping arrangements. you smile to yourself when you hear devi suggest that she and your sister share a tent. the cars are pretty much empty except for some food to keep away animals, but you notice that not everything made the trip.

you double check your car, then conrad’s, before calling over your brother.

“yo, what happened to my bag?” you ask him. 

“i thought it was your swim stuff, so i took it out of the trunk,” he explains. “did you need it?”

“oh no, no. it just had all my clothes, my sleeping bag and my tent,” you say sarcastically. “no big deal.”

your brother gives you a thumbs up, clearly not getting the message. he seems more interested in kai, who's currently unpacking his guitar.

“cool,” he says before walking back to his friends. 

you huff and close your trunk. at least there is some balance in the universe: the mosquito repellant was in your bag, and your brother is usually their favourite meal. you always have afterbite, or you would have, if you had your stuff with you. 

thankfully, you had your bathing suit underneath your clothes, and you could sleep in the backseat, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable…

“everything okay?” conrad sneaks up behind you.

“turns out none of my stuff is here.” you shrug. “but it’s fine.”

“i mean, we could share my stuff,” conrad offers, lifting up his bag. knowing him, he’s probably overprepared and carefully packed, even with only an hour’s notice.

you look at him for a second. 

“let’s sort that out later, yeah?” you decide, ignoring how the prospect of wearing his clothes, sharing a tent with him, makes your heart beat faster. “i’m itching to go for a swim.”

taking advantage of the late afternoon sun, you all slather on sunscreen, throw on colourful swimsuits with sunglasses, and relax near the water. it’s only a short walk away from where you’d set up camp, and all your tents (well, except yours) are still in view. your brother, leo, and khadija are sitting down on their towels while playing cards. kai has borrowed your sister’s copy of the song of achilles to read. your sister and devi are, splashing each other in the water. conrad is reading a worn of stephen king’s it, a bottle of lemonade resting next to him.    

khadija brought her wireless speaker, and out of all your siblings’ friends, you’re thankful that she has the best taste in music. “this is the day” by the the plays in the background of everyone’s laughter and playful banter. you swim idly in the water, let your skin absorb the sunlight, and take it all in.

as much as you were stressed this morning, you’re practically floating with joy now. you feel like a kid again — and it finally feels like summer. 

your eyes land on conrad once more. he sits in the shade and you’re craving a sip of his drink, so you get out of the water and settle down next to him like it’s the most natural thing for you to do. you’re dripping on his towel, but he doesn’t seem to care; he hands you the bottle of lemonade without a word. you take a sip, surprised that it’s slightly bitter. 

“does this have vodka in it?” you cough. 

“yeah,” conrad answers, putting his book down. he takes off his sunglasses and rests them on his head. “i can get you something else, if you want.”

you shake your head and take another sip. “it’s fine. just don’t let the kids drink any alcohol, okay?”

“i won’t.” he offer you a wry smile. “but you know they’re not kids, right? they’re teenagers.”

“it feels weird calling them teenagers,” you say. he’s sitting up with his knees bent, and you lay down next to him, but not before stealing his sunglasses to shield your eyes. the sun moved slightly, and starts to peek through the leaves of the tree that was providing shade.

“just because we grew up, doesn’t mean they have to," you add once you're comfortable. 

conrad hums. you tilt your head to look at him and notice his eyes lingering on the tattoo below the band of your lime green bikini top. you smile — he blushes, then looks away. conrad takes the lemonade bottle back from you and swallows a mouthful. you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

“my mom told me you got into stanford,” he says suddenly. “that’s really cool that you get to go to california. just like you wanted, right?”

“i thought you hated horror,” you say, referencing the book you saw him reading earlier. you desperately want to change the subject — your father is still pushing princeton because of their swim team rankings, and your mother is too busy spending her free time in bars to really care. needless to say, where you’re going to college isn’t a topic you want to discuss, unless you’re looking to ruin this perfect sunny afternoon.

conrad just looks at you for a second before playing along.

“i usually do, but this guy on my football team wouldn’t shut up about stephen king, so i thought i’d give it a try. you’ve read it?”

“no, but i saw the movies. i cried so much in it: chapter two, like i was practically choking on tears in the middle of this dark theatre. my ex had no idea why i was crying so much.”

“why did you cry so much?”

you open your eyes. it takes you a beat to respond, because you never really thought about it that deeply. by now, the song has changed to david bowie’s ‘heroes,’ and watching your siblings and their friends goof off in the middle of summer makes you feel like a background character in a coming of age movie, when five years ago you would have been one of the main characters. you miss those days, almost as much as you miss what you had with the boy next to you.

“because it reminded me of this,” you admit. 

conrad lets out a small chuckle. “did i miss the summer where we fought a killer clown?”

“no, smart ass,” you shove his leg playfully. “but there were other things that were just as intimidating. like, parents who were jerks with soul-crushing expectations, and younger siblings who needed to be taken care of. drinking problems, cancer diagnoses, divorces. just…everything, you know? it was summer, we were kids, and things were just scary sometimes, but we always faced it together. and, then…”

“we grew up,” conrad finishes. 

“yeah,” you muse. you lift the sunglasses off your face to look at conrad, and he’s already gazing down at you. if you closed your eyes again, you could imagine laurel and susannah sitting by the water and gossiping, steven and jeremiah diving underwater to try and catch a fish with their bare hands, and belly laying in the sun while reading a romance novel she's probably too young to read. but all you see now is conrad, smiling at you softly with the golden sunlight shining behind him, and it makes your heart ache. 

belly mentioned that they hadn't been back here since you stopped coming to cousins. because it wasn't the same.

your voice drops to a whisper. “i'm sorry i ruined it."

"don't give yourself so much credit." his smile at you sadly. "we both made things messy; i should be sorry, too."

"are you?" 

he hesitates, finishes off the bottle of lemonade. 

"yeah," he finally says. "i'm sorry."

and it doesn’t feel like enough, but instead of worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after, you just focus on today. you relax back down on the towel next to conrad, and let the sunshine and sounds of summer fun wash over you.

the afternoon fades into the evening, and once everyone's dry, you get started on dinner, then dessert.

it's so familiar: the warm glow of the campfire, the smell of burnt marshmallows, the slight itch on your skin from where a mosquito must have bitten you, the pressure of conrad's knee pressed against yours. 

you get up for more graham crackers, and your sister follows you. 

"so, i hear you and conrad are sharing a tent," she teases. "you're welcome."

"why would i thank you?" you wonder, biting into a graham cracker. 

a wicked smile appears on your sister's face. "well, i was the one who told our dear brother that you wouldn't need your bag. i figured your boyfriend would have everything you need."

"conrad's not my boyfriend," you remind her, a little annoyed. you and conrad made nice earlier, but the peace between you is precarious. you aren't particularly thrilled to be in a situation where you're confined to close quarters together — much less now that you know it's been fabricated by your own sister.

"so then why are you and conrad sleeping together in a one person tent?" she challenges, crossing her arms.

"do you want me to sleep outside and get eaten by werewolves?" 

your sister rolls her eyes, but you notice how she shudders just a little bit. 

"those don't exist," she declares, her voice a little shaky. your sister is old enough to know that monsters aren't real, but you still get a kick out of scaring her - especially when she's done something to frustrate you.

"oh, sure they do," you reply easily. conrad arrives at the table next to you just in time, probably to check on those graham crackers you'd promised to get. "stardust falls is crawling with werewolves, right con?"

"no," he answers. your sister sighs with relief too soon, because conrad continues. "only on the full moon…." he makes a big show of pulling down his sleeve and checking his watch. "which is tonight, if i remember correctly." 

"but, don't worry," you wink at your sister. "devi will protect you."

there's a moment of silence between the three of you, before you and conrad burst out laughing. 

"you guys are the worst!" your sister groans. you and conrad are still laughing as she grabs an unopened bag of marshmallows and snatches the pack of graham crackers from you before storming away. 

"thanks,” you say once you’ve both calmed down. 

he grins at you, reaching over to grab an orange. “my pleasure.” 

you smile back at him before walking back to the campfire, already feeling warmth spread through your chest.

_________________________________________

when the night is at its darkest, everyone decides that it’s probably time for bed. you triple check to make sure the fire is out and all the food is away, and then everyone goes into their tent — with you as the exception.

you and conrad never circled back to whether or not you’d be staying in the tent with him, so you end up staying out by the water. 

there’s still some rustling and whispers from the tents behind you, but mostly you’re left with the soft trill of crickets, and what sounds like an owl in the distance. you’re still wearing your bikini top and cutoff shorts, even though there’s a cool breeze near the water, because you didn’t really have another option. conrad was right earlier — it’s a full moon, and you’re thankful that it provides some light. the sky is clear enough that you can also see the stars. you’re so lost in looking for constellations that you’re startled by the sudden appearance of shadow right next to you.

“shit, conrad. you gave me a heart attack!” you exclaim, just loud enough for conrad to hear and quiet enough to not wake the others.

“sorry,” he whispers back, sitting down next to you with a lantern. “i couldn’t sleep.” conrad tilts his head up. “but, i come bearing gifts.”

conrad hands you one of the mugs he’s holding — not the usual thermos you’d bring for camping, but ones that you’d find in the kitchen back at the beach house.  

in the dim light, you see that it’s your favorite mug, the same mug you’d dropped during your argument a few weeks ago. the cracked porcelain is so carefully repaired, you wouldn’t have known it was broken. 

“thanks,” you whisper. you take a sip of the lukewarm hot chocolate, but the warmth that spreads through your body is from conrad’s gesture more than anything.

conrad nods and points up at the stars. “find anything good?”

you launch into a detailed explanation of what constellations you’ve found so far — and, when that’s over, you continue making up stories like you’re david attenborough narrating a nature documentary. sure, it’s ridiculous to use a very serious british accent to suggest that king kong and godzilla are immortalised in the night sky, but it makes conrad chuckle, and you decide that’s worth all the stars in the universe.

in between stories, conrad asks: "are you cold?" 

conrad already knows the answer, because he passes you a light jacket without you saying a word. you shrug it on, and practically sink into the familiar fabric.

"so you're the one who had my varsity jacket," you realize. it smells like him now: lemon and sandalwood. 

conrad smiles sheepishly and shrugs. "it's a good jacket — what was i supposed to do, not wear it? you left it last summer."

last summer. 

the words hang heavy between you. 

 “y/n —”

“con —”

you both stop, waiting for the other to continue. there have been enough moments this summer where you’ve cut your heart open and conrad just watched you bleed. a part of you wanted him to do the same, even though you know how much it hurts. 

“why did you come back that night?” he asks. conrad is usually confident, sturdy, reliable; right now, though, he’s the most timid you’ve ever seen him.

“i needed to.”

“why?” he presses.

you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself a year ago and all the pressure you felt, from your parents and coaches. you used to love swimming, and you realized too late how much competing took over your life. things weren’t perfect at home, either, but you were trying your best to guard that truth from your siblings. ironically, that was part of the reason you had distanced yourself from conrad in the months prior: you knew he would worry, and you didn't want to burden him.

you tell bits and pieces of this to conrad, cutting yourself open once more.

“i felt like i was drowning,” you admit. “i tried so hard to hide it —  just keep swimming, right? but it got to be too much. so last summer, when i had a meet nearby, i just had to see you, because i knew that you were the one person in the world who would jump in and save me.”

“i didn’t know.” is all conrad says for a moment. you don’t add anything, because you find yourself in the same position as always: vulnerable, pouring your heart out.

“what you said on the fourth — you were right,” conrad sighs. “when you came last summer, i was already mad at you for not coming back to cousins for so long, and then you were leaving again and i was hurt. and - it’s fucked up, but i wanted to hurt you, too.”

“mission accomplished,” you laugh sadly.

“i shouldn’t have said what i said that morning last summer, and i shouldn’t have ignored you after.”

“you shouldn’t have ignored me this summer, either” you add. you can’t help calling him out for his shitty behaviour lately as well.

“hey, you ignored me, too,” he points out. “and, yeah, maybe i deserved it. there’s just a lot going on and….” conrad trails off, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, where a sliver of golden sunlight peeks through the horizon. you and conrad must have been talking for hours because morning is now just around the corner. “i know i was a jerk. just please know how sorry i am — for everything.” 

you’re about to say something, but you can’t seem to find the right words. i'm sorry too didn't feel like enough. instead, you reach out and grab conrad’s hand. it’s cold in yours, but you don’t care.

“i can’t lose you,” conrad whispers, almost choking on the words. he squeezes your hand. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“i’m here, connie,” you whisper back. with your other hand, you brush some hair out of his eyes before using your thumb to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.  “and i’m really glad you’re here, too.”

throughout the entire conversation, you and conrad had moved closer together — now, your shoulders are touching and your left leg is bent over his right one. 

“did you mean what you said on the fourth?” conrad asks, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret that night?”

“i’m guessing you mean the us-having-sex part?” you reply, a gentle smirk on your face. 

conrad nods. he’s blinking faster than usual, and you can tell he’s anxious to hear your answer.

“if it ruined things between us, then i would,” you admit. you realize then that your hand is still on his cheek; you remove it, but keep the other intertwined with his. “tell me it didn’t ruin things between us, and maybe i’ll change my mind. i mean, do you regret it?”

conrad smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “no. that’s one thing i don’t think i’ll ever regret. that’s another thing you were right about — that night meant something to me. it meant everything.”

your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you, tenderly, waiting for you to say something.

"yeah, me too. or, me neither. i mean, i’m sorry -” now, it’s your turn to stumble over your words, nerves getting the better of you - you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “i’m sorry for not being here; i’m sorry for hurting you; and i’m sorry for making you feel like i didn’t care, because that’s further from the truth.”

“i appreciate it,” conrad replies sincerely. “but i think we’ve apologized to each other enough for one night.”

you laugh. “yeah, i guess you’re right about that one. have any alternatives, fisher?”

conrad reaches up to caress your cheek, a gentle gesture that contrasts the mischievous smirk on his face. his eyes fall to your lips, then back to yours. “i can think of a few —”

you kiss him before he finishes his sentence.

maybe you'd never shared an underwater kiss, but kissing conrad feels as dynamic and unpredictable as the ocean. 

when you kissed last summer, it was like a wave breaking onto the shore: the built up anticipation finally coming to fruition. 

earlier this summer, at nicole’s party, kissing him felt dangerous, like swimming out into the turbulent water and realizing you’re in too deep. 

right now, his lips on yours feel like floating in water on a warm summer day. 

conrad slips his hand underneath your jacket, and you shiver when he touches your bare skin, right under the band of your bikini top where your tattoo is. you shift ever so slightly and suddenly you're tangled in his lap, feeling him strong and sturdy beneath you. one of your hands is on his thigh, while the other tangles into his hair. you tug the strands just the way you remember him liking it; he groans and kisses you with more intensity, a calm sea gradually becoming more rough.

once you’ve run out of air, you pull apart ever-so-slightly, appreciating his swollen lips, pink cheeks, and tousled hair in the early morning sunlight. you could do this for hours — drowning in him — and you're about to do it again, too, before you’re shocked back into reality.

“i knew it!” you hear your sister yell in the distance. she then adds something about your brother owing her ten dollars. you make a mental note to get them back later for betting on your love life. 

conrad laughs against your lips, then pulls away. you get up and offer him your hand, which he accepts with a smile. 

“you might wanna…” you gesture towards his messy hair, and he blushes even more despite how much he enjoyed it earlier. 

“right.” he clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair to tame it. 

“i’m gonna go get started on breakfast,” you say before walking a few steps closer to the campsite. 

you turn back around to conrad, who was frozen in place, looking at you carefully. his posture is stiffer than before, and it takes you a second to realize why: he’d been here before. he’d watched you leave one too many times.

not this time, though. this time, you reach out your hand — a peace offering, a promise. 

summer will end soon, and maybe you aren’t quite sure what the future holds once it does.

“so, are you coming with me or not?” 

but you do know this: when you get back to the beach house, you’ll go surfing with the fisher boys, watch movies and eat sour candy with belly, play video games with steven and jere. you’ll sneak out to meet conrad, then watch the sunrise together. the five of you will have bonfires on the beach, maybe even inviting your siblings and their friends, and roast marshmallows. susannah will host another pool party and you’ll feel conrad’s arm wrapped around your waist; he’ll kiss your cheek, sitting on the edge of the pool, and you'll jump in the water, bringing him under with you, before kissing him back. 

you'll spend one particular night in conrad's bedroom, hands and lips all over each other, trying to keep quiet, and when you search his drawers for a condom, you'll find the same necklace that you, jeremiah, steven, and belly were gifted. it holds faded clay beads painted with various symbols - a turquoise trident, a crashing wave, a rainbow, a starfish. you'll think back to how the tradition started at belly's percy jackson themed birthday, when you and conrad were 11, and susannah would give one to each of you at the end of each summer. there will be a sharp pain in your heart when you notice that some beads are missing, the years don't add up, but you'll realize, prompted by conrad's deep voice calling you back to bed, that you might be able to make up for lost time.

you'll soak up as much sunshine as you can. you’ll squeeze out every ounce of summer, and then some. you'll dust off old traditions, and make some new ones, too. you'll fill those necklaces with more clay beads.

and you'll always - always - come back home.

[skania]

OnK Chapter 155 Akane Thoughts

Before I start rambling about the chapter, let me just confess that my hopes of Aka delivering some Chapter 51 & 52 parallels in the upcoming weeks just increased exponentially.

I know, I know, I'm probably playing myself but. In this week's episode we see Aqua and Akane go out together and starting to work together as a team.

And in this week's manga chapter, we see... Aqua and Akane go out together and (potentially) starting to work together as a team.

As if to prove that it's no coincidence, Akane is even wearing a choker in both, this week's episode and this week's manga chapter. Even though in the manga, she hasn't worn one since... well, the very chapter the anime is adapting this week.

It's like Aka's break was strategically placed just so the chapter & episode line up 😭

Granted, there's nothing to guarantee that he will keep it up in the next two weeks. Maybe this will be enough for him and he will call it a day. But since we've gotten this far and hope is free, may as well keep hoping while expecting nothing 😂

Moving onto the chapter, full disclosure: I've been half-expecting Akane getting the "Moving On"™ patented haircut because it very much is a thing in Asia, whether it be in manga or in real life. So no surprise there.

The reason she gave on the other hand...

^ My face knowing Aka just served Akane on a silver platter to every Akane hater out there 😂

The funniest thing about all this is that, hello?? The bangs are one thing, but are we supposed to pretend that Akane didn't wear her hair long as a kid? If anything, Akane cut her hair short that first time because her idol wore hers short. So why should anyone take short hair as a more genuine Akane thing than long hair??

But whatever, Aqua went back to his Love Now hair so the choice of haircut itself was obviously just Aka wanting Akane to be in sync with him. Because even if Aka recently spent 4 chapters establishing that Aqua is supposed to end up with someone else, he and Akane are the ones who continue to move as a pair.

Naturally.

So leaving the haircut itself aside, Akane is back to her original hair parting and thus (apparently) done imitating Ai.

The question here is: in what ways exactly has Akane been "imitating" Ai up to this point? Because I know there are a lot of different schools of thought when it comes to that.

As far as I'm concerned though, we have seen Akane, we have seen Ai, and we have seen Akane acting as Ai.

Needless to say, this isn't at all how Akane conducts herself in her day-to-day life lol

However, I don't think she means that she just shaped her hairstyle after Ai to be more like Aqua's ideal girl. That's fair and makes sense on paper, but if "imitating" Ai was just about making her hairstyle more appealing to Aqua, then why didn't she cut her hair after she and Aqua broke up? More than that, why didn't she cut it after she chose to support Kana's love life?

Because the timing of the haircut is key, IMO. She cut her hair short only after Aqua chose happiness and accomplished his revenge. In other words, she cut her hair short only after her goal of saving Aqua was accomplished.

To me, this implies that if Akane has been imitating Ai, it's been in ways that she thought would help her accomplish that goal.

Now, since she hardly speaks this chapter, it's hard to gauge what changes this will bring to Akane's characterization. However, there is one thing that already stands out to me:

Remember what happened when Akane thought that Kamiki killed Ai? She feared that Aqua would get his hands dirty by killing him in turn, and as such decided that she had to deal with Kamiki on her own in order to protect Aqua.

Now she knows that Nino is the Big Bad, and the first thing we see her do is... go discuss the situation with Aqua.

Akane now trusts that Aqua won't break, and so instead of acting on her own to protect him, she wants to be forthcoming with him.

Considering what I mentioned above about Aqua and Akane moving as a pair, I can't help but to think Aka may just be establishing Akane's own version of this:

And — what a coincidence — those lines also fit none other than Ai, who pretended to not love Kamiki and kept her distance from him because of how important he was to her.

Since Ai knew Kamiki was about to break, Ai put on a façade that wouldn't show her own doubts and fears. All in an effort to not burden him more, to protect him better even if she failed at it.

So I'm inclined to believe that may just be how Akane has been imitating Ai.

Aqua recently described Ai as someone who was always carefree, strong and who never cried. Needless to say, he was wrong about her, but that's the impression Ai deliberately tried to give. And what have we seen from Akane, especially lately?

Even when going against her true desires, Ai always put on a smile and remained flippant. So Akane may have been taking a page from that particular book... to be Aqua's perfect support.

His perfect ally.

I theorized before that this star here was Akane fully embracing the role as Aqua's girlfriend, but she wasn't just any kind of girlfriend. She was as supportive of Aqua as she possibly could, always trying to offer him solace, precisely because she knew how burdened Aqua was.

And throughout it all, Akane kept her own feelings and wants very close to her chest. She even intended to say goodbye to him with a smile, not realizing just how hard it would be on her.

Akane has been striving to save Aqua all along and playing any role she deems necessary to accomplish that goal (the supportive girlfriend, the well-meaning ex that gets in the way of his plans), but now that Aqua has finally been saved, she doesn't need to put on a mask anymore. Unlike Ai, who wore hers nearly until the very end.

With that reading, I can't help but think that Akane's wording was pretty clever. If she wants to be vague about her haircut being related to the "saving Aqua chapter" finally coming to a close for her, saying that she no longer needs to imitate Ai is a good way to convey it without actually saying it.

I may be completely off about all this, though. Truth is, we could sit here all day trying to figure out Akane's thoughts and Aka's intended meaning, but we all know that a lot of people will be running off with the most unflattering interpretations and they could be right for all I know. Aka's mind sometimes works in twisted ways 😂

That said, one unflattering interpretation I do want to fight against is that of Akane's feelings for Aqua just being an emulation of Ai's own. That doesn't add up, because Akane's goal from the get-go has been to help Aqua be happy.

And she had that goal even before she started imitating Ai:

Unless Aka retcons this, Akane's feelings for Aqua are Akane's own. He saved her and helped her be happy, and Akane has always been seeking to save him and help him be happy in turn.

It is possible that Akane has been trying to fill for Aqua the role of unconditional love and support that Ai would've filled for him if only she were alive. That's more or less just another way to say everything I already mentioned above.

However, even in that case, this should be motivated by her own feelings for him rather than Ai's. Not to mention, Ai's feelings for Aqua are motherly feelings and thus, strictly platonic. Meanwhile, Akane's for Aqua were paralleled to Ai's for her lover literally just a chapter ago:

So if Aka's writing is consistent, that particular interpretation should be off the table.

But that's enough time spent trying to make sense of Akane's line and Aka's intention behind it lol

Moving on, I can't help but notice what a big coincidence it is that right after we get a chapter showing that Ai and Kamiki are (in many ways) a failed Akane/Aqua, we now get a chapter where Akane cuts her hair short to differentiate herself from Ai.

Akane and Aqua may just be about to move into uncharted territory.

The first time we saw Aqua and Akane team up in Love Now, they did so as a business, fake relationship. Now, they're (potentially) teaming up all over again and being more honest while they're at it. What kind of dynamic will we see now, I wonder?

Granted, it doesn't have to involve anything romantic. This could be very well Aka setting up the stage for Aqua and Akane to end up as friends, and I'd personally be fine with that as long as it's executed well.

Regardless of the nature of his feelings though, I can't help but remember this:

Aqua once said that he will like Akane no matter what kind of Akane she is. With some luck, we may just see Aqua finally prove that he meant it.

His reaction when he saw her was so funny though. Aqua's feelings for Akane can be interpreted in many different ways, but indifference definitely isn't a plausible one lmao

Even here in this panel he's anything but indifferent. Almost like Akane just broached a sore subject

Also, it is kind of poetic that as soon as happiness is back on the table for Aqua, we see Aqua and Akane reunite on a chapter titled "Happy Ending" of all things lol

Now, onto the plot! It's nice to have confirmation that Aqua did originally intend to kill Kamiki. I'd like to know what exactly entailed his original plan, but that may be asking for too much at this point.

We still don't know what changed Aqua's mind, though. This chapter presents it as Aqua simply respecting Ruby's choice, but like I mentioned before, if that was all there was to it, then why didn't Aqua change his mind after he saw Ruby act the "I don't love you" scene for the first time? What let Aqua finally accept that Ruby's version of revenge was the right one?

On that same note, this chapter seems to confirm that Aqua has now embraced his life as Aqua Hoshino. He once discarded the naive thought of being happy, but now he seems ready to move on and getting a happy ending. Last time we saw Aqua pre time-skip on Chapter 151, his stars were still black. So, what gave?

We should still be missing a piece to solve that particular puzzle, IMO. I do think that Aka will eventually show it, even if it ends up being something as simple as "Kana True Oshi ❤️" (lmao)

Speaking about puzzles, it's hilarious how Aka makes Aqua be smart only when it's convenient to him. Just like Aqua magically could tell that his father was Kamiki just "thanks to Akane's movements", now he was suddenly able to tell that Nino was the big bad 😂 At least we're being told Akane already figured that out for herself, so that's good.

I swear though, if this doesn't all end with Aqua asking Akane what her happy ending is, I'll riot. Akane has spent the entire manga trying to save Aqua, and now that he's saved, she will be working to make everyone's happy ending possible. So Aqua better put in some effort to make sure Akane gets her happy ending too, whatever that may entail.

Things are moving super fast though, way faster than I thought they would. Now they even know about Yura, like?? Hopefully we'll at least get a few flashback panels to show how in the world they knew about her, because Aka is seriously pushing it lmao

In-before Aqua and Akane use a B-Komachi concert as bait to draw Nino into making a move so they can catch her. With everyone's help, of course 😂

I also can't help but wonder if Kamiki may pull some strings so that Ruby can have her Dome concert...

Everyone could see the Nino reveal coming after what happened with Kamiki, so I won't dwell on that. What I do find interesting though is that Nino is being presented as a fan gone wrong. She is everything a fan shouldn't strive to be. So knowing Aka, it's only natural that she will be contrasted to someone who is a true fan. Someone who genuinely wants only the best for their idol, without seeking to own them in any way.

Considering everything that has happened in the story, the two people who are most apt to fulfill that contrast are Aqua and Ruby. In Aqua's case in particular, that's a very interesting thought... especially considering his relationship with Kana and what Kana wants out of him: to be his number one idol, an idol that is an idol for him and him alone.

But we'll have to wait and see whether Aka sticks to his values or not 😂

All in all though, I'm very pleased that this chapter seems to put Akane front and center in this final arc, which is exactly what I was hoping for 😭 And I even got Miyako! I wish her relationship with Ruby and Aqua weren't so underdeveloped, because that family hug could've been one of the manga highlights for me otherwise.

I do kind of worry that Aka may pretend that now that Aqua has (more or less) embraced his life as Aqua Hoshino, there's no need for anyone else to know that he once was Goro though. Akane learning about it is the one thing I've always wanted to see in this manga, so I really hope Aka will at least let me have that much

[toriisasimp]

Chapter 1 of ?: Just Ask

An Egon Spengler x fem!reader Mini Series

Prompt: Yet another Ghostbusters press event is nearing, and once the secret is spilled of a certain scientist who wants to take you as a date, you decide to investigate for yourself.

Warnings: None!

A/N: First chapter of a mini series I’m working on. Not sure if it’s actually going to be a mini series or a full fic, but we’ll see! Egon and reader have already kind of been flirting with each other. You’ve also been working at the firehouse for a few months now. Enjoy! <3

-

It was nearing dinner time, and Janine had clocked out early for a date with Louis. You bid her goodnight with a warm smile and wave, and settled yourself behind the receptionist desk, propping up your feet and opening up one of the books you sneaked from Egon’s collection in the lab.

Finally, some peace and quiet..

You hear your name shouted by Peter, who comes stomping down the staircase with Ray hot on his tail.

“Go cool your boyfriend! He won’t listen to us!”

“..He’s not my boyfriend, Venkman.” You specify blankly, only briefly peeking over the top of your book to eye him coming around the corner and walking up to the desk.

“It sure seems like he thinks so.” Ray pipes up, folding his arms.

“What did you guys do to upset him now?” You flip the page, ignoring Ray’s comment.

“We didn’t do anything. He’s just throwing one of those dramatic fits of his where he shuts completely down and doesn’t speak to anyone, other than snapping at Ray for eating all the Cheez-Its.”

“Valid reason to be upset.” You shrug it off. You and Egon are both extremely territorial over your snacks. So much so that you end up labeling them with a permanent marker so the other boys know what they can and can’t touch.

“Not the point. The point is, you need to go up there and work your..” Venkman wiggles his fingers. “Womanly magic to get him to break. It’s getting annoying.”

“What? Not having him correct your incorrect scientific so-called ‘knowledge’,” you throw up some air quotes, “That you just spew out on a whim is annoying?”

“YES.” Ray and Peter both speak at the same time.

You huff and slide the bookmark back into your book before shutting it, pulling your legs off the desk and setting the book down before you rise up.

“It could be that he’s upset because of the gala.” Ray murmurs, more in Peter’s direction.

You pause halfway to the steps, turning your head back around.

“What gala?”

The two of them look at you like they’re a deer in the headlights.

“Whoops.” Ray grits his teeth.

“The gala at the Museum of Natural History? The one you guys got invited to? What about it?”

“You see, he was going to-” Peter starts talking, before Ray sends a fist to his gut from the side.

“Peter!”

“What?” He throws his hands up. “She’s gonna find out soon enough!”

Ray rolls his eyes and grumbles, looking away as Peter rubs the spot on his stomach before continuing.

“He was going to,” His voice lowered a few notches. “He was going to ask you to be his date. But I’m convinced he’s having some emotional conflict and mood swings because he doesn’t think you want to go with him.”

You stand there, in slight shock. “He told you this?” You perk a brow.

“He tells us a lot, kid.” Ray speaks up again, folding his arms once more and leaning against the desk with a slight tilt of his head.

“Of course, ‘bro-code’ or whatever. I get it. I’ll ask him about it-”

“NO!” They both stand swiftly.

“Why?” You stop again, at the bottom of the steps.

“That man will literally, and I mean literally, have our heads if he finds out we told you about that.” Peter pleads.

You go back and forth glaring at both of them, rolling your eyes before sighing.

“Fine, fine. I won’t ask about it.” You slowly start making your way up the steps to the next floor. “But please, give us some privacy. Do not eavesdrop.”

“That’s the spirit, go rub one out for your man!” Peter whoops, and you shake your head.

“You’re disgusting, Venkman.”

-

At the top of the steps, the soft music from a boombox on the kitchen table grows louder, and you spot Egon, with his back facing you. He’s at the corner workbench, hunched over a microscope.

You slowly approach, tugging your shirt sleeves over your hands and folding your arms. You admire him for a moment, how he’s so focused, his hands subtly turning the knobs of the machine to scope in on the slide he’s examining.

“Spengler,” You speak up, and Egon doesn’t even jump, he just murmurs your name in acknowledgement as he stays put in his hunched position.

“Are you doing alright?” You walk up to the bench, leaning against the corner, tilting your head slightly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be alright?” He speaks again, finally rising up and turning to scribble down some notes in a nearby open notebook.

“Just checking in..” You murmured defensively, approaching even further to stand next to him. “What are you working on?”

“Logging ectoplasm samples,” He turns back from the notebook, catching your gaze for a short moment before hunching back down over the microscope. “Could you help me put them into the system?”

Egon knows how much you genuinely enjoy assisting him in the lab, and you’ve told him to always ask if he wants help.. Or just wants some company.

“Can I see it first?” You motion to the microscope.

“Sure.” He nods, stepping back and giving you space to see the slide for yourself.

You step up to the microscope, squinting one eye so you can see into the scope. The plasm is moving on the slide, the cells wiggling ever so slightly. You stand alone for a moment, before you feel Egon’s hand come to gently rest on your waist.

“What can you see?” He asks, a bit softer.

“Well, it looks like it’s doing a little dance!” You giggle, still intrigued by the slime.

“It’s Psychomagnotheric, which means it responds to human emotional states around it. Positive and negative.”

“You must be pissed or something, cause it’s moving a lot-”

“Aaaand that’s enough of that.” You feel both of his hands on your waist now, pulling you back from the microscope.

“Maan, I was just kidding!” You pout, throwing your hands up and laughing.

“Grab the computer, please.” He shoos you away, and you put a hand up, shaking your head before you spin around and snatch the chunky laptop off the workbench across from you, turning and sliding into one of the swivel chairs at the table before opening the laptop. Egon slides over his open notebook, full of listings and observations of the slime you had looked at.

You immediately get to work putting in the notes into the logging system. You feel an itch in your head to bring up the gala.

“I heard that gala at the museum is in a few days. Are you going?” You ask. Start vague.

Egon freezes at the microscope, rising up to look at you.

“Are you?” He asks in return, not answering your question.

“That depends, are you?” You shoot back, perking a brow and pausing your typing.

You swear you see a slight tint of pink on Egon’s cheeks, as he shifts and leans against the workbench.

“I’ll go if you go.” He states as casually as possible, even though his discomfort is visible.

“I was gonna go if you went.” You shrug, trying to making it as relaxed as possible.

“We could go together.” He adds, his eyes not leaving yours.

You glance down at the computer for a brief moment before looking back up at him, taking your turn for the heat to creep up to your cheeks. You silently nod.

“Are you going to wear a tux?” You ask before your brain can stop you.

Egon tilts his head, a subtle smirk playing at his lips.

“Why? Does it matter to you?”

“No, no! I’m just.. curious. If it’s black tie, then I’m just.. just curious!”

“Curious.. right. Well, I don’t go to many social events, but perhaps I’ll make an exception and see what I can find.” He keeps his eyes on you, folding his arms across his chest- the smirk still stamped to his face.

An exception?

You nod. “Sounds good. We’ll go together.” You state again, setting it in stone- sending him a smirk of your own before looking back down at the computer, returning back to your work.

Egon eyes you for a few more seconds, noticing how the light of the desk lamp hit your face.. Jesus.

He quickly turned back to the microscope before he could get caught gawking over you, returning to the task at hand as well.

Both of you continued your work, and you were first to call it a night- around 2 AM. Egon’s hand brushed over yours as you handed him back his notebook, and he bid you goodnight- watching you walk away and disappear into the sleeping quarters.

Little did you know, he was sharing your same thoughts that night- imagining what the other was going to look like at the gala. But another thought teased your mind as you fell asleep.

If the slime reacted to positive and negative emotions from humans..

What else would it react to?

-

<3

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 18 - The Threat)

4.8k / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Peace between the Clans after the wedding is short lived.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, petnames (pretty bird, baby, etc.), one (1) daddy, two (2) spanks, unprotected PiV, oral (m receiving, reference to f receiving), a teeny bit of ass play and a wee smidge of choking. Angst - it's back, baby!

A/N: This takes place after The Wedding (but it's not necessary to read). I need to write the next few chapters together, so it might take me a beat to post Ch. 19 but I will try my best 🥰 as always, thank you for reading!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Din had never experienced the old saying “the calm before the storm” before.  He had heard of it, of course, but in his experience, there was ever only the build up to the storm or the storm itself.

In retrospect, “the calm” was exactly what the last few weeks had been.

The weeks leading up to Cassandra and Rikard Pyke’s wedding had been tense.  Security concerns increased in light of the unrest that had been rising in intensity and frequency for the months prior, complicating already intricate and complex security logistics necessitated by the union itself.  It gnaws at Din to no end that he and Paz haven’t been able to identify the culprit orchestrating all the previously thought unrelated disturbances; he’s at least glad the theory that the incidents were random has been abandoned and that even Boba agreed there had to be a common thread between all the events. 

Happily, the wedding had gone off without any major incident; the happy couple had married and celebrated joyously with both Families.  No blood had been spilt, and one could even declare that the relationship between the Fetts and Pykes has never been better.  There had been that minor scuffle at the end of the evening; Din hated worrying you unnecessarily even more than he hated lying to you, so he had told you a half truth when he said it was just a few kids who drank too much.  It was a half truth in that only half of the drunk kids in question were wedding guests - the other two had been Hutt wedding crashers.  For whatever reason, two lower level Hutt foot soldiers had decided to check out the wedding venue after most of the guests had wound down their celebrations and a few of the younger Pyke cousins had taken offense.

It had been easy enough to break up and smooth over, sending the kids to their proverbial corners - that part he hadn’t downplayed.  And since then, it’s been… quiet.

No more skirmishes.  No vandalism.  No theft.  Nothing. 

It’s as if whoever was responsible went on vacation or decided that whatever they were trying to accomplish in the first place wasn’t worth it.

At first, it had been much too suspicious to be trusted.  The Mandos remaining on high alert even when nothing out of the ordinary was being reported.  Then slowly, things started going back to normal.  Late night patrols taper off and security surveillance whittle down to a minimum.  Jimmy returns to training with Karga full-time.  Din’s schedule regulates and to make up for lost time, he takes you out to dinner nearly every night, chipping away at the long accumulated list of restaurants you want to try.  Mayfeld goes back to doing whatever Mayfeld does.

It was the calm.

Din’s humming to himself as he folds towels - checking the clock, he’s glad to see he’s about half an hour or so away from Greef coming in for the late shift, at which time he can go back upstairs to spend the rest of his Saturday night with you.  The two of you had spent a lovely morning at the same farmers’ market he had taken you to on your second date, and much of the day had been spent recreating a similar afternoon – him working while periodically popping upstairs to visit you and Al, helping you with the lasagna.  The only notable difference was that instead of letting you nap, he had made you come on his tongue twice before heading back downstairs to oversee the lazy Saturday gym crowd.

Otherwise, history was repeating itself delightfully even now with Paz coming by after his workout to check in with Din.

“Hey brother,” Paz clasps his hand on Din’s shoulder before the two men embrace, “good day?”

“Yep,” nods Din, good naturedly, “you?”

Paz’s face slips into an unserious grimace, “Was going pretty good, but just got the call to check in with the boss, so like Rhianna says: work, work, work, work, work.  You wanna come with?”

Din shakes his head, “Nah, I’m retired again, remember?  Besides, I’ve got lasagna.”

“Ooo!  Lil’ Lady made lasagna?  Save me a slice, brother!  Wait… unless ‘lasagna’ is code for some weird sex thing?  Then please don’t think of me, thanks.”

Din whips a towel at Paz’s head as the latter heads out the gym, the back of his shoulders shaking with laughter.

---

Satisfied.  That’s the word Din thinks best describes how he feels in this very moment.  His stomach is full of wine and lasagna, and he currently has his delectable dessert straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat.  When you lift yourself up to press down on Din’s mouth with your plush lips, your core grinds a little on the top of his now soft again belly and you both let out a heady groan at the sensation.  Din suspects that after the bout with Rotta Hutt, you had made it your personal mission to reinstate his softer stomach, and he happily acquiesced - eating second helpings of all your delicious cooking that seemed to constantly fill your and his apartments with mouthwatering aromas.

Brushing your tongue over Din’s, your hands go to card his soft curls through your fingers when you feel his meaty hands slide down your sides until they come to a rest on your ass, cupping your cheeks and palming them lightly while you whimper into his mouth. 

“Feel good, pretty bird?”

“Mmmhhmmmm, feels so good, Din,” you murmur as you kiss across Din’s jaw and trail your lips down his neck, tongue darting out to lick his bobbing Adam’s apple.  You feel Din’s hands tighten and squeeze hard at the feeling, and it makes you giggle - you give your butt a little wiggle and dance around in his lap as a response.

Smack.

You yelp and then immediately moan from the spank Din administers to your behind.  Din chuckles throatily and lands another hard smack to the other cheek, watching your ass ripple as he growls in your ear, “Gonna be a good girl, baby?”

You pull back so Din can see the pouty, doe-eyed expression you’re giving him, “What do you mean, daddy?”

Din’s eyes darken, “Are you gonna be a good girl, or are you gonna be a br-”

Bzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Din’s phone buzzes with an incoming text.  Then another.  And another.  It continues to vibrate, even as you reach over to the coffee table to grab it for him.

Brow furrowed, Din looks at the notifications on his locked screen and sees texts from Paz, Mayfeld, Woves, Bo, Iggy with more coming in every few seconds from other Mandos.  Each text containing just one line:

This is the Way.

Din’s face hardens and his body tenses, he sits up straight and you have to lace your fingers around his neck so you don’t slide off his lap.  The words themselves are innocuous, chosen to sound authoritative and purposefully vague and mysterious; but the text protocol being executed is deliberate and meaningful, one that Din himself implemented years ago.  It was a code red and a check-in system rolled into one.  It meant he had to go.

He gives you with an apologetic look but he finds you already watching him with an expression full of softness and understanding, “You have to go?”

Nodding, Din closes his eyes and pulls you tight against his chest, tucking your head into your favourite nook under his chin before murmuring, “I have to go.”  You hug him back just as tightly and tell your man you love him.  Tipping your head back, you eagerly accept one last tender kiss before Din gently pulls you off his lap.

As Din sends off his own text (This is the Way.), you grab a jacket for him and see him to the door, eyes worried, “Be careful, Din.”

“Always, pretty bird.  I love you.”  And then he’s off - hurrying down the stairs, taking two at a time.

---

Entering inconspicuously through the back entrance of an office building that acted as a Fett safe house, Din greets the Mandos that beat him here in the open lounge area.  Some are nursing drinks, others seemingly just waiting around.  Everyone looks to be on high alert.  Still not knowing what the alert was for, Din doesn’t ask – he would rather get the debrief straight from Paz, but he doesn’t see the Fett head of security in the room.  Koska gives him a little nod when she spots him and tilts her head towards the boardroom, mouthing, “They’re waiting for you.” Who exactly they are, still unknown to Din even as he pushes open the thick oak door. 

Paz is inside, as are Bo and Brian.  There are no other Mandos.  Everyone is sitting around the long conference table except for Paz and Fennec, both of whom stand flanking Boba’s seat at the head of the long table.  Many of the chairs are already filled by Fett Family seniors and principals and in front of every seat, even the empty ones, is a brown manila envelope.  Din sees that those already sitting have opened theirs, but the contents are unknown to him – either stuffed back into their envelopes or placed face down on the table.  As he walks towards Paz, Din notices that all the envelopes have names written on them; the handwriting is unfamiliar, but he recognizes the names of some other clan members that haven’t arrived yet.  It’s not until he’s nearly at the end of the room that he looks at the envelope in front of the empty seat to Boba’s right and reads his own name.

Cocking an eyebrow at Paz, he’s mildly alarmed to see Paz’s expression.  Normally so impassive and stoic while conducting official security business, Paz looks… nervous.  Din looks quizzically at his envelope, then at Paz, Boba and Fennec; Boba gives a slight nod of his head and Din doesn’t even bother sitting down, just reaches over the chair to grab his envelope, ripping it open.

Din reaches in and pulls out a thick stack of photos.  He goes through them, faster and faster, the top photo being filed to the back so he can see what the next picture is, his actions becoming more frantic and hurried with each photo.

“What the fuck is this?!” he roars.

You.  Every picture is of you.  You stepping off the subway.  You eating a sandwich outside your office.  You having brunch with your friends.  You walking the dog.  You’re wearing so many different outfits in the photos, they must have been taken over several days.  Weeks even.  Din thinks he’s going to be sick - someone has been watching you for weeks.

Since no one has answered, Din thunders again, “What the fuck is this?!” Several of the people sitting, bristle.  Paz looks defeated.  The epiphany that what Paz had been nervous for was Din’s reaction hits suddenly, “Paz, did you know what was in this envelope?!”

Boba, ever calm, but radiating an undercurrent of fury, suggests, “Paz, why don’t you catch Din up in private?  Please rejoin us when you’re ready.”

Paz gestures to a side door and Din follows, still clutching his envelope and the pictures of you.  He waits for the door to the smaller, empty room to close behind him before he goes in on Paz, “Brother, what the hell is going on??”

Paz sighs, “First, I owe you an apology.  You’re right - I knew what was in the envelope.  Actually, I didn’t know, but I had a really good idea.  It didn’t give me any pleasure to see you ambushed like that, brother.”

Din nods, waiting for more.

“A box of envelopes was left outside Peli’s doorstep this morning with a note on top that just said ‘For Boba Fett’.  We checked her cameras and asked around, but there was nothing usable – whoever left the box knew where all the cameras were, where the blind spots are, and they dropped it off at 5 a.m. when there was no one around.”  Paz sighs heavily before continuing.

“Peli called it in and after the box and its contents were cleared, Boba went through it in the late afternoon – he himself got an enveloped filled with pictures of Poe, Lisa and their kids.  Everyone who received an envelope got called in – there are at least 25.  All the envelopes so far contain pictures of loved ones: spouses, partners, family, kids.  All the photos recent.  Bo and Brian’s envelopes contained pictures of their girlfriends.  That’s how I was fairly sure yours had the Lil’ Lady in it.”

Din wordlessly hands over the pictures of you and Paz takes the stack, going through it with a pained expression on his face, “Recent?”

Din nods, “Who the hell did this?  What do they want?  Was there anything else in the box?  What is the fucking point of these photos?!”  Din thinks his brain is going to explode.

Paz shakes his head, “We don’t know.  That’s what we have to find out.”

“But it’s a threat.”

“Yeah.  It feels like a threat.”

Din presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.  His heart and head are pounding, a million thoughts racing through his mind.  Are you safe right now?  He shouldn’t have left you.  No, you’re at Mando’s – there’s nowhere safer.  Had you noticed anyone following you these last couple of weeks?  No, you would have told him.  That means whoever did this was a professional.  And they must have a team, if they were able to take pictures of so many targets over the past few weeks.  Targets.  Fuck.  You were a target.  A voice that Din hasn’t heard in months practically screams in his head: Because of you!! 

His rage and fear suddenly trampled by a new emotion: guilt. 

Beaten, Din looks up at Paz, his voice breaking, “This is why.  This is why… she shouldn’t be with me.  This is what I was always afraid of.  That being with me would put her in danger.  That I would put her in danger.  She’s being threatened because of me.”

Din hangs his head, that old insecurity over bringing you into his life, or rather his life into yours, resurfacing after all these months - ready to tear down the life that he and you had started building together.  How could he have done this to you?  You don’t deserve it.

Paz lays a firm and what he hopes is a reassuring hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “We’ll get who ever did this.  And we’ll keep her safe.  We’ll keep them all safe.”

Din nods, swallowing hard, but unable to peel his thoughts away from images of you.  You in the pictures.  You when he left you tonight.  You smiling at him.  Trusting him.  And then before he could stop it from creeping into his mind, a terrifying vision of you, limp in his arms, hurt.  He closes his eyes and wills himself to breathe, “She has to be safe.”

He follows Paz back into the main boardroom - ready to formulate a plan, to figure out the next steps, to do whatever it takes to bring down whoever was responsible for this transgression against the Family.  Din forces his face to wear the steely visage familiar to those in the room who know him as Boba Fett’s most fearsome enforcer, doing his best to ignore that nagging voice in his head that periodically interjects, “You know what you have to do.”

---

Something has happened tonight.  You can tell.  When you hear Din’s footsteps trudging up the stairs, it’s almost 11 p.m.  He had texted you earlier letting you know he was going to be late, but implored you to save taking Al back until he came home.  You didn’t know about the way his chest tightened when you wrote back to tell him you and Al had gone out and come back already.  As Din gets closer to the top floor, you think you can hear a weariness in those steps, as if he’s shouldering an additional weight.  Meeting him at the door, your heart cracks when you see the furrow of Din’s brow and the exhaustion in his eyes.  Something has happened tonight.

Wordlessly taking Din’s things from him and guiding him to the couch, you straddle Din’s lap and lightly trace his face with your fingers, as if trying to wipe away his worry.  His eyes are closed, his breathing even, but barely controlled.  On more than one occasion, Din has marveled at your talent for being able to soothe and calm him, often with a single touch.  But not tonight.  Tonight, no matter how much you may try, his muscles will not relax, his fists will not unclench, and the tension he carries in his shoulders will not dissipate.

You curl yourself against his hard chest, resting your head on his tightened shoulder and whisper, “Din?  Do you need to use me?  Work out some of this stress?”  Taking his clenched fist, you gently pry open his hand and lay it flat against your own chest, holding it close to your heart.

Din breathes out shakily and opens his eyes to see you looking up at him, wide-eyed with love and concern.   Fuck.  He loves you so much.  And he needs you.  You always know what he needs. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t get the image of the you in those pictures out of his mind – so innocent and unassuming; the idea that someone was looking that same you but with the intention of scaring or hurting you has Din wound up so tight, he’s afraid he might snap at any minute.  Regretfully, he chokes out, “Can’t, pretty bird.  Not this time.  This time… the way I’m feeling right now... I- I might hurt you.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You can see how hard Din’s struggling and you want to cry for him.  Cupping his rough, tired face in your dainty hands, you kiss him softly and nod, not wanting to add to his burden.

“I think I need to go work it out in the gym, baby.  Take it out on some bags.  Then maybe catch-up on some work.  I’m still behind on paperwork for the gym because of the other stuff that was going on before,” Din sighs.

“If you want, I can take on some of the admin, like tax forms and stuff.  You know I’m good at that,” you offer, wanting to be at least some help.

Against all odds, Din smiles.  How do you do that? “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.  Thank you.”

You relax into his chest, but when Din’s hold on your waist remains tight and his breathing stays sharp, you climb off his lap and prod him gently, “Don’t be too long, baby,” letting your hand linger on his cheek for a moment longer before going to get ready for bed.

---

When you wake in the middle of the night, it’s just past 1:30 a.m. and you’re alone in bed.  Sitting up, you listen for Din but the apartment is silent except for Al’s soft snores.  Where’s Din?  You throw on a long cardigan over your lace trimmed sleep set and grab your keys, padding downstairs.  Opening the door to Mando’s second-floor landing, you hear the thump thump thump of gloves hitting a bag.  Quietly, you walk across the walkway and down the opposing side stairs, coming upon where Din’s working a hanging punching bag.  His shoulders are up, his back muscles tense and glistening with sweat; his gloved fists flying at the bag in consistent intervals, over and over and over, with a force that sends the bag nearly swinging each time.

You don’t know how long Din’s been at this, but judging from his laboured breathing and the beads of perspiration that have rolled down his back, dampening the waistband of his sweatpants, you’re guessing it’s a while.  You can feel his exhaustion rolling off his body in waves from where you stand.  Din’s so hyper focused, you don’t think he’ll even hear you if you call his name, and for a moment, you’re not sure how you’ll get his attention without needlessly startling him; but Din solves the problem for you when you see him pause in his attack, holding the bag still with his gloves and resting this forehead against the leather, breathing tired and shallow.

“Din?” you call out delicately, you’re close enough to him now that you can see the fatigue that lines his face.  It takes you a moment to put a name to the look he gives you, but when you do, your heart nearly shatters.  It’s defeat.  Din’s looking at you, but his eyes are far away, downcast and weary.  His frame, held so tight and tense, droops and deflates as he takes in your figure walking gingerly towards him, as if all the agitation and aggression that he’s been trying to work out over the past few hours simply floats out of his body, along with all his power and determination.  Your big strong man is broken and you don’t know why.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you exhale with relief when you feel Din lean into your soft touch, eyes closing and face somewhat relaxing; he’s still here, your Din.  Silently, you take his gloved hand with your free one and lead him to the boxing ring.  Using the little stairs tucked into front right corner, you walk up to the raised platform and duck under the ropes to stand in the ring, holding your hand out to Din, beckoning him to join you.  As if in a trance, Din heeds your unspoken request; removing his gloves before meeting you in the middle of the ring, still looking at you with an expression that further breaks your heart – one of failure, resignation.  Holding his face in your hands, you bring it down to yours and press your lips to Din’s – tenderly, warily, so not to spook him.  When Din’s eyes close and you feel him melt against your mouth, you trail your lips to the other parts of him that need your attention. 

Din keeps his eyes closed and uses his remaining energy to mentally track the path of kisses that you lay across his jaw and down his throat.  You dot kisses along his collar bones and over the expanse of his wide chest; flitting out your tongue to taste the saltiness of the sweat that still clings to his hard pecs and his solid midsection.  You squeeze each arm and massage gentle circles over his muscles with your skilled fingers, working down from his flexed biceps to the raised veins of his forearms and ending at his still wrapped hands that you raise to your lips, delicately nipping at his exposed fingertips.  Din revels in your soft fairy-like touch and the heaven of your soft lips against his rough skin.

He opens his eyes only when he feels you slide his sweatpants down past his hips, eyes coming into focus to you see you on your knees before him, cardigan shrugged off to reveal barely there sleepwear that matches the sultry gaze that peers up at him.  Wordlessly, you take him in your mouth.

Hearing Din hiss above you, you work his length gently in your soft mouth, feeling him harden under the efforts of your lips and tongue.  When you feel both his hands come to a gentle resting grip in your hair, you flash a doe-eyed look at him, trying to gauge from his expression what he needs.  What you find is Din, eyes closed and mouth slack – tension and pressure finally evaporated from his body, his face burden free; you hum in pride and vow to suck, lick and tease every last remaining drop of agitation from him.  Rhythmically bobbing your head over Din’s cock, you let him hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you gently fondle his balls with your small hands until you feel them tighten and you hear Din’s heaving breaths above you.  Pulling off of his perfect dick, you see a flash of surprise in Din’s eyes as they snap open; you make sure he’s watching as you dip your hand down your sleep shorts and start to rub your clit through your already drenched panties.

When you see a dark hunger replace the look of surprise on Din’s face, you use your free hand to pull on his wrist so he’ll join you down on the mat.  Mouth latching to yours open mouthed, needy, violent, Din allows you to maneuver his strong frame easily so that he lays beneath you; you shimmy out of your shorts and panties before straddling him, hovering over his already weeping cock.  Normally both so vocal during sex, no words are exchanged between you and Din tonight.  Every question and want expressed only through looks and touch - communicating heart to heart, mind to mind.  When Din removes your top, you realize it’s the first time he’s really touching your body since you came downstairs - his touch is desperate, gripping, tortured.  You let him grab and grope your breasts, waist, stomach, arms, hips and thighs with a fervent need, as if he needs to prove, convince himself that you’re all there. 

Notching him at your entrance, you feel Din’s hand snake up the valley of your breasts and come to a rest around your neck.  Lolling your head back to give him more access, you follow the direction of his firm grip and sink down on Din’s dick; your movements guided by the pressure that Din puts on your neck, letting him pull you down until you’re fully sheathed on his throbbing cock.  Keeping pace with the flex of Din’s fingers on your throat, you bounce – ignoring the sting of pain from having taken him with no prep; no matter – your overstretch walls soon flooded with arousal as your movements quicken and your breaths sharpen, dizzy from your airway being constricted.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you ride Din with abandon – there's no dirty talk, praise or degradation tonight, the only sounds echoing off the walls of the empty gym are the urgent slapping of skin on skin and Din’s loud animalistic moans and grunts.  For Din, this is primal, physical, making sure you’re real and that he can touch you, hold you – you’re here, within his grasp.  Safe.

Keeping one hand on your neck, as if tethering you to him via your airway, your lifeline, Din is hypnotized by the sight of you on top of him – pretty tits bouncing, pert and perky.  You’re beautiful.  Perfect.  That you give yourself over to him so readily when you already give him so much fills him to the brim with emotion: you trust him with your heart, your body, your life.  He inches a finger towards the tight ring of your ass, pressing in past the initial resistance and feels your pussy flutter around his cock once he slips in.  Always so willing to take.  Because you trust him.  Love him.

Fuck, he loves you more.

Crying out as you come, you clench down hard on Din’s cock but don’t stop moving, determined to fuck yourself through it; Din follows shortly after, spilling himself to the look of euphoria on your face.

No words are exchanged as you gather your things and lead Din upstairs after turning off the lights in the gym.  And still none when you guide him into the hot shower, washing his tired body under the spray of the water steaming up the bathroom.  Din is barely awake – eyes shut as he lets you wash his hair, only partially registering the soft touch of your fingers against his scalp.  Melting into your sweet kisses to his lips, chest and back, he slips further towards dreamland.

Silent even as you dry him and dress him in a pair of clean pajamas, Din, exhausted from the physical exertion of trying to punch out his frustrations and the mental load of what he learned today, completely dissociates from everything except the warmth of your presence.

Only once he’s laid down on his side of his bed, head already sinking into his pillow and lips tingling from your goodnight kiss does Din speak, “I love you so much, pretty bird.  How will I ever live without you?”

All you can do is smile when you see your hulk of a man finally relaxed enough to drift off towards sleep.  You’re so relieved to have managed to put him to bed that you don’t notice he isn’t utilizing the hypothetical.

Not ‘How would I ever live without you?’ but will.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 21 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Ok so I wanted to do kinda like a Scream like thing but didn't realize until I started writing this out that I'm limited by the technology of the 80s lol But I made it work with what I had lol I hope you enjoy.

There is a 2 year time jump from the last chapter.

Warnings: Daddy Steve/ Sir Eddie & Sub Fem Plus Size Reader; SMUT, of the rougher variety, they are roleplaying and she asks them to be this way and scare her, spitting, choking, slapping, spanking, threatening, brief knife play (they tear off her dress), public play (in the school after hours), handcuffs, FLUFF near the beginning and very end (aftercare is given of course <3 ), ANGST, this is a role-play and everyone has given consent especially the reader, I WOULD NEVER WRITE A VERSION OF THESE TWO THAT WOULDNT STOP IF SHE SAID THE SAFE WORD!, they do call her and threaten her over the phone, she's chased down a hallway, lots of intimidation.

Word Count: 4198

Two years had passed since the incident with Eddie’s mom and he seemed to be doing so much better. He had really been focusing in on his music and Corroded Coffin spent every other night practicing and doing whatever they could to save money for some studio time. 

Steve still worked at Family Video with Robin but he had been looking into other alternatives like opening his own business. His friend and her current girlfriend had suggested the three of them start a non-profit to help kids who were kicked out of their homes or on the run due to unfortunate circumstances. You three understand that better than most and that was one of her greatest fears when it came to telling her family about her sexuality. 

You were on your senior year at college and ready to graduate. Taking Steve’s advice (and Eddie’s adamant approval of the idea), you majored in teaching with a minor in English hoping to teach high school kids in the future. Your courses required an internship and one teacher at Hawkins High was more than accommodating. 

“Y/N! Always good to see you. How are the other troublemakers?”

“They’re good, Mr. C. I do have a favor to ask if that’s alright.”, you giggle.

As soon as Eddie found out, he was so overjoyed like a kid in a candy store. 

“Mr. C! How’s my favorite teacher?!”

“Jesus Christ. Hello, Mr. Munson. How can we help you today?”, he sighed.

He always acted annoyed but you knew he cared about the metalhead like he did all his other students. 

“Oh, I’m just here to have lunch with the love of my life. Sweetheart, get out so you don’t get too jealous.”

You laugh at his antics as the teacher rolls his eyes. 

“It’s been 5 years.”, you announce as Steve steps into the living area, drying his hair. 

“Uh, I’ve been in the shower for like 15minutes but okay.”

“No, you goof. It’s been 5 years since we got together. Well, I mean, since you cornered me in a classroom.”, you giggle.

“And fucked you till your eyes rolled. You’re welcome.”, Eddie sasses from his spot by the window. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted us to know that? Did you want to do something, honey?”, the other man asks as he leans against the counter. “We didn’t have something planned already because I thought we decided our official anniversary was when we officially got together a year after.”

“I know, Daddy. I just…it’s 5 years. I feel we should do something to commemorate it right?”

The metalhead tosses out his cigarette and closes the window before coming over to sit beside you on the couch. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Biting your bottom lip, you head for the case of movies and grab a couple before handing them to Eddie. 

“These are all scary movies. Well except this one about the girl stalking the guy.”

“Yeeeeah. I, um, I was thinking we could try that…like role play.” Both men exchange a look you can’t read and you immediately feel yourself get self-conscious. “I was just thinking you know? Those first few times when we were together like that first night or even the night you two snuck into my room the end of junior year. That was so hot. Not to say, what we do now isn’t hot. Just that—”

A palm comes up from behind you to cover your mouth and you lean back into Steve’s warm chest. 

“You’re over thinking again.”, he grins. “I mean, we can try it. Do you want us to go that far?”, he asks pointing towards the movies in his friend’s hand. “How far is too far?”

“Don’t hurt, hurt me. No like punching or cutting my skin or anything. When I think about it, you guys doing this to me, more than anything…I want you to scare me.”

Eddie’s head ticks to the side at your statement. “Why? No. Why?”, he repeats when you shrug.

“It’s a different level of control, I guess. That first night, I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared of how you made me feel but I’ve never been afraid of you.” You smile when Steve softly kisses your cheek.

“If we do this, I think we should set some ground rules now. We already have one which is no punching or cutting. Of course, we would never do that, sweetheart.” The long-haired boy flashes you a comforting grin before he continues. “If we’re dropping into this headspace, Y/N, that means we probably won’t be asking you for a color but that doesn’t mean you can’t say them or the safe word. Promise us if at any point you feel uncomfortable you’ll use it.”

“I promise, Sir. 100%.”

“What about you, Stevie? Anything you can think of?”

“Not that I can think of.”

Eddie nods in agreement. 

“Alright, baby. Your wish is our command.”

###############

For the next week, you let your imagination run wild with what they could be planning. Everything ran like normal and nothing they did stood out to you to trigger the notion for you that the game was about to begin. You gave them free reign to choose the time and date but the anticipation was killing you. 

That following Friday, you had called to tell them you would be staying late at the school to work on some stuff for Mr. C who had to leave earlier that day to take care of his sick wife. Wearing your Walkman and listening to the mix tape Eddie had made you for your birthday awhile back, you hummed as you graded papers. 

The phone on the desk ringing abruptly startles you as you grab your chest and yank off your headphones. Thinking it may be one of the boys, you answer without hesitation. 

“Hello? Mr. Castillo’s classroom.”

“Hello there. Well, don’t you sound sweet. Is he available?”, a deep voice you didn’t recognize asked. 

“I’m sorry. He’s out for the evening. Can I take a message?”

“Oh, honey. No need to worry. I can just try again later.”

“Alright. Well, have a good night.”

“Wait a minute. If he’s gone why are you there?”

“I’m Mr. Castillo’s teaching intern but he had a family emergency so I’m just helping him get things done. Are you sure I can’t take a message or something?”

“No. I can deliver it myself. I’d rather talk to you.”

“Look, if this isn’t school related and you don’t want to leave a message I’m going to have to hang up.”

“Ooo so sassy. I love it. Sounds like you need someone to teach you, Miss Teacher. Give you a lesson on respect.”

“I don’t respect assholes. I’m ending this conversation. Don’t call again or else.”

“Or else what?”, he chuckled causing a chill to run down your spine. 

“Fuck off.” You slammed down the phone but you still felt uneasy. Dialing the apartment, you prayed one of them was home but to your dismay no one picked up. As soon as you placed the receiver back on its dock, it rung again. “H-Hello?”

“Don’t ever hang up on me again, Y/N.”, the voice growled and you quickly rose to your feet in panic at the sound of your name. 

“I-I just called my boyfriend’s. They are on their way right now so you should j-just leave.”

“Aw, sweetheart. You think Eddie and Steve can save you? That’s so cute.”

“Don’t mock me. They take care of me!” You try to control the tears of fear that threaten to fall as you remain as confident sounding as possible. 

“Oh, little one. Trust me. Your Master and Daddy can’t protect you from us.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s the plan, pretty girl, and with that sexy ass dress you have on, it won’t be hard.”

You dropped the phone and ran out of the classroom towards the front door of the school. Tugging on it aggressively, you whined when it wouldn’t budge. The phone in the front office blared loudly making you scream. Shakily, you headed towards it, sobbing as you put the speaking to your ear. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl? It’s just us three tonight, baby. NO ONE is coming to save you.”

“Please…” The voice snickers at your pleading.

“Let’s play a game, Y/N. Run and hide but if we catch you we fuck you.”

“W-W-Why? If you can see me, just fucking get it over with!”

“I like the idea of you thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.”

He laughs again, making you angry. 

“No. I won’t play your game. F-Fuck you.”

The growl that flowed through had your knees weaken as panic once again flowed through you. 

“Run. Now.”

“NO!” 

The line disconnected and you stifled your sobs as you slowly tiptoed back out into the hallway. A throat clearing startled you as you turned to see a tall figure dressed from head to toe in all black, his face except for his eyes and mouth were covered. A sinister smile spread as he pulled a knife from his pocket and flashed it in your direction, taunting you as he wiggled it between his fingers. 

The man bolted forward and you ran in the opposite direction like you had never run before. Yanking open the auditoriums doors, your goal was to hide in the sound booth and lock yourself in but as soon as you ran across the stage, however, you were met with another figure dressed the same way as the other sitting haphazardly in one of the auditorium seats. 

His legs were crossed as his arms hung over the backs of the chairs with a smug grin on his face. It was almost like he was expecting you to come this way. 

Long arms tackle you from behind and you fight back as the other man wrestles you to the floor of the stage. While he tries to pin your arms down, you get in one good smack across his slightly more protected cheek before he responds by doing the same. Dizzy by the force, you allow him to get the upper hand as he turns you on to your tummy and pressed his knee into your back as he moves around behind you. 

You whimper as your arms are tugged behind your back and you hear the clinking metal before leather is wrapped around both your wrists handcuffing you in place. 

The figure in front of you all too casually stands up and walks up to the stage, kneeling down slightly so his face was level with yours.  

“Boo.”, he teases, laughing when you cringe away. Sighing, he reaches for his mask and pulls it off his face, exhaling in pleasure at the cool air. 

Your eyes quickly took note of Eddie’s features. His own eyes were dark like they normally where when you played rough but there was a coldness behind them that made the little girl inside you tremble. 

“Jesus. Do you know how long it takes for people to fully empty this building? I thought we were never going to be alone.”

You feel movement behind you again and right as you glance behind you Steve pulls off his mask as well. 

“Yeah, man, but we have her now.”

Wiggling underneath his hold, he turns you on to your back and straddles his legs over your waist.

“STOP moving, God damn it. We gave you a chance to run and hide but you didn’t want to play.”, he growled as he pointed a finger in your face. Like with Eddie, Steve’s eyes were different; darker. They both exuded a new type of confidence that had your pussy clenching between your thighs. “Nothing to say now that we’re in front of you, huh, little girl? Where did all that sass go?”

“Hm. I don’t think she’s there yet, Steven.”

“What do you mean?”

“Little girl here seems to think she’s still in some kind of control. Don’t you, babe?”, Eddie mocks making you cringe. “See. That right there.” His head tilts as his palm reaches out to grab your throat. “That little face she made. I don’t know what your boyfriends have been letting you get away with but it won’t happen here. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

You gasped as his hand tightened its grip. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”, you choke out as he releases you. 

They both chuckle as the man above you manhandles you back onto your stomach and tugs on your hair as he guides you to your knees. With one hand, Steve fumbles with his belt buckle and hastily unzips his pants before pulling out his cock that was now level with your face.

“Open.” You shook your head at his command, wincing when he pulled back on your hair. “I wasn’t asking. Open your mouth.”

Eddie slides onto his knees beside you, reaching under the bottom of your dress, and runs his fingers through your folds. 

“Little slut is so wet but won’t do as she’s told.”, he sighs with a condescending tone. “Open your mouth.” You don’t move or say anything even when the metalhead shoves two of his digits into your entrance. Steve’s angry eyes remain locked on yours, smirking when he sees them flutter as you try to do everything you can to keep your moans from escaping out of your mouth. 

“Open, Y/N.”

When you don’t respond, he thrusts into you faster and you feel your body quickly running towards that ledge. Just as you were about to fall, however, he stopped his movements making you whine in your throat. 

“Ready to behave?”

You did something then that you would never do with Eddie and Steve under any normal circumstances. In a defiant gesture, you spit in the long-haired boys face. After wiping it with his hand, he shifts his gaze back to you and flashed you smile that made your blood run cold (and your pussy drench around his still fingers).

“Oh we’re going to have so much fun with you, little girl.”

Eddie pumped his fingers again at a fast pace as you struggled to catch your breath. Right now, you were breathing mostly through your nose but it wasn’t enough with how he was building you up. When he stopped again, tears ran down your cheeks. Once he felt like your pending orgasm had fully dissipated, he started over but this time his thumb reached up to message your clit. 

You couldn’t stop it from happening. Your mouth opened as you let out a loud moan and Steve took the opportunity to guide his cock into your mouth. Eddie removed his fingers, making you jump as he lightly smacked you between your legs. 

Trying to move your head back, the metalhead held you in place as the other boy began thrusting his hips. 

“Fuck me. Her mouth feels so good. Hold her still.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not letting her go anywhere.”

“Shit. How do you think I-I should take her, man? I’m just dying to feel that pussy.”

“It’s up to you, dude. She’s our toy to use how we please. Little whore can handle anything, can’t you, babe?”

Drool dribbled down your chin as the boy continued to fuck your face making him groan at the sight. 

“Fuck, I need her now.” After pulling out his cock, you were pushed back down onto the stage, freezing when you felt steel touch you skin. “Don’t move.” 

You heard the sound of tearing fabric and shivered when the cold air caressed your skin as your now cut apart dress was tossed aside. Grabbing your hips, you were tugged backwards towards Steve who was now on his knees as well. 

Lining himself up, he roughly pushed his cock into your dripping cunt and you both mewled as he held you tightly against him. 

Hearing the clinking of another belt buckle grabbed your attention as you lifted your head to see Eddie sauntering towards you. 

“If you cum, when it’s my turn, I’m going to make sure that you’re sore between your legs for the next month. Do I make myself clear?”

“J-Jesus. She fucking liked that.”

His head slanted as he waited for your answer. Eddie knew you believed he was telling the truth because he saw the one thing you asked for push through your gaze; fear. 

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“I’m going to help keep your mind distracted.” His pants fell to his ankles as he stroked his cock a few times in front of your face. “Open.”

This time you didn’t argue or protest as you opened your mouth wide and encased your lips around him. The metalhead’s ringed hand rested behind your head as it bobbed along his length. 

“Come on, little girl. You can do better than that.” Suddenly, you felt another palm land on your hair and forcibly moved your head for you, making you gag as his cock hit the back of your throat. “You can take it all. We know you can.”

You tried keeping up with the pace they set for you but every time your head didn’t go low enough, Steve pushed you into the other boy’s lap causing you to drool and spit all over him. 

“You love this don’t you, you little whore. You like to spit.”, Eddie sneered, licking his lips while you whimpered around him. 

Steve’s thrusts started to falter, giving you sense of pride knowing he was about to cum and you hadn’t yet but your relief was short lived when he reached around and rubbed your clit with his fingers. You pushed back against their hands as your head hung in front of you. 

“No! I’m…I’m not supposed to cum. Please!”

The man ignored you as he continued till he grunted and coated your walls with his release. As he aggressively pounded into till he was empty, your own body trembled in his hold as the coil broke and you came.

Calloused fingers lifted your face from under your chin to meet Eddie’s oddly calm features. 

“Did you just cum even though I said you couldn’t?”

“I-I-I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard. Please.”, you cried.

Steve backed away as Eddie leaned over you to unhook your handcuffs. You took the opportunity to your advantage, resting your head in the nook between his neck and shoulder as you sobbed while continuing to apologize.

“You wanna help me, man?”

Taking hold of your hair, the metalhead walked towards the front of the stage before letting you go to jump down. Something grabbed your shoulder and your body was slammed down flat onto your back as Steve grabbed your wrists, bringing your arms above your head so he could restrain you with the handcuffs once again.

Eddie hovered over you, eyes scanning your sweaty features. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” After doing what he commands, you watch with wide eyes as he spits between your lips. “Since you love spit so much, hang onto that for me. If you can keep it in there till I say, I may actually let you cum.”

Standing to his full height, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and you whine as he guides himself into you entrance. 

True to his word, his hips slam into yours with rough abandon, your eyes squeezing shut as you focus on not swallowing the nicotine flavored salvia that currently rests on you tongue. Steve’s palms slide down your arms to your breasts eliciting a soft moan as his fingers graze your nipples. 

Eddie’s tip abuses your g-spot, overwhelming you with a feeling of euphoria that has tears falling down your face.

"Fuck! Your pussy feels too good.”, he groans as he spanks your ass, slowing his pace. “Look at me, little girl.” When you don’t move, he leans over you and lightly slaps your cheek. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open and they both can’t help but smirk at your fucked out, glassy eyed expression. 

“Swallow.”

Nodding, you do it and open your mouth for him to show you listened. 

“Good girl. You wanna cum?”, Eddie coos as his nose softly caress your own.

“Please.”

“That’s it, baby. Beg me. Beg me to make you cum.”

“Mmm—please. I need you to make me cum again. I want to cum so bad, Sir, please.”

The metalhead’s mouth fell open as he thrust into you with purpose while his thumb came down to play with your clit.

“Shit. Cum with me, Y/N. I want to—mmm— fill you up as your tight little pussy clings to me.”

When you nod you head, his thumb moves faster against your nub and after a few more aggressive thrusts, you stumble over the edge right as rope after rope of his seed warms your insides.

The room goes quiet and all that can be heard is the two of you panting for air. 

“Baby girl.”, Steve whispers above you in a much softer tone than before. “Can you open your eyes for me, honey?”

When you do what he asks, you are meet with his gentle and love filled face. 

“There she is. Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

“C-Can you free my hands, Daddy?”

“Shit. Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.” 

While he removed your restraints, Eddie grabbed a bag that was in one of the auditorium chairs and jumped up beside you onto the stage.

“Drink this, sweetheart.”

“Can you help me, Sir? My arms kinda hurt.”

“Yeah, pretty girl. I can help you.”

Placing the water bottle by your lips, he guides your head back as you chug down the liquid.

“Now, did you want to shower here or at home? We can head towards the gym or—”

“I’d like to go home please. I’m sleepy.”

“I can imagine. Do you think you can walk?”

“I can carry her. Just run to the classroom real quick and grab her stuff. We’ll meet you at the van.”

#############

A small smile remained painted across your lips while the three of you sat in the bathtub as they cleaned you. 

“I don’t think she’ll be coming down from cloud 9 anytime soon.”, Eddie chuckled. “I assume we did good?”

“Very good.”

“Nothing felt over the line?”, Steve asked. 

“No. It may be too rough for an everyday thing but…for special occasions…”, you giggle. “Did I cross a line?”

“No, honey. What would make you think you might of?”

When you and Eddie exchange a look, his grin grows as he bends forward to kiss your lips. 

“You didn’t bother me, princess. It’s not like you normally go around spitting in my face. It was kind of hot if I’m being honest.”

“I just hope you know I wouldn’t normally disrespect you like that.”

“We know.” 

After comforting touches and delicate kisses, they help you out of the water and get you in comfortable pajamas before leading you to the bed. Climbing in beside you, Eddie wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on Steve’s chest. 

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“What we did tonight…that’s not how you viewed us that first night 5 years ago, is it?”

“No, baby. Not even close. You were rough with me but you didn’t scare me like that. I’ve always felt safe with you…even when I thought you two were assholes. Can I ask you both something?”

“Always, sweetheart.”, Eddie soothed as he tenderly kissed your shoulder. 

“What made you two decide to make a move that night? How did you know I’d respond to you the way I did?”

“Short answer? Hope.”

Steve smiled when you giggled at his response. 

“There were so many times you could have said something to rat us out but you never did. When I first spoke to you in detention or when Stevie threatened to spank you, you didn’t tell Mr. C at all. We…we’ve never told you this but we watched you when he asked you to stay behind to put everything away.”, the metalhead elaborated. 

“You had this extremely adorable, concentrated look on your face until you came back to get your things. As you walked off the stage, you were smirking. We selfishly thought maybe it was because of us so we took a short cut to a classroom and the rest is history.”

Keening into his chest, you placed a soft kiss on his skin before lifting Eddie’s hand that was intertwined with yours to your lips so you could do the same. Steve rolled onto his side, gently moving your hair and petting your head as he watched you gradually fall asleep. 

“Hey, Munson?”

“Harrington?”

“Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“Not that I know of besides work. Why?”

“I was thinking, maybe, you and I can go look at houses. See how much they cost so we can start saving and surprise Baby Girl here. She deserves a house.”

Eddie grinned as he reached over and patted his friend’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like a plan, man.”

############

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @eddiesguitarskills

@needylilgal022 @local-stoner-bitch @katethetank @strangerfreak

@sidthedollface2 @justanotheryn @pedropascalslilbaby

@marsupiooo @mandyjo8719 @bexreadstoomuch

@chelebelletx @perdopascalslilbaby @shayeddie @anaibis

@wroteclassicaly @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso @micheledawn1975

@paleidiot @mrsjellymunson @dashingdeb16

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter II

Chapter 2

Wordcount 4,4k

Title The Porch and the Table

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Previous chapter

1

Symbols ⭕➕🖤

Warnings: mentions of grieving and parent loss; alcohol consumption

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So this chapter is a bit longer than the first, but I think I should've stopped worrying about this by now hahaha I need to concentrate on what happens in each chapter and how the events move the story forward.

In this one's case, I've cut off rhe details of her arrival at Rengoku house and jumped to the beginning of her adaptation there, which includes her interactions with the staff and, specially, with her stepson, Senjuro. Of all the elements I want to explore in this ff, their relationship is one of my favorite things, so expect a strong bond to be created between them 🥺💜

About Shinjuro's appearances: I'm trying to bring a sort of growing tension each time he's around instead of just making his unpleasant traits too evident right from the start, bc I want reader to figure out the problems in her new house little by little, then trying to deal with them and make herself as comfortable as possible until she snaps and decides otherwise (spoilers haha)

I already know how I want this story to end though I just started writing it, and I believe I'll too much fun unveiling the light and and darkness in each of these characters.

Hope you enjoy this exploration mission with me 🖤

The servant sent by your father was walking in and out your new room at that moment, to bring your belongings to it. Since he was the only person who came with you, you offered to work with him, but the man declined, stating that there weren’t many things to carry and that he would soon be done.

— You made a good work packing your things even in such a small time, y/n-sama — he commented with gentleness — It made things easy.

You laughed.

— Well, I’ve tried my best. But if you’re okay with this, I’ll leave you alone. Thank you for everything.

You entered the room and, out of his sight, checked the spot where you left your sword, a place where it’d be difficult for someone to take it from; you sighed in relief with the vision of the weapon, and left to take a walk outside. There was a few spaces where you were given permission to wander – all of them separated from the parts of the house where the deceased members of your husband’s family used to stay – so, not having much to do right now (and, honestly, not knowing what to do), you were going to use the walk as an excuse to deliberate.

The wedding happened in the morning, but now it was almost midday. Your mood was no better than earlier, but you already sensed part of you accepting your new reality. You didn’t know if it was good or not, and didn’t want to figure it now, preferring to leave your mind free to think about how to act towards the circumstances.

The Rengoku House was as large and solemn as a samurai’s residence, with a wooden, rectangular structure to mark its entry, followed by a short path that led to the front doors. The building itself was raised under the traditional architecture, with two wide wings on each side and a porch to surround its premises. On the outside it was surrounded by trees, bushes and flowers; besides, the maid who led you to your room talked about the existence of a garden, but didn’t let it clear if you could visit it or not. Whatever the case, you thought it was a beautiful and silent compound you had there, despite the sensation of sadness that lingered in each spot you’ve passed by. Another thing you observed was the low number of servants, considering the house’s size, a suggestion that the Rengoku were facing problems that were similar to the ones in your father’s house – that was the only reason you could find for them to accept the good dowry that was offered alongside your hand. It was unnerving, you thought, unable to shake the feeling that you came to live there at the worst moment possible.

You then started to consider your new life as a married woman, and came to the conclusion that you weren’t getting such life at all. As soon as you arrived, you were informed that you wouldn’t share a room with your husband: yours would be in the same corridor as his, but in opposite sides; apparently, he was a man who cherished his privacy enough to organize things in a way that many would consider uncommon, to say the least. This idea seemed correct when you were led to meet your room, because as soon as you entered the house, Shinjuro ordered a maid to take care of you and walked to the other direction, disappearing from your sight, and until that moment you haven’t heard of him. Now that you remembered this, the prudent part of you was relieved that you weren’t going to share your personal space with an individual you just met, but another one, prideful, was a little outraged by the fact that you were dismissed right in your first day as a wife. Were you that uninteresting?

As you walked to an open area, your thoughts changed to lighter directions. You were content to see that the few servants you’ve met were kind enough to give you clear instructions and answer your questions concerning locations, meals and general rules, even though you couldn’t shake the sensation that they were a bit skittish, specially when they thought Shinjuro was near, but since he hasn’t appear to cause any problems you tried not to think of it. You were also relieved to observe that they did their best to keep the house clean and organized, which included your room: though you weren’t at ease with your situation, it was good to have a positive thing to point out in it.

You were thinking about this very thing when you looked around and realized your feet led you to the house’s entry again. You looked ahead and saw you weren’t alone there: a boy, not older than fourteen, was using a broom to clean the area; he worked slowly, perhaps taking care not to raise much dust, and you noticed his concentration from your spot, meters away. But what really caught your attention was the fact that he wasn’t dressed as a servant… and, well, he could never be, for he was the living reflection of the house’s head.

You remembered your mother told you that Shinjuro had two sons, but she didn’t tell you much more; maybe she never met this one. But the same silence coming from his own father was incomprehensible.

He didn’t tell me anything about this boy. Not even his name. What the hell…?

Your throat tightened when you wondered what kind of environment this kid must have been inserted.

Before your imagination could go any further, the boy saw you and stopped working. You approached him and one look at his face made you realize that the concentration you first observed wasn’t but sadness. You also noticed that his resemblance with Shinjuro was limited to his physical looks: apart from the thick eyebrows and the flaming hair, he carried a much kinder expression, with a freshness you doubted his father has ever owned, even in his youth days.

You decided not to bother him by asking about his moods, instead opting for a gentle approach.

— Hello — you smiled; and, looking around, — It seems a lot of work for one to do by themselves.

The boy showed you a hesitant smile, and his tone matched it when he replied to you.

— I know, but I don’t mind. It’s a good way to pass the time.

A moment of silence, and you noticed he wanted to continue the conversation, but struggled to find the words.

— It looks like you want to ask me something — you encouraged him.

— Yes, I do — a note of relief was sensed in his voice, as if you just did him a favor — I just don’t know how to ask this without bothering you. So… are you my father’s new wife?

The tight in your throat returned, but you forced a smile on your lips.

This is enough embarrassing for me. It doesn’t need to be like this to him as well.

— Yes, I am. My name is y/n. My family is from the (…) land. And you must be Rengoku-sama’s younger son.

— Yes. I’m Senjuro.

— That’s a good name, Senjuro-san — and, trying to imprint a comforting note in your voice, — And don’t worry, you could never bother me simply by asking this. I’m really content to meet you. You know, it’s relieving to talk casually to someone for the first time in days. It’s been a busy week, this one.

Now, Senjuro seemed to be more at ease. Maybe his days have been busy in their own way, and speaking with a new acquaintance was a welcoming change in the routine.

— I can imagine that – he commented – By the way, do you need help with something, y/n-sama?

You suddenly waved your hands in a gesture of refusal.

— Oh, no please, don’t call me like that! Y/n will do — you laughed — And, thank you, but I’ve already organized most of the things in my room. The rest will find their place with time — you sighed — For now, I just want to breathe fresh air. Fortunately, it’s a beautiful day we have now.

Senjuro observed the sky, the vivid blue spotted with big, white clouds, and agreed. You imitated him and looked at the weather with a smile.

— It's almost midday… – and, turning to him, – You know, when I was at my parents’ home, we used to eat our lunch on the porch on sunny days. Is there any problem in doing this here? What does your father think of it?

The boy shrugged.

— He doesn’t care at all. But he hates to see leftovers on the porch.

— It’s understandable — you giggled — So, how about we have lunch together on the porch? I’m still a bit lost here, so eating at the table won’t make me feel at will, but I’d still like to have company.

— It’s okay for me — he smiled.

You were afraid that Senjuro was going to see your approach as invasive, so it was with relief you heard him accepting your invitation.

— Right! I’ll ask the maid to bring our food to my room’s porch, then.

He frowned.

— Where is exactly your room? I thought you were going to, you know, stay with my father.

Your heart skipped a beat at that question, but you didn’t let out your discomfort.

– Your father decided that I’m getting a room of my own. Don’t ask me why! – you shrugged, a low laugh escaping your mouth.

You then explained the location to him, and he replied he would go there in a few minutes.

***

Lunch time was quiet and pleasing.

You found the maid who showed your room and asked her to bring food for two to your chambers. When you explained your plans to her, at first you though she was going to argue, maybe considering the possibility of having Shinjuro scolding her for allowing his wife to make a mess right in her first day at the new house, but she just agreed and asked you to wait until she brought the bowls for you and Senjuro.

After the meal itself, you’ve spent some time sitting on the porch and talking. At the same time you spoke to him about yourself, you’ve found out interesting things about your new family from your stepson.

– So… How did you and my father meet, y/n? – was his first, natural question.

– The story is a bit long, but if you have patience I can tell you – you smiled – My parents use to know your family, or so I was told. My mother was a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. She was a (…) Rank, and came in contact with your father during work. She never explained in details how missions work in the Corps, but apparently she was given a task that proved to be more difficult than it seemed at first, so she and her group were supported by Rengoku-sama. They’ve became acquaintances since then – you took the cup of juice from the tray where your bowls were brought – She met your elder brother once, when he was just a child.

You saw a glow of excitement appearing in the boy’s reddish eyes.

– She did?

– Yes! – you laughed – And she always spoke good things about your family – your smile faded a bit with the next sentence – It was like this until she passed away.

– I’m sorry for this – he replied – You know, my mother passed away when I was little. I can barely remember her.

You put a hand on his shoulder.

– It’s difficult without them. I know.

He nodded in agreement.

Talking about your mother, even though it required remembering her absence, was the easy part of the narrative, and your heart was calm while telling it. What would come after it, however, was a different story. Still, verbalizing those events to an attentive listener like Senjuro did you some good, for you managed to leave the bitterness out of your tone.

– Unlike my mother, my father never revealed to be familiar with yours until days ago, when he told me he contacted Rengoku-sama to ask for help.

– Help? How so?

– There has been little to no protection against Oni in our lands since my mother’s death, so the people who lived in the villages around have been suffering – you explained – Things became difficult even in our house, and half of our servants were fired or decided to leave. My father thought it was a good idea to contact yours and offer my hand in marriage in exchange for his protection, and somehow your father said yes – you put the cup back on the tray, lying your hands on your lap and trying not to show the trembling in them – I didn’t know about the offer until the week when the wedding should take place, and your father and I have never met before the ceremony’s day.

That part of the story seemed intriguing to Senjuro as well. Maybe he didn’t think his father was the type of person who’d accept a contract with such terms, or he was simply caught in surprise by being informed about the wedding with a few days in antecedence just like you. Whatever the case, both of you could easily agree that this situation was embarrassing, to say the least.

– That’s why I was a bit afraid earlier, you understand? – you shrugged – It’s been probably years since the last time my father saw yours, and without my mother to support us, I had no idea what I was going to find once I arrived at your house – you giggled – So, thank you for accepting my invitation and eating with me.

Senjuro imitated your gesture and left his own up on the tray, between the bowls.

– That’s okay, y/n. I've actually had my meals alone for a long time, so it was good to have company today – he replied with gentleness – I really liked to meet you.

You were intrigued with the revelation of him eating alone in his own house, but you wouldn’t question him right now. Instead, you replied that you liked meeting him as well.

The boy stood up and nodded, thanking you for the meal. But, before leaving, he turned one more time, as if he forgot to tell you something.

– You know, when I found out my father was going to marry again, I was really afraid.

You frowned.

– Afraid? Why?

He hesitated.

– Well, I… thought he was trying to replace my mother with someone else, but I’m relieved to see this isn’t true – and, urging a shy smile to let it clear that his words had no hostility, – You’re a good person, y/n.

You gave him a smile of comprehension. Of course, the worst fear of a young boy who lost his mother so soon in his life and then his big brother was concerning the kind of people his father would decide to bring under the same roof as him. Your father never met anyone after your mother, so you never had to worry about this, but if you were Senjuro's age, you’d feel the same way.

– No one can replace your mother, Senjuro-san. Actually, no one should try, me included. But it’s going to be good if we continue to get along.

For the first time, you saw him opening a smile with no signs of embarrassment or mistrust.

– I agree with you.

***

After Senjuro left to continue his tasks, you took the tray with the bowls to give them back to the kitchen. You were planning to come back to your room and carry on with the organization of your belongings: though you said to your stepson that the work was almost done in this sense, you knew you weren’t going to finish it that day.

You were walking through the corridor, thinking of this, when a shadow appeared: someone was blocking your way. You startled and raised your eyes to find Shinjuro standing before you. No word came from his mouth; his mere look was enough to make you step back.

– Rengoku-sama – you murmured – Can I help you?

Instead of answering your question, he lowered his eyes to the tray.

– Who ate lunch with you? Senjuro?

You promptly confirmed. The man stared at you for a moment, and it was impossible to tell if he was surprised or displeased.

You tried to justify yourself.

– I paused the organizations at my room and took a walk outside. I met Senjuro-san at the house’s entry. I invited him to eat lunch with me and he said yes.

Shinjuro seemed to accept this explanation, though no contentment was detected in his expression.

– I see. I hope he hasn’t bothered you.

– Absolutely not – you frowned, confused – I don’t see any reasons for him to bother me.

Again, he seemed to approve your reply, but that didn’t mean he was happy with what he heard, and his next words made it clear.

– It’s good that you’ve shown patience towards him. He can be too soft sometimes, even talking too much.

Talking too much? That Senjuro, who was constantly trying to measure his words when asking things to you? Were you speaking about the same boy?

Well, you couldn’t understand why your husband was saying such things about his own son, but considering that he didn’t even mind telling you his name, it didn’t seem reasonable for you to take his words into account.

– Well, I was very pleased to meet my stepson – you stated, taking a step to the side to indicate you were heading to the kitchen that moment – And, to me, he spoke enough. Not much, not less.

Maybe Shinjuro wasn’t expecting your reply, or maybe he didn’t want to carry on with that conversation just like you, but he commented that “at least you two got along” and how much discomfort you were all spared from thanks to this. He walked past you and left with no additional words, leaving you with intriguing thoughts.

***

Apart from other few times when you spoke to the maid or when you met Senjuro, you’ve spent most of that day by yourself, unpacking clothes and other objects, trying to figure out the best way to keep them together in your new room. The place itself was similar to your chambers in your parents’ house, both in place and shape, which somehow made things easy, yet the whole aspect of the room, aside the conscience of not being in the house you grew up in, wouldn’t let you feel entirely at will inside it. The color of the walls, the room’s position in the building, the texture of the floor, the smell of it… Everything screamed that you weren’t at home.

Your husband’s whereabouts were a mystery and, honestly, you weren’t missing his rigid presence and stern tone. He hasn’t said a word about his routine and habits, so that you didn’t know if he left the house at some point during the day, if he spent his hours in his own room, an office or anywhere else or if you should expect to see him again before the next day; being left in the dark was unnerving, of course, but not getting much useful information from the few contact you had with that man, you’d rather not to seek for him.

Shinjuro himself was a mystery to you, too.

Now that you had time to think about this, you found yourself trying to understand his real reasons to accept this marriage. Sure, your dowry was very encouraging, but one day that money would end and you would still be there, and then what? Would he kick you out of his house and replace you for a richer girl? It was too soon to tell if he was capable of such thing, but the money excuse still sounded superficial to you: accepting someone you’ve never seen before in your house just to receive a financial benefit? It didn’t make much sense. Or did he want someone to look out for Senjuro? Well, you already let it clear to the boy that you weren’t there to replace his mother, and nothing about parenting was said in the contract. Besides, Senjuro was no longer a child; the type of education he needed was beyond the one you could ever give to him: you were a well educated woman, but your education was still a female one, so that apart some lessons in Literature and sword movements you were sure he already knew, there weren’t much you could teach him; it was better to hire a tutor or invite a relative.

You were holding a pile of folded clothes at that moment. You put it on an open drawer, sat on the floor and sighed. There you had a mission you didn’t ask for.

Wasn’t it enough to make me move to this place? Do I really need to try and unveil what goes on in this man’s head? As if he would let me...

You decided to take some rest both from your task and those annoying deliberations.

***

It was only in the next morning that you heard of him again.

That time, you decided you were going to have breakfast at the table, so you woke up early, washed your face and prepared yourself.

When you arrived at the kitchen, Senjuro was already there, filling his bowl in silence. He raised his eyes when you approached and knelt in the spot in front of his.

– Good morning, Senjuro-san – you gave him a soft smile while taking your own bowl.

– Good morning, y/n.

The meal had all the reasons to be calm and quiet, and you were glad for it. You haven’t had a good night of sleep, so the last thing you needed was tension right in the morning…

But the sudden shift in the air and the change in Senjuro’s posture let you knew you weren’t going to get what you wished: you turned your head to the entry and saw Shinjuro passing through it and walking to the head of the table without a word or a look to his son or to you. He sat and just started filling his bowl, something that wouldn’t mean anything if it wasn’t for the fact that he landed a large, already opened bottle of sake on the table.

You swallowed.

Drinking at this hour? Seriously?

You glanced at Senjuro, and the boy, as if knowing better, immediately turned his attention back to his food. You tried to do the same, but Shinjuro had another surprise, this second one directed related to you.

You saw his hand pushing a paper toward you over the table. You left the hashi aside and took the paper; it was a letter.

– A letter? To me?

– It’s from your father – was the reply – He told me he would be writing to you right after you moved to my house.

You stared at the folded paper for a while, without giving him a verbal response. When you heard that it was written by your father, your curiosity somehow died inside you, and any wish to read what was in there disappeared. You left the letter on the table and grabbed your hashi again.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by your husband.

– Won’t you open it?

You raised your eyes to him, not hiding the tiredness of the last days.

– No. I won’t.

Shinjuro naturally thought you were saying you were going to read it later, and the same could be said about Senjuro. So it wasn’t without confusion that they observed you giving up on the food for the second time, taking the letter and standing up.

There was an oven on the other side of the kitchen, which fire has been fed with coal. You calmly headed to it and, not thinking of how what you were doing was going to be seen by the presents, you tossed the letter in the flames.

You went back to your spot and found father and son staring at you in disbelief, each one for different reasons. Senjuro was probably shocked to see someone dismissing the words of a parent with no hesitation; you were actually content with that, for it was a sign that he has been taught good family principles. Shinjuro, on the other hand, had nothing but indignation with what he just saw: what kind of daughter treats her own father like this? Well, if only he had a father who treated him like yours, maybe he could understand.

They were waiting for a verbal explanation, of course, and you gave it to them.

– Senjuro-san, I’m sorry that you had to see this, but I won’t apologize for what I did. I just cannot – you said to the boy; and, turning to his father with a much lower tone, – Thank you for giving the letter to me, Rengoku-sama, but I ask you to do the same thing I did if more come. I don’t want to read them.

You saw the twist on his lips and knew exactly what he was thinking. Brat. Stubborn, ungrateful girl and many other unpleasing ways to describe a young woman who didn’t act as expected might have come to his mind that time, as well as the idea of a long, difficult path he was going to follow in his life beside you. You certainly didn’t want things to be this hard between you, and an ache in your heart reminded you of this, but this has already started in the least favorable circumstances; what should be expected, then?

What your husband said to you after this, however, had more to do with the practical aspect of things than with his personal opinion on ungrateful girls.

– Why didn’t you at least read it first? How could you know there wasn’t something important in it?

– There wasn’t – it was your prompt reply, not completely devoid of sadness – If my father had anything important to say, he would’ve done it before I left his house.

He frowned, a gesture that in his case would draw more attention than in any other individual, and spent a moment in silence, staring at you and measuring your words before grabbing the bottle of sake and drinking directly from it. You observed the firmness with which his hand left the bottle on the table after it, making a thump on the wood, and couldn’t help wonder that if you were a boy and he was angry, he could’ve yelled at you and even smacked you, but having you putting all your politeness in your words was enough to hold himself in place.

The rest of the meal went in uneasy silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts and you claiming to yourself the task of dissolving the connection with your father and keeping an eye on your stepson whenever your husband was around.

Chapter 3

[mychoombatheroomba]

Firing Range

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 10

As the weeks go by, you and Leon get closer.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

Weeks went by, quick as the slash of a knife. Leon learned to think of each day as a step by step - get through each task, each lesson, then worry about the next. He didn’t give himself a chance to pause, or let the fatigue set in. Not if he could help it. What had him out of breath once, now he could weather with greater and greater ease. He could feel the change in his body; muscles hardening, his reflexes improving. His legs would carry him further, and his aim was steadier. He could feel himself being honed into something sharper, and there was some grim satisfaction in that. Even so, he preferred to focus on the other changes those weeks brought. 

Changes like the way you, on an unremarkable day, had set your tray down beside his at lunch, and didn’t look bothered when he did the same the following day. Or the way the conversations the two of you shared had slowly been growing longer. Many of those conversations were about the present - ways to improve, not just with knives, but with many aspects of STRATCOM training. Sometimes you would discuss music. Movies. Other interests. Leon clung to every piece of information you would give him, wanting to know more about you. 

And, of course, some conversations were about the past. Those ones were more painful, but no less important to Leon. 

“Is it alright,” he’d begun one night, a few days after your initial talk, “if I ask you about what happened that night?” 

You hadn’t looked too thrilled, but you didn’t look surprised, either. “You can ask,” you said, “but I may not answer.” 

“You said you weren’t in Raccoon City when you saw bioweapons. Where were you?” 

You’d blinked, braced yourself. “On base in Finland.” 

“Was it the same night you got hurt?” 

“Yes.”

“But . . . you were stabbed, weren’t you? With a knife?” 

“I was.” 

“But it wasn’t a bioweapon?” 

“No.”

“So then how did it happen?”

 You frowned, and whatever your reasons, Leon knew not to press further after you answered: “Pass.”  

A few days later, you had a question for him. 

“Do you know how the outbreak started in Raccoon City?” 

He’d been told not to speak on the matter. Why, he couldn’t say. Still, when it came to you, Leon decided that you deserved to know.

“Umbrella. The pharmaceutical company. They were experimenting with viral weaponry underneath the city.” Thinking of what he’d seen made Leon tense. Grip his knife tighter. 

“Umbrella.” You’d looked a little distant as you heard the words. “So, they . . . what, infected everyone up top?” 

“Not intentionally, I think. It was an accident.” And then he told you what he’d seen of the camera footage - the doctor, the armed men sent after him, and the broken vials of the viruses. “Rats found the vials. I think they spread it.” 

“And the men that went after the doctor. Do you know who they were working for?” 

“No, I’m not sure. He knew they were coming, though.” 

You’d hummed, thinking. “And you found all this on security camera footage? From inside the Umbrella labs?” 

“Yeah.”

“What the hell were you doing down there?” 

“I was looking for a sample of the virus. I . . .” he’d paused, choking on the memory of a woman in a red dress pressing her lips to his, and then holding a gun to his heart. “I thought it would help bring Umbrella down.” 

“Did you get it?” 

“. . . Pass.” 

You respected the end of the conversation just as much as Leon did, and just like that, the two of you had a system. An easy way out. A way to jump ship, to stop either of you from being lost in the memories. 

He told you the abstract. Zombies. Umbrella. The city being lost. 

He kept other things closer to his chest. Marvin, the glimpse into the life that could have been. Claire, the girl he’d come to respect more than almost anyone else. Sherry, the child who he’d given up his freedom for. Ada, the woman who he’d lost, not that he’d ever really had her to begin with. You didn’t need to know about them, and he didn’t need to know everyone you’d lost, either.

It felt good to have someone who understood. Someone who had been through that same hell. You didn’t pity him or what he’d been through, and what questions you asked weren’t an interrogation. Even if he wished that neither of you had been through what you’d been through, or seen what you’d seen, he was glad to have you - for company, and for help. The latter became all the more true when Krauser announced that Leon’s squad would be going through assessments. 

“Already?” you asked, when Leon mentioned it over lunch. “He’s moving fast.” 

“What’s he ‘assessing’? He wasn’t very clear,” Leon said, glad for the conversation taking his mind off the tasteless food he shoveled into his mouth. 

“Everything,” you said before taking a sip of water. 

“Everything.” Leon huffed. “Everything ‘soldier’ or everything ‘they’re going to make me retake the SAT?” 

You deadpanned in the way you usually would, raising a brow and almost - almost - letting the side of your mouth curl up into a smirk. “Fitness, marksmanship, combat. Everything he’s taught you so far . . .” you paused, considering something, “. . . and maybe some things he hasn’t.” 

“That is . . . not a whole lot more helpful.” 

“Well, giving away everything would defeat the point of the test.” 

“Right. So, if we pass, then what?” 

“Then you move to the next phase of training.” You took another sip. Your eyes didn’t break from his own. “Same as my unit.” 

The idea shouldn’t have made him as excited as it did. Advanced training meant more pain. More demanding exercises. More blood and bruises. It also meant that he would be one step closer to being ready. It meant that he would be able to manage whatever came his way. It meant, perhaps, that he would be in like company more often than just mealtimes and personal hours. That shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did. 

“So, maybe we branch out,” you offered, interrupting his thoughts as you rested your arms against the table. “Focus on more than just knives.” 

And that was how Leon found himself at the firing range that evening, holding a handgun instead of a knife. He might have hated how natural it felt to him, a few months ago. Now, it was a welcome relief. There was even some twisted excitement to it, because he’d agreed to this not only for the practice. You were at his side, holding your own gun like you’d been born with one in your hand. Part of him wouldn’t have been surprised if that were really the case. 

The two of you had headphones on, though something told Leon that both of you had long since begun to damage your hearing with the sound of gunfire. Still, any words would be muffled, so you didn’t speak. You just tilted your head towards the targets downrange. 

That was all the signal Leon needed. 

Live rounds. STRATCOM wanted the best from their recruits and didn’t mind fronting the money for the munitions. It meant that an officer stood on duty by the door, there to observe. Neither of you paid him much mind. 

There were twelve rounds in the magazine of his gun. Twelve times, as he pointed the gun forward, he squeezed the trigger. Twelve little ringing sounds as the shells fell to the floor. 

When those twelve rounds were fired, Leon felt a little swell of pride in him as he looked through twelve holes punched through the target. Not quite dead center on all of them, but damned close. 

He couldn’t help but look over at you, grinning like a bandit because, at last, he got to prove that he was good at something. If he was being honest with himself, that was part of why he’d agreed to this. He knew that you didn’t think less of him for his skill level in anything - you had never given him anything but respect. Still, it felt good to be able to show you that he wasn’t some helpless rookie. Not in every aspect, at least. 

It made the impressed look you gave him all the better. “Not bad,” Leon read your lips before you turned towards your own target, your eyes narrowing as you took aim. You were fast, firing with a practiced precision. Quick and efficient, the same way you fought. Leon watched as you tore through the target, his eyes switching between the range and the steady iron of your arms. 

When it was done, you stepped back, setting your pistol down and taking your headphones off. “Not so bad yourself,” Leon gestured down range. You’d shot about the same as he had, from the look of things, and he wouldn't have expected anything less.

“Years of practice,” you said, matter-of-factly. “You’ve got a natural talent, looks like. Or beginner’s luck.” 

“What? Don’t think I’ve had ‘years of practice’ too?” 

“Not with the military, you haven’t.” 

“That obvious?” 

“No soldiers I know have that haircut.” 

Leon, for all he had been through, all the times you’d handed his ass to him, felt himself go a little red at the comment. It must have been obvious, because you looked entirely too pleased with yourself. The grin you let slip made it worth it, he supposed. “You’ve been holding on to that one for a while now, haven’t you?” 

“Since day one,” you nodded, shifting your weight onto one leg and grabbing at the headphones around your neck. 

“Well, it’s not beginner’s luck,” Leon insisted, “I did have some training. I was going to be a cop.” 

“Of course, you were,” you shook your head, not at all surprised. “But what do you mean ‘going to be’?” 

He wasn’t sure if that night was getting easier to talk about, exactly, but Leon found the answer escaping him quickly all the same. “I really only got one day in.” 

“Ah,” you nodded, understanding as you always did. So much of what the two of you had shared about that night were the monstrosities. The why and how. Not so much what life was like before. 

“What about you?” he asked, eager to switch the subject off of his only day on the job. “How long have you been serving?” 

Before you answered, your eyes flitted off to the side like you were doing the math in your mind. “Four . . . almost five years, now.” 

Leon let out a little huff of air, his eyebrows rising. “Did you join right out of high school?” You had to have - if he was guessing your age correctly. 

“Yep,” you nodded, your answer short and stiff. 

He wondered if he’d interpreted it correctly for only a moment before he asked another question. “Never thought of doing anything else?” He almost couldn’t picture it - you working some normal job in a city, spending hours a day at a desk or rushing between tables. You seemed so natural in this life . . . but he knew better than anyone that not everyone who was here had chosen to live this way. 

You paused, eyebrows drawn together as you thought. “I thought about it,” you finally admitted, and the resignation in your voice gave Leon pause. “Not sure what I would have done, to be honest.” 

“What made you join?” 

He expected the answer he got before you even opened your mouth. “Pass.” 

Another missing piece, but if it wasn’t one you wanted him to have, then he could do without. 

“Well,” Leon breathed, “you’re a damn good soldier. Whatever your reasons.” 

You looked up at him then, something flickering behind your eyes. “That wouldn’t be flattery, would it?” Your voice was low. Why was it so low? So the officer at the door wouldn’t hear? That had to be it. 

“Not flattery,” Leon shook his head, speaking earnestly. “Just fact.” 

You huffed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Alright, pretty boy-” you said it and Leon might have choked because he never - never - thought to hear those words from you, “-less talking, more shooting.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that here. He’d heard Valeria and some of the others refer to him that way - even Krauser, on a rare occasion. Always mocking, when it came to the Major. Hearing it from you . . . it shouldn’t have thrown him for a loop, but here he was, reeling like you’d knocked him in the back of the head. 

The last time he’d felt like that-

He wouldn’t let himself think of it. Not when he knew where that spiral of thoughts would lead him. Instead, he moved back to the firing range, about to slide the headphones back over his ears when your voice stopped him. 

“Tell you what,” you grinned, “we’ll keep score tonight. Whoever wins gets the knife tomorrow.” 

And whoever lost . . . “Fighting full out?” he asked, glad of the distraction - both from Ada’s memory and from the effect your words had on him. 

“Full out,” you nodded.

“. . . I don’t think I’d do very well against you unarmed,” Leon admitted, because he knew damn well that it was the truth. 

“Well,” you shrugged, pulling your headphones back on and glancing over at him with a smirk, “then I guess you’d better shoot straight.” 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Leon is down so bad and who could blame him?

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

[purity-town]

No update this week as I had some stuff going on. We're really close to the end of this chapter, though -- two pages left! I've started cleaning up the script for Chapter 9 and am looking forward to getting there. In the meantime, ask responses are below the cut!

First off -- I'll admit that heights aren't all that consistent in-comic. I've improved in my art in a lot of ways through this comic, and have gotten better dealing with perspective, but when it comes to characters being closer/farther away I tend to do whatever looks/feels nice and works with the framing of that panel. A good example is this one:

The only real height reference you could get from here is that the Dryad is taller than the Arms Dealer. Andrew, Chris, the Zoologist, and the Merchant are all just placed in whichever way fit well with the background, and don't "measure up" to their other appearances -- especially considering the Merchant is shown as being very short here, but taller than the Nurse two panels earlier. I was just struggling to fit him in in the gap between the Dryad and the Arms Dealer.

I do have a loose sense of "X character is this amount taller than Y character" but it's not a very definitive thing. (I've also changed character designs and heights over the course of the comic as I've settled into how I want characters to look, which exacerbates the problem a bit.)

To answer your first question: Chris is intended to be/drawn in more recent pages as very slightly taller than Andrew. The sort of height difference where on paper you're different heights but you don't really register it.

In the earliest pages, Andrew came up more to around Chris' eyebrows -- over time I decided I didn't want Chris to be "the tall one" anymore, especially standing next to characters who are actually supposed to be tall, so the height gap lessened. He's supposed to be around average or slightly above average height, with Andrew being average or slightly below average.

As for other NPCs -- yep, the Dryad is the tallest by far, haha. And although you can't tell when the Arms Dealer is standing next to her, he's pretty tall himself. He (and the Merchant) are both slightly taller than the Nurse. The Old Man is also around this range -- one of the taller characters but not extremely so.

The Zoologist is one of the shortest characters, but her ears make up the height difference! Most of the rest of the "shorter" characters haven't appeared yet or haven't been shown standing next to someone else, so I haven't had to decide on their exact heights yet.

I know that I had responded to this before, but since that was in the Tumblr replies field I was fighting with limited word count at the time. So, longer answer:

Out of universe, I needed something to tag my AU art with and didn't want it to be long/annoying to use. I had written out a lot of my initial ideas for the world/story several months before starting on the comic, so the town was named Purity Town long before I ever started posting art for it -- and when I needed a proper name for the comic, I just decided to grab that and roll with it. It felt descriptive enough, both in terms of "yep this is where the comic is placed" and in representing the struggle/fight for the world's balance and recovery in the story. Interestingly enough, I dug up my old notes on the fanfic ideas that would eventually become Purity Town, and the original working title for the story was "Barely Human" -- in hindsight, I much prefer Purity Town :>

As for the town having the name in-universe, I could see it having two levels of meaning. The obvious reason for the name is that it's just a practical/descriptive name originally intended as more of a placeholder in a newly-settled region, and it ended up just getting picked up and sticking around. The other reason being more hopeful -- a vow/plea that the town would remain free from the Corruption and whatever other monsters roam in those unsettled, wild areas that make up most of the region.

Within the lore of Terraria, there are references to "purity" and being "pure" scattered around here and there. Bunnies are pure beings, Dryads can analyze the purity of the world, Crimeras attack pure things, and the green clentaminator solution spreads the Purity. So that's where the actual "Purity" term comes from!

That's horrifying; thanks for sharing!

Jokes aside, I do quite love the idea of the Eye Of Cthulhu being able to see through every smaller eye it spawns, or at least receive information back through them as "messengers."

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Azriel feeds bad people to his bloodthirsty dryad girlfriend. 

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Azriel/Elain

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Murder, Creepy Tree Shit

Chapters: One-Shot

AO3 Link

It’s that time again! Spooky fics for Spooky Season! 🌳🎃

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Blood at the Roots

Jim was tired. 

It had been an exhausting day at work and all he had wanted by the end of it was to take a walk by the playground and then order some takeout. But no. No. Instead that bitch Monica in HR had to go and harass him about his ‘behavior’ with the new girl. 

“Is any of this true?” Monica had asked with pursed lips. 

“Of course not!” Jim had lied. “I don’t even know why she would say something like that!”

As if he would ever be interested in a dumb little slut like Nikki. He had just been trying to be friendly! But he had barely spoken to her before she started telling everyone he ‘gave her the creeps’. Fucking bitch. 

Whatever. 

She was too old for him anyway. 

He checked his phone as he wandered toward his car (of fucking course he was the only one left in the lot) and swore as he saw the time. Shit. All the kids would be going in for dinner by now. He’d be lucky if any of them were still hanging around the playground this late. 

Quickly, he unlocked the door and ducked inside. If he was quick, he might- 

He didn’t even notice he wasn’t alone until he felt the wet rag clamp over his mouth and nose. He never even managed to scream before the drug knocked him out cold. 

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Jim hit the cold ground and awoke with a jolt. 

It took several long moments for him to wrangle his thoughts into any sort of coherency. 

“What the hell?” He said. Or, at least, that was what he tried to say. In reality all he managed to get out was a slurred “Whaaaaa?”

Blearily, Jim attempted to take stock of his strange new surroundings. Had he been…drugged? The last thing he remembered was…something about Monica from work? He couldn’t be sure though. His thoughts felt like they were fighting through a head full of cotton…only to then be tossed into a blender. 

An icy breeze washed over him and he shivered. Where was his jacket? He glanced around for it only to notice the dark trees surrounding him, their barren limbs stretching into the night sky. 

All except one. 

There, standing tall and proud before him, was a tree that towered over all the others. It looked old. Very old. The longer he looked at it though, the more Jim realized that there was something…off about it. 

And then it hit him. 

It still had leaves. 

He whipped his head back towards the other trees and, nope, they were all still barren. And yet, for some bizarre reason…this tree wasn’t. In fact, it looked for all the world as if it were enjoying a pleasant summer evening rather than a blisteringly cold October night. Jim stared up at its verdant green leaves with confusion. 

Until he very suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. 

There, at the base of the tree, stood two strangers. A man and a woman. 

The man was young and dressed all in black. A stark contrast to the woman besides him. 

She was naked. That was the first thing he noticed about her. How could he not? And she was beautiful…but in a strange way. An uncanny way. Her limbs were too spindly. Her eyes were too large and watchful. She seemed less a creature of flesh and bone than some confusing imitation of one. 

And yet for all her disorientating beauty and nudity…he couldn’t stop staring at her feet. Honestly, it took him a frankly embarrassing amount of time to realize why.  

Her feet were covered in a confused tangle of roots. As if she had been standing there for so very long that the tree had simply decided to grow up around her…except, her realized eventually, with a sickening lurch, those roots were her feet. 

She was a part of the tree. 

He looked back up and saw her staring back at him with those luminous, unblinking eyes of hers. They seemed almost to glow in the darkness. Boring down into him like tree roots. 

He suddenly felt…trapped. 

He realized then, with dawning horror, that this was a predator. She didn’t look nearly human because she was one…but because those were her preferred victims. 

She was a Venus Fly Trap. 

And he, the unwitting fly. 

As soon as that thought entered his mind he was begging. 

“Please!”

The tree-woman gazed down at him serenely. Her companion didn’t even acknowledge him, too busy staring at her bizarrely sweet face. 

“Please?” She tilted her head the way a bird did. They were the first words she had spoken aloud since he’d awoken. Her voice was…strange. As if having a tongue was still a new experience for her. 

“Please don’t kill me!”

The woman…giggled. 

She fucking giggled. 

“Oh I’m not going to kill you!” She laughed. 

He froze. 

“Really?!”

“No, silly!”

For a moment he felt such immeasurable relief that he almost didn’t hear the second part of her declaration.

“He’s going to kill you!” She gestured to her grim companion. “I’m just going to eat you.”

There was no time to run. Not even time to scream. In half a second the man was behind him and yanking his head back by the hair. 

Jim felt only the bite of something cold and sharp drag across his throat. It was so fast that all he could do was marvel over the fact that he didn’t feel any pain. He tried to say ‘No’ but his voice didn’t seem to work. Instead all that came out was a wet, bubbling gasp. And then, without warning, a boot pressed between his shoulder blades and shoved him to the ground. 

Helplessly, he watched as his own lifeblood pooled around him and soaked into the frozen ground. Into the tree roots. Her roots. 

The tree-woman gave a deep, hearty sigh. The way one would after taking a long pull of water on a hot summer’s day. 

“Ah,” she moaned happily. “You always bring me the most delicious morsels.” 

“Of course,” the man replied. It was the first time Jim had ever heard him speak. He had such a soft voice for someone so menacing. “I’m only sorry I made you wait so long. I had to be sure.” 

“Sure?” The tree-woman giggled. 

“That he deserved this.”

“Ah, yes. And what did this one do?”

The man’s voice turned cold. 

“He hurt children.” 

Jim knew then he would die here. That he already was dying. That this was his punishment for everything he had ever done. 

He moaned pitifully. 

“Well, whatever he did,” the tree-woman giggled. “He tastes delicious.”

Above them, the tree grew.