#he's seething because he's spent so much time getting his hair just right and they sub him off???? what more does bevo want?????

[fazcinatingblog]

of course there has to be reddit stuff about this bailey smith lookalike

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Smoking, Mention of Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Death]

[5.2k words]

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Chapter 10 "The Color"

“Good night, Mister.”

The audacity you possess gnawed at his gut, he was boiling, seething.

How dare you try to walk out on him? How dare you treat him like a common nobody when he’s kept you alive for so long now without asking for anything in exchange?

It’s easy to understand your perspective. You’ve been led to believe you were betrayed and you would have been if you hadn’t presented him with the taste of heaven. He couldn’t get rid of you after the honeyed dew of you and that pretty mouth trickled down his tongue. He was too addicted to the sight of just how much influence he had on you – all hazy eyes and twitching smile, foggy mind and grabby hands tugging at him as if he was an oasis in the desert. He was drunk on the power, writhing in delight at your willingness. He had you wrapped around his finger and he hadn’t even tried.

But then you slide off the windowsill and slowly walk away, towards the door, try to leave him. It was then that he realized you had just as much of a chokehold on him as he had on you if not more.

He didn’t mean to grab you by the hair, he just reached out to stop you. Then you hissed and whirled around to bite him and his internal monologue to persuade himself into seeing things from your eyes dissipated. He’d had enough of your tantrum, he was nurturing a missing kidney because of you.

You weren’t going fucking anywhere.

He snarled at you and jostled you still and silent, spat a few venomous words he wasn’t too proud of and tossed you on the bed.

Be mad all you want, you weren’t fucking leaving him. You had no right to deprive him of the little comfort he’d found.

Sleep did not come that night, it didn’t come for many nights after. He’d spent the quiet hours daydreaming about being the cause for Mitzie’s disappearance. As days blurred into weeks, he became more and more agitated because no matter how much he drank or indulged in chems, he couldn’t fall unconscious. Not when he couldn’t feel you pressed into him and sleeping off the exhaustion of your travels. He’d be so close to slumber, about to slack and doze off, then he’d be startled awake because the lingering smell of lavender and the heat against his chest wasn’t there. He’d bolt upright, look around in delirium, ready to shower the world with bullets because his first thought was that you were kidnapped.

No, you were right there, a few feet away with your back turned to him. You were there, you just refused to touch him.

No more tugs at his coat, they’d been so annoying, he’d ripped his sleeve away as soon as he’d felt them, now he missed them. No more huddling together at night with the excuse of it being cold, no handholding, no loving glances. You weren’t trying to be in direct contact with any part of him you could get your hands on, you didn’t try to strike small talk while you mapped out the wasteland, no more stupid questions, no pleading for him to tell you stories when you camped down for the night.

He was alone, felt like it, the only indicator for that being false was you walking silently behind him, a presence in his shadow, another thumping heart around the campfire. Other than that, there was nothing.

It was agonizing, nerve-wracking, infuriating, but he was too stubborn to try and fix it. He was too prideful to soothe the aftermath of the turmoil he had caused. He tells himself time heals all, you’ll be right back to being a nuisance in a day or two, he comforts his gaping chest and bleeding ribs with those hopeful thoughts, stifles the annoying little critter reaching for you. His heart? No, something else. He had no heart left to give, but something akin to a heart was cradled in the crevice of his ribcage and he’d be willing to share it. If only you’d turn around and fucking look at him…

But the days roll on and you’re stoic in your silence, he’s not sure if it’s a wordless protest still or if you’ve just given up on him and are trying to figure out how to escape. The prickling possibility poisons his blood until he’s angry all over again, but he can’t say anything when you’ve made no such move.

It’s all a waiting game now.

It’s bothersome.

It’s skin-boiling.

It’s –

“ – Mister!”

He blinks at the call and what had been jumbled letters and fake scenarios disperses to give way to a darkening horizon and a mountain of muddy green clouds. The sound of distant thunder echoes in the deserted field you’ve been crossing today and he finally acknowledges the stinging gust of wind licking at his face.

He catches your strained expression as you struggle to bring in a sheet with all that you’ve managed to scavenge for your current occupation.

“Shit.”

A monstrous radstorm creeps your way, lumbering warningly and eating away at the once clear blue sky. Braving it is a lost cause for him, let alone a small smooth-skin like you.

Cooper isn’t one to turn back, but with the path forward cut off with acidic rain ravaging anything that breathes, for once he’s willing.

With a grunt, he snuffs out his cigarette, turns from the approaching apocalypse to you, pushes you aside, and grips the sheet of provisions before dragging it inside the moldering shack that will be your salvation for the next few days. With the need to not be useless pumping through your blood, you burden yourself with your backpack and the ghoul’s pack over each shoulder before stumbling inside and kicking the door shut behind you.

The windows, glassless, are already conveniently boarded up; that’s one less thing to worry over. The latch on the door is too flimsy to survive the storm, both you and Cooper come to realize that quickly when you slide it shut and it nearly breaks off into your hand, having been worn and eaten by rust and bad weather for countless years. The heap of supplies is left to roll around in a pile on the ground as you’re ushered aside.

Another strained grunt comes from the ghoul as he fights against the barren bookcase positioned in one corner of the room. He pushes it towards the door, topples it over, and presses his full body weight against it to slot it neatly against the wall.

As the shack begins to creak under the cutting pressure of the wind, you make haste for the bathroom. Having mapped out the place already, you’d been pleasantly surprised to find a bathtub intact – a decent place to build a little nest for the duration of the storm, away from both the radiation rain and Cooper. There was a used-to-be-teal couch in the main room and you were almost certain he’d bunk on that and leave you to your peace.

You were wrong.

As you drape a flimsy, dirty blanket over the tub to make for your mattress, heavy boots can be heard thudding against the wooden floorboards and before long, you aren’t alone anymore.

“Door’s secured.” Cooper voices out, a meek attempt at conversation, as he leans against the doorframe and crosses both arms and legs before he looks down at you. His hat is off, discarded somewhere on his way to you, as if to shed some mental barrier he’s kept up to give you the chance to step foot inside an invisible crater left gaping after your quarrel. It was a heartwrenching gesture, you weren’t oblivious to his subtle attempts at trying to stoke the fire that now lay dead between you two.

But you were having none of it.

With a curt nod and not raising your gaze from making your bed, you acknowledge his statement, wishing to keep it simple and wordless.

Maybe it was your first proper tragedy of betrayal that kept you tongue-tied, or that you simply didn’t know how to interact with a stranger because that’s what he’d become once the veil had been pulled away from your eyes. Betrayal, it was the sort of dull ache that burrowed deep and ate at you like a worm did an apple, it was something you still struggled to swallow. Microanalyzing every past experience and interaction with the ghoul had become a pastime activity and the more you delved, the darker the general picture became.

He wasn’t a savior, the man was straight up a textbook abuser and you were his unfortunate target for the time being. But your predicament prevented you from simply walking out on him, you’d not survive alone even after months of scouring the wasteland. You scorned your fragility and lack of self-sustainability, if you’d not been constantly sick back at your vault you would have learned to handle a weapon at the very least. Now, you didn’t know how to hold a knife properly, let alone a firearm, not that there was any easily accessible one lying about.

The ghoul was your best bet and as much as you rebelled against the thought, a part of you was unwilling to walk away even if the current obstacles for not doing so weren’t there.

“You hate me now?”

The storm is above your heads now, you can hear the patter of rain against the weather-beaten roof, and the green-tinted grimness of the world outside casts dramatic shadows on Cooper through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. But for once, he doesn’t look like the Grim Reaper, no, he depicts a man distraught, but with enough masculine pride to hide it well. The whole situation seems like an exaggerated drama series, the culmination had passed already, and you didn’t have the mental strength to go through another.

You didn’t stand a chance in another verbal fight, not when he was prone to spit venom in your face and there was no alcohol to dull your aching heart, no Bucky to offer you warmth and slobbery comfort.

Fingers still over the bundle of rags you’d planned to wrestle into a pillow, eyes dart up to look him over well, taking in the lines in his face that seemed to deepen the longer your silence persists.

“What?”

That’s all you can manage to blurt out as you blink at him owlishly.

“Is good t’ hate, Darlin’.” he speaks softly, the rasp in his voice nearly unnoticeable, and tilts his head to the side, returning your gaze with something akin to pity. “It’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Why would you ask me that?” you feel insulted; it shows clearly as spring water in your intonation. There’s a shift in your features, from neutrality to confusion and then slowly – hurt. The difference in height bothers you at that moment, you feel like a small child about to be given a reality check and your first instinct is to shrink away. Instead, you stand, despite your wobbly knees protesting to stay put and not move and hope that it’ll all be over soon.

But you are no child. You’re a grown woman, you can, have to, stand on your feet and stand your ground even if you smell another argument brewing. You can’t run, you refuse to succumb to his intimidating stance, to the way he’s crossed every limb to lock you out and seem more distant than he actually is.

If he dared to ask you such a question, then you would have the audacity to stand up to him for once.

“Don’ snuggle with me at night no more.” Cooper shrugs at both your question and the saggy expression you give him, he’s casual despite the hoarseness of his voice deepening. “You rather the cold bite yer ass than come anywhere near me now.”

The bathroom you’d chosen as your occupation was dark, windowless, the only light came from the open door where the ghoul stood. He looked like a deathly angel coming to retrieve and deliver you to better times, better lands. He looked soft despite his best efforts to keep a protective barrier between the two of you.

Typically, you’d already be watery-eyed and stumbling to him. You’d wrap your arms around his chest and bury your nose in the crook of his neck and soothe him tenderly that everything was fine, that he was more important to you than a fight, that betrayal could be fixed and trust rebuilt. You wanted to… but it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong – being close to him, smiling at him, touching him.

You just couldn’t. Something deep in your core stopped you, thrashed at the very thought of forgiveness and letting your guard down.

But in truth, you didn’t hate him, you couldn’t.

“I wanted to give you space…” you answer, this time with more than monotony, there’s a pang of spice in your words, a disgust at holding affections for a married man, understanding for his conscious decision of letting you in despite not being fully yours, and a sliver of hurt for being held in the dark for so long. “If I’d known you had a family I would have never overstepped.”

“Did I ever say I wanted space?”

His quip is sharp; it quickly dashes through the air before your own words have dissipated into nothingness.

You’re silent, the moisture leaves your throat and mouth and your tongue sticks to your teeth as you clench and unclench your jaw. Wide eyes stare at him, almost unblinking despite the heavy presence of dust particles all around you. The raging storm is drowned out by the screeching in your ears as your pulse picks up speed. You try to swallow, but end up only flexing your neck.

“You didn’t say anything about having a family either.”

It’s a nasty statement, a defensive hiss emitted more to remind yourself that you aren’t the one in the wrong rather than spur him on, but it does both.

“My family ain’t none o’ your fuckin’ concern.” the spaces where his brows used to be locked together, accentuated his skull-like appearance. His jaw tightened at your mention, it was a sickening subject for him and you were well aware, but that didn’t stop you from resorting to it when he attempted to balm over things without offering a simple apology.

In truth, that was all you needed, to see him honestly remorseful for stringing you along. You didn’t want his autobiography, his entire life’s story, all you needed were little bits of information to keep in your lane and be aware of the proper way to treat him – whether father figure, romantic interest, or simply a guardian.

But he was too stubborn for that. Cooper would rather you learn the hard way, via action over word, a stranger over his own voice. He’d rather you struggle because of his inability to open up and a part of you didn’t fault him, the poor man had been through hell. So had you, though, you’d lost everything, more than him. At least he had a family somewhere out there, you, on the other hand, had nothing. You were worse than him and still you were burdened with being the beacon of light, the source of vulnerability and softness.

It wasn’t fucking fair…

You were sick of the one-sided exchange.

“Mister…” you sigh in defeat and your features scrunch in subtle regret, a hint of empathy illuminated in your dilated pupils. You give him a small frown and take a tiny step forward as your hands reach up to rub at your exposed arms in self-comfort. It wasn’t easy talking about any of this despite how many times you’d lead repertoires in your head.

“Cooper.” the ghoul corrects, acting like you addressing him by anything aside from his name was the biggest insult you could have used. He’s all taut muscles and stiff shoulders, curled fingers digging into the leather of his coat and making it squeak under the strain.

He’s more distraught at your distance than the mention of his family and it breaks your already wounded heart. It gives you the illusion that maybe you are special to him and this wasn’t just a farce, it beats at the walls you’d raised around your naïve affection for him. You’re crumbling before him and you don’t even notice, too caught up in his display of pain to realize it might be just another theatric. Or maybe you just didn’t care if it was.

Bright green lightning strikes close to your rickety sanctuary, it makes the grown beneath your feet tremble and you would have winced away, crawled to a corner, and hid with your hands over your ears until all was calm again. Not now, though, now everything is blocked out. The whole shack might be ripped from above your head and you might not even register it.

It’s just you and him in your cesspool of corporeal need and pain, of words unsaid because neither of you knows when the right time to say them is. The gloomy light from outside creeping through the windows, the dust particles big enough to resemble snowflakes. It all makes him look heavenly, albeit in a very peculiar, unsettling way.

But what wasn’t peculiar and unsettling in the world you lived in?

“Why can’t you be glad I’m putting your happiness before my own?” the words slip past your chapped lips before you register them, hang in the air heavily, and go straight for his gut. There’s an unwavering calmness to your expression now, a friendly, empathetic, even maternal delicateness as you speak. “I want to find your family as much as you do, what’s important to you is important to me.”

It’s painful to him, your lack of self-preservation, your denial of selfishness, it complicates his situation. If you were simply a brat and lashed out at him, he could just leave without regret, but even in your sorrow you kept giving, not material things to ease his life, emotional acceptance that fed his soul, healed the rotten inside of his being. It was addictive, it became the same as oxygen to him and it sewed you to his very skin, he couldn’t get rid of you without leaving a piece of himself with you.

Stupid girl. His little angel…

“I’m not asking you for anything, I’m not having a hissy fit, I’m pleading for an explanation. I’m trying to be selfless and support you and you’re being – ” you gesture towards his stiff, blocked-off pose, his crossed arms and tipped head, stiff jaw, and ridged shoulders. “ – like this.”

You’re ruthless in your soft assault, berating him with kindness and gentle words. It sucks the marrow out of his bones, leaves him soft and weak and needy when he sees the shine in your eyes as tears start to form. He’s not a gentle soul, though, he doesn’t pull you in his arms to soothe your woes and hush you before you start sobbing. Instead, he scoffs with malice.

“Like what?” his tone is biting because he knows no other way, having forgotten what being soft on someone was like. Kindness and comfort are foreign to him still, even if you’d made it your mission to rekindle his humanity before and had done so somewhat successfully in the past few months. He was still a rookie in the field and when it came to him exposing his feelings, everything turned into red alert. He shut down.

Or maybe there was nothing there and you were simply projecting and deluding yourself because you so desperately needed something to cling to in such trying times. It was maddening to think about and so you pushed the doubt away into the crevices of your subconscious and instead thrust your blind faith in him.

“Break for me…Please, break for me…Just this once…”

“Like an asshole.” you spit out, nearly choking with strain as a vein bulges in your neck. Like a good mirror, his malice reflects in you; your brows lower, your lips thin in a line and your teeth shine from beneath. “I didn’t do anything bad. Why are you acting like this?”

Your stance is nearly prowling, bent back and knees ready to pounce at nothing in particular. Cooper wanted to laugh at the sight because despite your unfriendly demeanor, your voice, like always, betrayed you. It was still a soft lullaby, contrasted with your sharp look, and gave away too much you’d tried to hide behind an angry mask.

You were bad at acting, even worse at lying. It was a good thing in his eyes.

Irritation bubbled up his throat at your devotion to him. Even when in pain, even after he’d hid so much from you, you still couldn’t be truly angry at him and it pissed him off to no end. Too pure for this world, your sorrow derived from the unsettled conflict, not his revolting actions towards you. It was sickening, he hated you with every fiber of his being because you were him two hundred years ago.

He didn’t mean to let it out on you.

His turmoil was his to handle alone and with a smoke and a few gulps of whiskey he would have snuffed it out. You were never meant to be the battering ram for his emotional invalidity, but you were standing there waiting for him, for some sort of comeback to turn your monologue into an actual conversation.

He felt mournful only after he’d gripped you by the neck and stuffed his face in yours, his spit flying over your cheeks and chin as he snarled like a rabid dog.

“Because you’re my happiness.”

Your face pales with fright at first and he can see his own degraded reflection in your watery eyes, it’s not a pretty sight. Your features are frozen in a blasphemous mix of fear and so much more once his words begin to register and it’s by pure chance that the tears don’t spill right away.

You’re clinging to his wrist, nails dug into his rubbery skin at first to loosen the death grip he has on your hair, then simply holding on as he forces himself to appear to you in a different light, a softer light despite his rough handling.

“You’re my fuckin’ happiness. My only happiness.”

It wasn’t enough to spit self-indulgent love in your face that felt like a knife right through your stomach, he had to toss you aside right after like you were worthless.

You stumble with a whimper and grab at the wall behind you, flat palms pressing firmly against the peeling wallpaper to steady your footing.

Cooper storms out, kicks the door shut behind you, and leaves you in utter darkness, his heavy boots echoing and drawing distance until the only noise is the deaf storm and your shaky breathing. You slide down until your bum is resting on the dirty floor, weep softly for what feels like hours, let it all out in one go after a long time of keeping everything bottled up. Regretful of not speaking sooner, of letting things fester because of your own stubbornness, because for once you want him to approach you and not the other way around.

Now you’re left alone sobbing in a dingy bathroom.

Your hands card through your hair, fingers sunken in your scalp to try and ground you, calm you down in a way as your face lay stuffed in your knees. Your tears soak the fabric of your tights, and leave stains you hope won’t be noticeable when you go after the ghoul.

Was he kind and you just asked for too much? Was he complicated or were you just stupid? Was this love? Were you supposed to fight for him or let him be free of your burdensome existence? Were his words more lies or was he being truthful?

You sniffle back the tears and wipe your cheeks, deciding that if he notices your puffy eyes, you’ll blame it on the dust. With a small grunt, you stand and dust off your dress before clearing the wet gunk from your throat and taking a confident breath.

You could fix this. You can talk like adults. You can figure something out.

And so you venture out into the corridor, making as little noise as possible and you’re gentle when you close the door behind you.

The storm outside rages on and you see a few puddles of acid water on the floorboards, droplets dribble through the cracks in the ceiling, you avoid them, ignore your despicable reflection in them when you pass by. Another lightning strike and this time you’re more aware and squint, but keep moving forward. The house creeks, nearly sways from the winds, and your drive to find Cooper is no longer solely based on easing his irritation, but also on seeking comfort in his presence if all were to crumble over your heads.

If today was to be your last day together, you wanted to die on good terms with him and maybe in another life, you’d get a second chance to be happy together.

Your nose scrunches at the thought, a foul taste in your mouth, bittersweet. You dismiss the gloom over your mind as best you can and round a corner to the main room where you find him. You halt, slide a hand on the doorframe, and peek at him silently, debating whether approaching would be volatile or not.

He’s sitting on the couch, an old whiskey bottle by his boot. His elbows rest on his knees as a lit cigarette wastes away between his fingers, you can smell it from your spot, the pungent aroma too distinct and frequent to pass by you unnoticed. His back is bent, his hat back on his crown.

Maybe he knows you’re staring and doesn’t care enough to acknowledge you, maybe he’s too deep in the sea of thought to register anything outside the storm raging in his head.

You swallow snot, thankfully the tears have dried, and slowly, cautiously make your way to him. You sit beside him, your knees brush, but he doesn’t do anything to indulge or deny the contact so you continue in your need for him. Small hands wrap around his arm as you wordlessly rest your head against his shoulder and sigh something heavy.

When he presses his cheek against your crown you stiffen, clutch at the sleeve of his coat and scoot a little closer, glad to be welcome instead of chased away as you’d feared. Your foot grazes against his, both pairs planted firmly against the floorboards, it brings you comfort, always has no matter how dire the situation at hand.

It takes time to find your voice again and when you do it’s a weak shell of its normal state.

“Is it bad that I’m in love with you?”

He takes his time to contemplate and you’re left in suspense, but as long as he lets you cling to him, you don’t mind. You feel him eventually nod against your hair and a gentle pat is given to your knee to affirm the answer to come. His motions bring dreadful information, you wish his next word would be different, but you’re no fool and right now you’re too tired to be delusional.

“Yeah…” he whispers, voice roughened and battered from mouthfuls of alcohol and lungs filled with smoke. There’s a distance to his gaze as his eyes stay glued to the stray, empty can of beans in one corner of the room.

He’s not equipped for this, never thought he’d fall into such a situation even after he’d scorned his marriage and called it quits despite there being no actual divorce papers. He never thought the wasteland would gift him with something so precious to care for let alone hold his heart.

He doesn’t want to be loved, he doesn’t like the complications it comes with, but he’s left too weak to say no to it.

“What do I do then, Mister?”

It’s a genuine question, makes him smirk for half a second before his face falls again and the whirl of thoughts resurfaces tenfold. He nuzzles your head tenderly and the hand he rests on your knee squeezes as if he’s afraid you’ll stand any second, take your bag, and run away with the storm. A prerequisite for his words to come, his heartfelt advice from one survivor to another.

If only you were two simple survivors…

“Run.” he says so softly, but so powerfully, so sincerely. He wished you’d listen and rip away from him, be free of his torment, and find a settlement where to prosper. But he knows you, understands how you tick, he’s already poisoned you with the spilled blood of innocents, you even smell of cigarettes, no longer just lavender and sweat. “But you refuse.”

Poor little thing.

You’re his now even if he doesn’t want you. He’s yours now even if you refuse to believe it.

“Yeah…” you agree without debate, despite the negative implications his words carry.

You had no one, you were too deep in. What else were you supposed to do?

The ghoul pulls back then and you lift your head to look at him as your death grip on his arm loosens. You watch as he takes his hat off and places it on the backrest of the stained old couch before leaning down to your eye level.

Your lips part and you inhale, ready to mumble something out to fend off the quiet, but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry.”

He kisses you then, latches onto your mouth with foreign gentleness, testing your resolve, tasting the bitterness of your tears, past and fresh. He pulls away just barely, enough to quickly wrestle out of his coat before draping it over the both of you.

“Cooper…”

He shushes you with another kiss, less gentle, more fervent, desperate even as he pushes you back until you’re lying down with your head tucked in one of his hands. You’re squished between him and the couch as he nestles between your thighs and lets his weight sink you into the cushions. You kiss him back, hidden beneath him and his coat.

His tongue slips past your lips without any resistance, finding yours, twirling around it, guiding it into a languid dance as you begin to tremble uncontrollably. His free hand finds each of your arms and moves them to encircle his neck where you hold and grip at with shaky fingers.

He cups your cheek and tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft and tight, rubbed clean and delicate by the whiskey and you can taste it on his teeth. You’ve never craved that taste before in your life, for once alcohol is pleasant.

You mewl when his tongue leaves your mouth and he dips his face into the crook of your neck, cradling you carefully as he breathes you in and mouthes your sensitive skin sloppily. You breathe slowly and deliberately, trying to steady the pounding in your ears that deafens all but the rustling of his coat. You bite your bottom lip as uncertain sounds crawl up your throat and seek to escape.

And suddenly, the world has color again.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Hello, lovelies!

It's been a long time since I posted an update, forgive me. Between work and uni, I've had my hands extremely full this summer. Updates will be slow, but I've not abandoned anything!

I don't know if there is still interest in this story, but if anyone reads: Hello! Good to see you! I hope you enjoy the end of the first arc!

More to come soon! Stay safe out there!

PS. If you're no longer interested in the story and you're a part of the tag list, don't be shy and let me know. I completely understand <3

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

Tag list:

@bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatreality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x

@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard

@lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

@sgt-barnesveins @alastorsw1f3 @villainofmyownstory @thatcutewerewolf @dreamtofus

@zloshy @skrzydlak

[elfven-blog]

can i request a lil bully leon!!

he’s just so mean!! you’re spending your summer with him since your moms are bffs and he just loves annoying you whenever he sees u. he’s shoving you into walls, trapping you in his room, but you start to notice how worked up he gets whenever you whine and get all teary. next second he’s tearing your clothes off and pulling your hair, even calling you mean names as he gets himself between ur legs!!!

I hope you enjoy...and that he's mean enough!

Bully his way down

Summary: You're spending the summer on holiday with your parents' friends, and their bully of a son. Leon Kennedy x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, pussy eating, fingering, mean Leon, scandalous pictures (mention), masturbation, use of words 'whore' and 'slut'. Word count: 1.5K

When your mum suggested a holiday over the summer to spend some ‘family time’ together after you’d moved away, you didn’t expect for her best friend’s family to come with you. Especially when that included Leon. The Kennedy’s were nice enough, and you’d know Mrs Kennedy your entire life. Probably spent as much time around her house and you had your own. But God you hated her son. He was a bully, plain and simple.

The blonde’s favourite activity was to annoy you in any way possible from stealing your diary as kids, to hiding your clothes to locking you in his room after asking you to get something. And now you were stuck in a room with him for the next month because the cabin your parents rented only had 3 rooms. It was like a nightmare. He’d already done a few things and it was only day 5 like shoving you into a wall and held you there why you begged him to just let you go, he’d added cinnamon to your food when you weren’t looking, and he’d made you cry by locking you out the bedroom on the 2nd night.

It was like a curse had come over your life. Cursed by your own mother, to have to stay in a bedroom with an asshole who had stolen your clothes. The only good thing was that both sets of parents had gone out, and you had made the mistake of sleeping in after not realising that Leon had opted to also stay back. Now you were curled in the bed under the covers and trying to ignore the way your enemy was laughing down the hall.

Left alone with your thoughts had you seething at every interaction you had with Leon, but with his laugh in the background your mind started wondering. And suddenly a blush was covering every inch of your face. He wasn’t very good at hiding his reactions to the way tears filled your eyes or you whined with annoyance every time he did something. How he had to shift in his sweatpants or look away with darkened eyes before hurrying away to the bathroom, or your shared bedroom.

What Leon didn’t know is that you had been awake one of the nights he’d taken care of his big little problem. His moans invaded your mind, the wet sounds as his hand wrapped around his cock…the way one of his hands wrapped around your wrists as he held them up over you and against the wall. All those sounds and images flooded your mean, and slick began dripping between your thighs. You were on your side, hand dipping between your legs and facing away from the door, which meant you weren’t paying attention as Leon slipped through the door and turned the lock.

The feeling of the bed shifting and a hand wrapping around your throat is what brought you out of that syrupy head space. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear as he applied the tiniest amount of pressure to your neck “You are such a little whore” his tongue traces your ear, and it has you pressing up against him without thinking. You can almost feel the grin on his face as your own heats up, your fingers topping their circling motion. His eyebrows raises, his arm going under your shoulders to replace the hand there while that one travels down to press against your hand. “Nu uh, keep going slut, I wanna see”.

A whine leaves you and you rock against him, feeling the clothed outline of his cock right against your ass. The size of it has more slick gathering against your hand. With Leons hand against your own he uses it to guide you, his finger causing your own to continue circling your clit. With his hand guiding your own and his mouth moving down to press against your neck you were quickly thrown back into that syrupy head space.

“God you’re so fucking wet” his hand led yours away from your clit to tease at your clenching hole, before pressing slowly into you with both your finger and his. The stretch had your legs shaking but Leon tried to distract you by biting into your neck and leaving a bruise behind, he moves to mark another into your skin right next to it as he guides your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Such a pretty slut, you hear that? Hear how you’re getting off on this?”

He continues using his own hand to guide yours, his thumb pressing your own to the sensitive clit so you can rub slow circles while your middle fingers keep pushing into your drooling cunt until your soaking your thighs and the sheets below you. Head lolling back onto his chest as his own watches the way your fingers disappear into you. “So pretty”.

Leon removes the fingers that were playing with your cunt, a loud whine leaving you at the sudden feeling and you can almost feel the grin radiating from him “Just so needy, huh? Can’t help yourself can you? Just need someone to fuck you dumb” he moves you to lay on your back, before situating himself between your legs and removing his shirt. Your eyes follow it up not able to focus on a single area of the muscled torso as it was revealed to you. Mouth almost drooling at the sight, and more slick gathering.

Your attention stays on him as he lifts your legs apart, his eyes darkening as they zero in on the sight between them. A low groan falling past his lips as they droop open, his tongue darting out to wet his mouth. “Slutty cunt just needs to be taken care of” and he lowers himself to the bed with your legs over his shoulder. Your hands clenching at the sheets as you anticipate the feeling of that sharp-speaking tongue right where you needed.

“She’s just crying, gonna give her kisses, say I’m sorry for being sooo mean” his voice is clouded with teasing, and you feel your thighs shaking with want as your hips rut up to try and get him to give you what you want. But instead, you feel his hand move before it comes down on your thigh with a sting “Nu uh, stay still slut” another stinging slap to your other thigh this time before it’s followed with the feeling of his teeth as he leaves another mark in your skin.

The blonde stays like that for a while, his hot breath teasing over your wet pussy as he moved to leave more marks. Getting closer and closer until you could feel his mouth ghost over your lips, whining as your hands scrunched the sheets “You’re being such a good whore, letting me turn you into a living art piece” and finally his tongue laps at your pussy lips. You moan and your thighs tense as you try to stay still for him, Leon groans at the taste of you on his tongue.

He doesn’t wait anymore, face burying into your pussy as he swirls at your clit. The stimulation has you losing control and your hips buck up into his face, Leon doesn’t move his hands to keep your hips down, instead they focus on keep your thighs apart do you’re spread open for him. His tongue moves from toying at your click to lick into your pulsing hole, and your mouth falls open at the feeling with your head falling back onto the pillow.

The blonde laps at your cunt like a starving man, your hands moving to grip his hair and tugging him forward. This time Leon follows the hint and is happy to comply as his tongue fucks into that dripping hole while his nose bumps at your clit. His eyes focus on the look on the blissed look on your face, if he wasn’t buried in heaven he’d tease you about how you’re such a good whore, doing so well for him, just laying there and taking whatever, he wants to give you. Your thighs squeeze around his head as your eyes flutter and you’re becoming nothing more than a whiny squirming mess above him.

Leon grunts as you tug his hair almost painfully, his hands kneading at the soft plush of your thighs as his tongue laps at the warmth of your pussy. He pulls you closer to his mouth making it easier to worship your heat until you’re panting and arching from the bed. The sound of Leon’s tongue lapping at you fills the room as you gush around him. Eyes rolling back as your thighs tremble and shake, he continues to lap up the mess you’re making before you settle back onto the bed.

You try to collect your breath while he pries your legs from his shoulders and lifts up. When you’re able to look up at him you watch the way your slick coats his mouth and jaw, slowly dripping down. What you don’t expect is for him to have his phone pointed at you. Pictures of the way you look, and you start to close your legs before his other hand moves to pull them apart “now now slut, keep ‘em open…gonna need something to remind me of how lovely you can be.”

[yazzwrites6962]

hi! I really loved your niragi and chishiya works! I can't wait to see more of redemption! I really enjoy seeing how people write characters like these two and how they interpret them, and so far, I've enjoyed how you wrote them!

Redemption ♡ Suguru Niragi ♡ Part Two

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suguru Niragi x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Part One: Here

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Shoutout to those who asked for another part. I love you guyssss. Also, Y/N's profession/life before the Borderlands is mentioned. Feel free to change it! Sorry for the super long chapter. I know it's pretty messy. I'll work on editing and cleaning up soon. I had four midterms this week, because my professors hate me. Again, I don't own any characters/images!

Genre: BIG ANGST. Maybe a word or two of fluff

Summary: As it becomes obvious that Niragi has a soft spot for Y/N, he is forced to prove where his loyalties lie.

Word Count: 5397

Warnings: Sexual themes, language, OOC Niragi, derogatory language referencing the reader, mentions of substance use, fear, blood, injury, death, cliffhanger

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"You seem different." A gruff voice teased, nudging Niragi's arm. "You're all smitten over that one girl, aren't you? Is the pussy that good? Maybe I'll have to try her out myself." Niragi flinched, growling at the fellow militant. The room filled with laughter. "She's got a pretty pair of eyes I'd love to see rolling back."

"I'm not different," He huffed, loading his gun. "and I'm not smitten. Get outta here with that lovey dovey bullshit." It had been four days since your last game with Niragi, and the members of the Beach would have to be blind not to have noticed the change in his demeanor.

Every day since that game, Niragi would wake up bright and early to have a silent breakfast with you. You didn't speak much, as you were usually very groggy in the morning. Instead, he would enjoy your sleepy presence. He had grown fond of your messy hair and the way you covered your face when you yawned. He enjoyed seeing the way your eyes drooped even while you shoveled food into your mouth. He loved to look at you; The raw you.

"Nahhh man. You've obviously got a soft spot for the chick." Chimed another militant. "You used to go 'round killing people and shit. Yelling and fucking bitches, getting high all the time. You were fun. Now you're having breakfast with the boring one."

Why were you referred to the boring one? That's difficult to say. Maybe because you spent so much time with Kuina and Chishiya, who mostly seemed to be on the sidelines at parties. Maybe because of your calm nature. Maybe because you were a decent diamonds player. Either way, nobody had envisioned Niragi falling for a 'boring' girl. He was always spotted dragging rowdy women back to his room, notorious for his partner of the night being loud enough to shake the entire floor.

"I do not have a soft spot." Niragi seethed, slamming his gun against the wall and making a loud bang. Everyone jumped, but then continued to laugh at Niragi's frustration. He didn't know why it irritated him so much to be accused of having a soft spot for you. Normally, he couldn't care less about what others thought.

"Then prove it." Chuckled one of the guys. "Your visa is about to expire, ain't it? Hers too, right? Why don't you kill her?" In the normal world, death would be extreme. The mere suggestion of killing another person would send the room into a silent shock. However, in the Borderlands, killing people meant nothing. The militants, especially Niragi, would kill people all the time.

Death to traitors, death to enemies in games, death to anyone who got in the way. It's safe to say that Niragi was probably the most trigger happy of the whole group. Then why? Why did the idea make him feel so nauseous? Even in the last game, you'd injured your led. Watching the blood run down your body as you limped through the game felt like torture to him.

"I'm not gonna kill a the girl just because you tell me to, asshat." Niragi replies, trying to summon up everything he has in order to seem calm. Really, he's panicked inside. He may not be religious, but he prays to any deity that will listen; He prays that the other militants will drop the subject.

"No, think about it." The guy shining his gun in the corner inserts himself into the conversation. "We are the power; We are the order here at the Beach. Right? We gotta stick together. We can't have you getting distracted over a pretty bitch."

"Man, maybe that's a little extreme. She seems like a fine girl, so why not let the man have his fun with her?" Relief washes over Niragi as someone advocates for him. For you. You deserve an advocate in your defense. Why was he so hesitant to be that?

"If the people of the Beach see Niragi going all soft, they're gonna think the rest of us are soft too. This place runs on fear and respect. If people don't fear us anymore, it creates chaos. Do you want chaos? Huh?" The man shining his gun continues to explain, slowly winning over the agreement of the others.

"Bro you must be drunk or something." The advocate rolls his eyes, standing up to leave the room. Before he can get to the door, a loud shot fires and echoes through the little room. There is no more laughter, only absolute silence. The advocate, your advocate, was dead. Shot, clean through the back of the head.

"Dude what the fuck-" Someone pipes up, but the man who shot him only rolls his eyes, unphased by the death. Maybe nobody in the room is very phased by death itself, only at the man's extreme reaction to someone's disagreement.

"This is what we're about guys. C'mon. Fuck! We're the militants. Even saying our names brings fear into people here. Lives are meaningless in this place. His life meant nothing to anyone. Can a single person in here tell me his name?" Crickets. Silence. Niragi debates shooting this lunatic, but every pair of eyes in the room suddenly land on him. "So, Niragi, is it gonna be us or your bitch of the week?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"What were you, before you came here?" You ask, suddenly breaking the silence in your morning ritual. You were more alert today, knowing that at the end of the night, you could be dead. Your visa expires today. "Were you in the military?"

"No." Niragi replies coldly, poking at an egg on his plate. You continue to watch him as he toys with his food, still waiting for a longer answer. His eyes meet yours before he groans and sits back in his chair. "Game engineer. Why in the world would you think I was in the military?"

"Oh, it's just the way you swing that gun around. You always seem so confident." You giggle and flash him a smile. "Who would've thought there a brain somewhere in that hard head of yours?" His eyes flash with irritation for a moment at your joke.

"Watch yourself. I could still shoot you." He grumbles. You know he's joking. You are truly convinced that behind that hard exterior, Niragi is a sweetheart. You could see it in the little things he did. In the way he would look for you to waddle down the stairs every morning, in the way he glanced at you while you were with Kuina, in the way he always happened to be around your hallway at the end of the night to make sure you got back safe. His excuse was that he just seems to be patrolling the area around that time. "What did you do?"

"I was studying pediatrics." You take a sip of your drink, remembering your life before the Borderlands. You were always the perfect student. You were praised for your talents and intelligence, following the expectations that were always weighing in your life. You enjoyed your field, of course. You wanted to help children and make the word a safer place. However, the academic burnout had been really catching up to you. In a way, you were grateful to be taken to the Borderlands when you were. As horrific as all the death was, at least you had some peace during the visa days.

"That girl will be a doctor, or a lawyer someday. Maybe even an engineer." You recall the endless praise you received from teachers and loved ones. It was always the expectation that everything came naturally to you. "I'll be sure to push her in the right direction. She has too much potential to let it all go to waste."

"Cute." Niragi comments, taking a sip of his coffee. "Suits you." Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you can't help but let a filly grin grow on your face. Niragi rolls his eyes, smirking and shaking his head. "Don't get used to it. You're still a dork."

"Y/N!" You hear your name being hollered, and quickly turn your head to see who it was, despite already recognizing the voice. It's so early, the sun has barely risen. Most people aren't up at such a time, leaving a sweet privacy between you and Niragi. However, this was interrupted by a very concerned looking Kuina. She had never seen you and Niragi actually talking before.

"Kuina! You're up unusually early. What's up?" You say joyfully, as if you weren't caught having a meal with the one person Kuina had been warning you about since you first arrived at the Beach. She eyes Niragi skeptically before he got the message, throwing his hands up and scoffing as he pushed his chair back and left the table. "Hey, why'd you give him such a dirty look?"

"What are you thinking?!" She whisper-yells, as a certain pierced male is still in earshot. "What are you doing down here with Niragi? You know nobody else is down here, right? He could do something to you!" You chuckle, thinking the idea absurd that Niragi would every do anything to hurt you.

"He's not really as bad as everyone says he is. We were just having breakfast. We do every morning." You explain, continuing to ramble on about your pleasant breakfasts. Kuina bites her lip. Of course, she cares about you and your wellbeing, but she also worries about what she will tell Chishiya.

Chishiya had a plan to steal the cards and use you as a decoy. Although Kuina wasn't entirely comfortable with this, she didn't have much of a choice. Now seeing how close with Niragi you were becoming; She debated if it would be much of a good idea to recruit you for the plan at all. Maybe, it would make you even better for the plan. Maybe upon being caught, Niragi would take it easier on you.

"Kuina? Are you okay?" You stand, taking her hands in yours, rubbing your thumbs over them gently. She blinks a few times, returning to the present moment before nodding. "I'm sorry I've worried you. I know you had concerns about him, but I'm a grown woman. I think I can judge him for myself, and I am super sure he would never do anything to me."

"How sure can you really be about anyone in a place like this?" Kuina sighs at your unrelenting trust in the good of humanity. If there was any good in this place, it's you. "Just be careful, okay? How sure is your super sure?"

"I am one-billion percent sure. I trust him." You nod, hugging her. You've been so grateful for what life in the Borderlands has brough you: A break from the pressure of your old life, Kuina, Chishiya, and Niragi. You trusted these people, your friends, with all your sweet, naive heart.

Little did you know, every single one of them had already been plotting against you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Wow! Two games in a row we get paired together! How lucky is that?" You exclaim, holding up your little piece of paper right beside Niragi's. It wasn't luck. It was rigged to be that way. You were meant to die in a game tonight.

"Uh huh. Luck." Niragi grimaces. You're terrified of what may come, but being in the same game as Niragi brings you a little comfort. After he had so nobly helped you in the last game, you had every bit of confidence that this one would be no different. "Just don't be a nuisance."

"Hey! I never am." You whine, making your way towards the car you're meant to take. Niragi watches you walk, the way your arms sway beside you. No matter what it is you're doing, he finds it alluring, and he begins to hate it.

He had come to the revelation that his fellow militants were right. There was just something about you that made him feel weak. It brought him back to the days when he was ruthlessly bullied and tormented, doing nothing to stop it. Would you be his downfall, and is he doing nothing to stop it? He growls, shaking the thoughts from his mind and following you to the car.

As usual, it was you in the back with two other people. Except this time, they were not lip locked lovers. They were strangers, sitting on either side with you in the middle. The young man beside you couldn't have been any older than fifteen, twiddling his thumbs nervously and staring out the window. You remember how afraid you were during your first game and wondered if this was his first game too.

Finally, after a drive that felt like hours, you arrive at a large building. It's not a tower, like your last game was. It's a gym with two floors, filled with various types of exercise equipment. Some rooms have ropes and rock walls, there's a pool, and the technology in the gym was generally very impressive.

"Must've cost a fortune to get a membership into this place." Someone comments. You make your way to the table with several phones on the table. It looks like one has already been taken, but you don't see anyone else in the room other than the people you made the journey with.

You take your device, holding steady as it scans your face. Two minutes and one second until registration closes. You look around the room, searching for Niragi. He's already eyeing you, but this time he doesn't look away when you spot him as he usually does. He gives you a look of pity, something you'd never seen from him before.

"Are you scared?" You ask, approaching him and hugging yourself. "No matter what the game is, we can get through it. I trust you, and you can trust me." You were terrified of the idea that there could possibly only be one survivor in this game. If it came down to it, the only chance you had in beating Niragi was in a diamonds game.

You stop your train of thought. Why were you already thinking about how you could beat Niragi? The game hadn't even started, and you were already brainstorming how to betray him if you truly had to. You shove those thoughts out of your mind determined to stay loyal to your friend.

"Scared?" He raises an eyebrow, scoffing. He was scared shitless. Not because of the game, but because of what may happen to you. On the one hand, he hoped you would die in this game. You were proving to cause more internal turmoil than you were worth. The other part hoped you would make it out alive, so you could eat breakfast together tomorrow. "If there's anything to be scared of here, it's me."

You giggle, finding his confidence adorable. If this game ended up being a gym related physical challenge, you had no doubt that he would make it out. You were not so confident. You weren't weak by any means, but you definitely weren't the strongest. You recall how badly you wanted to start regularly going to the gym, but you were always so engrossed in your studies.

A chime echoes through the room as the game instructions begin to recite over the speakers. The missing phone and its owner poke out of a shadowy hallway. It's a woman about your age with beautiful long brown hair.

Game: Workout - Seven of Spades

Rules: There will be three stages in this game, testing endurance, balance, and strength. Once a stage is completed, you may not return to that room. In your final challenge, there will be a key waiting for you. Retrieve your key and use it to unlock your door out of the building. Should you attempt to take another player's key or exit through a door which is not yours, you will be eliminated.

Clear Condition: Retrieve the key in the final challenge and unlock your door.

"Players, please make your way to the first room." The voice over the speakers says before going silent once again. A big arrow sign lights up, pointing to a room near the back of the gym. Everyone hesitantly follows the instructions.

The young man you sat near in the car opens the door first. Inside, there are several large balance beams and signs with each person's face, indicating which one each player should go to. You find your face, noticing the weights laid neatly at your feet.

Below the balance beams, which are hoisted nearly six feet in the air, the floor is littered with broken shards of glass. You shiver, dreading what would happen if you were to fall off your beam. There are instructions near each beam, clarifying that each player must make their way across the room on their beams with their weights, which are assigned based on body mass.

Your clock is ticking, and you'd rather not waste time. While some are arguing about trading weights, you pick yours up. They're decently heavy, you won't lie. You feel the tug in your shoulders. With your weights in hand, you begin to make your way across the balance beam. The height is terrifying, and you make mental note to breathe in and out at a healthy pace.

"Look! She's already going!" Someone says, but you don't dare look back. The beam stretched several meters, but you simply try to take it one foot in front of the other. Somehow, you make it to the other side quickly, dropping the weights onto the ground once you reach your destination.

"It's really easy, guys! Just don't panic. We'll finish this game in no time!" You shout back to the other side of the room. "How is this a seven of spades? That was... simple." You say to yourself as you watch the woman with long brown hair step onto her beam.

She had taken her shoes and sweatshirt off in an attempt to make this easier on herself. You could see the panic on her face as she turned back to look at the rest of the group.

"I- I can't! I'm scared of heights!" She squeals. Though you had never met this woman before, you sympathized with her terror, and you called for her to not look back. She took a step forward on the beam, trembling.

You continued to try and reassure the brown-haired woman while others began to cross their beams too. You advised her to watch her breathing and not focus on looking down, but on what was ahead. She had actually managed to make it halfway across the beam, and pride filled your heart.

Unfortunately, good things never last in the Borderlands. The woman looks down, her knees wobbling as she grows panicked once again. She looks back, realizing she is too far on the beam to turn around. You try to console her, but she is too terrified. Her legs buckle underneath her, and she slips off her beam, the weights falling out of her hands as she crashed six feet down into the ground.

The crunch of glass fills the room and the woman begins screaming, blood pouring out from her body as she tried to escape the sharp shards. Wailing and crying, she attempts to crawl the rest of the way. Her palms and knees are reduced to wounded fleshy matter and her throat grows hoarse from her shrieks. This is when you notice the large bloody fragment protruding from her right eye.

You feel as though you're going to vomit, and you turn around, unable to watch. You hear other people shouting, starting to make it across the room and beckoning for the brown-haired woman to endure a little longer. You feel a hand on your shoulder, but you don't dare check who it is. You are too nauseated by the sounds of cracking glass and howling.

"I- I'm here!" The woman's pained voice shouts. "I made it to the end! I'm here-" Her sentence is cut off and you hear the sound of blood splatter. You feared she would be eliminated for not completed the challenge in the way it was intended. How cruel to make her crawl all the way across the room, only to die. You're about to turn and look at how close the dead woman came, but a voice tells you not to.

"Don't look." You had hoped the hand on your shoulder was Niragi's, but instead, it belonged to the young boy you say near in the car. "It's not pretty. Just move on to the next room." He speaks. You nod, your hand tracing the handle of the door to the next room before shoving it open.

Before you, there were pull-up bars positioned over stepping stools. Again, there were instructions to take your place at one of them. You let out a shaky breath and approached one of them. A timer on the wall was stopped at five minutes.

Nobody spoke. Maybe everyone was still processing the gruesome death which had taken place in the last room. There was no celebrating that we'd all make it out. Only mourning for a stranger. You watched the others climb up their stepping stools, and you did the same, gripping onto the bar above your head tightly. You didn't need to be told what to do. You only need to hold on for five minutes.

The challenge begins, and all the stepping stools get lowered into the ground. Trap doors open up beneath everyone. If someone were to let go, they would fall onto the concrete grown of the basement below. Nobody could survive that fall. The timer ticks down tantalizingly slow. You can already feel the burning in your arms. You need something to pass the time.

"Hey." You turn to the young boy, who had taken his spot next to you. "What's your name?" He smiles, seemingly unphased by the deadhang challenge. Underneath the layers of clothes, maybe he actually had some muscle to him. "How old are you?"

"I'm Shinji." He replies politely. On the bar behind Shinji is Niragi, his eyes shut in concentration. "I turned fifteen over the summer. What's your name, Miss?"

"Y/N, and unfortunately I'm not quite as youthful as you." You joke, earning a light chuckle from Shinji. You adjust your hands, glancing at the timer. Four minutes and twelve seconds remaining. "What's your favorite color?"

"Oh, shut up!" Someone growls. It's the man who had been driving the car on the way to this game. "Nobody wants to hear all your boring chatter. Nobody cares about your favorite color, or your name. Just focus on not dying."

Suddenly, there is a mechanical whirring as your bar begins to rotate, your hands nearly slip, but you continuously adjust your grip. The stranger who had been sitting on the other side of you in the car slips, banging her head on the ground before falling into the darkness below. You nearly let out a scream, but you have to focus on the task at hand.

Your pull up bar was now rotating, and you constantly had to adjust your grip while still enduring the burn of keeping yourself on. Three minutes and thirty-nine seconds left. You only hoped there wouldn't be any more surprises during this challenge. Despite the difficultly you were facing now, at least you weren't injured, like in your last game.

You hear another person slip, the crunch of their bones echoing as they crash into the ground. You bite your lip, drawing blood as you attempt to stay stable on your bar. Two minutes and fifty-six seconds.

You don't dare to try and make any conversation now. You are barely able to stay steady as is. One of your arms slips, earning a popping sound in your other shoulder. You scream as pain surges up your arm. You must have dislocated something. You reach back up, attaching both hands to your bar again. Tears prick your eyes, but you can't afford to let go right now. Your life depends on it.

Two minutes and two seconds. More than half the time is already passed. You feel your palms trembling as you try to hang on. Your left arm is now completely numb from the shoulder down. Suddenly, the bars stop rotating. It's a relief, a moment of rest and bliss. Unfortunately, this moment does not last long before they begin to rotate in the other direction. You hear Shinji groaning in pain, and you look towards his direction again.

"Almost there Shinji. Just hang in there a bit longer." You try to sound confident and comforting, but your voice is cracking. He gives you no reply, sweat dripping down his forehead as he desperately tries to keep up with the rotation.

Fifty-five seconds. Five minutes has never felt so long. You hear no struggle or complaints from Niragi or the driver. It makes you regret focusing so hard on your studies rather than being more well-rounded. Maybe if you had regularly gone to the gym a little more, you wouldn't be having such a hard time now.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally, it's over, and the trap doors beneath you close. You sigh in relief, dropping down to the ground and tumbling on your knees. Shinji is the first to approach you, eyeing your shoulder with a grimace.

"Miss Y/N, your shoulder really doesn't look too good..." He says, crouching to help you up. "I think it's your shoulder blade. It's kind of... Sticking out?" You try to get a good look at your shoulder, but it feels nearly impossible. Your eyes land on Niragi, who has felt incredibly distant during the whole game.

"Niragi!" You shout to him. He pauses, taking a deep breath and begrudgingly walking up to you. "I think my shoulder blade is dislocated. I need your help." You say, looking up at him expectantly. He stands, observing you for a bit before groaning.

"Fine. Turn your ass around." He grumbles. You turn around, waiting for the searing pain that you're about to experience as Niragi pops your shoulder blade back into place. You shriek, but the pain only lasts a moment before relief washes over you. "You've gotta quit your screaming, you banshee." Niragi teases, turning away and trudging into the next room.

You and Shinji follow close behind, being met with a large stairwell going downwards. It makes you uneasy to be going down, especially considering there is only one more challenge before the end of the game. At the end of the stairs is an already open doorway. Niragi and the driver have already gone through.

The next room is a large rock-climbing facility, except it seems the rocks have already been removed from the ragged walls. Instead, there are several long ropes. At the top of the ropes, there are keys. Finally, this is where you're meant to be.

You approach the rope indicated to be yours. Upon a closer look, you realize that this is not a normal rope at all. It's barbed wire, braided up into a thick long cord. This is going to really hurt, but at least your shoulder is fixed for this portion of the game. So much for having no injuries.

There was yet another timer on the wall. Fifteen minutes. This filled you with dread. You would have to climb up this giant barbed wire rope in only fifteen minutes? You spy Shinji inspecting the rope before pressing his finger against it. It slices right into him, a drop of blood pooling on his pointer.

Before you can say anything, a loud beep sounds, and the timer has begun. You gulp, looking in Niragi's direction. He's already begun climbing, having torn some fabric from his shirt and wrapping it around his hands. You steal the idea, advising Shinji to do the same. You tear off part of your clothes, wrapping it around your hands and starting up the rope.

You can still feel your hands being pricked, but at least the spikes aren't digging into you. Shinji is making some good progress. So are you. Maybe everyone will make it to the end without any more death or injuries. Just then, you hear a yelp from your young friend. You look his way, seeing that the piece of fabric around his left hand had come undone. When he notices you looking, he waves the hand in the air.

"It's fine. I've still got the other one! Keep going!" He shouts. You nod, continuing to hoist yourself up the rope. Your hands tingle from the sensation of light pricks over and over again.

You turn back to check on Shinji. He's fallen farther behind, his left hand bloody from climbing. There are eleven minutes left. He can still catch up, right? You try to focus on your climbing, but Shinji's groans in pain keep tearing you away. You want to help him. You wish you could, but there would've been no way for you to reach him.

Your leg slips and a gash is created in your thigh. You hiss in pain as the warm blood begins to drip down your leg. It's always the same leg that happens to end up bleeding in these games. It takes you a moment to readjust, scratching up your limbs as you try to find your position once again. The fabric wrapped around your right hand gets torn, leaving your palm exposed to the barbed wire.

You continue onwards, trying to distance your mind from all the pain you're feeling. It burns like a million papercuts on your skin. Your movements grow sloppier and the wounds on your body grow until you are littered in lacerations.

You're lightheaded, and when you look down, you realize why. The barbed wire is covered in your blood. Not enough to be fatal, but enough to feel dizzy. You feel like you're underwater, and all sounds around you are muffled. There are somehow only four minutes left. Looking up, you see you only half a little more than a meter to go.

You gather all your strength, pulling yourself up further. You're almost there. You can see your key nearly in front of your face. You look back again, searching for any sign of where Shinji is.

He's still very far down, and your heart drops as you realize he likely won't make it in time. Then, you search for Niragi. He must've already made it up, because he was nowhere to be seen. You curse him for leaving you and Shinji behind. The rules clearly stated you could help one another.

"Keep going Shinji! You're nearly there!" You lie, hoping this will motivate him. You reach up to take more of your rope, inching closer and closer to the top. Suddenly, your other arm gives out and you slip down a few more feet. You screech as the wire cuts your face, thighs, arms, and chest. This is not so bad in comparison to falling to your death, but the agony still leaves your brain foggy.

You're getting to the point where you're losing too much blood. Tears fill your eyes as you force yourself to keep going. This is what it's all about, right? Surviving. Living. You need to live to get back home. To see your loved ones again. You need to finish your studies. You need to make it through this game.

You look up, spying Niragi standing on the ledge over you. You gasp, grateful to see that he stuck around. You reach your hand up, well within range for him to pull you to safety. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, and your body ached.

"Niragi!" You choke out his name, your arm outstretched to him while the other barely clung for dear life. "Pull me up!" Yet, you got no response. You didn't feel the warm touch of another hand grabbing yours. Only the cold air around your bloody palm. There was a pause, a hesitance, from the man you thought you could trust. Your sight blurred with tears of fatigue and heartache.

You watched his fuzzy form turn his back you to, walking away without another word.

[moodymisty]

Now I’m picturing a scenario where the Emperor is more apathetic towards the reader’s daughter and lets her go with you to Lorgar. And since (and I could be wrong) the time spent between the razing of monarchia and Lorgar getting “back on track” with planetary compliances was only about a year or so, that would mean that your daughter would be less than a year old when she gets returned to her actual dad.

(And if I’m wrong and it actually took longer than that just. Ignore it. Imagine Lorgar holding a baby. Imagine it right now)

And of course there’s always Lorgar’s slow dawning horror that something truly awful happened to you back in the palace, but theres also the joy of him meeting his daughter!!! — and probably finding out that he had a daughter in the first place. unless you want to go with the tragedy of him believing he could lose both his wife and his future child during monarchia. Either way the options are fun. — of course there’s going to be a bunch of celebrations planned (once you finish taking any 24 hour “holy shit I’ve been through so much” naps that you might need). He wants the whole universe to know that you and him had a child together, that this wonderful new person has been brought into the world. Expect lots of artwork drawn by the populace of you or him (or you and him) holding her Mary and baby Jesus style.

And there’s obviously the more private side of things. Her older brothers think she’s the awesomest baby ever and they will pray for her and die for her and protect her with their lives, sometimes they get a bit too intense about it but they’re Astartes so it’s not that surprising. Lorgar is trying his hardest to console you about what you’ve experienced and is also trying to figure out how this whole “taking care of a baby” thing works, he’s around you both 24/7 because he loves both of you so so so much and is also terribly afraid of losing you again. Kor Phaeron has reached new levels of seething that were previously thought to have been impossible to achieve. And Erebus is stockpiling on permanent markers for the day when his little sister gains hand eye coordination and can be directed at the nearest wall.

Now the baby is having a lot of new experiences too. Mom is still here so she’s not stressed out, but she is confused on why the Large Gold Parental Figure looks different now, why is his hair shorter? What are those gold marks on him?? And she’s got tiny baby eyes that can’t see very well so for the first couple of days she was always suspiciously squinting at Lorgar, that goes away after a while though and quickly gets replaced by her constantly staring at his tattoos (may try to chew on them too. Babies love sparkly things). She’s also confused because mom and dad(?) are calling her by a different name, she’s not called “child” or “baby” anymore. But something else entirely and her mom seems very happy about it (she’s the one who chose it!)

Basically. Imagine things being not as grimdark as they once were. Yes, obviously the galaxy will burn, a civil war will happen, the Imperium will suffer massive losses (you’ll make sure all of it happens). But right now you’re with the love of your life who’s reclining on a couch and reading some old scripture to your daughter, even though she seems to be more interested with the illustrations on the edges of the paper. Life is finally good.

this is so good!! I love this so much anon I love the happier take on this instead of the fucking grimdark greek pantheon mess we've been going with. Which of course I love, but I like seeing different angles <3

[ultralightpoe]

Pinky Promises - Chapter Two

Authors Note: Another Part in the series is up, I am very excited for their story.

Word Count: 8532

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October 13th, 1977 - Thursday 

“Both of you need to be on your best behavior.” Charlotte Fraser warns, watching as the two children in front of her give each other wide smiles that she knows firsthand will only cause trouble. “You hear me?” 

They nod, staring blankly back at her before turning to each other and giving that same smile once more. Before she can call them on it another figure emerges in the kitchen, limping slightly as she laughs at the scene before her. 

“Lottie, dear. They are just getting ready for the day. Take it easy on them.” Nana defends, coming to kiss her granddaughter's head lightly. “Are we doing pancakes for the birthday girl then?” 

Everyone blinks, and Steve watches as Lottie tries coming up with an answer to her mothers question. But Ollie is quick to beat them too it. 

“We already ate breakfast Nana. I wanted you to sleep because you stayed up late making my dress.” She smiles, spinning to show her the work she had done. “Thank you so much by the way.” 

Nana blinks, looking at the clock before realizing what time it is and nodding slowly. “Right. I must have overslept. Silly me. Alright. Let me say goodbye at least.” 

She kisses Ollie’s head, and then kisses Steves before limping off to find where Wiley ran off to in an effort to flee from his father and school. The second she turns the corner Lottie bends down to fix Ollie’s dress a bit and wipe some of the hair out of her daughter's hair. “You’re such a pretty birthday girl. Let’s get you to school.” 

Steve watches in silence as Ollie runs to grab her backpack and Charlotte wipes the tears before everyone is being ushered out the door. 

“I have your gift.” He mumbles to Ollie on the way to the car. “I’m giving it to you later.” 

“Are you going to have dinner over here tonight?” 

“My mom is going out with an old friend so yeah. That and I want to come celebrate your birthday.” 

“I know.” She smiles, leaning to hug him. “You’re my best friend.” 

“You're my best friend.” He sighs, hugging her back, nerves filling his body. 

- 

October 13th, 1983 - Thursday 

“I am so irritated with you right now I can’t even begin to describe it.” Cece snaps, her hand slamming into the locker next to the one Via currently stood in front of, shuffling through to find her lighter as her friend went on a rant. “It’s not even worth arguing over.” 

“Good because-“ 

“You know what? I changed my mind. It is worth arguing over because how dare you? How. Dare. You.” The brunette seethes, eyes narrowing as Via’s fingers finally wrap around the lighter and drag it out from the abyss of a locker. “I’ve been your best friend for how many years now?” 

“4 I believe. Might be 5.” 

“And this is the treatment I get?” 

“Okay, let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because I accepted a shift tonight? I need money and Thursday nights are the best since it’s just a bunch of middle schoolers and their parents.” Via mumbles, exhaustion coating her every movement. It had been a rough couple nights, spent unable to sleep and so she crammed herself in that tiny desk and tried drawing or painting until she got tired enough to pass out at the desk until her father woke her up for school. All. Week. 

“It’s your birthday, Olivia.” A couple people turn their heads to them at the tone which makes Via panic and shush her. 

“Not so loud. Alaska can probably hear you.” They glare at each other for a moment, both unwilling to give up on their stances. 

Finally, with a growl of frustration, Cece stomps her heel into the ground. “We should be celebrating tonight Via.” 

“I need to work.” Via huffs, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension that had built up. “Besides, Hartson wasn’t really offering it. It was more of a ‘I need this shift covered so do it’. And so I agreed.”

“He can’t do that. That’s not legal is it? He can’t do that.” 

“I’m not sure but it’s already been done so who cares-“ Before she can finish her sentence a body shoves into her, wrapping her in a hug that sends them both careening into the lockers by them. 

“Gareth.” It’s a warning enough, but the brown haired boy doesn’t listen to Eddie and continues hugging Via with a big smile. 

“You smell like fish.” She scoffs, trying to push him away. 

“It’s my new deodorant. I call it sweat.” The fool smiles, lifting his armpit for her to smell which leads to her gasping and pushing him harshly. In their little scuffle they both accidently push into another figure that had been at her locker. 

A soft grunt of pain could be heard as Barb dropped the books she was holding, making the group in front of her stop quickly. 

“I’m sorry.” Gareth blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Barb nods, doing her best not to make eye contact. 

Relatively Barb and the group before her sat at the same rank on the food chain of this school, barely making it by with Tommy Hagan. And yet their groups sat on opposite sides. 

Via and her friends were considered ‘burnouts’ whilst Barb was considered….a ‘goody two shoes’ not that there was anything wrong with that. But it’s safe to say they all normally avoided each other. 

“We didn’t mean to do that.” Via confirms, bending down to grab the books for her as the redhead keeps nodding. 

“No it was me. I was in the way.” Barb tries a laugh, grabbing the books back from Vias outstretched hand slowly. 

“Hey I saw you in the hall the other day while I was ditching. You told the teacher the wrong way when they asked where I went.” Eddie smiles, and Via watches in real time as her cousin does what he does best. Break tension and make people feel comfortable. “That was totally cool. You rock for that.” 

Barb's face turns a deep red as she ducks her head a bit, fighting off a smile. “Oh that was nothing.” 

“And that top is extremely cute.” Cece smiles, reaching forward to feel one of the ruffles between her fingers. “Have you ever seen Vogue magazine? It’s got a top that looks a lot like this-“

“I just got it from my moms closet if I’m being honest.” Barb admits. “It’s hard finding sweaters that fit me sometimes.” 

“Oh here we go.” Eddie rolls his eyes, watching Cece’s face light up with excitement as Gareth groans out when she shoves him out of the way to get closer to Barb. 

“I can make you something out of any sweaters you don’t like anymore. I actually think you would look so good in-“ As she starts going on and on Gareth groans again and Eddie reaches out to shove him and give him a death glare as Via shuffles to make her escape. 

She normally waits until her free period to sneak out and smoke near the track field, it was the perfect time of day to do so. No student or teacher traffic, she didn’t have to worry about missing class and got the perfect amount of silence to work in her sketchbook. Not that she needed silence, she just liked letting her thoughts run free without anyone near. 

She would miss math class, and her dad won’t like that call when he gets it later but she’ll say she wasn’t feeling well and lie about going to the nurse. It was her birthday after all. So she takes a sharp breath in and walks through the halls while patting her jacket to make sure she had everything she needed before taking the side exit out of the school and heading to the weird alley left between the gym building and the main building. 

The gravel digs into her legs as she sits on the ground, shuffling around to get comfortable as best she could before dragging out her sketchbook and lighting a cigarette as she begins working. 

Via liked to follow her instincts when it came to art, she trusted her imagination more than anything else, and it had never really caused a problem before. If a project wasn’t working then she moved on to the next. 

But this one had been killing her, and she had no clue why. 

It was a rough sketch, shadowed figures all huddled in the forest. There were four young boys, and Via kept seeing images of her brother flash in her mind as she detailed them out before she finally gave up and focused on the fifth figure but that was the thing that caught her the most. 

She couldn’t tell if she had been drawing a boy or a girl, the images flashing in her mind were always hazy and undistinguished and yet it was so clear. The hospital gown that reached their knees, torn a bit on the right. The hair cut short, a sort of buzzcut that reminded her of Eddie back when he was in middle school. The nose was bleeding, but there was something on the wrist that she could never make out. A tattoo of sorts that-

“Are you smoking?!” An angry voice snaps her attention quickly, she had been so involved in the sketch that she didn’t even hear the person exit the gym, a soft curse falling from her lips as panic claims her, making her drop the cigarette to the ground desperate to stomp it out until she sees Steve there with his hands on his hips. “Really, Ollie?!”

“Someone needs to put a bell on you.” She snaps, her skin flush with heat as she tries to glare at him while he shakes his head gently. His face is puckered between amusement and shock, his eyes bright with something that makes Via nervous. “What? You going to run and snitch on me now?”

“First you shoplift-”

“So did you.”

“And now you’re smoking on school property. What? You buy eyeliner and suddenly feel like a bad girl?” His tone is teasing, but Via stays on edge. Teasing probably means his friends were soon to follow and she would become the butt of the joke. 

She had to get out of here. Her eyes narrow in on his slow shuffling, like he was trying to move closer without her knowing. His shoulders tense and he is messing with the white towel balled up between his hands as he begins looking everywhere but her. 

Without another thought she grabs the handle to her bag, keeping her sketchbook gripped in her hand as she gets ready to jump up and scram. 

“Don’t you know those cause cancer?” He asks after an awkward moment of silence passes, laughing a little under his breath. She goes rigid, turning to glare at him rather than her exit. 

“So does your hairspray, you don’t hear me raggin on ya.” 

“My hairspray does not cause cancer.” He argues, eyes snapping to hers. “It is completely safe to use-”

“That’s such a lie, Harrington.” His face falls slightly at the last name, blinking as he nods. “What? I offend your hair?”

“I just can’t get used to my last name.” He admits, shrugging a bit. 

“You’ve had it since you were born.” 

“Yeah but you never used it.” And the silence that follows that sentence is deafening, it settles between them like a wall and Steve inhales quickly. “I just figured you would be the most cautious about cancer and-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snaps, sitting up quickly as his eyes widen in fear. 

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything-”

“You really want to bring up my nana, you little shit?!” 

“I’m a little shit?! You’re a little gremlin!”

“Oh I’m a gremlin now?! Listen here you half baked ken doll, you are the most annoying person on this earth. You walk into a room and your ego sucks out all the air in it!” She stands to be at his height, the sketchpad dropping from her hand. 

He’s quick to snatch it up, when she moves to snatch it back he turns his back to her and keeps it away. “If I’m a half baked Ken doll then you're a metal melted barbie.”

“Give it back Harrington.” She seethes, trying to jump over him to grab the book. Doing so she wraps her arms around him and just hangs from his back as he laughs. Dropping the white towel to reach his free hand up to hold her arm there so she doesn’t fall from his back. She reaches out once more, face heating as she catches a whiff of his overly priced cologne. 

“Jesus, Ollie…via. This is really good.”

“Yeah, right. Okay.” She rolls her eyes, diving for the book once more. He slips a bit, and they both panic. She wraps her legs around him to stop from falling and he catches himself on the wall. 

“Your dad said not to koala me!” He gasps, still gripping her arm to keep her up. “This isn’t fair.”

“Give me the book then!” “No!”

“Yes!” “I just wanna see it!” 

“You are such a pain in the ass-”

“Who is the girl?” He asks before gasping for air a bit when her arm tightens around his neck as she begins sliding off. “Ollie-”

The strangled sound of his voice makes her let her legs to, moving to unravel her arms from his neck, too focused on what he said about the sketch to care about grabbing the book back. He keeps a hold on her arm though, and a part of her feels like he just wanted to keep her near him while the other part of her knows he’s getting ready to block her again. 

“Girl? What makes you think it’s a girl?”

“The eyebrows? A random feeling? How am I supposed to know? You’re the artist.” He scoffs, keeping a hold on her elbow as he pulls the book closer to himself. “Is that…that’s Wiley right?” 

“I…. don’t know.” She blinks, suddenly feeling way too exposed and snatching the book finally. “Just get on with the mocking already-”

“I’m not here to mock you-”

“Here, I’ll even get it started for you. ‘What are you doing in the alley you freak?’ or ‘It’s creepy to draw people you stalker’ or-”

“Can I have a cigarette?” He interrupts her, wiping his palms on his shirt as his eyebrows pinch together, a look of pain passing across his face so fast that she thinks she must have imagined it. 

“And then I say something like ‘why don’t you go make out with a mirror you narcissist?’ and-”

“Olivia, can I please have a cigarette? Please?” He tilts his head, holding out a hand as she rolls her own eyes and reaches into her pocket to grab one for him. She freezes halfway through, blinking up at him with suspicion which makes him smile slightly. “I’m not trapping you to snitch.”

“Fine.” She pulls out the box and opens it to him, he is quick to snatch one, their fingers brushing together a bit which makes her pull her hand back quickly with a sneer, the heat from his touch rising up her arm and somehow sending chills down her spine. 

“How bout a light?” He asks with it between his lips, hands on his hips as she pulls out her lighter and tries to hand it to him. After a moment of standing there she realizes he won’t grab it so with a huff she flicks it on and leans to light it for him. He shrugs and leans his head forward so she can light it while it’s still between his lips. A cocky smile spreads across his features. . “Remember when we used to talk about stealing our first cigarette from your dad when you hit high school?”

“No. I don’t.” 

“Liar.”

“Jackass.” Her words were supposed to piss him off, and she gets aggravated and annoyed when it seems to have the exact opposite reaction and instead drags a smile onto his face. 

She didn’t understand why he was even bothering to bring it up, it obviously never happened. Whispering their plans of sharing their first cigarette and first drink had been useless. He had started his freshman year without her and somewhere along the way she had completely been dropped from his life. 

Eddie’s warnings from middle school are still right there in her ear as she watches him now. 

“I know you both are close but…. He’s not the person you think he is you know? He hurts people. You’re not like that.” 

She hadn’t understood then, hadn’t been able to process that her very best friend in the world was a bully. But the second she moved up to the same school as him once more it all made sense. And the betrayal of finding out who he really was hurt like a bitch. 

The apologies she had to give Eddie for not believing him tore at her chest. 

As if he knows what she is thinking while she stares he awkwardly clears his throat before taking a drag from the cigarette and shuffling to find a spot. 

After a few moments he leans against the brick wall, trying to seem relaxed as he smokes while she shuffles to the opposite wall, moving to pick up her bag and toss all her supplies in. The sketch pad is thrown in, and she fights a cringe when the pages bend against the other books but she’s too interested in getting the hell out of here. 

“What are you doing today?” He asks after yet another minute of silence, his voice a little cracked, almost as if he was desperate to keep the conversation going before she could escape. Alarm rings through her, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to reveal what he actually needed. 

“Oh just the usual, plotting your murder and then robbing a bank after school.” She scoffs, trying to fix the hair that had fallen out of her bun when she attacked him earlier.  “Any requests? I’m partial to the throwing you down a well idea but I would also be willing to set you on fire.”

“Oh. Interesting. I think I’m gonna go with Plan B.” He smiles, shuffling closer once more and she finds herself trying to find something to say that would piss him off. Anything that might shred his heart the way he shredded hers, but the words get caught on her tongue whenever she thinks of something close.  “Seriously, what are the big plans tonight? For Ollie’s birthday extraordinaire?”

There’s a bite to the words, and she tries not to scoff at it, noting the small tinge of jealousy. 

“I have work. And I already told you not to call me that. ” She admits, shrugging a bit. Torn between dashing away and or staying near him. Why was it so hard to leave? She hates him. 

“You work at the theater, right?”

“Yes? How did you know that?” 

“I’ve seen you there. Not in a stalkerish way but like- you work the snack counter. Why are you working on your birthday? That is the biggest sin known to man. Especially in your family.” 

“I…..” For a second the words almost tumble out, desperate to finally rant to someone about the situation. For a second it’s not Harrington and Via, rather than Ollie and Stevie and she feels the emotions hit her chest as she breathes in air for what feels like the first time in forever. 

She wants to tell him that she hasn’t celebrated her birthday without her Nana before, and explain that her family had no money to do a warm dinner or cake so what was the point of making them feel guilty? It wasn’t worth it anyways considering she wasn’t anything to celebrate over. 

For a second she almost slips and admits her sad thoughts to the longest friend she ever had. 

But his laughing face appears in her memory next, and she could just about vomit all over the gravel beneath them as it engraves itself there in the forefront of it all. 

This was not how it used to be, and she needed to remember that. 

It finally made sense why he was out here, he was looking for things to throw at her. Looking to trick her into talking to him so he would have fresh material. 

“Why am I wasting time talking to you?” She scoffs. “You’ll just throw it back in my face the first chance you get. Fuck off Harrington.”

She storms off after that, and she should have felt victorious because she got to tell Steve to fuck off. But she didn’t, she only felt lame and hurt. 

And the worst part was she knew exactly what to say to hurt him in the way he had hurt her, but she didn’t have the guts to do so. 

She was pathetic. 

- 

October 13th, 1977 

Ollie’s birthday dinner was spent with her family, just as it always was, elbow to elbow as they poured over the meal before them. 

Nana, who sat at the head of the table, was recounting her trip at the store earlier to the little ones who had been in school, watching their faces as they listened intently. 

“And the damn price of corn went up again. By the time you bunch are grown it’s gonna be damn near 5 dollars for one stock of it.” She grunts out, rolling her eyes gently. “You better become rich.” 

“I am!” Wiley yells, raising his hand. “I’m gonna go to space!” 

“Ollie is going to be a famous painter.” Stevie smiles, leaning forward. “She’s gonna be in a museum one day.” 

“No I’m not!” Ollie laughs, shaking her head at her friend as he turns to her shocked. “They only put the really good ones in those museums. There is no way I make it.” 

“They have to! I’ll make them!” Stevie snaps, his face thrown into one of disbelief. 

“How are you going to make them?” The adults can do nothing but watch as the two turn to face each other, all aware just how this process goes with them. 

“I’ll….. I’ll….. break their kneecaps!” Stevie rushes out, face growing red as Ollie gapes at him. 

“You’re going to break their kneecaps to get my work in a museum?” She asks, her face melting into one of giddiness as Steve nods aggressively. 

“I’ll break the museum's kneecaps. No question.” He confirms and his best friend shoves forward to hug him tightly. “Who even works at a museum anyways?” 

“I have no clue. But they better watch themselves.” Ollie giggles with her arms still wrapped around Steve. 

“I pray for them.” Flip mutters, shaking his head at the two kids. “I pray for anyone who bothers you two.” 

“Do you believe in god?” Wiley blurts out, fully staring his father down. 

“Eat your mashed potatoes, Wye.” Flip grunts, going red in the face himself at his youngest son's attention, flustered. 

-

October 13th, 1983 - Thursday. 

Standing outside Hawkins Theater, Steve Harrington shuffled about on his feet awkwardly with his hands in his pockets debating whether he should be here or not. 

He knew, deep down, that this was a bad idea. Like pouring gasoline on himself and then lighting a match. And yet he stood there, wanting nothing more than to light the match. 

It was an addiction, he was sure of it, having to be near Ollie. One that he had managed to avoid so well, until that night at the Mini Mart gave him a taste again and he found himself looking for her throughout the day. 

It made sense, this was his best friend at one point. He used to spend nights at her house and eat with her family. This was the person who taught him to ride a bike and dared him to eat a worm. It’s only natural to miss her….. right? 

He messed it up earlier, he moved too fast and asked too many questions. He made her paranoid, and that was on him. This time he would be more careful, ease into the conversation. He would-

Jesus when did Ollie go from his best friend to talking about her like she’s a scared kitten in an alley?

This was a bad idea, he knows this, the sinking feeling in his gut making him turn to walk away. He’d go to the store and get something for dinner and forget all about this. Go back to the way it was, completely ignoring her existence. 

But her face flashes in his mind and he finds himself turning right back around and facing the theater. It was her birthday. He missed it last year, an away game for basketball, and even if he was in Hawkins he didn’t know what he would have done for her. 

And the year before that had been the year when Cece emerged, the girl hating him through and through. He remembered her narrowed eyes as he carried the painting set to the house, the look of distrust. 

He had gotten to watch from the sidelines last year just how close Cece was to Via, a firm layer of annoyance lacing his mind every time he saw them hanging out. Steve liked to blame Cece on Via's new look, the new shorts and dark colors. The chopped and bleached hair. Via looked completely different than what he was used to. 

And it wasn’t bad, she was still beautiful, always had been. Even he could admit that as her best friend. But it was a shock to the system seeing her now. The first day of school this year he had kept an eye out for long brown hair and one of Nana's signature creations. 

He had not known what to do with the new Via, or how to stop his heart from racing through his chest when she walked by with her middle finger pointed at his group. 

But that didn’t matter, he had spent the year avoiding her, and had missed her birthday. 

“Come on Harrington. Just get it together.” He mutters to himself, wiping the sweat from his palms down the front of his jacket before hopping on his feet a bit to hype himself up before he finally makes his way to the ticket booth. 

“What can I do for you?” The kid sitting in the booth huffs, staring at Steve like he was crazy. 

“Oh um. My friend is working. Can I just come in? I don’t really need a ticket.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. 

“Can’t get in without a ticket.” 

“Okay. Fine. Just a ticket to a movie then.” Steve rushes out, grabbing his wallet and paying for the ticket before he heads into the building and takes a deep breath in. 

The smell of buttered popcorn fills the air, the red decorations around mixed with the maroon carpet and warm lighting making everything about this place feel so welcoming. It almost manages to ease all his anxiety as he shuffles to the snack counter, wiping his palms one more time as her voice fills the air. 

“Just this today Miles?” She asks, even though she is already grabbing the money like she already knows it will be. The taller figure nods quickly, grabbing his snack and turning to walk away. 

He makes quick eye contact with Steve before he whirls around and bends his head in thanks and blurts out a fast. “Thank you Ms. Olivia.” 

With that he walks away, back ramrod straight and not making eye contact with anyone as he passes. And while Steve was busy watching him walk away he completely forgot that Ollie could see him. 

“What are you doing?” She snaps out and he whirls to meet her eyes quickly, suddenly feeling insane. 

“I’m….. here to see a movie.” He lies, stepping forward until his fingers touch the counter. “Obviously.” 

She blinks up at him, her lips shut in a thin line. “Then go see your movie.” 

“Well I need snacks.” He smiles, pointing behind her at all the snacks displayed on the shelves and the large popcorn display. “What do you recommend?” 

“Popcorn.” She keeps her face bland, it makes his chest tighten as he panics for ways to make her smile. 

“That guy before me was a little weird, huh?” 

“Miles is really nice.” She rushes out, standing to grab a bucket and fill it with popcorn quickly. “He comes every Thursday for that Star Wars movie. And he always says thank you. So leave him alone.” 

“Right. Got it.” He rushes out, nodding a little too much as he tries to come off relaxed. “So…. Nice hat.” 

Her work uniform was a yellow button up with a red tie, and Steve was a bit frustrated by the fact that she actually managed to make it look good. With bracelets stacked on her arm and black nail polish. But the thing that caught his attention was the birthday hat on her head. Blue with the words ‘happy birthday’ printed all over it but it printed wrong so it mostly said happy with only about 3 birthdays. And there was so much color on the hat that he had to blink to focus. 

“My manager gave it to me. Get your jokes out now.” She snaps, slamming the bucket on the counter. “And my ears were cold because they blast the ac so people don’t fall asleep.”

“People fall asleep a lot?” 

“More often than not.” She hits the buttons on the register before looking at him with a raised brow. “Anything else?” 

“A drink. Please.” Anything to stay here a little longer. 

“What are you seeing anyways?” She asks and he struggles to pull the ticket out of his pocket to see. 

“The… last Jedi?” 

“Oh fun! You should sit by Miles.” She smiles, pointing to the soda machine and waiting for him to answer what he wants. 

“Coke please.” 

“The theater is almost always empty now. That movie came out in like May and we were packed back then for weeks and now it’s just Miles.” She explains, filling the cup. “He comes every Thursday. He used to come with his brother but I haven’t seen George in a minute. I think he got married and moved to Nebraska.” 

Her voice holds a dreamy tone in the end, one that he catches a little too quickly. 

“You want to move to Nebraska?” 

“Not specifically. I’d like to move one day though.” She snaps the lid on the drink, coming back over to set it down, she’s close enough that he can smell the perfume she wore. It wasn’t too flowery or strong. Just a nice sage smell that had him at ease. 

“Why would you want to leave Hawkins?” 

“It’s…. Hawkins. Who wouldn’t I?” She laughs, slamming the buttons on the register once more before the total pops up. He pulls the cash from his wallet and sets it down gently. 

“I like it here.” He mumbles, shrugging a bit. He always thought she liked it here too. 

“It’s different when you’re the king.” She snaps a little, and he registers that wall building back up before his very own eyes. He had to switch the topic. 

“Where were you from originally? Denver?” 

“Yup. But my parents were from here.” 

“I remember. Your mom got accepted into college out there? Right? She studied… history?”  And Flip had followed her. From what Steve could remember of their story Flip had graduated a year before Lottie and he got a contracting job here in Hawkins. When Lottie left for Denver he stayed for a bit before he moved out there to be with her. He got a job with a construction company out there and they lived in a small one bedroom apartment when they got pregnant with Ollie. 

Lottie had been 18 and in college but the way his mothers friends talk about it makes it sound like she had gotten pregnant in high school. And as a kid he never understood the big issue, and now that he can do basic math he knows that his own mother had gotten pregnant senior year. 

She would never admit to that, too busy harping on everyone else. 

“She studied history and artifacts.” Ollie answers, seeming to be a little more at ease. “But right now she’s working as a temp in a legal aid office.” 

“Really? Wow.” His fingers tap against the counter as excitement courses through him. “How’s Wiley?” 

“Good.” That answer comes out clipped and he sees red flags in his vision. 

“Right. Well if you could tell him hi-“

“You’re gonna miss your movie.” She mumbles, pushing the popcorn and drink forward. “Wouldn’t want that.” 

“Right. The movie….. that I came here to see.” He nods, picking both of the containers up and moving to leave before turning back once more. “They are playing trailers though. I don’t mind missing those. What was that thing you were drawing earlier?” 

“I’m not sure. It just kinda…. I don’t know.” She answers truthfully. 

“Have you seen those murals all around? Of the famous people?” He asks, leaning against the counter easily. “There was one recently of Marilyn Monroe. It was really cool.” 

“Yeah I’ve seen them. My parents keep an eye on the paper for articles about the tagger.” She shrugs, cheeks turning red. 

“It’s not tagging though….. technically.” 

“Its not?” 

“Tagging is like…. Graffiti. The paintings are nothing like graffiti. They are really good. They are murals.” He explains, feeling proud of the fact that he is getting her to smile a bit. Truth was he had studied different art topics all week knowing she would be interested in them. Art was her weakness. “And I think whoever is doing them knows that. They hit popular spots when they are mad, like the store. But most of them are for fun.” 

“Who would think spending hours outside in the cold weather painting a wall would be fun?” 

“People with something to say. I would if I had any talent. And I know for a fact you would if you knew how to paint faces.” He smiles and her head tilts a bit which makes his heart speed up. 

“Who says I can’t paint faces?” 

“You always struggled with it growing up. Remember that one you did of…. Oh what was his name? You know with the-“ his hands puff out around his head in attempt to show poofy hair. “With the- damn it. You obsessed over him.” 

“Bob ross. And I didn’t obsess I just…. Liked him a little.” 

“You drew picture after picture of him. You planned a wedding.” Steve laughs. 

“I did not! I planned a proposal. You called me a donkey before I could start planning the wedding.” She huffs, her cheeks bright red. “And yes. I struggle with drawing eyes.” 

“Struggle? Struggle?! You can’t do it period. He looked like a lizard. One eye staring at me and the other trying to find the lost treasure of Atlantis.” He laughs, trying to cross his eyes the same way that drawing had. 

“Ohhhh you wanna talk about drawing. Let’s talk about-“ 

“Please don’t bring it up. I already know what you’re going to say.” He huffs. 

“The family portrait! The one you drew with nanas colored pencils of all of us. But it was just stick figures, and you overdrew dads and it looked like-“ 

“I didn’t mean to give your dads stick figure a dick! I didn’t mean to do it!” He laughs, rubbing his eyes as he remembers that drawing. “It wasn’t my intent.” 

“And you gave Wiley a unibrow.”

“The kid always had his face scrunched in confusion at the time! It looked like one eyebrow every time I saw him!” He tries to explain. “I’ve never seen a baby more confused.” 

“He was always so confused! And so curious! Every time you came over he stared at you like you were some ancient mystery!” She laughs loudly, snorting a bit. “Remember the day you tried making him laugh and got mashed potatoes up your nose?” 

“Oh my god! And then when I laughed it hit his face!” Steve cackles, bending over to try and catch his breath. 

“You scarred him. I swear. That’s why he’s always so nervous now.” 

“Always on the lookout for nose mash now.” He chuckles. “That was your 10th birthday. Right?” 

“I think so, Wiley got so mad that he refused to let me blow out the candles.” She remembers with a laugh, before the sound of blasters fills the air. “I think your movie is starting-“ 

“HARRINGTON!” The voice sounds out from the doors, drawing both their attention to the doors as a couple of the boys from the basketball team show up. “What are you doing here?” 

“W-watching a movie.” Steve rushes out. 

“Nice man.” Nicky laughs, shoving past him. “Nice hat.” 

His tone is sarcastic and the bitter laugh that falls from his lips makes Steve tense. 

“Thanks.” Ollie sneers. “What can I get you?” 

The next couple minutes pass way too slowly, the snarky comments from the boys as Ollie gets their snacks. He laughs, of course he laughs every time they make a comment because he is a coward. Always has been. 

Ollie knew that. And judging by the look she gives him as he is dragged off by his friends he knows she’s remembered why. 

All that work he did over the past 30 minutes ruined. 

- 

October 13th, 1977 - Thursday 

Wiley gets cranky halfway through the dinner and he begins staring at his plate which makes Steve feel bad. He didn’t like when Wiley got upset. He elbows Ollie to get her attention and then leans in to whisper in her ear his plan. She nods with excitement as they both turn back. 

Wiley gives them a skeptical look, casting a brief look to Nana then back to them. Steve scoops up a bunch of potatoes in his hand, rubbing it all over his face as Ollie does the same thing, both of them moaning out like zombies. 

“Me like potatoesssssss.” Stevie groans. 

“Eat brains.” Ollie groans back and Wiley starts laughing which makes the other two start laughing. But it slowly starts turning out of control, all of them laughing a little too hard. 

Then it happens, Steve snorts and a bunch of the mashed potatoes fly across the table and hit Wiley in the face. Chaos breaks out quickly. 

His face falls quickly, a scream tearing from his mouth as he swipes his face quickly, already crying for their mom. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve rushes out as Ollie cackles loudly, barely breathing which just makes Wiley cry more. “Ollie!” 

“I HATE YOU STEVIE!” Wiley screams, picking up a handful of mashed potatoes from the center bowl, and throwing it right at Steve only for it to hit Ollie. 

“Enough!” Lottie yelps when her daughter reaches for the same bowl. “How about some cake?” 

“No! I’m gonna kill them!” Wiley yells. 

10 minutes later as the family sings happy birthday to Ollie, Wiley keeps leaning over to blow out the candles before Ollie can, which makes Steve laugh. All three of them huddled around the cake and beginning to hit each other as the adults try to keep them all contained. 

Ollie leans forward to blow out her candles but when Flip lifts the cake to avoid Wiley’s attempts he accidentally smashes it into her face. Another wave of laughter hits all of them as her face is covered in chocolate. 

“Happy birthday Ollie,” Steve mumbles with a mouthful of cake, sliding his gift over to her. She unwraps it quickly, smiling from ear to ear when she sees the pack of colored pencils. 

“50 colors?!” She yells out, already standing. “I can’t believe it!” 

-

October 15th, 1983 - Saturday - Wiley 

“Are you serious?” Flip asks, blinking slowly at his son from his spot on the couch, trying to glue a chair back together as the sounds of Via slamming things in her room fill the air. “You’re not messing with me are you?” 

Wiley can do nothing but blink at his father, feeling nervous and excited in the same moment. 

Another thud comes from Via’s room followed by a muffled “FUCK-“ 

“Olivia! Language!” Flip huffs, shaking his head before setting the remains of the chair down and looking at his son. “Go get your shoes. I’ll get my keys.” 

Wiley dashes to go grab a pair of shoes that she shoved in his closet earlier, struggling to put them on because he was moving so quickly as he hears his dad knock on Via’s door. 

“Hey Via? I’m running your brother to the store. You need anything?” 

“No!” She snaps back, followed by another thud. She had been in a mood since her birthday, had come home and marched straight to her room. Not saying a word to and from school the next day and remaining in her room at every other moment. 

Mom said to leave her alone, telling both Wiley and his dad that it was probably girl stuff and it would all be fine. 

What Wiley didn’t admit was he snuck into her room yesterday while she ate breakfast and walked to her desk to see that she had drawn a very detailed flower with teeth on the petals and sprawled across the paper she wrote “Fuck Steve Harrington.” 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew something happened between them last year, but Wiley would ve the first to admit he missed the older teen and he missed the way things used to be. 

“Wiley! Come on let’s go!” 

He doesn’t respond, prefers not to, and rushes down the hall to meet his dad at the door with a wide smile. One Flip matches with his own excitement. 

“I’m about to drop my boy off to hang out with a friend.” He narrates, huffing a bit. “Can’t believe it.” 

Wiley’s eyes narrow at the slight diss hidden in the words, but they were also the truth so he shuffles past his dad to get to the car. 

The ride to the Hawkins comic store was long, not because of the actual ride but more so because Wiley was so excited to get there. When his dad parked the truck in front of it he hops out and meets him around the front. 

“Okay. I’m gonna head to the general store and grab your ma’s prescription. You good here?” 

A nod. 

“No talking to strangers. If you need me then come get me okay?” Another nod. Flip smiles, ruffling his hair before nodding his own head in the direction of the door. “Go knock ‘em dead kid.” 

And he makes sure Wiley gets in the building before walking down the block to the store, leaving his truck there so Wiley would have somewhere to run just in case. 

The bell to shop rings out, causing Wiley’s cheeks to heat as he shuffles inside, looking around at everything within the building. He begins to panic, what if Lucas didn’t show up? What if this was all a joke and -

“Wiley! Hey you came!” Lucas Sinclair smiles, coming around the corner with another smaller figure in tow. “Was that your dad?” 

“Y-yes-sss.” Wiley answers, hand coming up to rub his chest as a form of anxiety. He just had to remember to talk slow and breathe. It would be fine. 

“Dude he’s tall.” Lucas laughs. “Mike has a tall dad too but he doesn’t ever talk to us. His name is Ted. He’s kind of boring but your dad looks cool. I like his truck. Have you read the new Wolverine? I just found it, we can go find a spot and read it.” 

“Are you actually gonna let him speak airhead?” The smaller of the two sneers, her eyebrows pinching together in anger. “Or keep talking over him?” 

“I’m f-f-fin-ne.” Wiley smiles, moving forward to take a closer look at the comic in Lucas’ hands. 

“My parents made me bring her so she can play Pac man. Which she promised to do once we got here so scram forehead.” 

“Whatever Buck teeth.” She snaps back before heading to the pac man game while Wiley and Lucas dash to find a spot to read their comic. 

The friendship with Lucas was new. After school a couple days ago Wiley ran into him at the comic book store and at first he avoided him like he usually does. It had taken one bad play date with the wheeler kid to know that he would not belong in their group. They talked fast and often talked over each other.  He wouldn’t be able to keep up and he knew that his stutter bothered Wheeler. So he had never gone out of his way to talk to them. 

That is until Lucas saw Wiley holding a comic he was looking for and they ended up talking about marvel for a while….. Lucas talked and Wiley tried here and there. 

But he slowly realized that when he did choose to talk that Lucas was willing to wait, and he never talked over him to finish the sentence, he just waited. 

“I invited Dustin but he’s in a bit of trouble because he threw his bike in front of his garage and his mom nearly ran over it. Do you have a bike?” 

“I hav-ve my-my sist-ters old bike.” He explains, shrugging. “S-she spr-spraypaint-Ted it for me.” 

“You should ride your bike to school with us! Dustin passes my place and we normally meet at 7:40.” 

And just like that Wiley Fraser was making friends, and he barely had to talk. 

- 

October 15th, 1983 - Saturday - Steve 

It’s not like he planned on wasting the past two days thinking about Olivia Fraser. That’s just what happened, which was embarrassing considering the fact that he spent most of Friday afternoon sitting with Nancy Wheeler at the picnic tables outside after school. 

She was cute, in that nerdy notebook way. She made him smile and all things considered she wasn’t the worst he had flirted with, that prize went to the muppet from study hall. 

But Nancy Wheeler, as pretty and smart as she was, could not compete with Ollie in his mind. Ever since that interaction at the theater he found that she coated his mind like an oil spill. 

Hey, my tire on the car looks flat; suddenly he remembers the year his bike broke and she had to help him limp home. 

He needed to study for a history exam, suddenly he thinks back to the time they were doing homework at the table and she realized that she had been misspelling her name for years. Which had led to a full blown meltdown and she decided that she would steal his last name. 

Her teacher had sent back all her work with the last name Harrington crossed off on each and every one. And Ollie learned that her name was Fraser and not Frazier. 

Over and over and over. 

But it got bad when Barb reminded him of Nana. That is what hurt his heart the most. 

It was while he and Nancy were packing up after pretending to study and the redhead had come out to take her friend home. 

It started off easy with a simple “can we stop by the craft store on the way home?” 

And Nancy had simply responded “yeah. I love that place.” 

Steve hadn’t even realized the connection, and had been partially listening when Barbs next words made him stop. “Remember that older lady that used to work there? I miss her! She owned the house on Steves street didn’t she?” 

And just like that he is seeing Nana, the very last time he saw her. So frail and tired, so ready for the end and yet still so welcoming. Suddenly he is back to being that bloodied up kid who just needed to be near them. 

“Yeah I think.” He mumbles, snatching his books. “How am I supposed to know?” 

But it clung to him, of course it did. And he was still bothered by it a day later as he pulled into the general store with a bad attitude. 

His mom would be home that Wednesday, so he just needed groceries until she got back and he figured the best time to do so would be early afternoon when the store was at its peak so he wasn’t trapped in the silent house all day. Peak hours meant he could browse the aisles without having to worry about being stopped since everyone was in a rush. 

That was until he saw Flip with a basket in hand grabbing a box from one of the shelves near him. The man still wore his classic flannel, and his mouth was set into a from as he read on the box while Steve tried to figure out what he should do. 

Say hi right? Or had Ollie told him what a dick he had become? He should just walk away and pretend he didn’t even-

“Stevie! How ya’ doing pal?” Flip smiles, coming up to shake his hand. “It’s been way too long, bud.” 

“It’s good to see you Mr. Fraser.” He smiles awkwardly, his hand shaky in the hold of Flips. 

“Oh? Long enough to go back to the Mr. Fraser then? Or am I just that old now?” 

“No no. I just- I don’t know.” Steve laughs, moving out of the way of an older woman passing by. “It’s been awhile. I miss you guys.” 

The admission makes his skin heat up, still nervous about it all. 

“You need to come by for dinner. We haven’t had you over since we moved.” Flip mumbles, setting his basket down and pulling out a small notepad. Steve recognized it as one of the ones he used to carry around for contracting, so he could write down measurements and such. 

Taking the tiny pencil Flip sprawls something across the lines on the paper before ripping it out and handing it to the boy. 

“November 2nd we are making dinner for Lotties birthday. You should come over. That’s the address.” The man smiles, patting his back once more before heading to checkout while Steve stares at the paper in his hands with wide eyes. 

It was like a golden ticket had just been handed to him, a chance to be near the Fraser’s again and be near Ollie again. 

It was obvious he would go for dinner. The only problem was how mad Ollie was going to be when she found out.

{New Chapter out Monday}

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Something That Does Right by You - Chapter 1

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Goose gets some bad news in the morning, and Bradley's in a rush to get somewhere.

Words: 2182

One thing he wasn’t going to miss about Navy life was the early mornings, he thought as he shuffled into the kitchen with his dressing gown on. He was an early bird but any time before six AM was too much for a man just turning sixty. God that was old. What happened to the days of his youth when anything was possible? When bad shit could happen and it was just any other tuesday? Now if his dinner was cold it could send him spiralling sometimes.

There was a drifting waft of something sizzling as he walked toward the kitchen. Early morning radio hummed in the background as the toaster popped and a quiet ‘shit!’ was called with rage seething around the sides. He could make it known to Ron that he was awake so he could swear and shout to his heart’s content, like he did all the time when he was awake, but that would ruin the fun. 

After a quick glance through the sliding patio doors, he knew the dogs were out of the way. They were just too damn happy sometimes, always barked and jumped whenever he or Ron got home, you’d think they were still puppies honestly. Bert and Ernie were not puppies, however, they were two brother German Shepards. Bert was tan with a black saddle and Ernie a dazzling sable. Their trace hairs were scattered all over the sofas despite how much their cleaner spent vacuuming the cushions.

He turned back to Ron and realised that, for a RIO, he didn’t have good instincts sometimes. Of course that was partially because he was half deaf. But there was a sixth sense the Navy trained into you in flight school that was hard to shake. Apparently not as hard as he thought.

Snaking his hands around his middle, Ron jumped a mile in the air, almost smacking him on the head with his spatula as he grumbled under his breath.

“What did you do that for?” He shouted at far too loud a volume for how close he was to him.

“No need to shout,” he said. 

“What?!”

“No need to sho-” he huffed and gestured toward his ears. “Turn your hearing aids on!”

“I haven’t got my hearing aid on!”

Goose shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “You fucking dumbass.”

Ron flicked the switch on his hearing aid on. “What did you say? I didn’t have my hearing aid on.”

“I was telling you to switch it on,”

“Well that’s no use now, I’ve got it on.”

“I know that!” Goose said. “What’s for breakfast, anyway?”

He took a sniff of the bacon and saw two fried eggs popping next to it in the pan. Toast was sitting up in the toaster. Two cups of coffee on the side beside two plates. A perfect breakfast for a long day of testing. Over the past few years, he’d really started to enjoy Ron’s early retirement, purely because he’d started to get into cooking, so he could now do more than just burnt toast and overdone eggs.

“Food, that’s what, now sit down sweetcheeks. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” He said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Aw, said like a true househusband.”

Goose sat down at the table while Ron flipped him off. After placing it all on the plate, garnishing with salt, pepper and a few sprigs of herbs, he quickly let the dogs in, from where they were waiting in the conservatory, and sat down to eat. For a moment they were quiet, the dogs, well trained, sitting at their feet.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, Admiral?” Ron asked.

“You know that’s classified.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” He asked. “Plus, I was a Captain once, you know.”

“Not anymore, old timer.”

Ron stuck his tongue out, Goose chuckled and took a long sip of his coffee.

“Fine, we’re going for Mach 9.”

“Jesus, how fast is that again?”

He thought for a moment. They were making so many improvements, with plenty of failures along the way, and sure they’d been happening slowly, almost too slowly for some, but the fact that he was even partially in charge of a project this important was filling him with confidence.

“About 6000 miles per hour.”

“Fuck,” was all he said. “Whatever I’ve said about Mav in the past, you can’t say he isn’t brave for flying that thing.”

Goose said around a mouthful of bacon and egg. “I’m telling him that.”

“You can tell him this too, that I can’t tell whether it’s brave or stupid to offer to fly a machine that could kill you if anything went wrong.”

“Ain’t that the problems with any jet,” he said. “Couldn’t the F-14 go like 1500 miles an hour?”

“Touche, touche.”

After finishing their food, Goose sat back in his chair and cradled his coffee. Bert rested his head on his lap. He’d mastered the look to get cuddles, and Nick hadn’t built immunity yet, so instinctively began to stroke his head.

“Anyway, enough about classified information I shouldn’t be telling you. What are you doing today?”

Ron, who was doing the same to Ernie, who’d partially flopped onto his lap now, just smirked at him. “Well, while you’re stressing about deadlines and early wake ups, I’ll be doing as little as possible.” He said. “I’m gonna make another cup of coffee, read the news, play some tennis and come home for a nap.”

Goose hummed. That was what he was looking forward to. After this project was over, he was going to retire. He’d put a lot of hard work in over the years, and after being told he was at risk for a stroke, being put on blood thinners just to prevent that, and having enough of the bratty internal politics of naval bureaucracy, he’d really been getting jealous of Ron’s easy life.

They had his two pensions, one from the navy, one from American Airlines, and Nick’s wages, they were set up for a healthy retirement. Sure, he’d been forcibly retired due to his gradual hearing loss due to too many metal concerts and the general volume of jets over the years, but now he’d settled into it, it had really begun to suit him.

“That sounds like heaven,” he said.

“Well, think of it this way, sweetcheeks, the quicker that darkstar of yours is approved, the quicker you can tell them to kiss your ass and walk out the door.”

“I won’t be telling them to do that.”

“But you could.”

“I wouldn’t though-”

This carried on for a few minutes until Nick’s phone lit up in his pocket. The number didn’t fill him with confidence. Ron looked up from where he was fully focused on stroking Ernie’s head, raising his eyebrows. His face must have fell with how Ron looked at him. He placed his phone back in his pocket with a frown.

“What was that about?” He asked.

Goose got up, the chair screeching across the tiled floor. Bert went back a few paces as he made his way to the door. A sudden urgency flooded through him.

“Hello? Earth to Goose?”

Ron followed him through to the hall. Despite not knowing what had changed, he still passed him his coat as he slid on his shoes and grabbed his briefcase. The dogs followed too, wearing the same forlorn expression that they always wore when he went to work.

“They pulled the Darkstar project.”

“What? But you’ve worked on that for almost a decade!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,”

Ron stepped back for a second. “Where are you going then?”

“Gotta call Mav, gotta convince them not to scrap it.”

He opened the door and pressed the button for the garage to open. Feeling around for his car keys, he began to rush out of the door, only for Ron to turn him around with them jingling on his finger.

“You’re not retiring?” He was wearing the same expression as the dogs were. “We said that after the Darkstar project-”

He reached for the keys but Ron pulled his hand back. “But not like this, I want to do it feeling completed, end on a high, not another example of how people like us are being replaced on every front by my bosses.”

Ron gave in and lent forward to give him a kiss. He wished him good luck, stroked his moustache as he let him go and closed the door behind him.

~~~~

An announcement beeped over the speaker system. ‘This is the last call for Gate 2 for the 0900 Flight to San Diego International Airport.’. It repeated again in Spanish as people began to move toward Gate 2. 

“Oh, is that yours?” His mum asked over the phone.

Her face was slightly pixelated on the screen but he could still see how her face dropped. It had been a while since he’d seen her, six months of deployment in the middle of the ocean had taken its toll and the idea that he was getting leave for a good few months had been one of the few things that had stopped her from constantly worrying. Until this special mission came up that is.

He’d been excited when he’d heard. Feeling special when it came to the Navy was something that they didn’t really encourage, they needed everyone to work as a team, and some people being special could encourage rivalries, meaning more people could get hurt. Not that this attempt at unity actually worked, there was plenty of low level bullying and intimidation behind closed doors. Hangman flashed into his mind, not that that was an entirely Navy related affair. 

“Yeah, I’ve been holding off but I think I actually need to go now,”

“Yeah, can’t have you missing your flight,”

“I usually leave it until late anyway, I mean, we’re all getting on the same flight, so what’s the point of being early, right?”

She laughed and nodded. He saw her wipe her eyes and sniff, trying to put on a brave face that he could always see through. His mum had no filter, whether it was insults or her emotions, she couldn’t hold anything back even if she wanted to. Which made her battle with cancer even worse because despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hide the side effects of the chemo as much as she would’ve liked. Bradley still felt uneasy around hospitals and when throwing up. 

“Have a good flight, honey, okay?” She said. “Call me when you land.”

“You know I will,”

Her face dropped again. They’d both been looking forward to seeing each other for the first time in a year, he’d been out here in Virginia, whether on deployment or not, for so long.

“I love you,” She blew a kiss toward the screen.

“Love you too, and Charlie, send her my love.”

She smiled again. Charlie was already working, even at eight o’clock in the morning, or seven in Texas. There was a reason she was the top professor in her department. That’s where they’d met, Charlie was a new professor for physics and political science, his mum was finally doing that masters she’d wanted to do for years, but never had the time because of being a single mother. Not that she’d made him feel like that, she made it known that he was the best thing in her life and she wouldn’t change anything, that didn’t mean that she didn’t have goals outside of being a mother.

He’d never called Charlie ‘mom’, despite her being in his life for over ten years now. Perhaps it was because he’d moved out when they’d met, he was trying to be an adult, and feeling like he was failing in some parts, so hadn’t had to adapt as quickly as he would’ve done if he was still at home. He’d made sure that she looked after his mum though.

“Will do, she’s probably nose deep in papers by now.”

‘Will any passengers for the 0900 flight to San Diego please go to Gate 2 as boarding will soon be closing.’

“Okay, I really have to go now, bye.”

She waved as he ended the call, her pixelated image on the screen as he switched his phone into aeroplane mode and rushed off to his gate. 

Despite her worry, he was excited for this mission, whatever it may hold. He started to run, seeing other people either in the queue to Gate 2 or sat around for other flights. With his passport and ticket in hand, he managed to get to the front desk just in time. Luckily, the Navy kept him fit as he would be exhausted from that last sprint.

"Have a good flight," said the flight attendant.

"I will." He replied, walking onto the plane.

He stared out the window after he took his seat. It had been a while since he’d been to Top Gun, new faces and old flashing in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about.

So many more people were interested in this idea than I thought would be. It's really motivated me with this but I will say that I'm currently prewriting for whumptober and there's some big fics there, so if updates get sparse then that's why. It's a little hard to write multiple fics per day, work 9 hours and look after yourself so got to make sure I'm taking care of myself.

Anyway, Goose and Slider are married, and either early 60s or late 50s. They have 2 dogs and are really fucking rich. Have you seen the salary for an admiral?! Also Mav's salary is massive to so I have no idea how his card is declined in TGM, unless he has to money skills and is in debt or just impulse bought his P-51 mustang.

Taglist: @pollyna @shadeds-library

Tell me if you want to be added!

[tartagliatum]

Kaeya eats a dish with flaming flower stamens and develops a terrible fever 😈

ohhh kaeya in pain? kaeya suffering? particularly kaeya with a fever? >:))

he first tries to work through it all (oh my sweet workaholic bb boy), ignoring the beading sweat on his forehead and how the words on paperwork blurring together. the way the short walk to jean's office runs his breath low and heats his lungs like he's been sparring with diluc again. he will never admit to being sick - and helping cut jean's workload comes before his wellbeing. he doesn't even entertain the notion, instead bitching to amber about how high they favonius headquarters keep the heat even in summer. amber is just like... what heating? and then the pipes must have broken because suddenly it is v cold, and the window is letting in a draught because he finds himself shivering, or his vision is acting up or he forgot to eat or he drank too much last night or - well, anything but being sick. he finds his eyes take longer to open themselves, the outlines of everything blurred between blinks, worried faces of friends and colleagues going hazy as they uselessly tell him to take some time off or ask if he needs anything. (kaeya doesn't get sick. he laughs in your face or fails to bite back a sharp, cutting insult if you suggest such a thing - all of his colleagues and his men know by now never to say it quite so directly). it's when he's on the field and everything is spinning - there's a roiling heat in his stomach and his sword keeps slipping in his damp grip, the amount of sweat drenching him is excessive, and mondstadt doesnt get this hot in the summer, right? it's when he's concentrating on holding back retching over the fumes from the treasure hoarders' potions, the pyro explosions setting his skin on fire even yards away, and is barely saved by one of his men from a fatal wound - it's only then he admits defeat. he's helped back to the headquarters, breathing heavily and legs giving out, where albedo takes one look at his bleary, unseeing eye hazed over with fever, hair damp and sweat still beading on his cheekbones as he rips off the outer layer of his armour with trembling fingers, and instantly brings him home. the next few days are spent with the alchemist alternating heat packs and ice on his delirious, shaking frame, seething hot one moment and ice cold the next. his cryo nature is unable to handle the sudden onslaught of flaming stamen fever and his body struggles to regulate his temperature, unpredictable and struggling to comprehend what's happening in his system </33 kaeya always hated pyro; now he loathes it. he does not talk to xiangling for a long, long time after this.

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

Beginning of the End

Here's another Ghost AU fic.

Originally, this was going to be the 1st part of a long fic, but it ended up becoming longer than expected, so I've divided it into two fics, and post the parts separately.

In the darkened halls of the barricaded school, a masked figure ran, a knife in their hand and blood seeping through their mask, until they arrived to a familiar door, who they opened to enter a room full of monitors, that were displaying all the rooms on the building on real-time, before closing the door and taking off their mask.

And, once the mask fell to the floor, the strawberry blonde hair being freed from its constraints revealed the figure as Junko Enoshima, the True Ultimate Despair and the mastermind behind both the Tragedy that struck the whole world in less than three months, and the killing game where she had trapped her classmates in.

But, unlike past times when she had to leave the room while her former classmates slept, this time she returned with a furious expression on her face.

Because her plan had failed.

Since the killing game began, she couldn't help but to keep an close eye on Makoto and Kyoko, having analyzed them long ago as possible threats to the killing game thanks to her intellect and deductive prowess, and his unpredictable luck and insufferable optimism, having only let them live because the idea of feeling the despair of losing at the edge of complete victory was too good to ignore.

But now, the longer they stayed alive in the killing game, the more unbearable the both of them became for her.

They just were starting to know too much.

Know too much about the truth behind this killing game, and the truth behind the world outside its walls.

So, she hatched a plan to kill them both.

But it wasn't just a plan to get rid of the two biggest annoyances on the killing game, oh no, she was also planning on using their deaths to restart the killing game, thanks to Sakura's sacrifice making the last six survivors decide that it would be better for them to boringly join forces, and become a team, than to keep being distrustful of each other, like she wanted them to be.

Having spent the entire time since she and Mukuro joined class 78 analyzing everything about her classmates and eventual victims, she was able to put a bit of poison on the food that Makoto ended up grabbing for breakfast. Not enough to kill him, but enough to keep him weak enough for her to stab him in the heart with the knife their classmates foolishly gave to him for safekeeping, before making everything look like Kyoko did it, and have an excuse to execute her once it for all.

But not only Kyoko appeared from nowhere before she had a chance to stab him, but the fucking trash can in his room was thrown against her head by a invisible force, marring her beautiful face with a bloody gash she now had to treat.

She spent the entire time she spent desinfecting the cut and placing gauze on it not only seething at her plan failing, but also analyzing the flying trash can, alongside all of Makoto's previous abnormal acts that he has been doing since the beginning of the game.

Thanks to the cameras that she put inside the building, to record every single action everyone did during the killing game on real-time, she was able to notice how Makoto, right after he finally woke up, started to look at nothing in particular, setting his sights to the empty air that surrounded him, and having conversations with himself, sometimes to the point he ignored what was happening around him.

She initially thought that it could be a unexpected side effect of his memories being erased by Yasuke's machine, knowing how chaotically his luck worked, but soon enough, she started to realize that there was so much more behind his behavior besides his brain just being damaged.

He not only immediately knew that she was going to punish Mondo for attacking the Monokuma she was controlling in that moment with just the first beeps of the bomb inside it, but he also started to tell Kyoko things, things he shouldn't have known nor deduced thanks to his, and everyone else's, memories of the Tragedy being removed out of their brains.

And things became more suspicious with him when she was able to hear him say the name "Utsuro" in one of his conversations to himself.

She was sure that Makoto shouldn't know that name. Not only he shouldn't have any of his memories of the two years they spent on Hope's Peak, but she was also sure that the one person whom that name belonged to not only never made any contact with any member of class 78 who wasn't her or Mukuro, but also shouldn't be on the land of the living anymore.

And the damn flying trash can was the last straw for her.

Not even death seemed to stop Utsuro from returning back to her.

And from using whatever it remained of his damned luck to help Makoto.

She then made her decision: Screw Kyoko! She now had to kill Makoto, now or never, before him and Utsuro ruined everything with the power of the Divine Luck.

And looking at Mukuro's knife, that she stole from Makoto's room when she ran away from Kyoko, gave her a devious idea.

---

It was probably half an hour before the morning announcement played out when Kyoko got up off the bed, planning to leave Makoto's room before he woke up.

Thankfully, after both him and Kyoko stopped her plans to kill Makoto, and had to run away, Junko didn't showed any intention of coming back and finish the job, but the atmosphere in between the two of them, while they took care and kept an eye on the, still unconscious and sick, luckster, was still tense.

Even though Makoto had forgiven her for having used him as a bait on the secret room, to see what Junko would do, he just couldn't do the same.

He just couldn't forgive her for what she did to him.

But he had to swallow his hatred for her for now.

Because Makoto, and the fact that Junko just tried to kill him, was now their biggest priority.

Kyoko was able to spend the entire night awake, keeping vigil over Makoto, even when it was clear that spending two entire days lurking around the academy without sleeping had left her exhausted, if her intermittent yawns were any indication.

Grabbing the notebook, which he left on the bed a while ago, he wrote to her if she needed some sleep, reminding her not only that, unlike her, he was dead, so staying awake for the entire night wouldn't be detrimental to his health, but also that, if she needed to sleep, she could lay down on Makoto's bed, the killing game's rules only prohibiting sleeping in a place that isn't any of the dormitories.

She rejected his suggestion.

"...I'm... used to staying awake for days on end, I believe..." Was her answer.

If what she told to the rest of the class the previous night didn't already confirmed it to him, these words made it clear that Junko had erased all of her memories of her talent, for a reason he still didn't knew.

But it was also clear that this wasn't enough to stop her instinctive drive to find the truth, if her behavior during the entire killing game was of any clue.

After that, they didn't conversed with each other for the rest of the night, the silence being broken only once when the rest of Class 78, for some reason, converged on the other side of the door and started pounding on the room's doorbell for a short while, a noise that the detective ignored until they gave up their attempts to wake up Makoto, and left.

Some hours went by after they left the hallway, the room deathly quiet, until she finally got up off the bed, planning on finally leaving the room.

But, before she opened the door, she turned around, looking towards the bed, trying to keep her gaze upon the approximate place where he was floating, and told him one last thing.

"I have to leave now. It's clear that the mastermind isn't going to come back to try to finish their plan of offing Naegi, and there's still some places that I need to go to investigate..." She said while tightly holding the key she stole from Junko in her right hand "I'm not sure when I will come back, but, until then, take care of him"

And, after saying that, she quietly left the room, ready to continue her secret investigation, leaving him alone with the still asleep Makoto.

He took a look at the now closed door for a moment, before looking towards Makoto.

Knowing that Junko wasn't going to be deterred by such a simple setback.

And that, whatever she was planning right now, Makoto was going to suffer from it.

---

Makoto woke up some seconds before the morning announcement played out, and he noticed that the luckster was already looking so much better than last day.

But he also was able to notice that, whatever sickness he had been afflicted last night, it was bad enough that it had left him with a deeply troubled expression once he woke up.

"Do you feel better now, Makoto Naegi?"

Makoto jumped up slightly at his voice, clearly not expecting it, before he answered "U-uh!? Y-yeah! It's just that, I had a really weird dream-"

"Oh, you mean when the mastermind tried to kill you?"

Makoto's eyes snapped open right after hearing that, and turned around to look at him "Wait, what?!"

"Yeah, the mastermind tried to kill you with the knife Toko Fukawa found, but Kyoko Kirigiri arrived just in time and stopped them, before spending the night at your side to make sure that they didn't come back to finish the job" He kept his voice level during his explanation, even when he felt a pang of irritation when Makoto blushed when he mentioned how Kyoko spent the night keeping an eye on him.

Makoto processed everything he told him and, after confirming to himself that Mukuro's knife wasn't in his room anymore, he prepared himself to reunite with the others on the dining hall.

But, even then, it was clear that there was still something bothering him, judging by the uneasiness bleeding through his expression.

"There's still something that bothers you, Naegi. Can you tell me what it is?"

His words made Makoto jump just when he was about to open the door, turning back to him with such speed he was surprised that the luckster didn't got dizzy from doing it "Wha-!? Uh, well... it's just that..."

He stood still, floating just above Makoto's bed, only raising a eyebrow and crossing his arms, while the luckster fumbled through his words, before he just sighed and started talking.

"It's just that, before I woke up and saw the... mastermind, right?, right in front of me, brandishing the knife that Fukawa found in their hand, I had a really weird dream: I was on a dark room, and I could hear my own voice saying that I should be wanting to stay inside the school, not wanting to get out of here, that I was doing it for 'hope'..."

Well, that was interesting.

It looked like that whatever aliment he was suffering from the previous day was able to dredge some of his repressed memories, and show them to him through his fever-induced dream.

But it was also clear that he still hadn't recovered enough to know the truth that was hiding behind his strange dream.

He took a glance towards the, slightly panicked, luckster, and made a decision. He knew that it was going to be a massive gamble, and he knew that doing it would put Makoto in even more danger, but now, it was clearer than ever that, with Sakura having completely ruined the killing game with her sacrifice, its rules were no longer important to Junko, the only thing on her mind being putting everything back on track, no matter what.

And, if she wasn't going to follow her own rules anymore, why should he?

"Hey, Naegi, calm down" At hearing his name, Makoto stopped his rambling and turned around towards him, to look at him right in the eyes "Do you remember what I told you when you asked me if I knew about that 'Tragedy' those files Alter Ego found were talking about?"

"That 'Isn't not about what I can remember, but what I can't'? But how that relates to my drea-?" He stopped talking mid-word, eyes widening in realization, before he whipped his head towards him, eyes desperately trying to find any sign of deceit on his expression "Wait, are you saying that the reason we're trapped here is because of 'The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event on Human History'?! But why a bunch Hope's Peak students dying in one classroom would make me want to stay inside this building?"

"That's because it wasn't the only thing that happened in it" I response to his confused expression, he continued. When he first heard the remnants of Class 78's theories about what happened on the classroom 5-C, he decided on not telling Makoto the truth, in a combination of wanting him to discover the truth by himself and the class being already half-right on both the Tragedy and the School Council's killing game being connected.

But now, with Junko not wanting to play fair anymore, and already having tried to kill him hours ago, there wasn't any point on hiding the truth from him anymore "The higher-ups of the school tried to cover those deaths, but the mastermind was able to leak what happened to the internet, sending groups of people in a violent frenzy against Hope's Peak and everyone related to it, and that chaos was the reason why all of you ended up inside this building. The original headmaster wanted to protect you, but the mastermind was able to hijack his plans and use the building to start the killing game"

"But that doesn't make sense, Utsuro, if something like that had been leaked to the internet like you said, it would have become news everywhere, but I don't remember, no one remembers, seeing something like that in..." He, once again, he quieted down mid-sentence, his expression falling into horrified pondering, before he started talking again, this time with his voice just above a quiet whisper "Wait, if that truly happened, like you said, then w-why we can't remember it? D-does that mean that... that the mastermind erased our memories? But, how? And why!?"

Makoto's expression then became one of supplication, his gaze plunging deep inside on his distorted soul, begging for answers "Utsuro, please, just answer me!"

The luckster's pleading expression made him grimace in sympathy, second thoughts about this plan of his already filling his brain, but, at this point, it was only option he had.

Because it was clear that Junko wasn't longer interested on playing the killing game fairly, so, for Makoto to have a chance to survive whatever she was planning to do right now to get rid of him, he had to know the truth.

"They did it for the same reason they did these killing games, both this one, and the one I ended up in: despair. Just, the pure, unadulterated, despair of seeing all of you kill each other, without any memory of your past bonds, and your reaction once you eventually get them back"

He wasn't surprised when, after he finished talking, Makoto started shaking in anger and horror at what he had just told him, his hands curled into fists so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms, and he wasn't surprised either when, after mumbling to himself for a moment, he looked at his eyes and, dread reflecting in his eyes, asked him a question:

"Utsuro, what do you mean with 'our past bonds'?"

Taking a deep breath, and knowing that, at this point, there was no turning back for the both of them, he let out a sigh and started answering him "If my memory serves me correctly, the earliest internet leaks about what happened on the class 5-C classroom's massacre started around half a year after you and your classmates first arrived to Hope's Peak, with the anti-talent chaos, and the school closing down, happening around a year after that"

He then looked the luckster right to his eyes, the intensity of his glare only being a mask for his doubts about if this would truly be the better option after all, before he finally finished talking "At worst, you and your classmates lost around two years of your memories"

Letting out another sigh, trying to hide the subtle shaking on his arms, he was able to hear Makoto mumble something in dreadful horror, his hands covering his mouth, before he quietly walked towards his room's door, already ready to leave.

But, before he grabbed the doorknob, he turned around towards him, still shaking, and told him one last thing:

"P-please, don't... d-don't tell me anything else... j-just, for now... It's just... t-too much... Please..."

He just nodded in silence and, after that, Makoto let out a small, trembling, smile, and left his room, starting his familiar walk towards the school's dinning room.

A walk that, without their knowledge, was going to be their last they were going to do.

[crescentcitytorchwood]

Sirius leaned in and pressed his lips to Remus's. After a single heartbeat, Remus responded and Sirius felt like he'd pass out just from the relief.

He grabbed at Remus's hair, pulling him closer, determined to be as close as possible, terrified of letting Remus go, in case he lost him again. The last two years had easily been the loneliest of his life, and there was no way he was going back to that.

Yes, he'd had James, and to some extent, Lily. But neither of them had ever, truly been able to fill the void left by Remus Lupin. No one else had ever given him the sense of home, and comfort and belonging as Remus had when he'd wrapped Sirius in his arms and held him close. There was no way he was going to mess that up again.

Surging forward, Sirius poured every ounce of feeling into the kiss. He groaned as Remus's hands pressed against his chest, palms flattened against the hardening peaks of his nipples. Clearly as desperate to feel closer as Sirius was, Remus made quick work of slipping Sirius shirt over his head, barely breaking the kiss as he did so.

"I missed you," Remus panted against Sirius kiss swollen lips.

Sirius nodded frantically and began planting kisses across Remus's skin, as he deftly unbuttoned Remus's heavy shirt. Punctuating each sentence with a fresh kiss.

"I missed you too," he panted, his voice raspy and gravelly with lust. "I missed you so much. I missed your sleepy grumbling in the morning. I missed the way your kisses make me feel." Remus's hands continued to map the plains of his body, sliding down closer to Sirius's waistband. "I missed your hands on me. The feel of your palm against my cock."

Remus whimpered slightly, his hand dipping to cup Sirius through his trousers as his hips jerked just enough for Sirius to become aware of the growing rection in those ill-fitting jeans.

Sirius groaned lewdly, "How could you ever think someone like Fabian could compare to this. Compare to you,"

Before he even drew another breath, Sirius knew he'd made a mistake.

Remus stiffened, and not in the way Sirius had previously been enjoying. His hands pulled back from Sirius's body as if he'd been burned and his face twisted into something ugly. An angry, hurt, devestated look that Sirius had seen only once before.

"So you did sleep with him," Remus seethed. He was pulling further and further away. Sirius's heart began to race. Not again. He couldn't do this again.

"You swore to me. You swore on James and Lily that you hadn't."

"I didn't. Remus I swear to you. I told you the truth. I did not sleep with Fabian that night. I..." Sirius stammered. Remus was glaring at him. His whiskey coloured eyes dark, and stormy. Just tell him the truth. James's voice spoke in his mind. Firm and wise, and reassuring as ever. Sirius took a deep breath, nodded, and continued. "I didn't sleep with Fabian the night your father died. I would never have done that. I was stupid and I responded to our argument by going out and getting absolutely wasted but I did not sleep with him. I spent the night sleeping off the booze on his sofa, because he knew if I came home in the state I was in I'd only make the situation worse." Sirius took another breath and steadied himself. Just say it. James told him. Get it over with. Like ripping off a plaster.

Sirius swallowed, "But after you kicked me out. I went back there. We got drunk again and I thought... I thought if you were going to accuse me of shagging him regardless, I might as well get something from it. So I did. I regretted it the moment I sobered up. But you'd already left me by that point so I had nothing left to lose. It... It happened a few more times over the next few months before we both agreed it wasn't right. I was still hung up on you, Remus. I have been since we were sixteen years old. I love you. I've always loved you."

Sirius finally stopped for breath. His heart was racing. But he trusted James. Had always trusted him. If James said it was going to be alright, he had to believe it would be.

He stared at Remus. His Moony. He searched Remus's face for any sign of understanding. Any semblance of forgiveness. Of reciprocation of the love that he felt. For a second, he thought he saw the storm clouds in Remus's eye lighten, and he reached out a hand to steady and reassure them both. As soon as his palm made contact with Remus's thigh, the other man recoiled. The clouds returned and he snarled, "Get out."

"Remus, please," Sirius couldn't control the way his voice broke.

"Get out and don't come back. I don't want you here."

Just as it had two years ago, the room around them plunged into darkness. Everything Sirius had hoped and dreamed of shattered to a million pieces around them. This life, the life he'd always envisaged for them, of a home together, a family, it crumbled into nothing but dust and pain. Instinctively he reached for Remus again, desperate to ground himself, to stop Remus from pulling too far away. But he couldn't. Remus was already out of reach.

"What about Harry. The will..."

"Harry's better off without someone like you. Someone who'll do nothing but let him down. We'll both be better off. The lawyers will see that eventually."

The savegery of Remus's words and the raw pain in his eyes were a blow to Sirius's chest. And though he'd never thought it possible, it hurt more now than it had before. Remus stood up, breaking the spell and bringing the room back into focus. Cementing the reality they found themselves in.

"I'm going to bed. When I come down in the morning, I don't want to find you here. You understand?“

Tears pricked at the corners of Sirius's eyes. His throat burned with unspoken words and he longed to let everything burst out of him. To catch Remus in the tsunami of his feelings, promises and reassurances. But what was the point. They were broken. Sirius had broken them irreparably two years ago.

As if reading his mind, Remus muttered, "I was a gods damned fool to think anything had changed."

He didn't look back, but he didn't need to. Sirius knew the exact expression of his face because it likely mirrored his own. He held back the tears long enough for Remus to retreat to his bedroom and close the door.

The sun was starting to rise behind the living room curtains when Sirius finally ran out of tears. Everything ached, and every part of his body trembled as he moved around the room, collecting his things.

He'd done nothing but fuck up Remus's life and the life they could have had together for the last two years. If not longer. But he'd be damned if he continued to do so. By the time Harry stumbled, bleary eyed into the living room, Sirius was long gone.

[ckygetsjobs]

This sucks 

Dico x Male Reader

A/n: like I said before male readers are my fav to write. But I don’t write them often. So anyway so fucking self indulgent I haven’t wrote a male x reader dico fic in so long it’s about time. Not really any warnings for this one. Enjoy.

You weren’t one for cameras, hated it actually. Nobody would find you in front of the camera or in pictures if you had anything to say about it. They did call you weird for it, like why you show up to set and disappear into the shadows as soon as they started filming. Sometimes you ended up in frame anyways, either because Dico tricked you into it or because you underestimated how far the camera range was. You cheered Brandon on constantly, he was the reason you were there anyways. He always asked you if you wanted to carpool which really was just hopping in the passenger seat of his truck, not that you were going to complain. A lot of the time you’d laugh at him at how frustrated he got over other people’s driving, you still remember when he showed up to your house to pick you up one day and he was practically seething.

Today was a usual day of filming, which consisted of you avoiding it. You lied down on the couch, flipping through a playboy magazine, cracking up at all the pictures of semi naked chicks, they always had ridiculous poses. You just looked at it for laughs, you weren’t one for the magazines except to crack up at them. You showed the funnier ones to Brandon sometimes and now it was a competition weekly who found the funnier one, he won every time of course. When you were doing that though, you must have fell asleep because the next thing you knew you heard a loud horn right in your hear and tons of heavy laughter. “Fucking assholes,” you grumbled half asleep and pissed off, Dico better hope he was going to do something to make it up to you. He knew how much you hated loud noises, and you were for sure going to get him back, you already had an absolutely awful idea that was going to knock his socks off. Dico was sitting next to you, his hand clutching your thigh, trying to hide it from the others. He was good at it too, he had a ton of practice with how much he sneaked around with you. They would sometimes find you guys fucking in a closet or something else that was just crazy but it wasn’t that much. You fucking hated being interrupted, and they would laugh their asses off for weeks, plus it would be on film, and you bet your ass it was ending up in the next CKY.

As you were giving him an angry glare, he just shrugged his shoulders. You just stood up from the couch, walking off the set, wondering in the back of your mind if he was going to follow you or make you wait for him to be done in his truck. The answer was quick and apparent as he chased after you, shouting your name and to wait up. You didn’t, if anything you ran faster until you were comfortably in his truck waiting on him. When he got in he quietly turned on the music and pushed his seat further back. “How about I make it up to you. We can take a shopping trip to Kmart,” he winked, all you did was cross your arms, the opposite of impressed. “You’re a dick, you know I hate shopping. But fine, you better fuck me good tonight though.” He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing your hand and kissing it, “Come on when have I let you down,” you raised your eyebrow and didn’t answer his question, wanting him to come up with another remark that was sure to make him sound ridiculous. He didn’t though, he had learned by now, he knew how you operated, you spent tons of time together when you weren’t purposely ignoring his phone calls. When you did he had to show up to your house and he usually blew you after he told you whatever he came over for. But he wasn’t fooling anybody, you knew he loved when he had to come over, that’s one of the reasons you did it.

The shopping trip was boring and uneventful, you even yawned a few times. He dragged you along, having ahold of your arm the entire time, pointing to cool dressed action figures. Not to say you weren’t interested in action figures though, you loved them a lot, you just hated the store atmosphere, it was too much to handle. Especially after all the stuff you already had to deal with today. You didn’t blame Brandon for taking you there, you loved when he was happy, and he definitely was. So you bore through it for his sake, and it proved worth it. After a while he found the He-man and the Masters of the Universe collection, holding two skeletor’s in his hand, smiling and swinging your hand that was in his, “I know he’s your favorite, he’s mine too, so I’m getting two,” he threw them in the cart. He stared at you for a while, “Thanks for coming, I love shopping even more when it’s with you. But I know you want to leave so let’s go to the checkout,” he mentions, holding onto your hand tightly. When checkout was done he put everything into the truck, and you both got in afterwards. As you sat in the car, talking, it went further as he kissed your lips, softly and with so much love you melted into his arms, “I had fun,” he said into your mouth, you just nodded “me too,” while fully enveloped in him. You’d go shopping with him again of course, maybe even tomorrow, who really knew with him. But going with Brandon, the action that you got after was so worth it, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[simmetrycal]

gill

wc: 6.4k

odessa places a firm hand on gills chest, stopping him from walking any further. if she hadn’t, gill would have blown right past and put his son in headlock.

they were at some grand ceremonial event for a product release, and hades being the hotheaded one out of odessa’s three personal bodyguards, had just gotten in someone’s face. it wasn’t not well deserved, but hades has a certain tendency to use inappropriate language in professional settings, which isn’t good for odessa’s image. his twin brother on the other hand was more reserved and respectful. gill wishes hades was a lot more like zeus so he didn’t have to chew him out for every mistake.

he could always just decide to let it go, but gill wasn’t the type of adoptive father to be passive. he was strict. the twins learned early on what tough love was. gill wasn’t cuddly or really family driven, nor was he ever willing to talk about feelings. this may have something to do with the shark that he is.

“i oughta pull you boys both out of this job.” gill seethed at his boys when odessa finally let him go talk to them behind the stage. it took him a second to calm himself enough to convince her to let him go.

it was dark back there, casted shadows fell over the men, especially over gill and his mean brow with a scar running through and all the way up into his hairline. he had many scars, but the most prominent ones were that one and the one ripping through the left corner of his upper lip.

gills short and jagged silver hair suited his vibe and matched his usual slate grey blue clothes.

���what? me?“ zeus brought his hands up in defense. “i haven’t done anything!”

“yeah. haven’t done anything about this knucklehead of a brother you got. you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him.”

hades huffed an annoyed sigh like a child as if gill was overreacting. but gill continued.

“you want to talk about being responsible? it’s up to you to keep yourself and your brother in check.”

gill is harder on zeus than he is on anybody. and it’s because he expects the most out of the strong young bull orca who’s come of age. hades has too, the both of them at 25, but their levels of maturity are on vastly different scales, making gill lean more towards zeus to pull their weight.

“as for you,” gill huffed at hades, placing his large rough hand on the boy’s trapezius. “i don’t want any funny business from here on out. otherwise you’ll be staying with your great aunt franny for another week.”

hades shuddered at the mention of their great aunt. she was half mako shark, old as bones, and had the most crooked, fucked up teeth one could imagine. her thin frame and serpentine swimming patterns weirds everyone out, even gill. she’s tough as nails though and runs a tight ship. literally— she lives in a sunken, abandoned pirate ship at the edge of a ravine. not very much sunlight reaches that area.

hades gets sent to her every so often when gill has trouble dealing with his behavior and he comes back on the straight and narrow.. at least, for a few months.

there was a time when hades spent nearly three weeks with aunt franny. he was maybe 16. during his time there he was in optimal shape. never talked back, always cleaned up after himself, made the beds, did the dishes, took out the garbage. he even took out her eel on swims every morning, going all the way to the reef to say hi to neighbors. her eel was old and didn’t ever have energy to swim back so hades carried it, returning to the ship with it in his arms. franny would grill him on where he was and what he doing out for so long, not recognizing that he was trying to be on his best behavior. she never liked the twins, more so hades, and probably never will.

hades being gone for those three weeks had its ups and downs. at home, gill and zeus bonded better. they shared more time with one another and got along in silent respect. but it was too quiet, without hades there was no fun. no commotion or laughter or anything like that, just mutual silence existed in their household. zeus found himself falling into a lull, constantly being unimpressed and uninterested in everything. his daily routine was as solid as concrete and he did nothing out of the ordinary. but as soon as hades got back— the second his twin brother entered their home again with gill on his tail making sure he swam straight, zeus got his mojo back. from then on it was hard to separate them, as if it wasn’t already hard before.

the two are each halves of one whole, and to honor that, zeus shaved off all of his brothers hair, per hades’ request. hades sat on a chair wearing a trash bag with a hole cut out for his head, having all his silky long white hair sink down to the floor. all except one lock.

the long white strand that zeus ceremonially cut off got braided into his own hair, which was chest length and black. they were truly yin and yang.

“got that?” gill stated, letting go of his son. hades straightened out his shirt and blazer, fiddling with his gold chain after nodding in agreement. but once gill leaves, he’s quick to mutter profanities under his breath, loud enough for only zeus to hear.

“what’s his fuckin’ problem with me?”

zeus rolls his eyes and stands up from leaning against the alley wall, tossing one of his two braids over his shoulder. “he loves you.”

“thats his problem? love?” hades scoffs and trails after his brother, coming back into the crowd. the music is louder, lights are flashing, odessa’s getting reading to go on stage escorted by gill, and people are clamoring around to see her and ask questions.

“yes. love, care, family, all of the above. he does it because he wants you to be—“ zeus got cut off by his brother.

“better? more like you?”

“no, that isn’t what i’m saying.”

“but it’s what you’re thinking.”

“you don’t know what i’m thinking.”

“i bet i can guess what you’re thinking about right now.” hades jeers.

“and what is that?”

“wieners.”

zeus lets go of his stoicism and laughs, pushing his brother. “shut up,” it’s not hard enough to shove him to the ground but enough to jostle him. “i was not.”

“but you are now!” hades pushes him right back.

“yeah but it doesn’t count because you put the idea in my head!”

breaking them out of their goofy moment was a fan of odessa’s screaming loudly with a sign in hand, trying to get past the velvet ropes.

zeus steps in cordially, excusing the person away and asking folks to back up. he was good at this job. he was professional and chivalrous.

hades on the other hand was more of a brute when it come to asking people to move, putting his hands on shoulders and chests if they got too close.

which, unfortunately for everyone, happened all night long.

“did you see the way he looked me?” odessa says to gill while staring at the ceiling. she had a glass of red wine in one hand and the other rested on her chest, submerged in the water of the tub. her large tail hung out on the end of the tub, dripping onto the marble tiles of the hotel bathroom.

in gills opinion, the bathroom along with the rest of the hotel, was too stark white. too pristine and clean and perfect. he felt uncomfortable opening anything or touching anything, even when running the bath he made for odessa. he thinks everything is set up in a way that is so human. so capital.

it was all designed for them, not anomalies— but why would it be inclusive? they need not make bigger beds or bigger tubs or bigger doors. nor smaller rooms and smaller amenities. it’s not like an anomalies can ever stay here, or even come at all. its all human sized. luckily for them, they fit in (somewhat) perfectly but that wasn’t enough to make gill ever stop resenting humans secretly.

despite that, he had a job to do. they all had a job to do now. it was just the way the world worked, and if he denied the presidents offer to work under them as recruiters for an uprising, they’d be exposed to the public for what they truly were. gill: a glorified fish out of water with far too many scars. the twins: outcasts with parents in a tank, and odessa: a mind controlling monster with the body and face of a goddess. and not only them, all the other undetected shapeshifters who were god knows where, lingering around in the capital city. theres no telling what the angry freak-hating humans of the capital would do if they knew.

gill often wonders what life would be like if odessa never got captured that day. the president left the great walls in search of something that’d make a subtle, secret weapon. something with a voice so hypnotic and powerful that could entrance a whole city and mesmerize them, distract them from what really went on in the labs within the government buildings.

he had her in his net of the discrete fishery boat. it was a small operation, but a necessary one. she was handpicked from the other sirens also trying to attack the boat, their serpent eyes just above the water. the president had watched odessa, naked and struggling and tangled up in the net. the sky was gloomy and murky and the water was more so. she spoke and pleaded and sang all she could to force him to let her go, but the president took precautions and wore ear protection. he was immunized to her. he promised her fame and glory for her cooperation and if she were to say no, to not accept his offer, he’d “gut her like the fish she was”.

odessa’s fame came to her just as promised. she was a one hit wonder, an overnight sensation. only, the attention never subsided and her songs and public image only garnered more and more idolatry. thus, gill, an ex militant, came along as her arm. he was young, just out of his service. many shapeshifters who were naturally hybrids of strong breeds were forced into the human militia, sought after for their brute strength and mobility, and it happens all under unsuspecting civilians noses. for all they know, their city isn’t puppeteered by the president and there are no anomalies within the walls, working here under presidential rule.

“i did notice that.” gill responded from his stool by the door. no one is allowed in or out unless they’re apart of odessa’s team and gill would make sure of that. he would protect her no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing his own time to relax— which looked like him in a tub that couldn’t possibly hold even half of his shark tail. “relaxation” was that. again, not designed for anomalies.

she took another sip of her wine and smiled. “before we know it we’ll have the harrington’s heir apart of the president’s operation. hook, line, and sinker.” odessa smiled.

gill couldn’t help but to return it, feeling his cheeks turn up at her fishing-relevant joke. she always knows how to make light of a situation. in fact, it’s easier for her to do that than ever talk about what’s really bothering her.

he looked at odessa in the tub, watching her struggle with the weight of her glossy dark teal tail in a confinement too small for it. her hair was wet, just how he was always used to, and it’s length covered her exposed breasts. though, it wasn’t in gills nature to ever look.

“but what if he doesn’t join?” odessa cocked her head to him. “what if i can’t convince him? i mean we barely talked tonight.”

gill shook his head. “they’ll be more opportunities. more events. you’ll be able to.”

he was confident in what he was saying. there hasn’t ever been a man that odesaa wasn’t able to charm (aside from the president). part of it was her voice of course— sirens had the ability to hypnotize and manipulate. but also, part of it was her as an individual. she’s charming, bold. she’s a minx.

this dean character she’s meant to recruit will be no different than all the other men.

hopefully.

in one sudden move there was a loud bang on the other side of the wall. both of their heads turned toward it and then toward each other. gill slowly rose, his concern growing with each second. his hand reached for his gun holster, resting on it so he can easily pull it out right as he opened the bathroom door.

within a swift click, he latched open the door and pointed his gun.

“goddamn it-“ he tsked at his boys who were on the floor along with a hoard of pillows. by the looks of it they were playing their stupid “crash lander” game. it’s a game they made up when they were little and it can only be played in on-land hotels (it just doesn’t work in underwater hotels. gravity and whatnot). the point of crash lander was to make a landing pad out of pillows on the floor against the foot of the bed. each would take turns jumping on the bed, and the other was on the ground in a sniper position, closing one eye and pretending to shoot the other. the one on the bed would fall like a dead man onto the pillows. hades is better at doing the fall because he doesn’t have any sense of danger and won’t flinch or hesitate when he falls off. zeus always hesitates. the game has more to it than that and there’s a complex point system but no matter how many times they repeat the rules to gill, he just doesn’t get it. even after he spent 20 minutes teaching them how to actually get into a sniper position. it was his job in the military afterall, so he knew all about it.

they are strictly not allowed to play crash lander anymore on gills orders after last time. ever since zeus broke his collarbone hitting the wall, the game was “banned”. although, the twins disregard that and now zeus is only allowed to be the sniper, and hades, the deadman.

gill looked at his buzzed haired son, who was half upside down with his ass in the air looking straight back at gill sheepishly. he drew his lips in a thin line and lowered his gun back into its holster. “what did i tell you guys about crash lander?!”

“to not play it.” zeus said, not making eye contact. hades just rolled his eyes at his brothers immediate tail tuck and unfurled from his position on the pilows. he rubbed his head a little from where he bonked it on the wall, earning a concerned glare from gill. before he could get scolded, hades beat him to it.

“gill. we’re fine, my head’s fine, you can untwist your panties.”

there was a stunned silence. a sort of “you did not just say that” vibe hung in the air. zeus’s mouth hung agape, gills eyes were wide and angry, and there was even a chuckle from the other side of the wall coming from the tub. odessa had heard him from the far side of the bathroom. she giggled as if she knew what was just about to go down.

“that’s it. you’re done. go into that room and think about what you just said.” gill pointed to the second bedroom attached to the first. it had two twin size beds it it.

“what am i? five?” hades laughed, picking up the pillows and tossing them on the king bed he took half of them from. “gill. cmon.”

gill didn’t budge, his expression stern and unmoving. “it was a joke.” hades smiled, throwing his hands around. he’s not serious, is? hades wondered.

“fine.” hades huffed, still not convinced gill was actually upset with him. he straighted out his black tank top and grey sweatpants before heading into the room, zeus following quietly.

gill hesitated on stopping him, wanting to tell him that only his brother is supposed to go in and have a time out, but they can’t be away from one another, and he knows that.

the two shut the door behind them and gill fixes his holster before coming back into the bathroom to odessa.

“you really set him straight that time,” odessa joked sarcastically. she was looking like it was about time to get out of the bath, her wine class emptied.

gill huffed and helped her out of the water to sit on edge the tub. her tail flopped in front of him and he grabbed a fluffy white towel to wipe it down.

“i didn’t know what else to do, it’s always the same routine— discipline and pushback.” he muttered, looking down. he sounded gruff but quieter than before.

odessa hummed while watching him dry her and her tail transformed back into human legs. her gaze ran up to his eyebrow scar, digging into his hairline rather offensively. gill was self conscious about it and odessa was the only person that knew that. this information came from a drunken conversation where the both of them laid on their backs, aimlessly floating on a secluded lake and night. it was when the twins were toddlers, just couple short years after he earned said scar. gill told her about his entire life on the lake, calmly.

putting a shark on its back is a known way to get them to relax. it’s then, and only then, when gill is relaxed. but it’s a blessing and a curse— it puts him in a state that is so vulnerable, emotionally and physically. he can’t easily break it either, like being on a strong sedative. his words just poured out him from a place so sensitive and raw, all with his tone being so casual.

he told her all about how he got the scar from a run in with a minotaur in the wild west. how the reason he went all the way out there to the driest place he could think of was to die. the heat would surely kill him and he wouldn’t have to think about caspian or pearl. or their two godforsaken twin boys who were only just calf’s.

he was naive, didn’t know the lay of the land. in the heat of the sun, gill was burning up as he stumbled upon a settlement. breaking and entering wasn’t his style but this oasis was his only option to survive after he changed his mind on death. he jumped the short barbed wire fence and crossed the yard, passing by a large peach tree. he plucked one and brought it up to his mouth, feeling the fuzz and sweet aroma wafting to his nose. normally, gill doesn’t like anything but meat or seafood, and fruits and vegetables were never his thing. but this peach, fuck, it was blessing. gill finished his peach in a few bites, finding a duck pond on the property and stripping down his clothes, spitting the peach pit out onto the ground.

in his naked vulnerability, gill slid into the pond and dunked his head underwater, immediately forming his fins and ears and larger than life shark tail. his near-heatstroke thirst made the dirty pond water taste like liquid gold and he drank and bathed until he was satisfied.

just before he was about to decide get out, he watched a white, plump duck waddle by. it looked like it wanted to jump in too, unaffected by the shark man that was wading in it.

gills mind was all over the place, constantly switching from don’t do it and do it. blindsided by the ferocious grumble of his belly, gills blackened eyes narrowed in on the fat duck, and he breached out of the water to grab it.

it began squawking like crazy, crazier than he had ever heard any duck sound, and he hesitated on killing it.

it was odd. normally he never had any hesitation with a kill. it was what he was trained to do, but this innocent little duck was in his grip still breathing.

there was a sudden loud noise coming from the big house on the property. the front door swung open with a slam.

gill had no idea anybody was home; much less an absolute unit of a minotaur that was now dashing his way. he had a baby in the pocket of his overalls like a bjorn and he gently took it out, setting it on the grass as a safe distance. he gave one look to the baby boy and it crawled to hide in the taller bits of grass.

once the minotaur came close enough to gill, gill noticed he wasn’t any old minotaur. he had the face of a man, and great big bull horns, along with a bull ring and cattle legs and feet.

he asked, “how did a shark find its way into my duck pond?”

gill gulped, releasing the duck. it squawked again and flapped its wings in an angry manner while running away. the bull man in front of gill was above average size. perhaps it was the angle that gill was, but even then he could tell the minotaur was over 7, maybe 8 feet tall. “i was thirsty..” was all gill could mutter out.

“thirsty? for duck shit infested water?”

gill looked around, swimming a bit farther away. he couldn’t admit to himself that he was scared but his body could. it fled.

“listen.” the man huffed, his shiny, heavy septum ring moving when he did, “if you want some water, or.. i dunno,” he scratched his head under the brim of his cowboy hat. “a beer, you can come in. but put your clothes back on, i got kids.”

gill nodded, not sensing any danger from the bull. he quickly pulled himself out of the water and dragged his heavy tail onto the ground. it collected dirt and grass, sticking to his wet scales. it’s times like this he most wished for towels. in the hot sun he dried up quickly, forming back into 100% man, and threw his dirty clothes back on.

the minotaur led him back to the house, which was even larger than gill had initially thought. it looked hand built, every log placed was intentionally stacked and intact, crafting a beautiful and grand western house. gill asked the man for his name and if he built this home himself while the minotaur leaned down to pick up the baby he put in the grass.

“beau.” he said to gill, looking at his cooing, cute baby. “and yes, everything you see on these 15 acres has been built with my own two hands.” beau gestured to his settlement before leading him into the house. they passed two big old dogs who slept on the porch.

of course it was warm and inviting— the interior vast and wooden and beautiful. his countertops were butcherblock, his floors a gorgeous, shiny oak, and handmade furniture placed everywhere.

there was a child standing at the top of the stairs, one sat at the table coloring, and another in the kitchen sorting vegetables. beau rounded them up to introduce to gill in order from oldest and tallest to smallest. gill was sat down in a chair at the table and given a beer, listening to beau proudly introduce his beloved kids.

first was adelaide, the oldest and tallest. she was 15 and had a muscular stature. “addie” they call her. she was a friesian cow hybrid, black and white spots blotting all over. she took care of a lot of the settlement along with her father.

the next was a 14 year old son, a goat hybrid. he was the same height but skinnier, and he wasn’t from the wild west. he came from a foreign country and he spoke with an accent. filipe was his name.

thirdly was rudy, a chubby bison boy with curly hair covering his eyes and the smallest, stubbiest nubs peaking through the crown of his head. he was no older than 5.

they all wore worn out and well loved clothes and had dirt on their faces that beau would probably get on their cases about later.

lastly, there was the baby at just 18 months old. “baby cole” they call him.

“and what is he?”

beau smiled and placed him into a play pen. “minotaur, just like his pop.”

“oh! where’s.. um,” gill tapped the table and looked around, not aware that he was being invasive.

“my wife? she’s um.. she’s out right now.” beau said with a complete change of tone. it was deeper and somber. almost offended. he turned around to look at gill at the table.

“outside?”

“in town. errands. she’ll be home in the evening.”

gill let it go. throughout the day and into the late evening, he stayed with beau and learned the ways of their family as a guest.

he watched them collect eggs from the chickens, water the vast garden, and harvest the fruit from the peach tree when the sun kissed the horizon goodnight, painting the sky shades of oranges and pinks. gill made sure to point out to beau that the peaches were delicious later around the fire.

it was then when the topic of the minotaur’s wife returned. it was her peach tree. she planted 16 long summers ago when the house was finished being built.

“the tree is dying.” beau said, his face illuminated against the glow of the fire. they were outside and cactus owls cooed in the distance.

“dying?”

“i knew it’d happen soon after brooke passed on. peach trees don’t live that long anyway.”

gill realized this man’s wife wasn’t in town and she wasn’t coming home.

beau held back showing any emotion in his voice, wanting to not get choked up in front of a stranger. gill could tell it was particularly tough on him, so he shared his own story.

pearl was the most beautiful woman gill had known. on the outside and the inside. interspecies love wasn’t illegal but it was looked down upon for its risk of potential child mutations. the bad kind of mutations were it affects the child’s brain. gill couldn’t do that to her, or her offspring, so he went to his best friend.

he told his friend to marry her, the two of them both being the same species and ability to form a pod. orcas. they had two children, twins, before pearl and her husband got taken by humans to be transported to their sea themed amusement park.

he never saw pearl again, apart from when he’d look into the eyes of the twins he was forced to look after.

beau thought gills pain was real. raw. new? where were his twin boys? he wondered, so he simply asked. gill was ashamed to answer that he left them with his only family, his older cousin francine. “aunt franny.”

“and you can’t live out of water. can you?” it wasn’t a question because he knew the answer, beau side eyed his duck pond. earlier the ducks swam happily in it now that the shark man wasn’t occupying it.

“not for long, no.”

“then go back. be a man.”

“excuse me?”

“they need you, gillian.” beau smiled, looking at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the fire. it was weakening, signaling that it was time for beau to come back inside and check on his kids. addie would have everything covered at this time but he still did his rounds.

“i can’t just go back.”

“you can. and you will. repurpose your energy.” he furrowed his brows. “your love. you may think losing her means you lost everything but i can tell you that isn’t true. she’s here,” beau tapped his finger on gills chest, right on his heart. “and her boys need you.”

gill stirred in his seat on the fireplace chairs, watching beau’s earnest expression. the man was too fucking large for gills comfort.

“go.”

too much silence went by. when beau noticed gill couldn’t make up his mind, he gave up. as he began to stand, gill did too in that moment, realizing that maybe he should go home and repurpose his energy into care for what was left of what he loved. what gill didn’t account for though was coming into direct contact with beaus sharp horn, cutting through his eyebrow with a sudden pierce as they bumped into one another.

gill hadn’t noticed he was that badly hurt until beaus face was cold and bled seeped into his eye. it was an accident, a mistake.

but beau would never forgive himself— not after they cleaned and bandaged him, not after gill assured him it was okay and doused him in praise and thanks for all the hospitality and insight beau offered— nothing would make up for the way he felt so bad about leaving that scar on gills head.

it’d be there forever as a reminder for how gill ran away.

gill held odessa’s calf and explained that he just doesn’t know what to do anymore with hades. zeus, it’s another story— he’s an angel. the golden child.

“why don’t you have a heart to heart?”

“he won’t listen to me,” gill turns around and hands his boss her clothes.

“have you tried?”

“well…” gill found many interesting corners of the room to occupy himself so he wouldn’t accidentally look up and see her changing in the mirror. “no, but i just know him. he won’t want to listen.”

a few moments went by while she slid on her silky nightgown. odessa never wore pants. she didn’t own a single pair and probably never will purchase any. why would a siren?

“why’s that?” she says, all dressed and looking for her bag. she walks out of the bathroom in search of her hairbrush, and gill follows.

“because that’s just how he is! i swear, that kid is trying to piss me off. everyday.”

“im sure that’s not true.”

“it is.” gill hands her the hairbrush in her bag that he got to first. it’s on her bed across from his— the one that just got mutilated from crash lander. “it’s always some new thing that he does that gets me agitated. like this,” he gestures to the mess they made while playing their game.

“i think you’re just worried. because remember what happened with zeus and that game?” she also gestured to it.

“that is exactly why i don’t want them playing it!”

odessa dropped her hands and tossed her brush into her bag again, climbing into the tucked white sheets. gill stood above her and tucked her in, telling her goodnight.

“gill.”

he shut his eyes. no.

he could feel it coming. the trance he was about to be put in. odessa uses her magic on him when he’s particularly antsy, and tonight is one of those nights. he gave her his word that it was okay to do it to him as long as it served their higher good, but the contract was so tight and binding that even if he wants to go back on his word— to not let her entrance him— he couldn’t.

“talk to them. talk to him.”

gill was lulled. he moved softly, controlling his own mind and body but feeling more at ease, more compliant. odessa could make anybody feel like this, but it worked particularly good on younger human men. gill was only one of those categories. a man.

he knocked on the boys’ door and heard zeus say come in. the twins sound identical but gill knows the difference. he could identify them no matter the circumstance; entranced or not.

he gently pushed the door open and saw zeus on his bed, his black hair down and unbraided. he changed into his plaid pj’s instead of what he had on earlier, a done up suit and tie. zeus often doesn’t like to change out of clothes like how hades does. the man goes nuts for getting into comfortable clothing as soon as he gets home.

“hey,” zeus said, looking up from his book. his little book-light illuminated his nose scar in a way that saddened gill to look at.

“hi buddy,” he whispered in response, noticing the bed to the left was occupied by a sleeping hades. or so he thought.

zeus nodded in hades direction with a certain glance that told gill everything he needed to know. with easy steps, he walked over to hades and sat on the edge of the bed, dipping them down.

hades wasn’t sleeping, just staring at the wall tiredly. he didn’t flinch when gills hand touched his arm.

“kiddo.”

“hm?”

“what’s up?”

hades rolled over even further so his face got muffled into the pillows. “nothing” he mumbled.

gill pulled his shoulder back, turning him. “talk to me.”

it was hurtful reaction, what hades did. he yanked himself away and sat up against the headboard, feeling frustrated and confused.

his feelings were not easy to talk about and he doesn’t have outlets or sources to figure them out. well, he has zeus but hades wasn’t mature enough to explain how he only wants gill to be proud of him.

“i can’t.” hades choked out, still not making eye contact.

“why not?”

the sound of zeus shutting his book was so quiet and subtle but gill caught it, knowing his other son was behind them on his own bed listening to what was about to happen.

“because you never listen.”

“i do listen.”

“no,” hades huffed, his chest showing that his heart rate rose by a few extra beats. “you don’t.”

“i am right now. tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it, kiddo.”

“we can’t fix it. you never listen to me because you don’t take me seriously.”

“i do take you seriously hades. why do you think i bring you along on missions?”

“because you can’t leave me alone?”

..it was true. hades was right— cannot and will not separate the twins.

gill sighed. it was long and full of exhaustion. as if exhaling was the solution, it opened up the floodgates of emotion. the reason was unknown and he didn’t have the means to have tears well up in his eyes until hades said something that broke him.

“why don’t you love me, dad?”

it was spoken through tears of his own. hades was wiping his face with such embarrassment and frustration that he couldn’t face anything, he turned to the wall once more.

gill was shocked, his heart beat out of his chest and escaped through his hung agape mouth. his eyebrows were so close to his eyes that his lashes brushed against them.

“how could you say that?” he whispered. “i love you more than anything.”

“then why do you treat zeus better than me? you give all your attention to him.” hades didn’t care that his brother was right there and listening. laying flat on his back and lost in heavy thought.

“hades. look at me.”

hades didn’t want to but he instinctively turned his head to listen and look at him. what he saw broke his own heart too. the two of them were just on such a different page but in this moment they were alike.

alike in the way that both of them know they’re misunderstanding one another, and that life doesn’t have to be this way.

“you remind me so much of myself when i was your age.”

for once, hades had nothing to say.

“but you also, you both,” he turned to zeus too. “remind me so much of your parents. you look just like them. you’ve got..” gill took hades’ head in his hands and smushed his cheeks, earning a giggle from him. “your mothers eyes.”

gill didn’t want to admit that giggle was like a pink bandaid on his heart, hearing his boy laugh like he was little again.

“and you, zeus, your dads nice old nose.”

zeus touched his scarred up nose, happy to know that gill sees it as beautiful when all others see is something scary.

gill dropped his hands. sighing this time but it was the inhale that gave him peace. satisfaction.

he and hades might not be on the exact same page, but they were getting close, perhaps the same chapter.

“i do love you, hades.”

[iknowimdespicableme]

An Introduction to my Searing, Scorching, Blistering original characters.

Wiljem:

"A stranger stared back at him [in the mirror] with a cold gaze and the beginnings of a beard. He traced the uncanny person’s face, from the sharp chin to the piercing cheekbones. It almost looked like a skeleton, with the near absence of cheeks. The only color on its face was in its intense eyes, but even there the color was dull."

A middle child made the oldest thanks to tragedy, Wiljem is Taher’s brother. He used to be quietly positive, a homebody who ignored responsibility. When his safety net, his family, was ripped away from him, he was thrust into a leadership position and was suddenly solely liable for Taher’s survival. On top of this, Taher reveals his abilities as an avatar of the sun. This is normal in their home country but something which is being persecuted after being conquered by a neighboring, much more powerful, country. He travels far away from all he used to know to protect Taher, and now must battle his mental health issues, their poverty, and Taher’s growing itch for independence.

Taher:

"Into the light of the room, illuminated with a few dozen candles, walked a boy with bright eyes and a sharp nose. His face was expressive, with his eyes soft, eyebrows raised, and lips suggesting a smile."

Taher was too young to know his parents when they were alive. He grew up on the move with his two older brothers, Wiljem and Tirakem, inching to the border of the newly conquered territory and, hopefully, to safety. His brothers shielded him so well from the horrors surrounding them, that he was able to mature properly. Then, only a couple days from the port that would take them far away, Tirakem got sick and passed quickly. In his grief, Taher let out the brilliant light of an avatar of the sun, which alerted the conquerors to his existence. Without Tirakem, Taher was hit full force with the reality of their situation. Now, comfortably out of the country for years, Taher pushes and prods at Wiljem to let go of the past and stop treating him like a child. When refused, he takes matters into his own hands. 

Liizesk:

"She was a shorter woman, with old scars painted across her body. Especially up her arms and by her nose, freckles stood out against the pale of her skin. She looked young, about Wiljem’s age. Maybe only a little bit older. Pale blonde hair was parted in the middle of her scalp, and ran down to just above her neck. It was cut at a sharp line. Precise."

Liizesk was a part of the high society of the colonizing country, a noblewoman. She spent her life being comfortable and doted on, described as the greatest beauty the country had seen in a long time. She was on the way up from her already high status. Then, she fell madly in love with another noblewoman. They got to know each other, slowly, and well within the confines of societal expectations. They both knew that they were in love. Soon, Liizesk got a marriage proposal from a promising prospect, but they had both agreed to become spinsters, so she turned it down. She was shunned, but she ignored it because she was happy. Or, she was, until she found out that her lover had not turned her proposal down. Furious and ostracized, Liizesk confronted her. The other noblewoman apologized profusely and shared that she was only going to be married to him for a year in order to get enough money for Liizesk and her to run off together and live comfortably. For a year, Liizesk waited. She never came. Who came instead? The police, accusing her of homosexuality. She fled, and now has a seething fury beneath her eyes always. She joined and clawed her way to the top of the black market to keep herself safe.

Rahn:

"The right half of their body was tan, small and infrequent cicatrices running up their body. Their left side, however, was horribly blackened with scars. They looked charred. Running from their fingertips to their shoulder, up their neck and to their face, it looked as if someone had left them in the oven for too long."

Born of an unwilling marriage between a colonizing soldier and a colonized avatar of the dark, Rahn’s mother hid them in the dark’s domain, a forest that colonizers were too afraid to enter. Rahn was raised by the souls of their ancestors buried there. About a decade later, the colonizing country realized they could weaponize the dark by torturing avatars of said magick. Rahn had to flee and worked with the ancestors to try and stop the dark from becoming dangerous or engulfing towns that wouldn’t survive it. Each time, the angry and confused dark domain stained more and more of their body. When they were near death, getting weaker every day, their family forced them away to forge their own path. Lonely, they made quick friends with Aire and Liizesk and now participated in the black market to keep themself from being too bored and to use their magick on the down low. 

Aire: 

"Tall and muscular, the voice belonged to a towering man. Only barely shorter than Wiljem, he held himself straight-backed and confidently. He had blue-inked tattoos all over his body. Waves on his arms, sweeping, detailed designs along his chest, and smaller symbols on his neck. Within some tattoos, there seemed to be sentences written in a language [Wiljem] couldn’t understand."

Aire lived on a string of islands largely untouched by the main colonizing country for a long time. He enjoyed his community, a large family of interconnected clans. Days were usually warm and the ocean was cold. Honesty, selflessness, and positivity were the pillars of his life. The islands wherein he lived held the perfect environment for planting a specific plant that the colonizing country had run out of space for. Once discovered, the islands were ransacked. Of course they fought and tried to discuss and grieved, the wars waged for 6 years. But, Aire’s people cared about their people more than the land, while the colonizers were willing to throw away thousands of lives for the cause. So, they lost. They were given to the next full moon to leave or assimilate. Aire was one of the last to leave and a raging storm separated him from his community. Making friends at his new harbor where they had agreed to meet if they lived, he is a part of black market to support Liizesk and Rahn. 

Jeb: 

"The young, dark haired Jeb responded, letting a lazy smirk rest on their face comfortably. Leaning against the bar casually, they looked towards Wiljem. With that flash of teeth and dimples, the overwhelming screams of loosing bets faded away."

Jeb grew up in this country, in this massive port city. He was raised in the orphanage, never adopted, and now spends his time oscillating between his 3 jobs and sleeping, with the occasional lover joining him in the bed. He is a caring and intuitive person who is never quite looking past tomorrow. He met Wiljem on a cold night and was immediately smitten. The two dance around each other, unsure what the other wants, while Jeb worries about Wiljem’s wildly fluctuating moods and memory. 

Tirakem:

"Tirakem had more freckles than [Wiljem] did. While Wiljem preferred helping around the house, Kemmie was out in the sun, playing and adventuring more often. He was older, too, and he refused to cut his hair. As it got longer over the years, it lost some of its curl to the weight of it. He also had more scars, known to be less careful than any of his family members. But, it strengthened him."

Tirakem was the firstborn of the family and spent his days running through the hills by the house, following foxes to rivers and collecting rocks. He was always dirty, cut, and smiling. When Wiljem was born, he channeled that energy into protection, bringing home berries to eat and sticks to stoke the fire with. His parents only trusted him with the information that Wiljem was an avatar of the moon, but to keep it quiet as the war marched ever closer, even from the boy himself. When the next boy was born, Tirakem was training to fight. But, when the time came, he was too late. His parents were slaughtered, but he was ready to take on the role of guardian as his father gave him instructions on how to flee and the knowledge that Taher was an avatar as well, of the sun. Stressed constantly and selfless to a fault, a virus latched onto him and ate at him for months before becoming evident a few days from the border. His last thoughts were sorrow, that he could not do what he promised his father, and glee, to see his parents again.

[diamonds-dont-sparkle-they-shine]

Also also also

When Adam/Demetri return - Adam goes to see her in the library (Oh wow how coincidental it is that Caius is tehre as well!)

And she was wearing Adam's jacket (because he told her to keep his jacket near her so that his scent will drive any other vampires from her) and when they see each other awwww Evangeline gets a little sappy because YOU'RE ALIVE MY GOD YOU'RE ALIVE AND YOU LOOK WELL AND HAPPY EXCEPT THE SHIRT YOU'RE WEARING LOOKS HIDEOUS ON YOU BUT OKAY YOU'RE ALIVE

And she tells him when he notices his jacket that she listened to him and he asks if she had any trouble and she says not much, she was doing okay, spent most of her time in the library (with her jacket dw) and then her prison room and she sat in the garden sometimes but not for very long because she didn't want to intrude on Marcus -

And he tells her well he's glad his jacket was of use... but he came at a right time because the jacket had now begun to smell less of him and more of her. (And then he smiles Caius on the jacket and he's staring daggers on Caius.)

Cue Evangeline coming up with "oh, I was getting a bit hot so I took it off and left it on Caius's chair." Sounds convincing. Save for Caius's smile and bloody eyes. (Adam's are near black.) "Then I got cold and put it back on." Adam asks "why would Caius let you use his chair" and she sputters because well it isn't his chair but he sat down on it a bit after so his scent must have gone onto it and - then she becomes quiet, seeing the stare off between Caius and Adam. And she just quietens down and Adam is like, all quiet and threatening and his voice is low as he asks, "Now why would you lie to me?"

And before Evangeline can say anything, Felix comes in like a fucking saving grace telling Adam that Heidi organized some food for them - and Adam would like a blood bag but Felix tells him it's either the human or nothing. And Adam doesn't want to terrorise Evangeline by eating someone in front of her (though he thinks that he could make it a very swift death- but still, Evangeline's taken a step away from him and has already said, "You should go... feed. Maybe you'll feel a bit better.") He knows his harsh words and question has hurt her - but her lying to him has hurt him. He feels like a disappointed father, and he tells Felix he'll come then.

But before he leaves he presses a kiss to the crown of Evangeline's forehead in a "watch out I'm her dad and I could SO whip your ass if you displace one strand of hair on her head." (Caius does. Displace. Many. Hairs. And all Adam does is seethes. Especially when he asks her in private - regarding the Volturi master, and she tells him nothing has happened. But he tells her he knows she's lying, and he's only worried for her because of Athenadora.)

That's when Evangeline realises oh fuck this man he's married??? And she's distraught because ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN THE OTHER WOMAN.

Cue Evangeline ignoring Caius after this. Even though she constantly thinks of him - she ignores him. Until he comes to her one night and traps her in her bed with his body and she's slightly afraid that he'll bite her and drain her dry - before she tells him she won't allow him to make her the other woman -

And Caius is like ehhhh before she slaps him across the face, and she's angry and tears are in her eyes and she says, "I mean it. Get. Out."

Caius doesn't get out. He stays in the room. He tells her she doesn't know what she's talking about.

She fights - like, she's upset and throws things at him but he won't leave. He's calm. It frightens her - not really though, she's just afraid because he's never been so quiet, she doesn't know how to act with this quiet of his. Usually -usually he'd express some annoyance at her when she did the smallest things wrong, but now, her she was, doing everything wrong (throwing things at him, crying even a bit), and he wasn't expressing any anger towards her.

But yeah Caius acts all high and mighty like I don't have to explain myself to you and Evangeline is like this fucking bitch. And Caius is like acting all nonchalant thinking that oh she'll be fine after a couple months or years I don't need t oexplain anything to her because that takes time and is boring and I'd rather be doing something fun like idk

And yeah no Evangeline refuses to talk to him - so she decides not to.

And then, after the hybrid kids have been brought to the Kings, and they sort that shit out, Evangeline is allowed to leave with Adam, on the condition that she be turned by St Marcus's day of that year, and she come to them within the next year to present her new self.

And Caius is like eh, it's only a year or two.

Meanwhile Evangeline when she's a vampire is just like Caius is a cunt - and Adam is so irritated because like why won't you get over him come onnnnn.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

wc: 647. another wip excerpt! season’s greasons, dashboard, season’s greasons.

//

“Ew,” says Toshinori feelingly, trying not to look at whatever the hell is happening between his mentor and his mentor’s… ex? This is like the third one. “This is so—gross, Gran Torino.”

“Could you shut up?” Gran Torino demands.

“Not until you stop flirting with the villains!”

“I’m not flirting.”

While pinned to the ground with her face smushed to the asphalt, the slinky, definitely flirtatious ex of Gran Torino still manages to affect a dignified pout. “I didn’t even get to take you out this time,” she says, and Toshinori is almost offended on Gran Torino’s behalf, because there has been a legitimate moment when the woman’s Quirk (mutation, Spring-Heeled, extraordinarily useful in fleeing most pro-heroes with the exception of aerial-based ones) had landed her solidly against the pro-hero’s body, and the momentum had had Gran Torino staggering backwards until he wrenched the villain around and down.

Gran Torino proceeds to say, “Sorry, sweetheart, but I think we both know your nights weren’t free for the taking.”

So Toshinori doesn’t feel bad at all, trying to retch by the sidelines.

“Who’s the kid?”

“An idiot,” says Gran Torino, and he directs at Toshinori, “Hey, idiot, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to kick your ass in training.”

“You already do that,” Toshinori protests. “If you don’t stop—whatever you’re doing—I’m gonna tell oshishou on you. Does she already know? Why is she cool with this?!”

“He’s high-strung,” the villain comments, and actually hums with delight when Gran Torino hoists her up onto her feet.

“Stop letting me catch you,” Gran Torino says sternly. “You’re smarter than this.”

“But Torino-san, it’s just so much easier to do villainy when I have a right-hand man.”

Toshinori puffs up with outrage. “Gran Torino’s already someone’s right-hand man!”

She jerks her head to look at Toshinori, missing the ‘cut that shit out’ gesture across the throat that Gran Torino sends. A fierce glare has Toshinori quailing. “Whose?” she demands. “Was it Vanitas, that bastard? We agreed on a fucking order!”

There’s a fourth. Because Toshinori knows Gran Torino will clam up and refuse to tell him anything not pertinent to his education (already a questionable stance, when Torino spent a whole hour insisting to Toshinori about how of course a wind-up punch produced more force than a standard one, only to make fun of him for using it in the middle of a spar with Nana), he lies to the villain’s face. With zero compunction, he tells her, “Someone totally new. Way beyond your standards.”

“And that’s enough out of you,” snaps Gran Torino. “Go find an officer. Don’t come back until you’ve got one.”

/

“Gran Torino,” Toshinori says loudly, and there is a visible burst of air from his mentor as Torino reverses direction, an intent to throttle Toshinori clear in his gritted jaw. “Don’t people know you’re engaged?”

The sixth villain of the night comes to a complete stop. Even his Quirk goes still. “Engaged?” he echoes, sounding heartbroken. “Since when? To whom? Sato didn’t say anything about that.”

Sato. How is Toshinori supposed to keep track of all these names?! He ducks a little too late to avoid Gran Torino’s grab for his cape, and he shrieks at the dig of knuckles through his hair.

“You are grounded,” seethes Torino.

“He’s your child?” The villain looks between them. Unbelievably, his misconception provides a second reserve of strength. “Torino-san… I thought I detected a fatherly instinct about you…” And then the villain bites his bottom lip, shuffles his feet.

Gran Torino is speechless.

Toshinori feels like throwing up again, except he’ll probably aim for Torino’s boots this time. Worst patrol ever!! What the heck!! This can’t possibly be normal for Gran Torino, because doesn’t he have to write all these interactions down in the patrol reports? Wouldn’t at least two of these villainous exes raise a red flag?

do you have any sorahiko headcannons you'd like to share? :)

Not particularly, but I do have a snippet of an 'Exes of Gran Torino Club' fic I'm having fun with:

wc: ~800 | Toshinori's POV (trying out an narration where he isn't calling Nana by 'oshishou' internally) | Lots of flirtatious implications. Working structure of this fic is 'Toshinori's No-Good Horrible Bad Evening Improves When He Remembers He Can Stir Shit Up.'

//

Times like these, Toshinori is grateful that his growth spurts haven’t sent him past Gran Torino’s shoulders yet. He can still hide behind his and Nana’s capes when the time calls for it. Like now.

Gran Torino shifts just enough that he is leaning an elbow against the grimy wooden bar, and his cape covers any gap that might reveal Toshinori. He cocks his head and greets the stranger with a warm, “Hey. Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“And whose fault is that?” the stranger returns. Toshinori frowns to himself—he thinks he heard something in the stranger’s voice, but surely…?

“Monk Kong’s,” says Torino blithely.

“Ah, you’re right. One of the most inconvenient men I’ve had to suffer in my life. He lectured me the whole time about a virtuous lifestyle before the cops pulled up.” Toshinori registers the slide of heavy-soled boots on a sticky floor, and he bristles at hearing the stranger sidle closer. “Think he knows one of his own lives a life of sin?”

“What happens when the cape’s off is my own business.”

“Yet here you stand, all buttoned up.”

He can’t witness in silence anymore, but he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t want to see who Gran Torino might be, god, fraternizing with off the record. Nana wouldn’t stand for this anyways. He’s her successor in all the important ways, which means he’s responsible for Gran Torino not hooking up with someone while on patrol. Toshinori tugs a handful of yellow fabric, only to get blindly slapped back by a thickly-gloved hand.

“Who’s he?” he hisses anyway.

“Shut up,” Torino hisses back.

“A little tag-along?”

Gran Torino sighs, but pointedly doesn’t move aside to reveal Toshinori. “Intern. Don’t mind him. Some stuff you gotta learn on the job, and speaking of, I’m here to talk about the recent break-out. Any clues as to where they are?”

“Torino-kun,” says the stranger fondly, “you know better than anyone that information like that doesn’t come for free. Can’t you sweeten the pot? For old time’s sakes?”

This is unreal. What’s happening? Toshinori mouths the last fragmented leading hint to himself and blanches, and he musters the strength to peek around Gran Torino. The stranger is maybe as tall as Gran Torino, but with light hair pulled back into a ponytail, an unshaven square jaw with a dark tattoo blooming across his cheekbone, and most notably, the missing joint of a pinky finger curled around the glass, the leftover stub bandaged over.

The stranger tips his head in acknowledgment of Toshinori’s staring, and Gran Torino actually shifts position to cut off the line-of-sight.

“You’re dealing with me,” Torino answers. “Considering who else could be shaking you down for details, the pot’s sweetened already.” He leans forward a little and tips his own head. While he softens his voice, Toshinori can still discern what he says: “I’m on a new patrol schedule. You’re lucky I can fit a meeting with you in before I really gotta work, Arashi.”

Like hell!! Toshinori quivers angrily as Arashi laughs, low, and for no apparent justification at all (what is Toshinori learning from this experience?! That Gran Torino flirts with his informants?! That informants are acquired by dating history?!) tells Gran Torino that he only knows ‘Tomoe’ is setting up shop in the business district.

“She’s gotta diversify her portfolio,” says Torino disapprovingly. “I told her that she’s too reliant on routine to carry her through the first week, and she still goes and rounds up her old bookies like the previous arrest meant nothing.”

“Hey,” says Arashi, “maybe this time she won’t use her Quirk, and you’ll just let the cops nab her.”

“Tomoe’s too set in her ways for that. Geez… Thanks, Arashi. Be seeing you.”

“Going to leave me so soon?”

Amusement bleeds into Torino’s tone. “Maybe if you told me about the rest of the escapees, I’d get the job done fast enough to return. But you aren’t, so I’m off.” A break in conversation, an audible clink of ice in glass, and clearly, by the toss of Torino’s head, he is drinking on the job--! 

It could be worse. It could be worse. All he has to tell himself is that it could be so much worse, and Toshinori will survive tonight to tattle so, so much on Gran Torino.

The glass is set down on the bar. Gran Torino says, “Low-proof. Good. Glad to know someone takes my advice.” He turns around before he bothers to hear Arashi’s response and scowls at Toshinori, ushering him to move. “Let’s go. Roofs, now.”

 “Oh, you’re done?” Toshinori says, scathing.

“Roofs,” says Torino, unbothered but more firmly. “Now.”Toshinori goes, if only because he doesn’t think Arashi should have additional insight into Torino’s life. No, that man can definitely stay here, in this dingy divebar, swilling his low-proof alcohol and looking--shady! God, he doesn’t think Gran Torino has anyone virtue for Toshinori and Nana to protect, but he refuses to let that interaction charge any further.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @simp-for-slasher​. Ohhh, let me tell you, I have so many more ideas for Billy. 😉 But for now, enjoy this request, everyone!

Words: 1768 Warnings: break up

Tires screeched behind you in the parking lot but you had no mind to turn around to possibly avoid getting run over by a careless driver. Disappointment, anger and grief turned you both blind and deaf when you stormed out of the Arcade. Your eyes were burning up with tears as you slid down one of the pillars and hugged your knees.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. The fact that your so-called boyfriend had been cheating on you repeatedly all the while you had worked your arse off to afford the deposit for what was going to be your shared house had you seething and, more importantly… broken.

And according to him, you should just “fucking accept it” because you were “the woman in the relationship” and you “ought to respect he had to act on his primal urges while you took care of the rest”. At this point, you might as well become a lesbian. Men were all arseholes—just a bunch of sexist, ignorant and narrow-minded…

“You alright there?” Wiping your face, you looked up to find another one of their species standing right in front of you. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and his presumably expensive Denim outfit complimented his blonde hair. A three-day beard completed his appearance. He was handsome. Ironically, the most handsome men were often arseholes too.

Oh, just perfect. You recognised him. It was Billy Hargrove. He’d moved here from California with his step-sister Max. Rumour had it he was quite the cavalier among the women here in Hawkins, and that was despite how he treated Max and the fact he appeared to have rather racist tendencies.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you snapped. “Leave me alone, Billy.”

“You don’t look fine.” Surprisingly, he didn’t sound as aggressive as usual. Quite on the contrary. Billy took off his sunglasses to reveal what resembled actual concern.

“What happened? Was it your boyfriend? I saw him leave the Arcade through the back door with a sluttily dressed bitch.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” was all you said in response.

“About time. That shithead wasn’t treating you right. Fucked another girl every night.” You failed to suppress the sob that tore through you upon hearing those words. But of course, Billy Hargrove would know. He was in the first line whenever one of the teens threw a party here to fuck, drink and get high.

“Yeah, thanks,” you remarked sarcastically.

“You want me to beat him up for you? I’ll beat him up.”

You paused, flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me the first time,” Billy replied and pressed his lips together to a thin line. Then, much to your surprise, he bent down to look you directly in the eye.

“No! No. Don’t beat him up. No violence. He’s not worth it. I won’t even waste another breath on him.”

Billy stared at you for a moment. “Okay. Do you have a ride home?”

You didn’t. You’d come here with your boyfriend and spent all of your change on the Arcade machines before your fight. You’d have to walk home at this point unless you managed to bribe the bus driver.

“I’ll figure something out, just leave me alone.”

“I’ll drive you. Get in my car. I have two hours before I have to pick up my redhead pest again.”

You scoffed. “Aren’t you a nice big brother?”

“I’m not really her brother. Get up, I’ll drive you,” he repeated. He didn’t even expect you to protest so it appeared. So you rolled your eyes, ignoring the hand he offered to help you get up.

“Fine,” you mumbled. It was probably better than walking for thirty minutes. At least in the flip-flops you were currently wearing.

You got into Billy’s car, albeit reluctantly, ignoring the looks of two young girls when they spotted you with him. It was more than likely they thought you were his latest conquest. You scoffed once more. Hooking up with Billy Hargrove was most certainly the last thing on your mind right now, his good looks be damned.

Billy spat the chewing gum he’d had in his mouth on the asphalt and then got into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life when he twisted the key and pulled out of the parking lot. You fastened your seatbelt just in case. He wasn’t exactly known for reasonable speeds.

“You know where I live, right?” You asked after a few moments of silence. Relaxed, Billy stirred the car with his head slightly tilted.

“Yeah,” he said—and then, he took a turn to the right, further away from the street you lived in.

“Then where the hell are you driving?!” Your heart skipped a beat. For just a split second, your mind jumped to a horrific scenario in which Billy abducted you and locked you up in an abandoned building but then again… those two girls had surely not been the only ones seeing you climbing into Billy Hargrove’s car with your face still wet from tears.

“I know. I thought you might be hungry, I’m taking you someplace to eat.” Blinking, you stared at him, unbelieving. “Surfer Boy Pizza okay? There aren’t a lot of good restaurants in this shithole.”

“You’re old enough now to leave if you hate it so much here…” You sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed. You sighed once more.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” And I can’t believe I’m doing this, you added silently.

Your tears had dried up a little by now at least. Billy had successfully managed to distract you, you had to give him that—even though you were unsure what his end goal was here.

Once he had his car all parked up and beckoned you towards the restaurant with a quick movement of his head, the question mark in your head grew bigger and bigger.

He sat you both down in a quiet corner and shoved the menu towards you before choosing something for yourself.

“Pick something, I’m paying.” Your eyebrows shot up. You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that so you remained silent until a waitress approached you to take your orders. You went for a corndog and a coke, Billy ordered a large portion of fries and a beer for himself. He wasn’t wrong—your anger towards your now ex-boyfriend had made you hungry.

“I’m not such an asshole, you know,” he suddenly said.

“Then why do you always act like one?” You raised an eyebrow but Billy remained unfazed.

“I offered to drive you home after I found you crying outside of the Arcade and now I’m buying you lunch. How am I acting like an asshole right now? Because I don’t like certain people here? I have a right to.” He ignored the waitress who returned with your drinks at that moment.

“Well, for starters, you could’ve said ‘thank you’ to the person kind enough to serve you something just now. And what do you mean by ‘you have a right to dislike certain people’?” You tilted your head. “I know what you said about the Sinclairs, you know, I’m not stupid.”

“So what?”

“It’s ridiculous. You judge people based on a biological phenomenon where their cells produce more melanin than ours to protect itself from the sun in hot climate.”

“Alright, thank you,” he stressed once the waitress put your food on your table. She scurried away irritated. “Listen, doll, if I had wanted a science lesson I would have asked. I was wrong about the Sinclair boy, is that what you wanna hear? You could just say ‘thank you’ as well instead of complaining.”

“What’s your plan, Billy?” You asked. He shrugged in response and snatched up a fry to eat.

“I told you. I’m not a complete asshole.”

“No. You barely know me. And now you bought me lunch. I appreciate that, Billy, but this day is not going to end with me in your bed.”

“Why do you think that’s what I’m planning?”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

You shifted on your seat when he smirked. Despite everything, he certainly did not fail to make an impact on you.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t exactly make a great first impression when I came to Hawkins.”

“Am I sensing humbleness? Or is that an allergic reaction to your fries?” With a sly grin, you finally bit into your corndog. Oh, you really had been hungry.

“Listen…” You shivered when Billy spoke your name. “I may not be the gentleman you expect but I think you’re beautiful. I’ve been watching you for a while… in a…” He paused, smiling to himself. “…not at all creepy way, I mean. I saw you at the pool a lot in summer and… around here. Always with that douchebag of a boyfriend. I might as well shoot my shot now. My usual flattery doesn’t work on you either. I kinda like that.”

“So… you’re saying that…”

“I like you. Believe it or not, seeing you cry on the ground because of that prick did something to me and that feels fucking strange. So how about you let me call this a date and I distract you from your ex-boyfriend for a while and then maybe I’ll call you tomorrow after I brought you back home safely?” Billy sounded so confident it felt like it was already decided. He’d made the first step, admitted his crush on you and now, demandingly and in a very Billy-way, he asked for your permission to take you out. Which he was doing already right now anyway.

You took a deep breath. This was a really bad idea. What did they always say? When it rains it pours? You had a feeling that if you were not careful with this flame, it would burn you and break what was left of your heart at this point. And yet, you found yourself nodding.

“Alright, Hargrove. You get this one night. No sex. You bring me home before midnight. Until then… go right ahead, distract me.” You leaned back and took another bite of your corndog.

“And…” You swallowed. “I should… probably apologise to you for drawing conclusions too early.”

Billy smirked. “I deserved it. I guess I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“You’re not really sorry though, are you?”

“Not yet… but I got a feeling I will be if I do end up calling you tomorrow.” You grinned. He’d certainly have to put in a lot of work to convince you. But something told you that underneath all of that arrogance, he could, potentially, be a nice guy. Maybe you’d bring it to the surface eventually.