#i got a new pocket knife to replace my old one. the old one is a typical swiss army knife style (though its a knockoff. i love it tho)

[gophergal]

Unfortunately, I am not immune to "cool tactical tool"

[wastebabey]

˗ˏˋJohn Hancock x (Fem) Readerˎˊ˗

Content: Drug use, angst, sex, alcohol use.

The sun has set across the wasteland, the warm orangey yellow hues slowly replaced by ghost-like whispy green fog. Thunder rumbled in the distance, or maybe it hadn't been thunder. Explosions often cracked in the distance too. Even so, in her state she wouldn't be able to tell the difference– not that she particularly cared to.

It was only a few days ago now that she'd stumbled out of the vault, the realization of her reality crashing into her like a bullet train. Her husband had been killed, and her son had been kidnapped. She hadn't a clue what year it was– if her son would even still be alive if she somehow managed to find him. She remembers emerging from the vault, horrified and saddened by the irreversible damage done when the bombs dropped. Everyone she once knew was gone. Everyone she loved, everything she had enjoyed.

She'd only been holding on by a thread until now, one that was pulled thinner and thinner by every passing day. Slowly, she was losing hope, going mad, giving up.

Now, she walked through what was previously known as Boston's financial district. She recalled visitting back then, it had always been a busy little corner of town. Now it lay silent, burnt cars and piles of debris littering the once crowded streets. The skybridge nearby had collapsed upon hundreds of feet of itself. Her pipboy glowed a soft green, illuminating more garbage the farther she walked.

She clutched her ten millimeter pistol tightly. Her will to live had sunk, but she wouldn't let herself die. Not here, anyway. Not yet. She pauses as she hears something– an unfamiliar sound.

She looks around, her head becoming clear enough of her thoughts to focus. It had sounded like a cheer? She shook her head, unsure if she'd actually even heard it. She continued a little farther, until she had noticed something else.

Tucked between two tall buildings, the dim light of a neon sign. The letters read 'Goodneighbor'. Maybe she had heard a cheer earlier.

She creeps up to the entrance thrown together by crap metal. It didn't appear to be guarded, nor a raider outpost.

The old door creaks as she opens it and steps inside. When she isn't immediately met with the whirring of bullets past her head, she exhales and holters her pistol. She hadn't noticed the man leaning againt the threshold of the entrance, so when he spoke it had startled her.

He'd scoffed as he stood straight. He frowns at her as she turns to meet his face. He's bald with a thin beard and mustache. "I haven't seen you around here before, this your first time stopping by?" He says, his expression hard and his voice low.

"Uh, yeah. It is, actually. Something wrong with that?" She replies, maintaining eye contact. Her right hand creeps toward the pistol on her hip.

"Oh, no, 'course not," He starts, stepping in front of her as if blocking her from continuing on. "Not as long as you have enough to cover your fee.. yknow, in case somethin' happens. Or someone gets hurt."

"Hey, hey. Why don't we all just calm down," A new voice starts from behind the man, causing him to spin on his heels.

"You can't just keep letting these people walk all over you, Hancock." The bald man spits, his voice raising with anger. "You're a sad excuse for a mayor, you've gone soft."

"Hey, Finn, i've got it handled. Why don't you let me do my thing, hm?" The other says as he walks up beside Finn, he reaches out and pats Finn on the shoulder. The other man– Hancock, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife with a quickness that would've been hard to catch. He drives the blade into Finn's stomach, Hancock's hand is still on his shoulder as if he were still trying to calm him. "I've told you, cut the extortion crap out," Hancock says, his voice rough and low. "You know that's not how we treat newcomers in Goodneighbor." Finn coughs up blood as Hancock withdrawls his blade and lets his body crumple to the floor. Hancock dries his knife on his sleeve and puts it away, his attention now drawn to you.

You lock eyes with the man, he's a ghoul– you'd only met one or two thus far. He wore a red coat and a dark brown trifold hat, it reminded you of those old oil pantings of historical figures you used to see in museums and art galleries. He regards you kindly, a smirk playing on his worn lips. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, ole' Finn needed to be taken care of." His dark eyes engulf the sight of you.

"I'm sorry if my company caused any trouble." You say, stepping over Finn's lifeless body. Hancock shakes his head.

"You don't need to worry 'bout it, sometimes a mayor just needs to make a point. He had it comin', wasn't the first time he'd tried to scam guests." Hancock assures you. He reaches his hand out, "Im John Hancock, the mayor of this cozy little establishment." You take his hand and shake it, a gesture you weren't used to anymore. You notice his hand is rough, but warm.

He notices your hand is smooth, your skin with a softness he was unfamiliar with in this post-war, ragged world. "I'm [name]." you say, your voice soft as you turn to look around. You hadn't taken in your surroundings since you walked in, having been distracted by the Finn situation.

"Now, what brings a sweet little thing like you around a place like this?" Hancock says, his voice gravelly and low. It was a question she actually didn't have an answer to.

"I guess i'm lost." She admits, her gaze dropping to the floor. He watches her expression shift, from neutral to sad, to longing. He nods, understanding she wasn't literally lost, but lost in her mind.

"I see, I know the feeling." He says, his voice serious. "Im more familiar with it than i'd like to admit, yknow." He pauses. "Hey, let me show you around, hm? We can get you some food and a cold drink, if you'd like." His expression is soft, his muted black eyes offering sympathy.

She wants to decline, her mind telling her if she relaxed, even for one moment, that she'd come to regret it. That somehow those wasted moments would come back to bite her later. But her tongue betrayed her thoughts, saying yes before she could think any further. She was on the verge of breaking, probably sooner than she knew it, if she continued pushing like this then she'd surely rip herself apart.

Hancock smiles and gestures toward the center of town with a tilt of his head. "It'd be my pleasure, sweetheart. Let's get your mind off things for awhile." He gently takes you by your wrist and helps you along, pointing out the various buildings along the way.

He points out the shops, the memory den, where he says folks stop by to forget for awhile. That could be handy. With Hotel Rexford right beside it if you ever needed a place to crash.

Lastly, the Third Rail. A bar thrown together in an old subway station. He guides you down the steps, the smell of stagnant cigarette smoke and alcohol floods your senses. Its dimly lit, aside from the small stage to the left of the bar. Hancock guides you to a booth in the corner, away from the small crowd of various drifters and scavengers who currently inhabited the bar. He sits you down. "What're you feelin'? Bourbon? Vodka? Charlie's got cola if you'd like that instead?"

"Whiskey?" You ask simply, looking up at the man. He'd been so generous and the two of you had only just met.

"Mm, 'course we got whiskey." You reach into your pocket, fumbling for the couple caps you had left. Hancock nudges your shoulder. "Hey, don't worry 'bout it. Tonight's on me sweetheart." He walks over to the bar and talks it up with the mister handy robot who seemed to own the place.

A minute or two passes before Hancock returns, he slides a plate in front of you and sets a bottle of whiskey beside it. "Some hot squirrel bites and ice cold whiskey for the the lady." He hums, sliding into the booth across from you.

Hancock sets his elbows on the table, knitting his fingers together and resting his chin on them. His dark eyes are wide with curiosity. The smell of the squirrel bites makes your mouth water as you lift them to study. You'd never had them before and kind of looked forward to trying them. Gently your teeth sinks into the tender white meat, the seasoning poor– nothing like the food pre war, but it was still quite tasty. It was juicy and cooked almost perfectly.

"Good ain't it?" He says, silently admiring the cute, curious look on the woman's face. She nods, her cheek full of squirrel. "Now, [name], let's talk. I've been callin' this place my home for a long time. Seen folks come and go, yet i've never met someone so.." He trails off, trying to find a word to describe his interest was hard. "Fascinating, alluring. So, tell me about yourself. If you don't mind." He takes a deep swig of bourbon from his bottle, some of the bitter liquid dribbling down his chin.

You chase the squirrel meat with a swig of your own drink, it's bitter and hot as it slides down with a shudder. "Okay, yeah," you say softly, considering where to start. "I'm actually, well, i'm from the vault–" She stammers, as if it weren't obvious by the infamous blue and yellow jumpsuit and the pipboy on her forearm. "Vault one hundred-eleven, the one up north east from here," Hancock shifts in his seat, becoming more interested by the second. "I, ah, well I told you I was lost. Im just looking for someone and don't know where to start, or if there's even a point." She's quiet as she speaks, her voice threatening to break.

He nods. He understands all too well. She glances up at him from the table, his expression is soft. He seizes the moment of silence to offer some comfort. "I've met a lot of folks just like you, actually," He starts, his voice low and sad. "Missing loved ones is all too common in this damn place, all you can do is be patient. Take it day by day. They won't be found if the only person searching for them ends up dead." She nods, hating to agree but he's right. If she croaked from the stress, who would find her son?

Hancock lets his advice sink in a moment before clearing his throat. "You're not lost, sweetheart. You're on the right path, you just need to take a break. I'm sure you've been on their trail since you crawled out of that vault. How long has it been? Since you let yourself rest?" He asks seriously. He knows the answer.

"I don't know." You finally reply. Hancock leans back in his booth and stares up at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. The previously empty stage now occupied by a woman in a glittery red dress. Her angelic voice gently starting her first song since she'd finished her break.

She sniffles, a soft sound that makes Hancock jolt back to attention. "Hey, it's alright." He says, quickly sliding out of his booth and into hers. He hugs her against his chest, a kind gesture that shocks her for only a moment before the floodgates break and she buries her face into his coat to muffle her sobs. Hancock's fingers gently stroke her hair. "Cry all you need sweetheart. You've been so tough." He mutters, holding you close.

You cry, and he comforts you. It's been so long since you'd let yourself feel vulnerable. It's a bitter sweet feeling, crying until you're dehydrated, crying until it hurts, but knowing that getting it out of your system is a good first step to getting yourself out of your stoop. You relish the feeling of having someone close, for the first time in forever. Hancock is so warm, he smells faintly of smoke, his breath of bourbon. The way his fingers glide through your hair is careful and affectionate.

Hancock starts humming to the melody of the music, a deep rumble in his chest that causes you to stirr against him. He's heard this song more times than he'd care to admit, it was the singer's favorite. Magnolia wrote the song herself after all. He feels your body shift. "How ya feeling now?" He says softly, allowing you to break away from his touch if that's what you wished.

"Better, I suppose," You hiccup, wiping the leftover tears away with the back of your hand. "I'm tired." You say, resting your head against Hancock's chest again. He's so warm, so soothing. His compassion was something that seemed long gone in the wasteland.

"Let's get you some rest." Hancock helps you from your booth, hardly caring for your nearly untouched drink. Charlie would nag him for wasting it later but he didn't care. He guides you back up the subway stairs and out into the night air. "You can stay with me tonight, i'll keep an eye on you," He says, opening the door to the Old State House and helping you inside. "You can rest without keepin' one eye open tonight." He helps you up one more flight of stairs to his office and personal quarters.

He sets you down on his couch and crashes down beside you. A sigh leaves his lips. You lazily glance at the various chems on the coffee table in front of you. The silence lasts forever, but neither of you mind.

Hancock tilts his head, his eyelids fluttering with his slight buzz as he feels the old sofa shift. He's surprised to see you at his side, cuddled up against him. "Oh, sweet girl." He says, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer. "Can I get ya anything?" He drawls, his rough voice falling on buzzing ears.

"I'm alright," you say, basking in the company. "Thank you." Hancock nods.

"Anything for you, pretty girl." His charming words make her feel something, something she hadn't felt in so many years. Almost like rekindling a flame who's embers had long since died out. She's silent, considering her thoughts. She remembered her husband, how he'd called her sweet names like that. He was long one now, and she had moved on, but ishe realized it was something she'd hardly thought about. How could someone who was spoiled on modern love and sex find it appealing in the dirty reality it was now. She wondered if love even existed anymore– the real kind, at least.

Hancock is deep in his own thoughts. Like her, he's been alone for many years. Since he'd stopped sleeping around back in his days of being a scavver. He remembered how he looked before the wicked high he chased too far, he wasn't sure about her. It wasn't his own feelings he was unsure about. [Name] was a diamond in the rough. A beautiful steel needle in a stack of dead, rotted hay. She wasn't the kind to pretend interested for the free chems just so she could dip out the next morning, or the kind to get close in hopes of getting their hands on his money. No, he was unsure a girl like her would accept a man like him. She had her own past and her own future. Even if he wanted to join her side, to help her turn on her demons and chase them away, it was her call. He could play confidence man all day, but ultimately it was her decision. And what kind of beautiful, smooth skinned pre war gal would want to be seen with a rugged, chem addicted man like himself. The thought depresses him, so he pushes it aside.

"[Name], can I ask you something?" He says slowly, his fingers finding the tattered container of mentats on his side table. He pops one in his mouth before continuing. "What would you say if I asked to join ya? I could use some fresh air outside of this place."

She blinks and considers it silently. "Won't goodneighbor need you? You're their mayor." She replies, her question instead of rejection gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Goodneighbor mostly runs itself, i'm just here to keep the peace when I need to. Folks around here usually sort out their problems without makin' it everyone else's issue." He says, his arm still around her. His hand gently strokes her shoulder.

"I don't want you to have to deal with my problems. They're mine for a reason."

Hancock shakes his head. "I don't mind." He recalls his scavver days once more, how he was free back then. He wasn't responsible for anyone but himself, and even then it was optional. Everyday was something new, something exciting. It wasn't like that as mayor. "My life has been too peaceful for too long, I think you're just the person i've been waiting for. Someone to come along and shake things up, to cause trouble with. Make your problems mine, and vice versa. What do you say?" His voice is hopeful and genuine.

She smiles to herself and nods. "Yeah, that sounds great." She says softly. Hancock cant hide the big smile on his lips.

"Hell yeah, I promise you we'll find whatever you're looking for princess." He pulls her closer in his half hug, and she leans into it. Hancock's eyes widen slightly. She doesn't say anything, the warm feeling of hope washes over her and for once she feels like she can relax. "Have I mentioned how sweet you smell? It's real nice." He lets himself praddle on a little bit, now that she's relaxed. "And your skin, so smooth. Being held up in that vault kept you from gettin' all roughed up like me."

She smiles, rolling her head to look up at him. Her pretty irises almost choking Hancock. "You're roughed up but it gives you a nice rugged, handsome look." She says, Hancock's gaze trail off, his free hand coming up to gently stratch his warming cheek.

"Handsome, huh? I don't get that often, 'specially not from a pretty little thing like you." Her own cheeks warm over the back and forth flirtatious talk, her frusteration becoming apparent when his hand drops from her shoulder to the dip of her waist.

"Well, maybe you'll start getting it more often, since you'll be travelling with me from now on." You say sweetly, your palm moving to hold the hand on your hip. Your heart is hammering in your ribcage, and you feel bold. It's definitely a jump, one you may come to regret, but you felt the chances of it working out were better than the vice versa. Your hand gently takes his in and moves it, slowly up your side and to your breast.

You fear him moving away, shaming you for thinking like this, but he doesnt. His rough palm instead cups the soft flesh through your vault suit. You sigh, affectionately rubbing your forehead against his chest. Hancock's breath catches in his throat. She actually wanted him to touch her, he could hardly fathom it but he wasn't gonna give her even a second to reconsider.

They're both writhing with sexual frusteration. Their combined desire heavy in the air, choking them. Hancock kneads your breast in his palm. "Jus' say the word sweetheart. I can make you forget." He purrs.

Your usual level-headed, independant mindset is thrown into the wind and you realize you want him. You want him bad. He wants you too, even more than you do. He's wanted you since he first laid eyes on you. Since the way your vault suit gripped and complimented your curves was introduced to his greedy eyes. He wanted to see more– feel more, oh, your smooth skin. He had to act normal about it before, but the way he'd become infatuated was anything but normal. He's going mad with anticipation, waiting for you to allow him even closer.

"Please." Is all that had to roll off your tongue, Hancock was immediately on top of you. His expert hands peeling your pipboy and suit off your body faster than you ever could on your own. He shifts your body, setting your back against the arm of the couch and nestling himself between your legs. His breath is hot against your now bare skin as he kisses your thighs, his rough lips breaking you into goosebumps.

He's focused, his craving for you suffocating every other thought out of his head. He wants to taste you on his tongue, and he does. His strong hands prop your hips up and allow his tongue a free range to explore. "Ain't that a sight," he says, his gravelly voice muses over the sight before him. You're dripping for him, you hadn't noticed– forgetting how arousal felt. The tip of his tongue darts out to smear it upward across your clit before his lips latch to it, suckling the bud softly. "Mmm." He purrs, your ecstasy like sweet syrup for his tastebuds.

You sigh, legs jerking with every tiny gesture of his tongue. You're deathly sensitive after so long. Your hand finds its way to the top of his trifold hat, your uncoordinated moves almost knocking it off. He can't contain himself, can't stifle the hunger in his soul.

His rough fingers pry your thighs apart wider as his tongue dips past your lips, hungrily lapping at your pussy like a dehydrated mutt. He slurps and groans against you, barely audible over your own blissful moans– music sweeter than Magnolia's ever could be. Your fingers weakly feel for something, anything to grip.

Hancock's hands pin your quivering thighs down as he devours you. His tongue, hot and wet, teases your entrance constantly. It slips in and out, in and out, before swirling around your clit and dropping to repeat the process. You want to move your legs, want to clamp them around his handsome face and trap him there, forever blessed with the pleasures of his angelic tongue. Frusterated broken moans spill from your lips as you squirm weakly in his grip.

One thigh is suddenly freed, immediately framing half of his face as his hand busies itself elsewhere. Two fingers swipe at your entrance, gathering slick before pressing inside. Between his lips puckered against your clit and his fingers now curled deep inside you, the tips tickling that sweet spot he flawlessly located, it's all too much. He hums as your muscles tense and your jaw goes slack with pleasure. He gets to watch from such a delicious angle, your plush thigh against one side of his face as he swoons. He watches how your back arches and your breasts rise and fall with your shallow breaths. His cock aches in his pants seeing you like this. But that was a problem for later.

You're close to cumming, he knows it so he doesn't change his pace. Slowly but steadily building your climax he knew you needed so badly. "Ya taste so good, sweetheart." Hancock purrs, his words vibrating your clit as he spoke. The praise is enough to set you over the edge you'd been unknowingly teetering on, with a sharp cry you shudder in his hands violently when his tongue doesn't stop its delicious assault.

Hancock finally stops and your legs go limp, as you're catching your breath you lift your head and meet the mayor's eyes. He licks his lips, his dark eyes devouring your naked body. His hands grab your hips and pull you closer to him, and he leans over you. His lips hungrily attack your skin, biting, licking, sucking his way up to your nipples. He suckles one while his free hand raises to tweak the other. "You ready for more, [name]?" He mutters, his breath hot against your chest.

Your mind is still reeling as you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows. You see how his tattered jeans strain against his hard cock. "I'm ready," you breathe. Your eyebrows knit together with concern, which Hancock notices and quickly dismisses.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, I can't even knock you up. Just pop a radaway tonight," He teases with a chuckle, a deep raspy noise that comes from the depths of his chest. The worry melts from your expression as Hancock unbuckles his belt and drops his pants. He's so painfully hard, he groans out loud when free from his pants.

"I need it– need you, so bad." You whine, your core aching at the sight. Hancock nods, his hands grabbing you buy your knees and pulling your hips into his lap.

"I need you too, I need this," His hand drops to guide his tip along your folds, teasing the entrance. It'd been so long since he'd felt something like this, so full of bliss and pleasure and desire and his mind only further began to spiral as he began sliding inside. His thickness stretched you deliciously and you moan.

Your velvet heat grips him tighter than he ever could've imagined. "Fuck," he mutters as he draws his hips backward, obsessed over how your pussy seems to clench around him tighter to keep his cock from being able to escape– not that he'd ever want to. Your pussy would be on his mind daily after this was all said in done, that much was a guarantee.

He's mesmerized, but he doesn't let that sway him from giving her what she deserves. Hancock buries his cock inside, pulling you close as he leans over you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he actually starts fucking you.

You gasp, his slow decent quickly turning into quick, deep thrusts. It knocks your breath from your lungs. Hancock is close, his breath hot against your throat. "I'm a little rusty, ah, sorry 'bout that sweetheart." He says sweetly, leaning in to kiss down your jawline to your neck as he pumps his thick cock inside.

"I'm lo– loving it," you sigh, your voice shrill with ecstasy. "God, Hancock, you're so good."

"Keep complimentin' me like that and I might fall in love sweetheart." Hancock warns dryly— perhaps it were too late for such a warning.

A string of broken noises leave your lips, your pussy suddenly seeming to mock your soft whines with it's own lewd squelches. Hancock moans against your neck, his balls gently tapping against your bottom and stimulating him further.

"Maybe that's okay with me,, ah." She manages to whisper. Her fingers drop between their mingling bodies and locate her clit. Hancock's eyes widen at the suggestion. The thought of having her forever, all to himself was something he could hardly imagine. Something inside of him snaps, a new fervor pouring into his actions. He drives your legs up further, the new position allowing his tip to kiss your g-spot. His pace quickens, stars begin prickling your vision as he hammers away at your weak spot.

"Oh, shit!" You cry aloud, your fingers only working your clit for a mere few seconds before you unraveled a second time. This time around his cock, he feels your walls flutter and constrict with the convulsions wreaking havoc across your body as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. His own end creeps close, his balls drawing tight and his pace beginning to get sloppy.

"You,, mean that?" Hancock groans, his body hot and sticky with sweat. Every muscle in his body is tense, the rollercoaster of his climax was nearing the top. His eyes light up when you nod. You didn't need to speak, he knew you weren't lying— you couldn't lie. Not like this.

Hancock's pace suddenly breaks uneven and he moans out loud, his hips stuttering as he finally reaches the top of the rollercoaster— a moment so blissful and enjoyable, more so than any high he'd ever chased. Your pussy is his new addiction.

Both of you are panting, sweaty messed. You can feel the faint pulse of his satisfied cock as it spurts ropes of white inside you. Hancock doesn't want to move, and neither do you. You'd forgotten about everything in the moment. You'd forgotten about the vault, the bombs, the wasteland, all of it.

It had been just what you needed and he knew. Hancock hums, his lips gracing your slick skin. Theres a thin smile on his lips. "I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world," he says softly, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. You lean into his kiss.

"You're so good to me, why?" You ask softly, reaching up to cup the ghoul's cheeks. Your pretty colored eyes swirling around his mind– he gets lost in them. "You've only just met me."

Hancock nods, turning his head to kiss her palm. "I've met a lot of different folks in my lifetime, eventually you get good at weeding out the ones with bad intentions. You're a sweet girl. You deserve to have someone watching your back, keeping you sane." Hancock gently pulls out, cleaning you up with a rag before cleaning himself and fixing his pants back.

He pops another mentat to cool his head, to remind his tongue of his old addictions so he didn't hungrily bury himself between your legs again. "I see. Well, thank you. I look forward to exploring with you.." She trails off, her voice soft and seeping with exhaustion. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since she clawed her way out of that steel hell.

"I'm lookin' forward to it sweetheart, now why don't you get some sleep. We'll get an early start on conquering the wasteland in the morning." Hancock pulls you into the crook of his side, his fingers playing with your hair.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Scotch | Restaurant AU

Kyle and Nina's relationship, aged for five years.

tw: angst, mention of sexual assault and aftermath, self harm, familial death, injury

June 2017

"You enlisted?" Her jaw was tight, keeping the muscles firm to stop herself from crying.

"Yeah... I just don't know what I want to do and I need more time." They'd just finished their A-levels. One last summer before University.

"You can take a fucking gap year, Kyle!" She sat down on his bed, head in her hands

"I just need to be doing something. You see all that shite on the news!"

"So you're going to stop Al-Qatala? Is that it?"

"Of course not!"

It felt like he put a knife in her belly and twisted it. He, out of anyone, should have known how that uniform makes her feel. That she grew up in fear of it, hid herself from it, resented it.

"You said we'd go to uni together." It was happening again. It was them against the world until it was due for the next life stage and he'd leave her behind. Like when they were kids and as soon as they hit double digits he didn't want to be friends with a girl anymore. He was turning eighteen and didn't want a girlfriend anymore. Didn't want her.

"I was never going to get into the same schools as you, Neen. You're incredible and work hard."

"So do you. It's not like I'm going to Cambridge. It's Queen Mary. You can get in. I'll go to a different school if I have to. I'm studying fucking English literature. It's not hard to find a program." She pleaded.

"I'm not going to hold you back."

"You're not." Her voice finally breaking down into a cry.

"Hey, hey. Nim. Look at me." he knelt down in front of her. "Nothing is going to change. You're still my best friend."

Friend

"Are you breaking up with me?" She looked up at him, trembling.

His reassuring smile was replaced with a more embarrassed look.

"I won't ask you to wait for me all that time."

Four years was the minimum. Once he enlisted they had him for four years. She'd have graduated by then. All her future plans turned to fantasy. She wanted to graduate together, move in together, date for a few more years, travel, get engaged, get married. She would have waited for him.

She got up, contorting uncomfortably to avoid touching him.

"I'm just gonna go." She started to gather up her things.

"Nina... I love you. That's not what this about. You deserve more than me being away all that time."

"You never had to leave in the first place." She slammed his bedroom door, ignoring his little sister's peaking from down the hall and his mum's calling to ask if everything was okay. She didn't slam the front door, she wouldn't do that to Mrs. Garrick.

She started to sob as she closed their front gate. She walked towards the woods. Trudged through the underbrush and leaf litter left from last Autumn.

They built a fort out here years ago. Saved up pocket money, raided rubbish bins. Built a little wooden box. She was sure only they knew about it. She never found evidence to the contrary. It still stood out there, hidden under old ivy and branches.

She crawled inside and pulled her knees to her chest. She never told Kyle this was where she always went to cry. Her father hated the sound of crying, would turn into a spectacle in front of the whole family for you to explain why you were so upset. She couldn't admit that Kyle had dumped her again.

She chewed at the skin around her nails till the blood stained her nails.

He was sent to basic training a week later. She never said goodbye. Her mum said he'd stopped by one day.

"Kyle said he'll write to you while he's gone and answer if you called."

September 2017 - June 2018

She went to London alone. It was fine until it wasn't. She met a boy that reminded her of Kyle until he didn't. It was a party for the return of term after Christmas holiday. He said he would take her home. She just wanted to go home.

She tried not to blame herself but all her new friends turned against her. He said that she lied about it because she was actually cheating on him. That she was slut. He was so much more popular than her.

She could call Kyle but they hadn't talked in months. She spent so many nights starring at her phone, her hand overing over his name in her contacts.

She stopped going to class. One of her professor's reached out, asked if she was okay, offered to let her turn in things late. She felt too ashamed to answer their email, letting it rot in her inbox while her assignments sat unfinished on her desktop.

She failed everything of course. She couldn't go home. Her parents wouldn't ask how class went, they'd want to see them. She told them she would buy her own train ticket home and then never did.

She packed her things and went to Price's flat. Showing up like a stray dog.

"You can talk to me, you know. I'm not your dad but I care about you, Nina. Whatever you tell me, it'll be between us."

She felt like she had an aura of victimhood around her. Was it that obvious?

She stayed the Summer, learning how to cook and bake. It kept her mind off things. Made the excuse that Price needed a flat sitter while he was deployed or at training.

August 2018

"I'm back for a couple weeks. I was wondering if I could stop by and see you." It had only been a year but he sounded so much more grown. She wondered if he looked different. She knew she did.

"I'm not at home. I'm still in London. I er... I'm staying with Price. Like housesitting, I guess."

"Would it be okay if I came to visit? I can get a hotel or find a mate to stay with. Some guys in my unit have families nearby and I just really want to see you Nina."

She clenched her jaw tightly. Would he be disappointed in her? She failed, she hadn't told anyone she hadn't registered for Autumn yet and most likely wouldn't. She wanted to see him.

She was incredibly lonely. More than ever. Price was wonderful but he was twenty years her senior and the friends he had over for dinner even more so. She wanted her best friend.

"Let me ask Price."

Price said he could stay. She'd moved to a cot in the unused second bedroom. Kyle could take the couch. As long as they behaved Price said he could stay.

Kyle looked grown. He looked bigger, muscles built up, he stood up straighter. He was so gorgeous standing out in front of building. She was a sailor seeing land for the first time in months. She ran down the front steps and threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry." He hugged her to his chest. He smelled the same, his heart sounded the same, his voice calmed her the same. That's what mattered.

They went on a walk after he dropped his things off.

"I did it on a whim, you know. I never wanted to hurt you. I just panicked and that was it. I'm sorry I broke my promise."

"It's okay. I just... I always feel like I'm a second choice and I felt like I must have done something wrong to make you leave." She bit down on her trembling lip.

Kyle cupped her cheeks, using his thumb to pull her lip down from between her teeth.

"You didn't do anything, Nina. I thought you every day. I kept trying to write but I didn't know what to say beyond i miss you and it just never felt good enough. I didn't call because I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

"I'm sorry for not reaching out either. I missed you and I'd met this guy and..." She could tell him right here in this park. She'd just gotten him back. She'd been telling herself it wasn't her fault. What if he thought differently? He was already slipping from her grasp like water. She left her sentence unended.

"I get it...are you and him still together?" His gaze darted around, avoiding putting her on the spot.

"No." She shook her head. She was so small. She was small and scared and the ground was crumbling all around her. She made the leap into his arms, crying into his chest. Let him think that it was just her broken heart. "He wasn't you..."

2019

It didn't have a label. Too much time between seeing each other to really call it dating but neither would have sought out different partners when they were separated. It was nice honestly.

She liked being the thing he came back to. Despite his best efforts she was always waiting for him. She never minded. Picking him up at the airport was always the best part of any season.

She never went back to Uni. Told her parents she wanted a gap year or two or three. She fully moved into Price's spare room, got a job at a local cafe, paid him rent.

Kyle was allowed to stay with her in her room when he was around.

She cried the first time they tried to have sex again. Blamed it on hormones. The second time was better. Third they actually finished. Fourth time she cried again.

"You alright, Neen?" He rubbed his nose against her shoulder.

"Just in my head too much, I guess." He kissed her cheek.

"You can talk to me."

"I'm okay. I promise."

The fifth time was better.

October 2021

Price asked her to help him open a restaurant. His forced retirement left him without much to do during the day. He entrusted her with a lot. She felt proud of her work. She liked being proud of something, hearing Price's praise.

It was October 25th. They hoped to be opened before Christmas, preferably late November.

It was her, Price and Simon, the only other employee at the time. Nina was sketching out various layouts for front of house. Price was behind the bar, preparing another wine tasting for the three of them. Simon was making family dinner in the back.

There was a rumble and all the glass in the building shook. She looked up at Price.

"Explosion" he muttered. They sat in silence as sirens picked up, crying a cruel sad song. Simon came out from the back. Her heart sank hearing distant screaming.

Their phones went off in a buzzing alarm. Explosion and shooting at Piccadilly. Her hands started shaking.

She'd talked to Kyle only a couple days before. He said he was going to be working in London for a little bit. He could be there. He could be dead already. He could be dying right now.

She kept refreshing twitter, scanning photos and videos for him. Price sat down next to her, rubbing her back.

"He'll call you as soon as he can."

"What if he never does?"

His mum called later that night. He was hurt in the initial explosion and was in hospital. She and his dad were driving down but it would be hours before they got there. Nina was out the door within seconds.

She and his family took shifts watching over him. Burns on his arms and chest, broken wrist, ribs and femur but no brain damage. He was groggy, eyes opening to scan the room before falling back asleep. She held his hand as much as she could. Sometimes when he woke up, he'd see her and squeeze her hand.

He'd stay with her and Price while recovering and doing physical therapy. His military career was over though. He stared at their bedroom wall alot. Price did the same when he was medically discharged. Unable to think of what to do with himself, all structure gone from his life. Left only with pain, scars a leg that twitched.

"I don't think I deserve you." He said as she fluffed up his pillows.

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

"You're too good to me."

"I love you. When you love someone you take care of them."

"You're making me blush." He took her hand and kissed it. "I'll pay you back someday."

April 2022

"You have to move out someday." Kyle said, kissing her forehead. He'd gotten a flat with two other guys he met in the army. It was nice and they, surprisingly, had more privacy here than at Price's, where she still lived. He wanted them to move in together. They'd been officially dating again for over a year.

"I like paying very low rent." She kissed his chest, careful of his burn scars. He chuckled.

"Yeah but in our place I could fuck you whenever I wanted."

"Whenever you want?"

"Whenever we want." He gave her arse a squeeze. "My lease ends in August."

"I'd like to move in with you." She smiled. Her fantasies seemed within reach.

June 2022

She was working front of house. It was a grueling summer afternoon. She'd gotten into a fight with her mum earlier that week over not coming on the family vacation.

"You haven't been home in so long. Seb misses you."

"He can come to London."

"Your father doesn't like London, you know that."

"He should get over it."

"I just want you to come. Spend time with your family. We want you here."

"Didn't know we was singular now."

"Nina."

"Mum."

She walked around, checking in on all the tables. Kate came up to her.

"Price needs to talk to you in his office." She looked sad.

As she walked away she heard Kate tell Cleo and Nova to tell people they were closing early.

Price's office was in the basement of the building. Stuffy and dark but cooler than anywhere else except the walk in.

"Sit down, love." His head was in his heads, he didn't even glance up at her.

"Am I getting fired?" She joked, sitting down across from him. Price looked up at her. She'd never seen him cry before. Her stomach dropped, probably landing in some abandoned catacomb beneath them.

He got up and knelt down in front of her.

"I got a call." He took her hands between his. She was shaking and she didn't know why. "There was an accident down near Brighton."

"Don't..." She shook her head. They were just hurt. Nothing else. Just hurt, even severly maybe but they weren't...no...they couldn't be.

"They're gone, love. I'm so sorry, Nina but they're all gone."

Kyle heard Nina scream from the dining room. It made his blood run cold. He sprinted out of the kitchen and down toward's Price's office.

She was hunched over, head between her knees, wailing in pain. Price was knelt in front of her, rubbing her back and knees.

"Kyle's here, love." Price, moved to the side so Kyle could kneel in front of her. He pressed his head to hers. She blindly reached out to grab his arms, holding tight enough to leave bruises.

"I got you. I got you."

It was his turn to take care of her now. Because he loved her and that's what you did for the people you loved.

the time line might be a little fucky so forgive me, I'm bad at math

Tag List: @queen-ilmaree @macravishedbymactavish @gogh-with-the-flow @water-bearz @pvssytrux

[smokeys-house]

This isn't interesting by any means just anecdotal but I as a knife collector of sorts I go through these phases where I shop online for hours and hours convinced wholly that I need a new pocket knife to replace my old edc. I don't, really and shopping for a while confirms that for me bc I remember just how much I despise the knife community at large. Anywho that's a topic for another day. As a collector I obviously want all the nifty pieces that have something unique to offer or that would be superior to what I've got in some way or that would look good on display. Trouble is, a few years back I took a chance on a knife from a family business on etsy. It's plain looking but it's the exact style I like and shape and size seem about right too from the images. It's got great specs, too, D2 steel blade with a titanium handle and a smooth ball bearing action. I could go on about the other features but those three were big ones I liked for my needs. And they're usually premium features too, so for $40? Could it really be that good? Turns out yeah it really is that good. So now I'm cursed by the fact that i have this knife I love that's just a little plain looking folder that's perfect for me and incredible quality for a low price that can be replaced at a moments notice because now I can't really beat it when shopping around and shopping around is half the fun. Why would I bother with a big brand name or a well known premium maker for hundreds of dollars when I could just grab another one of these bad boys. So now I have to keep upping the ante and talking myself out of buying something ridiculous like the cold steel espada xl just because it's cool. I still want one tho

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1140: Eventful Morning Coffee Date (Super Smash Bros Ultimate X Castlevania)

9:23 a.m. in the Streets of Smash Town........

Kumatora: (Walking Next to Ludwig on the Sidewalk) So those mentor of yours, what do they teach you exactly?

Ludwig: Oh just most of the stuff that occurred in their universe: Dracula, various types of monters and other low ranking vampires, the Belmont Bloodline, the creation of Castlevania itself, and so forth. They're centuries old, so in return, I try to teach them almost everything there is to this new, civilized world in the best of my abilities. (Starts Rolling his Eyes a Bit) That and making sure they don't get themselves lost in town every thirty seconds.......

Kumatora: (Snickers a Bit) They're causing you trouble there, babe?~

Ludwig: ('Sigh') A little bit, yeah. But I still appericate their efforts in teaching me and enjoy their company regardless.

Kumatora: (Smiles Softly) That's good to hear. It's been a while since I've seen my teach around.

Ludwig: Were he or she the ones who taught you how to use your PSI abilities more efficiently??

Kumatora: Not really? They taught me basic school junk like math and science for the most part. Meanwhile, I had to taught myself how to use my powers on my freetime, with a few accidental property damages here and there.

Ludwig: (Chuckles a Bit Lightly) Ah, so you were troublemaker growing up?~

Kumatora: (Casually Shrugs) Perhaps. (Points at Herself with her Thumb With a Smirk on her Face) Don't recall ever getting caught red handed though~

Ludwig: (Playfully Scoffs) Yeah, right.

Kumatora: (Lightly Pouts at Ludwig) It's true! Seriously, one time, there was this picture frame I accidentally burned and replaced shortly after, and no one in the castle ever suspected a thing since then-

??????: Cough up the money! Both of ya!

Ludwig and Kuma stops asking to one another as they turn their attention to a bunch of crooks trying to rob a couple sitting down outside of La Shy Café.

Crook #1: (Pointing a Small Pocket Knife at the Couple While Also Holding an Empty Sack in his Other Hand) You heard the man! Cough it up!

Crook #2: Yeah, you the man!

Crook #3: Give us everything you got or else neither of your asses will live to see tomorrow!!

Kumatora: (Growls in Anger) Those bastards.....(Starts Cracking her Knuckles as Small Sparks Begins to Come Out of Them and She Starts Walking Forward) They're gonna have another thing coming if they think they'll get away from- (Notices Ludwig's Hand in Front of Her as She Stops Walking) Huh?

Ludwig: Let's not do anything just yet.

Kumatora: (Eyes Begins to Widened in Genuine Shock) What!? Ludwig, they're about to rob those two if we don't do anything quickly!!

Ludwig: I know. (Starts Looking at the Duo in Question) But considering the couple their robbing.......Let's at least wait and see happens next before we intervene.

Kumatora: Luddy-

Ludwig: (Turns Back to his Girlfriend With Sincereity and Seriousness in his Eyes) Trust me on this, Kuma.

Kumatora: (Stares at Ludwig For a Brief Second Before Sighing in Defeat) Fine. We'll wait. But one movement out of ant of those guys and we're jumping in to stop them, no questions asked, got it?

Ludwig: (Simply Nodded) Of course.

Meanwhile at the Café

??????: (Looks Around at the Crooks Glaring at Them) Oh my. It seems we've attracted unwanted attention, dear.

???????: So we have. (Takes a Sip of the his Cup of Coffee Before Looking Up at the Three Crooks With a Raised Eyebrow) Is there something we could help you with, gentlemen?

Crook #1: Are either of you are deaf or somethin'? We demanding you to empty your pockets!!

Crook #2: NOW!!!

The couple turns to one another for a brief second before turning back to the crooks.

???????: How about we present you three with a counter offer instead?

Crook #1: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) A counter off- (Suddenly Felt his Body Going Upward as He Looks Down to See He's Levitating Up in the Air, Surrounded in Red Aura Much to his Surprise and Horror) W-WHAT THE HELL!?

Crook #2/#3: (Eyes Starts Widening Up as Well) Holy crap!/The fuck? Is he flying right now!?

Kumatora: (Genuinely Surprised at What Happening Right Now) Woah.

?????: (Using Red Arua Filled Hand to Levitate the First Crook in the Air) I must admit, it has been quite a long time since i have my patience being tested like this. Fifteen centuries of that feat seems nearly impressive in hindsight.

Crook #2/3: (Look at Each Other With Even More Confusion) Fifteen centuries?/How old is this guy?

Crook #1: (Already Terrified) W-W-What are you gonna do to me? Sending to outta space or somethin'!?

??????: (Starts Getting Himself Up From his Seat) No, I wouldn't go that far. But since you've asked, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I burn you into ashes.

Crook #1: (Starts Getting Even More Terrified) !!!

??????: Or maybe even crush your entire body and crumble you up like the common trash you are.

Kumatora: (Turns to Ludwig) He can do that?

Ludwig: (Shrugs) Probably.

Crook #1: (Tries Putting on a Brave Face While Sweating Bullets) Y-Y-Yeah? Welll......S-So what!? My boyz will pummel you to a pulp before you even think TWICE of pulling any of that crap on me! Right, fellas?

The Crook looks down to see his partners in crime trying to run away before getting angry.

Crook #1: YOU COWARDS! GET BACK HERE!!!!

Crook #2: Sorry, man! You're on your on this one!

Crook #3: Ain't no way we're getting of freak-SHOOOW!?

The duo stops in their tracks as they see two spiritual like tigers growling and slowly walking towards them close enough into making the two stepping back and eventually tripping themselves down on the ground.

'THUD'

Crook #2: W-W-W-What I'm the-

?????: Well, isn't this a surprise?~

The Crooks turns around to see the lady happily gets up from her seat as well.

??????: Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to our friends, Edgar and Penelope. They're quick, strong, can sense the smell of fear from a few miles away, and are VERY of me and my darling partner of mines. So imagine how livid they would be if you were to try and runaway from them right now, let alone disturbing our day of time out together.

The tigers shows of their razor sharp teeth as they continue growling at their two potential victims in from of them.

Kumatora: (Eyes Begins to Sparkle in Awe) I never thought I wanted to hug two tigers up until now.

Ludwig: And risk the chances of you getting bitten?

Kumatora: I'll take my chances.

??????: So regarding the counter offer we stated, you could either cease your petty theft crimes and leave......

??????: (Eyes Starts Glowing Red) Or be foolish enough to face both our wraths?

Crook #1: H-H-How about we go with the first option instead (Looks Down at his Crime Mates) R-Right, boys?

Crooks #2/3: Yes.

??????: (Happily Clasps her Hands Together) Spendid. Glad we've reached an agreement. (Makes the Tigers Disappear with a Snap of her Finger)

?????: Agreed. (Gently Puts the First Crook Down on the Ground Before Giving Him and his Crew One Final Glare) Now, leave our presence.

Crook #1: (Quickly Gets Up From the Ground Along With the Others) Y-Y-Yes sir! T-This won't ever happen again, sir!!

And with that, the Crooks finally runs away for dear life, passing by the younger couple who were watching the entire scene thre whole time.

Ludwig: Kuma, allow me to properly introduce you my two mentors: Maria Renard and Alucard, the son of Count Dracula.

Kumatora: Awesom- Wait. (Turns Back to Ludwig) Shouldn't he literally be burning up right now since he's related to his vampire dad or something?

Ludwig: Not quite. Unlike his father, he's immune to sunlight. (Makes his Way to his Mentors' Table)

Kumatora: Is that so? Neat. (Follows Ludwig)

Maria: ('Gasps') Adrian, look. They've arrived. (Happily Waving at Ludwig and his Date) Good morning, darlings!~

Alucard: (Forms a Small Smile on his Face) Yes, good morning indeed. I hope the walk to here hasn't caused either too much trouble along the way. (Continues to Sip on his Cup of Coffee)

Ludwig: (Smiles Sheepishly) Our walk was normal enough as it is, sir, don't worry. But anyways, please allow me to introduce you two to my girlfriend, Princess Kumatora of-

Kumatora: How were you guys summons tigers?

Ludwig: (Turns to Kumatora With a Deadpinned Look on his Face)

Kumatora: What? I was curious.

Alucard: Ah, so you were watching us this entire time.

Ludwig: ('Sigh') Only because I knew you were going to take care of those thugs yourselves just fine.

Alucard: Your confidence in us is much appericated. (Turns to Kuma) And answer your question, I can transform into any creature I desire to become. Not summon them. (Points at his Lady Beside Him) That's her ability.

Maria: (Happily Nodded) That's right. And I'm more than happy to tell you how I could summon different types of creatures if you like.

Kumatora: (Smiles Brightly as She Sits Down Right Next to Maria's Seat) Sounds good to me. You don't mind teaching me that sort of stuff too, do you? I've been interested in learning something else other than PSI-powers all day.

Maria: (Sts Back Down in her Seat) What are PSI-powers if you don't mind me asking.

Kumatora: Special type of psychic abilities almost anything and everyone in our universe can use. Even animals.

Maria: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise) Animals possessing psychic abilities as well? Remarkable.

Kumatora: (Shrugs) Yeah, it's cool when some of those jerks doesn't use it to try and kill you every time you barely make any eue contact.

Alucard: (Watches the Ladies Talk to One Another Along with his Student) So how long have you two been together exactly.

Ludwig: About a few months now. I would've introduced you to her sooner if her schedule for this year has more freetime. And before you ask, no, I am not planning on marrying her anytime soon.

Alucard: ('Scoffs') Please. I wasn't going to ask something so trivial.

Ludwig: (Raises an Eyebrow at his Mentor) But you thought about doing so, did you?

Alucard: Well, I.....('Sighs in Defeat') Suppose you're not too far off on that assumption. Maria was more interested in asking you that type question than I ever did.

Ludwig: ('Sigh') I can believe it. Her interest in romance has been more apparent as of late.

Alucard: Indeed it has. (Smiles Softly at Ludwig) Still, it brighten us to see you found someone that has romantic feelings for you as well. And we hope your happiness together will be strong enough to last of lifetime.

Ludwig: (Smiles Back at his Mentor) Thank you, Mr. Alucard. (Turns Back his Girlfriend) I'm hoping it will last too.

@cyber-wildcat

@bestpony666

@albion-93

@caleb13frede

[the-faramir]

Extinction Curse Session 2024/04/17 Part 1

As Midori knocked on the farmhouse door, she considered her frame of mind and demeanor. "Guys, should I be doing the talking? Is this a good idea?"

The rest of the team answered as one: "No."

Midori stepped back and Lysander, wearing his white porcelain mask to cover his skull face, stepped up to the door. A middle-aged human man came to answer. Lysander introduced the team. "Hello! We are the Circus of Wayward Wonders! We got rid of the dinosaurs accosting your farm. We were directed to your home as we were told that you may have enough fabric on hand to sew a new tent for us. You see, the old one burned down and we could really use a replacement."

The man answered, "Thank you for rescuing us. Fabric, you say? Did your circus tent burn down?"

"Coincidentally, yes," Lysander replied. "The xulgaths did."

"We didn't start the fire," Fizzarolli added.

Lysander started playing a repeating upbeat musical introduction on his lute in the key of G major and looked over at Midori as if to cue her.

"I'm not in the mood to sing." She stood, scowling with her arms crossed.

"Sure," the man replied as Lysander stopped playing, "we can get you what you need for a new tent. Come on in!"

The party entered the farmhouse to meet the rest of the Densirt family, a middle-aged woman who was the man's wife and a handful of children including two identical twin boys. Zookdar noticed that the twins wore matching painter's smocks with pockets full of paintbrushes and art supplies. "Oh, are you boys artists or something?"

"Yes, sir. We paint," they answered in unison.

The others discussed the details of the tent with Mr. and Mrs. Densirt, who said they could give the circus an even bigger tent with the canvas and other supplies on hand, but it would take a few days. The party was welcome to stay at the farmhouse and wait.

"Well, that sounds just fine," said Zookdar. "I tell you what. I'll go outside and butcher up enough steaks from those dinosaurs to feed us all! We'll leave you a supply and take the rest back to Willowside to help with the food shortage.

Zookdar went outside with Mr. Densirt to prepare triceratops steaks for dinner on the barbecue grill behind the farmhouse. Soon, they returned with a platter of large steaks.

At the dinner table, as the platter passed in front of a still-scowling Midori, she grabbed a 32-ounce ribeye with both hands. Growling and snarling, she tore into the meat without pausing to lift a fork or knife, muttering things such as "told you I'd kill you," and "devour your soul." The Densirt family watched, aghast.

Lysander implored her, "Stop! Stop! He's already dead!"

"Sorry, folks, she's had a rough couple of days," added Fizzarolli.

During dinner, the twins could not contain their curiosity about the circus, asking the party various questions. At one point, Zookdar asked them whether they had any talents that would be useful in a circus. "Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

The boy on the left continued, "My brother goes off to where he can't hear you talking."

The boy on the right picked up, "And my brother asks you for ideas of what I should draw."

The first boy finished, "And then he paints it for you!"

Zookdar asked if they could make a sign for the circus. The boy on the right went to a room on the other side of the house with his painting supplies, while the boy on the left stayed to talk to Zookdar. "What should he draw for you?"

Zookdar replied, "Draw a fat mustached cat with a monocle." Minutes later, the other twin returned with a painting just as requested. A few more examples of their painting prowess convinced Zookdar and the others of their talents.

"So, young gentlemen," Zookdar addressed the twins, "have you ever considered working at the circus? We certainly have a place for you if you want."

The twins excitedly agreed. "We are," one of them began.

"The Mystic Artists," the other finished.

Their mother, watching the interaction, gave her blessing. "We always knew their special talent would land them jobs one day. It warms my heart to know that they'll be in good company with a fine, upstanding group such as your circus. May they learn well and bring smiles to all who watch them across the land!

"Also," she continued as she grabbed a bag and emptied half of a roomful of art supplies onto the floor, "as an extra token of our appreciation, have this bag of holding."

Some days passed as the Densirts consulted with the party about the specifications of the replacement tent and worked on its construction. Finally, the tent—even bigger than the previous one—was ready! The Densirts presented the tent, and before they could finish speaking, Midori ran and dived into the cloth, wrapping herself up and cackling madly. "Ohhh, it has that new tent smell!" Some color returned to her fur.

The heroes loaded the tent and the remainder of the triceratops meat into their wagon and departed for Willowside once more, with Midori bouncing up and down happily in her seat the whole way.

The Mystic Artists image copyright © 2020 Paizo Inc.

[doveshovel]

oc emoji ask game questions >:) (only answer the ones you want to ^-^)

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL, 🎭 MASKS, 🎁 PRESENT, 🎨 PALETTE

:^OO thank you for these! And sorry they took so long :'D

It ended up a little long, so everything's neatly tucked away below ⬇️

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about? This one was tough! I had to sleep on it, but I think Hunter would have a hard time staying quiet about the importance of nature, and holding some degree of respect for it. Having witnessed firsthand the rapid and unyielding expansion of the US American suburban sprawl as it decimated the forests, fields, and creeks that provided some peace in an otherwise turbulent childhood, and replaced them with million-dollar homes whose meticulously manicured lawns would never again see the hoofprints of whitetail deer that were once so common, I think he'd be that much more motivated to resist GED's developments.

__________________ 🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Hunter's got an easygoing, quiet nature. Combined with the resting bitchface that comes with long hours on the road and a lack of sleep, strangers probably think he's very aloof or up to no good-- but friends will know he's just an eccentric, well meaning horseboy who's always down for a ride and happens to be missing any points in a charisma or speech stat.

Having come to Jorvik in part to escape his own family back in the southeastern US, he's found something resembling a father-figure in Mr.K Trout (part of the reason he takes to fishing so much is in hopes of making him proud). Around Mr. Trout, Hunter's likely to be a little more anxious to earn approval for some lingering fear of disappointment. Strangely enough, he's most talkative around his horses, who know by now that there's an extra slice or couple jellybeans coming their way if they at least pretend to be interested in his ramblings. __________________ 🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving? Hunter spends most of his time wandering across Jorvik for work (mainly deliveries or requests from the fishing club), and doesn't have a ton of storage space back at his room in Cape West. He'd be most happy with small, practical gifts. A bag of horse treats, a little pocket knife, a new horse brush, a pair of gloves for the long road up into Dinosaur Valley-- things like that. If he were ever to get a permanent place of his own, I think hunter would be very fond of postcard souvenirs and random chachkies.

As far as gift giving goes? He sucks a little bit. Hunter would put a lot of thought into gifts he gives people and try to get things they like, but ultimately, they'd probably end up little tacky or strange. The kind of guy to notice you drink a lot of coffee and remember you said you liked it, but instead of getting a nice mug or fancy coffee beans-- would find something like coffee scented saddle soap or a trucker hat with coffee beans printed on the front.

__________________ 🎨 PALETTE - can they draw? what do they like to draw?

I love imagining how my characters draw so I'll let these doodles I had done for him in an old notebook answer this one:

I think he'd like drawing animals and things he notices out in the world, despite not being the best at it.

[grub-s]

i want a nice belt and a new knife - in fact, two new knives, a leatherman to replace the one i lost and a little folding opinel for whittling at work; i need some new jeans and also another pair of comfy pants besides, another merino off-white undershirt, and a few nice loose skirts with pockets in colours for work. i’m going to make some more fabric wax to re-coat my coat because one layer wasn’t enough and i’m not spending another $20 on a tiny block of wax i can make myself from things i have already. what else ?? i want to make some good comfy loose tshirts, i want some wool combs, i want two new pillows to replace my good but really old one and the shitty new one that got lumpy within two weeks of purchase. and i want a new v-pillow because that one lumped up also. oh and i want that stupid button up shirt dress with the crossover bust that costs a stupid amount of money !

[fawntastic]

adding onto this with my freaks because I have been given permission to ramble (going ape shit under the cut)

First up for me is Vivienne Mallory!

She's 172cm (Around 5'8") and 32, a seasoned special investigator from the CCG's Las Vegas branch, who's been exterminating ghouls since she was 15. Raised in the CCG's orphanage since her parents were killed by a "ghoul" at age three, Viv has been under CCG supervision for most of her life. Outwardly bubbly and compassionate with an obsession for sharks, she's very approachable, but her fixation on her work seeps its way into conversation and often makes things uncomfortable. As a ghoul investigator, she's in leagues with Arima as one of the almost-too-perfect best of the best, her physical capabilities far out-competing those of her colleagues, and her extermination rate enormous - these capabilities noted by the CCG and factoring into their persuasion of her to forego education to join the force instead. Unbeknownst to her as well, is the fact that she's not entirely human. She's a half-ghoul of the same kind as Arima - no kakuhou, kagune or kakugan, and the ability to eat normally. The CCG killed her parents, and found her sleeping in the room next to them. They ran tests, identified her as a non-threat, then raised her to be a weapon under the guise that a ghoul all along had murdered her parents. Her life's work has been avenging them. She's capable, driven and merciless, making her the perfect candidate to lead the operation against the Cave Ghoul. She was so hyperfocused on killing the ghoul that her operation sustained insurmountable loss of life. Whilst Ahiga escaped and was sheltered by Arlen (unbeknownst to Viv), Viv gained two new quinques - Coyote King, a suit of reflexive armour fashioned from the Cave Ghoul's kakuhou, and a tiny dagger which has no name, but she calls 'Little Prince', made from the kakuhou of the baby found within the cave. Since, she's dedicated the rest of her life to hunting down the child who got away - Ahiga. But when Arlen replaces coworker Jonah as her investigative partner, she grows closer with him and his family, including Ahiga. They form a tight bond, with Viv blissfully unaware that the Roadkill she's been chasing all these years is right under her nose. Viv grows to see him as a son, and Ahiga forms a strange, twisted idea of her as his mother. After all, she owes him one, right?

The bird on her shoulder is Bruce, basically the one thing keeping her stable. Viv isn't good at taking care of herself, has no work-life balance, and sleeps in a one-room shithole apartment in CCG housing, but boy does she spoil this bird. He has a massive cage that takes up one wall of her house, but has reign of the place. Her will states that if she dies, all her money and items goes to him.

Next up's Fawn!

She's a whopping 4' tall and despite her appearance, 22 years old. She's a stubborn, courageous and opinionated pygmy ghoul, born into a group similar to the Japanese three blades, stunted from inbreeding and living underground for so long. Her family is massive, avid builders who are terrified of the world above and live in the sewer system to avoid being killed or eaten by others. She, however, developed an innate curiosity for the surface world, and did everything in her power to make it up there, eventually reaching it. It was overwhelming at first, and whilst she'd made it up, she didn't know how to hunt, scavenging for scraps and often being caught chasing things that aren't food, like squirrels, rats and ugly crusty little dogs. She was caught and released by the CCG multiple times, as investigators liked to pose with her like they'd caught a fish, then let her go. She isn't a threat to them, or to humans, more of a novelty, something to laugh at and was subsequently coined a "pocket knife". She was found in an alleyway by Megan and Ahiga, and soon welcomed into the killjoys, becoming one of Ahi's best friends. Fawn doesn't want much, but she's bull-headed about her desire to bring her family to the surface, and show them that the world isn't so scary, but often finds her desires sidelined or belittled for Ahiga's bigger projects. Nobody really listens to the little guy, and it's bound to get to her sooner or later.

Finally, Jonah! Or Jonah-Julius Richmond

He's just under 6 foot, 30 years old, and an Associate special class investigator. Born into wealth, he joined the CCG from what he calls a "moral calling" and swiftly rose through the ranks. He's vain, self-serving, emotive and, despite his appearance, bigoted and cruel. He's a chronic gambler, who's managed to maintain a winning streak, and because of that, he's incredibly astute and tends to notice things others don't. For almost half his CCG career, he was partnered with Investigator Mallory, though he was replaced with Arlen shortly after the two had a falling out over Viv's conduct during a mission. He harbours hatred for Arlen, for replacing him, but hates Viv equally as much for exposing him to horrors because of her ruthlessness, and wants nothing more than to choke the both of them out. He often makes bets with coworkers, and a drunken bet with Viv one night sent him spiraling down a rabbit hole from which he can't return. She bet him $100 that Arlen wasn't hiding anything, and he accepted, thinking it would be a normal expose on a coworker he already disliked. However, once he began to analyse Arlen's speech and behaviour to piece something convincing together for Viv, he began to notice that Arlen was...off. He was rarely in the same place as the killjoys, certain moments or lapses in his speech revealed concerning information, and Jonah began to smell a rat in his facade. He suspects him of being, or working with, a ghoul. To this day, he has yet to prove Arlen of anything, but is constantly on his back, waiting for him to slip up.

HEHEEEE THAT'S THE LOT!! I'm so obsessed with these guys yall have no idea, and if you read all of that, thank you!

Hey dude! I was just wondering, with all the worldbuilding you do, do you have any tokyo ghoul ocs of your own?

I do! @fawntastic (who I made these ocs with) did a drawing of them here and I’ll put details under the cut because i have brain rot

First is Arlen Cain

He’s 6’0, 42 years old, ex Mormon, and seemingly a normal, if a little too straight laced, associate special class investigator in the Las Vegas branch of the CCG. The story he tells people is that he lived a normal life until a ghoul broke into his house and killed his family, which prompted him to become an investigator and attempt to hunt down the ghoul known as the Shrike who was believed to be the one that killed them. He has a reputation as a kind and hardworking man who is popular with his coworkers and impressive in his ghoul killing skills. However this is a carefully cultivated facade. In reality, the abuse and repression from his family had him on thin ice when he met a ghoul he fell in love with, and they killed and ate his family together. From the beginning he was working at the CCG to have an inside advantage in keeping his husband safe and has a long history of killing any partners who get too close to figuring them out. Between being raised in a cult, an affinity for cannibalism, and the increasing ease with which he kills other CCG employees, he has something so very wrong with him. He loves his family but everyone else is fair game and he doesn’t much care for human life

Next is Leonard Cain

He’s 5’0, somewhere in his late 30s, known to the CCG as the SS ranked Shrike and extremely off putting. He was born in tokyo, and lived on the streets as he never had a human identity. He moved from gang to gang to avoid being exterminated but became too high priority for the doves after he killed a senior investigator. So as not to endanger more people by staying in groups of other ghouls, he stowed away in a shipping container and ended up in bullshit nowhere Utah, where he met Arlen. He ended up falling for him after enough of his clumsy attempts at communicating with him despite knowing he wasn’t human, and after killing his family with him per his request, he stuck around and eventually married him. He worked several jobs as a bouncer before eventually settling into one at a casino his adopted son’s distant family owned, and since he says maybe 5 words a day and can’t make a normal amount of eye contact to save his life people mostly leave him alone. He has a reputation with the CCG for hunting with long Ukaku sharks by hand and staying on buildings or in trees

Then there’s Angela Kazmarik

She is 5’9, 33, a moderately strong kakuja known as The Plague Doctor and was only weeks away from getting her doctorate before she was outed as a ghoul. She was orphaned when she was young and to survive she stalked a notoriously bad foster home until one of the kids was killed, and quickly ate the body and took her place before the death could ever be reported. She was incredibly clever and skyrocketed through grades, eventually getting a full scholarship to an accelerated medical program. Her goal was always to find a way to allow ghouls to eat non-human meat food, but was discovered before she graduated and has been in hiding since. She lives with the Cains as she’s been a long time friend ever since she met Leonard while hunting and just refused to leave, and continues her work in secret. She funds it by doing questionable art commissions online and steals medical equipment. She’s become oddly obsessed with investigator Vivienne Mallory, makes massive shows of killing doves, and is all around a theatrical nuisance who is unfortunately able to get away with her cringe ass performances because she is horrifically strong. She’s no stranger to cruel and unusual methods of slaughter and her victims are often found uneaten but missing organs

Next is Ahiga Cain

He is 6’8, 16, an SSS rated kakujas known as Roadkill and an absolute horror show of a ghoul. As far as anyone knows, he’s a living fossil, the last surviving ghoul from a bygone era that was never meant to survive this long and who both humans and ghouls find deeply upsetting. He’s a southwestern American subspecies once known as the N’daga Hasteen, but is currently referred to as the Cave Ghoul thanks to fossil records of creatures like him and the CCGs reluctance to publicly admit that a ghoul with adaptations meant for hunting megafauna and mimicking human voices is still out there. He was born deep in the Grand Canyon where his mother was hiding him, and he lived there for only three years before the CCG launched a massive raid to kill her. She bought him time to escape, but he could only flee so far, and was found by Arlen hiding behind a dumpster. Thankfully for him Arlen reported him as a human child found captured by a ghoul and adopted him. Human Friends of his mother who were part of the tribe his family came from confirmed the story, and he’s lived with his dads and sister since. He grew close to them and spent several years living peacefully, but after being targeted by gourmet ghouls who wanted a piece of the last Cave ghoul, he and his sister began hunting and fighting against the CCG. Becoming a kakuja came naturally to him, and the CCG was completely unprepared to handle Cave Ghoul fighting abilities. He amassed a gang which has become quite a problem for the doves, and hopes to eventually be followed out of loyalty rather than fear that he’s well aware he instills in people. He is an apex predator, and despite his desire to be likable, he needs to be dangerous right now, even to the point of kakuja induced chronic illness and no longer being able to pass as human. But despite being built like a sleep paralysis demon, he hopes that eventually the conflict between humans and ghouls can end and he can go back to school and focus on a somewhat normal life

Finally there’s Megan Cain

Megan is 5’8, 16, avid 4chan user, and known to the CCG as the S rated Jaeger. Her mother was a friend of Arlen’s at the training academy and in the same squad as him in the Coyote King Extermination Operation that killed Ahiga’s mother. Unfortunately she was also killed in this attack, and Arlen, being her godfather, adopted her. Since she and Ahiga were both the same and and both orphaned in the same event, they became inseparable, and by the time the language barrier wasn’t an issue and they could speak each other’s languages easily, they were as close as biological twins. Being raised by a human and a ghoul and with the single weirdest subspecies still alive, she ended up very good at telling when someone is a ghoul, and with all the ghoul behaviors she’s picked up ghouls often think she’s one of them. When her brother was taken by a gourmet circle and came back changed, she was enraged by what people could get away with doing to ghouls and joined in on the war against the CCG. She was a natural with coding and machines, and she designed a lot of viruses for CCG computers and weapons for the ghouls. Her biggest job is keeping Ahiga under control. Since his kakuja is so massive, it has a mind of its own, all his brain power goes towards just keeping it alive, so she rides on it’s neck and gives it commands. Between that, and being the one who makes and equips the armor and kakuja mounted turrets, they are always together when they fight. The CCG has no idea she’s human, and if she spent as much time producing more weapons as she does bullying people on Reddit, they’d stand no chance

Again The other three OCs, Vivienne, Fawn, and Jonah, belong to @fawntastic and are part of the same universe! I’ll leave it to him if he wants to gush about them but oughhh I have so many oc thoughts I am rotating them in my mind

[augustghosts]

1988 - Eddie Munson

A few more looks into my stupid lil take on Eddie surviving and escaping Hawkins. The sequel to 1987.

Word count: 8k (lol)

Warnings: Minors DNI. 18+, gets a lil spicy multiple times. There isn’t any full detailed smut in this one, but lots of allusions to sex, basically in every month hehe. Slight mention of knife play and Eddie’s famous handcuffs. Gets pretty angsty as well. Eddie crying multiple times is defo its own warning. Smoking and alcohol are mentioned throughout. Talk of alcoholism and addiction. Weed is used, but only in one month. Talk of nightmares. Talk of therapy and ptsd. Jealousy. But also some disgustingly sweet fluffy stuff too! Just a bit of everything really. only lightly proofread so if there’s any mistakes just pretend they aren’t there…

January, 1988. Rain pounding the pavement. Earth saturated. Eddie, running from his car to their apartment block entrance. The ground is slippery, winter - old ice and new rain. Terrible combination. Especially for a clumsy man wearing boots. He’s fumbling in his pockets, where the fuck were his keys? Shit. Did he leave them in the car? He looks up, their front facing apartment visible. Kat is perched at the double doors which lead to the balcony. Peering through the glass, almost mocking him. He sighs, making his way back to his car. 

20 minutes later he’s sitting in the car, but this time outside of her work. A quiet bookstore, her shift doesn’t finish for another half an hour. They had just got back last week. New Year's eve. December 1987 had been spent apart. Christmas, back in Hawkins. Him and Wayne tucked away in Wayne’s new house. One bedroom - small, but good enough for Wayne. Her with her family on the other side of town, just like back in Highschool. They had met up once during this month long ‘break’ in their relationship and fucked in a motel room. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”  “Fuck, you feel so good, Ed’s. I love you.” 

Apologies, whispered praises and promises. The cruel game of love that they had been playing since they were teenagers. Sneaking back to their families after ‘running errands’. Just like old times. He had felt mad without her. Although, sometimes, Eddie thought that he was never sane to begin with. They had been doing well since they got back. Happy to be out of Hawkins again, back home. Together. Belonging. 

When he walks in, she’s at the counter, hunched over a book. The store is empty, dimly lit. She jumps as the bell above the door rings. Slamming the book shut, ready to greet a customer. Her tight customer service smile fading and being replaced by a genuine grin when she sees her boyfriend sheepishly standing in the doorway. Water dripping from his hair and clothes. 

“Did you walk here?” She jokes. Walking to the other side of the counter to greet him. He takes a few steps towards her, stopping when he notices the droplets from his boots are leaving footprints on the carpet. 

“No, i uh - i think i lost my keys.” He chuckles, his teeth slightly chattering. January weather. He looks around. “Are you here alone? Is that safe?” 

She frowns, watching him shiver, rain dripping from his bangs. She walks around him, locking the doors. How many customers are going to come in half an hour before closing during a storm? 

“Come here,” She says. Reaching for his shoulders, slipping his wet coat off. Throwing it to the floor. The store is warm, and so is she. Always warm. She hugs him tightly, pulling back to wipe the wet hair out of his face before pulling him down for a kiss. Cold lips meet warm. He groans against her mouth. Trying to pull her closer. 

“I’m gonna close up now. Then we can get you home, get you in the shower.” 

He scoops his jacket up from the floor as she walks away. A smirk -  “Are you going to come in with me?” 

February. Cookies. A new hobby for her, baking. Truly domestic bliss. For her at least. Eddie would complain the whole time, it takes too long, it looks boring, I miss you, come cuddle. She had heard them all. He would complain, up until he got to taste whatever she had made. Today was no different, he was waiting. Leaning on the counter, elbows on the marble and his head resting in his hands. Brown eyes watching. You can’t eat them when they’re hot, Ed’s. She had told him. 

“Do I need to wait for these to cool down?” He mumbled, eyes fixed on the treats. Kat was beside him on the counter, almost mimicking his expression. 

“Yes, honey.” She laughed, moving to untie the apron she had on. She was dressed in the apron one of Eddie’s shirts and her panties. Fuck, she looked good. He leaned further over the counter to look her up and down. 

“Wait,” He said. Her hands paused on the strings. “That is very cute.” 

She giggled as he approached her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist. “You like it?” She asked. 

“Mhm.” He hummed, hungrily taking in her form one more time. One of his hands slid around her back, pulling the strings. Apron now on the floor. His hands under her ass, hoisting her up into his arms. 

“Ed’s!” She squealed as he lifted her up onto the counter. His large hands squeezed her thighs. She was the luckiest woman alive. As much as Eddie wanted to deny it. Lips joined as he leaned against the counter between her legs, his arms on either side of her, caging her in. His weight on top of her is familiar and welcome. As they kissed, she felt Eddie grabbing something on the counter behind her. When she pulled away to look he was holding a small knife she had used earlier to open the packet of sugar she had been struggling with. 

“Do you remember how much fun we used to have with these?” He smirked, his mouth inches away from hers. She grinned back at him. Memories flashing through her mind, Eddie’s trailer in high school. His handcuffs and the switchblade he used to carry with him. Nothing dangerous, always fun.

“Yeah,” She mumbled against his jawline, a groan rumbling in his chest as she pressed her lips to his ear. “It’s a shame you didn’t keep those handcuffs, baby.” 

“I can always get us some more.” He whispered, his voice low. Bringing the knife up higher towards her cheek. Pressing the cold metal against her warm skin, not hard enough to leave any marks. Trailing it down to her throat. Eyes dilating. 

“From where?” She laughed, watching his face as he dragged the blunt edge of the knife over her skin. 

“I don’t know. Sex shops are like, in right now. We didn’t have one in Hawkins, we can get you some fluffy ones.” He teases. Dropping the knife to kiss her again. 

“We can get fluffy ones,” She agreed. Arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his hips. “Only if you let me tie you up with them.” 

March. Still cold, not quite wedding season yet. Yet here they were. Almost 1am, in a crowded hall, surrounded by mostly strangers. One of her colleagues is getting married in March. Stupid, she had thought. Sitting at a round table, glasses and confetti littering the cloth. Eddie, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, hand absentmindedly stroking her knee. Wearing all black, jeans and a button up. “You know we’re going to a wedding, not a funeral. Right?”  She had joked before they left. He looked beautiful. As usual. 

 He reaches for the pack of cigarettes, leaning into her ear. “Lets go outside.” 

She nods, downs her drink and follows him outdoors. A deep sigh, the fresh night air a welcome change. Eddie passes her a cigarette, he leans down to light it for her when she places it between her lips. A stir inside of him as she looks up at him. She looks amazing. He can’t help but wish it was their wedding instead. He pushes the thought aside, lighting his own cigarette and leaning back against the brick wall. Cold. She leans into him, head on his shoulders. 

“When we get married, I don't want a wedding like this.” Her voice surprises him. 

“When?” He smiles. Sometimes he thought that she could read his mind. 

“Yeah.” She says, still leaning on his shoulder. “When. We’ll invite Wayne. Dustin maybe. Head down to a courthouse or something and do it there. I don’t need all this, unless you want that?” 

“Fuck no,” He laughs. “We could go to vegas.” 

“Wayne would hate that. 

“Yeah he would.” Eddie confirms. They both laugh. A rare conversation between them. Eddie usually isn’t the type, it scares him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, he thinks. He’s wanted to marry her since the day they met. When he found her in the Hawkins High parking lot in the rain yelling at her car for breaking down. When she had hopped into his van and stolen his cigarettes and waved at him from her front door after he’d taken her home. 

“I haven’t asked you, though. Like, properly.” He mumbles. Finishing his cigarette and stomping it into the dirt. 

“You don’t really need to.” She says. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“No?” He smiles. Thank fuck for that, he’s never been able to imagine himself doing the down on one knee and big wedding thing. He’s always on his knees for herself anyway. He just wants her as his wife. He wants her forever. 

“I want a ring though.” She smirks, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He hums in agreement, his hand moving up her arm to softly grasp her throat, pulling her into a kiss. He kisses her deeply, full of love. Her fingers grasp his hair, tugging lightly. Almost as if trying to pull him closer, they were already impossibly close. His knee sliding between her thighs. His hand is still around her neck protectively, squeezing a little harder now. 

Her hands drift down from his neck, stroking his chest on their way to the front of his jeans. Her fingers grasp the cold belt buckle, undoing it hastily before going for the zipper. 

“Are you sure?” He mumbles into the side of her neck. The skin on her neck is hot from his mouth, but her hands feel cold as they brush his stomach. He wishes he had brought his jacket out to drape around her shoulders like in some romantic movie. 

“Yeah. No ones gonna come out here looking for us, we hardly know any of em’” She giggles breathless as her hand dips into the front of his jeans, stroking him over the fabric of his boxers. 

“Fuck, okay.” He groans as she finally wraps her hand around his semi hard cock.

“Your hands fucking cold though.” He laughs as she begins to work him just the way he likes. He latches back onto her neck to quiet himself, just in case. 

“You’ll have to warm them up then, baby.” 

April. It’s late, the apartment is dark. He’s stressed, She’s stressed, Kat is also stressed - watching his parents fight. Eddie knows what would cure him instantly. He longs for it. The exact cause of the rift happening right now. 

“Will you stop that?” She snaps at him. He’s pacing, jittery and frantic. He’s tired, she’s angry. She’s so fucking angry at him and he hates it. 

“Eddie!” She calls his name again. Stern. He swings around, the tears running down her cheeks makes his chest hurt. Or was it something else doing that? He wasn’t sure anymore. 

“We need to talk about this. I can’t do it again.” She sighs.

“It-it’s not that bad.” He stutters, he feels sick. He sits down and puts his head in his hands. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” She has her arms crossed. Staring at him, he doesn’t respond. She makes her way over to him, he’s on the couch, she sits on the coffee table in front of him. “Eddie, please.” 

He needs a cigarette. They’re arguing about him, about his drinking and about those fuckin pain killers again. They help, he’d said. The drinking helps him sleep. Stops the nightmares. The pills help his head, it always hurts when he doesn’t sleep enough. He looks exhausted, she thinks.

“I’m trying to help.” She whispers.

“I know,” He practically sobs.. The dam finally breaks, the tears brimming  his lashes start  falling freely. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

He leans into her lap, his forehead resting on her knees as he cries. Repeating apologies. She rubs his back, runs her fingers through his hair - anything to calm him down. He’s shaking, but he mumbles something. 

“Huh?” She cups his face, wiping his tears when he lifts up his head. 

“I’m scared.” He whispers. “The nightmares, they scare me so fucking much. I’m scared that they won’t ever end.” He paused, sniffling. He feels pathetic. She waits for him to continue- “I just - I’m so tired. I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

“I know.” She takes his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you too. So fucking much, Ed’s. There’s steps we can take, help you can get. People you can talk to-“ 

“I'll talk to you.” He cuts her off. “I do talk to you.”

The thought of telling anyone else about his problems makes his headache worse. What was he supposed to tell them anyway? 

“I know but I mean someone else, professionals.” She smiles. Ugh, he sighs. She continues: “I need you in top shape for when we get married.” 

This makes him smile. He rests his head back on her lap, he’s desperate to sleep. She hugs him close. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to get tired and realise you deserve better.” He says. Still in her lap. He could never say this while  looking into her beautiful eyes. “The nightmares scare the hell outta me but you leaving, that scares me more.” 

She doesn’t respond for a few seconds. She’s delighted that he’s opening up, telling her the truth. Eddie had always been so reserved when it came to anything other than happiness. He never wanted to burden people with his problems. From a young age he had decided that if he was always the happiest person in the room, people would like him more. People would want him there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” She says softly. “This is okay. Rough patches like this, it’s all okay. We can get through it. You can get through it.” He wraps his arms around her waist, head on her chest. Heartbeat. “It’s gonna be okay, Ed’s.” 

“I know.” He whispers. “We’ll be okay.” 

May. Eddie’s birthday. He had been working so hard recently. Familiar for him, around this time of year. He never liked to celebrate. He needed this, she knew. As much as he didn’t want to admit it. He had been doing well mentaly, as well.  He’d been sleeping well mostly, and when he didn’t, he would actually talk to her about it. She wanted to show him she was proud. She told him all the time, but Eddie was no good at accepting genuine praise. Not outside of the bedroom, anyways.  She wasn’t much of a cook, but his favourite meal was take out anyway. So, a win for her. Kat had been following her around the apartment. Like he could feel the energy coming off of her. Sniffing around the gifts in the living room. 

When the sound of his keys jingling on the other side of the front door drifts through the apartment. Both she and Kat jump to attention. He opens the door slowly, almost as if he’s awaiting something. He knows her too well to think that she doesn’t have something waiting for him on the other side of the door. But boy, did he have a surprise for her instead. 

When he finally enters, she's waiting. She opens her mouth ready to say something, probably a Happy birthday baby! Or a Surprise! But when she sees what he’s holding in his arms she stops, Kat freezes beside her as well. She covers her mouth with her hands, a whispered what the fuck? As she approaches him. 

The small cat in his arms watches her before it looks back up at him. It’s claws digging into his leather jacket as it tries to bury itself further into his arms.

 “I uh, i found him.” He smiles, sheepishly. “Well, actually he’s been hanging around the shop for a few days. He’s so skinny, look. I’ve been feeding him and it's raining tonight so..”  He trails off, watching her smile as she reaches for the animal. It shys away, moving closer to Eddie. Kat is at his feet, trying to join in and see what everyone’s looking at. 

“He’s shy.” Eddie says quietly. “But I think he’ll like it here.” 

“I think so too.” She beams, taking the cat from his arms. It stiffens for a moment, nervous as it looks back at Eddie with pleading eyes. “Did you name it?” 

“No,” He says, watching as it relaxes in her arms as she scratches its head. Something he knows all too well. “You know how bad we are with names. He’ll probably end up being Kat number two or something.” He jokes. They both laugh, quietly so as to not disturb the nervous cat. 

“I know,” She agrees. “What are we gonna do when we need to name children?”

Her words cause a stir inside of him. He’s grinning as he leans down to greet his first child. She walks into the lounge still cradling their new one. “These are for you!” She gestures to his gifts. Putting the cat down on the couch and approaching him. Before he can protest with a You didn’t have too, she takes his arm, hugging it tightly, leading him into the living room. The cats surround them as he opens them. A new guitar, only an acoustic one. She knew nothing about all the electric ones, too complicated. Plus, his acoustic guitar had gotten broken when they had moved in over a year ago, when he kept dropping all the boxes. He still hadn't bought a new one. A new vinyl player. The one he had now was the same one they had danced too in high school in his trailer bedroom. And a few of his favourite albums. 

“Baby, i-” He starts. He doesn’t know how to finish. So he practically crawls over to the couch instead. He climbs on top of her on the couch and kisses her with as much love as he can. 

“You’re welcome.” She smiles against his lips. He tells her he loves her, whispered into his mouth. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He says, fingers squeezing her waist - finding her thigh to hook her leg over his hips. “At work on my fucking birthday when all i wanted was to be here with you.” 

“And them.” She points to the cats who are inquisitively sniffing around each other. The new addition already a part of the family. 

“And them.” He confirms with a smile. 

“Anyway,” He continued, grasping her jaw to look her in the eyes. “Are you gonna make me wait any longer?”

She would never deny him. Never could. Especially not on his birthday. She slides out from underneath him with one last kiss. Taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom, his other gift lay in wait on the bed. He laughed loudly as he laid his eyes upon the pair of pink fluffy handcuffs lying on the sheets. 

“Oh, fuck yes!” He exclaimed. Giggling with her as he grasped her thighs, hoisting her up into his arms to lay her down on the bed. Best birthday ever, he thinks. 

June. Eddie, awake early. As usual. In High School, he used to sleep late and wake up late. The opposite now. Funny how things change. 6:30, the clock says. He’s sitting on the balcony. Kat on his lap. The new cat, they’d been calling Two for a month now, was asleep with her in bed. Always cuddled up under her chin. Eddie was convinced that they had to give him a silly name like that, exactly like they had done with Kat. Because what kind of parents were they if they only bothered coming up with a cool name for their second one? ‘Babe, we literally named our first cat, cat! We can’t give number two a cool name. How will Kat feel?” 

His notebook in front of him, his guitar next to him which he’d put down when Kat joined him. Taking the place of his guitar on his lap. He didn’t mind. He sipped his coffee, smoke from his cigarette floating into the bedroom. He secretly hoped it would wake her up, he missed her every second they were apart. Even when they slept. He just didn’t have the heart to wake her. She had work soon anyway, so did he. Maybe he would have too. He sat out there watching and listening to the city for another half an hour, lighting more cigarettes and drinking his cold coffee. 

“Good morning, love of my entire life! Did you sleep well?” Her cheery voice sounded behind him, just as he was thinking of waking her up. He laughed, turning to face her as he leant down to kiss his cheek. 

“What?” She laughed with him. 

“That’s always exciting to hear.” He said. Passing her the cigarette box, watching her lips as she lit one. 

“Why?”

“Because it means you want something.” 

“I can’t tell you that you’re the love of my life without wanting something? I’m hurt.” She asked, sitting in her usual chair opposite him. The city was beginning to awake. More cars, louder. He tutted, shaking his head. Shooing Kat off of his lap and sitting back, patting his thighs. She took the hint, shooting up immediately and perching on his lap. He held her tightly, her arms around his neck. 

“I need a ride to work.” She mumbled into his hair.  He laughed, whispering  I knew it into the skin of her neck. His head resting on her shoulder.

“You are the love of my life, though.” She took his face into her hand, tilting his face up to kiss him. 

“I know.” He said between pecks, “Because you’re mine too.” 

He loved this balcony, and he loved kissing her. Her on his lap, out here the sun rising and the sounds of the city. Her lips on his, her hands in his hair, cupping his face. A life like this was something he thought he would never live. Something he thought he didn’t deserve. 

“You look beautiful.” He whispered into her mouth, his hand kneading her thighs. She pulled away smiling. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, baby.” She said, beginning to stand up. 

“Yeah?” He asked, playfully trying to pull her back down onto his lap. 

“Yeah, everywhere being a shower with me,” She took his hand, tugging him to stand up. “I need to get ready for work, but i want you first” 

“I like everywhere.” He laughed, following her back into the flat. The cats sat side by side on the bed, watching their parents make their way into the bathroom together, instead of making their way into the kitchen to fill up their food bowls. 

July. Almost 2am. Late for them, but they both have a day off tomorrow, so no harm done. It’s a clear starry night. She’s fascinated. They’re both laying out on the balcony - side by side. Their chairs pushed aside, a blanket laid out on the concrete surface underneath them. The blanket is thin - all the thick ones apparently ‘too expensive’ to be put out on the balcony floor. 

“I feel dizzy.” She says, quietly. 

“Gimme’ that then.” Eddie says, his voice slow. Holding out his hand to take the joint from her. 

“I haven’t smoked since before we moved.” She mumbles, still transfixed by the stars above them. Eddie has to admit, they do look nice tonight. Maybe it's just the weed though or maybe it’s that fact that she thinks they’re so amazing that he automatically does as well, he isn’t sure.

“Me neither.” He says, exhaling the smoke towards the sky. 

“I don’t think I like it anymore.” She whispers, turning to look at him. He looks beautiful. She can hardly see him, just the lit end of the joint between his fingertips, the moonlight. The flat is dark behind them, her insisting that the light would interfere with the view of the moon. But still, she knows he looks gorgeous. 

“Me neither, to be honest.” Eddie says, putting it out in the ashtray beside him. He sits up to take a sip of the water bottle beside him, offering it to her. She says she thinks she’ll throw up if she sits up. He laughs, laying back down. 

“We used to make a lot of money from it though, when you used to sell it.” 

“It wasn’t a lot.” Eddie snorts, “Barely enough for gas for that fuckin’ van.” 

“It was a lot for us!” She says, maybe a little too loud. “We could afford pizza almost every night.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He laughs, reaching for her hand. Holding it tightly. Looking at the rings on her fingers. His eyes fix on the empty space on her left hand. 

“I miss the van.” She says, watching him play with her hand. 

“Me too.” He sighs, “I miss fucking you in the back of it.” 

“Eddie!” She giggles.

“What?” He laughs with her. “I do! You gave me my first blowjob in the back of that van. I’ll never forget it.” 

“Neither will i. Would you get another one?” 

“No,” He says quickly. “That ship has sailed, I think. It would remind me too much of, you know, the past.” 

She nods, staring at him while he stares up at the sky. She whispers: “Sometimes the past can be good.” 

“Not mine. You’re the only good thing about my past. I never wanted anything but this,” He gestures between them. “I don’t wanna go back to it. Not hawkins, not the weed, not the van. None of it. Only you.”  

She registers the tears in his eyes and the way his hand shakes and grasps hers tighter. “Okay.” She says. Simple, but he knows that she's saying she isn’t going to pry anymore. An understanding between them, he appreciates.  She shuffles closer to him, throwing her arm over his waist, nuzzling his neck. Just them and the moon and the stars. All he’d ever wanted. All he’d ever need. 

August. Loud voices and crowds. Two things she hated. The reason she missed so many of Eddie’s shows with his band back in school. Something she regretted now. She clung to Eddie’s hand as they left the cinema building. Beginning the walk home,  not far from their apartment. A warm August evening, Eddie looked gorgeous in the sunlight. His short sleeved band t-shirt, minus his usual leather jacket, his own personal style that he still clung to. 

“I thought that was great!” He smiled, swinging their hands back and forth. She had a different opinion. Horror movies, they’d always been Eddie’s favourite. He had sat her down on the couch and convinced her to watch hundreds during their relationship. How was there so many? Who was making these? 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah it was good.” She agreed - lied. The sun was beginning to set, the streets getting quieter now as they got closer to their building. He felt her squeezing his hand a little tighter. Turning to look over her shoulder every now and then. He smirked, taking his hand out of her grip and throwing his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close into his side. She grasped his hand again as it draped over her shoulder. 

“You scared?” He teased, lowering his voice as his mouth neared her ear. 

“No.” She mumbled. 

“You sure?” 

“I’m not scared. That movie was just… weird. I don’t know how you enjoy those so much.” 

“Don’t worry, baby.” He said, fishing his keys out his pocket as they approached their building. “I’ll protect you.” 

She nodded, looking around again as he unlocked the door. She hated the hallway outside their apartment. During the day it was annoying, a long walk after taking the stairs. But at night, it was terrifying. It wasn’t just long. But dark as well. Eddie paused at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway. 

“What?” She asked. He didn’t answer, without warning he sprinted down into the darkness towards their apartment. 

“Eddie!” She hissed, running to catch up with him. Hearing his laughter at the end of the hallway. “Don’t do that!” 

He was still laughing as she  joined him at the front door. The cats surrounded their feet when he opened it, making sure she got in first. Even though he had just abandoned her in the terrifying hallway. 

“That’s so not funny.” She whined after he had safely locked the door. Pushing him away when he mumbled an aww and tried to hug her. 

“Fuck off.” She groaned as he wrapped his arms around her, much stronger than her. He attempts to push him away feeble. “Such an idiot.” She mumbled against his chest. 

“Aw, I'm sorry sweetheart. Did I leave you all alone in the big bad hallway?” He practically giggled into her ear. He brought his hand up to her jaw, tilting her face so he could join their lips. “I’m sorry.” He laughed against her mouth. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Ed’s.” She said as he  moved to kiss her cheek. Suggestively - “You might need to show me how sorry you are.” 

“Oh?” He whispered, their foreheads touching. She nodded. “Oh, I can definitely do that, baby. Come here.” 

He bent down, one of his arms hooking under her knees as he lifted her up into his arms. He crossed the threshold of their bedroom, dropping her onto the bed. Lifting his shirt over his head before climbing on top of her, ready to show her just how sorry he was, a loud meow from the doorway  interrupted them. Both their heads turned to the doorway to see the cats standing next to their empty bowls, the cinema trip meant they had missed dinner time. 

Eddie sighed, getting up from the bed to his feet, “Wait there.” He said sternly, pointing at her lying on the bed. “I want those clothes gone when i get back.”

She laughed as she began to strip the offending garments off of her body. Lying back in wait for her boyfriend who was currently apologising to the cats, the sounds of their food being poured into the metal bowls ringing through the apartment. God, he was fantastic. 

September. A cold evening, a store. The bane of Eddie’s existence - shopping. He was pushing the cart. Full of, frankly, stuff they didn’t need. A weekly occurrence for them. Grocery shopping for ‘essentials’ only, and arriving home with more than they needed.

“You know, I don't think we’ve picked up a single thing on this list, baby,” Eddie sighs. The love of his life was currently making a beeline for the newly put out halloween decorations. Why do stores keep putting this shit out in September?

 “And halloween isn’t for another month!” He calls after her. 

“Yeah, but look!” She laughs, eyes drifting over to the pet Halloween costumes. Eddie couldn’t lie, he didn’t want to step foot in that aisle. He felt stupid, but honestly, the bats made him nervous. Although these ones were all cute and cuddly. He started to take some deep breaths, March 1986 was a long time ago. But he couldn’t stop his heart rate picking up at the sight of the light up bats on a string, the paper bats that hung from the ceiling almost taunting him. He started to back away slightly. She followed his eyes to the ceiling, the bats hanging above her.  She suddenly felt guilty.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly, putting the cat pumpkin costume down. 

“Yeah. Yeah - no, I'd uh, I'd just like to leave.” He mumbled. She nodded, offering to take the cart from him. He let go quickly, shuffling over to the next aisle and taking a few more deep breaths. 

“ I’m sorry, Ed's,” She said, standing a few steps away from him. “Do you wanna go home?” 

“ No! No, it’s okay!” He said softly, walking back over. “It’s okay. It's just, you know, down there.” He pointed to the offending aisle.

 “This list is still pretty long.” He forced a laugh and a smile. Taking the cart back from her. 

“You can wait in the car if you like? I don’t mind.” She offered.

“No, I'm fine! Honestly.” He assured her. His shaky hand came to rest on her shoulder. She looked around at the empty aisle they were in, before leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck. Pulling him into a tight hug - full of love. He relaxed, resting his head on her, his own arms squeezing her tightly, 

“I’m proud of you, baby.” She whispered. He smiled against her hair. “I love you.” She cradled his face to look into his eyes. 

“I love you more.” He said, hands travelling up and down her back. 

“I don’t think so.” She jokes, pulling away to look back down at their shopping list. He pulls her back, grasping her waist so his chest is pressed against her back. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin of her neck, his lips ghosting over the mark he had already made earlier in the day, before whispering:  “I think I showed you just how much I love you this morning.” 

October. Eddie is locked out of his own bedroom. Sitting with his back against the wall next to the door. Kat beside him, Two on the other side of the door with her. Both cats are equally as confused as Eddie. Well, he shouldn’t be confused, he fucked up. Big time. 

“Honey, I’m sorry.” He knew you could hear him. He was met with silence. “Please. We need to talk about this.’ 

“I don’t want to talk to you. Not right now.” The first words he’d heard from her in almost twenty minutes. 

“Please. Give me five minutes. Let me explain.” More silence. 

“Explain what? Explain why you’re drunk? Explain why your new girlfriend was trying to make out with you in front of me?” 

“She wasn’t! She’s not and she wasn’t! That- that’s not what happened. I’m not drunk either, I promise.” He stuttered. Fuck, maybe he was. He put his head in his hands, his knees pulled to his chest. “Baby, please. I don’t even know who she is. I just met her.” 

“Okay? That doesn’t help. I know what I saw.” He could hear that she was crying. His heart was fucking broken. This was it, wasn’t it? The last straw. She was going to leave him. She was probably going to fuck off back to hawkins and leave him here in this big city all alone. All his fault, like always. 

“I know what it looks like you saw. I promise it wasn’t. I’m gonna explain. ” He whispered, his head resting against the door now. She didn’t respond, he started talking anyway.

Eddie had been out with friends from work, a rare occurrence for  him. He’d become a home body since they had left Hawkins, something he was completely fine with. He was in some dirty bar with his dirty new friends who he honestly didn ‘t like that much. All he wanted was to be home with his girl. One of his new friends had brought his girlfriend who had brought a friend. A friend who had been giving him the eye all night. Eddie had pretended not to notice. He wasn’t very good at turning people down, but turn her down he definitely would. He had the most beautiful girl in the world at home waiting for him. The most gorgeous woman in the city who was probably sitting up on the couch with their two cats. The only place he wanted to be right now. He had been drinking, that was wrong of him. He can admit - he had been doing so well. He was just so nervous and he thought he could handle it. Lesson learned. He had called her, the most gorgeous girl in the city, to come pick him up. 

“Look, baby, I'm so sorry. You gotta come get me.”

“Have you been drinking, Ed’s?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” A sigh had come from the other end. 

“Okay, I'll be there in a sec. Stay safe.” That had made him smile. He told his friends he was leaving which had caused complaints, his girl was coming to pick him up, he’d said. He didn’t miss the pout from the friend who had been eye fucking him all night. He had smirked. His acquaintances had offered to come stand outside with him, to have a smoke and keep him company while he waited. The girls had followed. Just as the love of his life had pulled up in his car, the friend who had suddenly started standing very close to him had twisted her ankle on her heel. Eddie, being ever the gentlemen, obviously didn’t want to let her fall. But now, hours later, he was pretty sure she had done it on purpose. He wished he had picked that up at the time. Actually, now he thinks about it, was she even wearing heels? Anyway, the way she had fallen into him and thrown her arms around his neck could not have been an accident. And that's exactly what his love had seen. He had helped the girl stand up straight, her and her friends giggles had  infuriated him. The car ride home was silent. And here he was. Now locked out of his own bedroom. 

“And that’s it.” He promised. He was crying now too. “Please open the door. I’m sorry for drinking so much, I messed up. I can admit that and I'll make it up to you. I swear.” 

He sniffled, listening as he heard shuffling on the other side. He continued, “But the girl, it was nothing. I promise. I was just trying to be nice. I didn’t know she was gonna do that. I’m sorry you saw it but i would never. Baby, i would never.” He practically sobbed the last part. “Please. You’re it for me. I love you. I love you so much. I would never ruin this, ever. Please.” He pleaded one more time. Tears trailing down his cheeks. His head hurt now, from the crying or the drinking - he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted a hug, and he wanted to sleep. In his own bed, with her. Not the couch with Kat. 

The door opened. “Really?” She sniffled. Her face matched his. Sad, tears. He nodded, his big brown eyes full of tears, looking up at her. 

“Yes. I promise. I wish I could prove it to you.” He whispered. He was still on the floor, she crouched down next to him. 

“I’m sorry.” She said, “I-” 

“No, no I am.” He cut her off, taking her hands into his. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ed’s. I’m sorry I didn't let you explain.” She put her arms around his shoulders. He basically curled up into her lap. “I just- I guess I got jealous. There was no need, I trust you Eddie. And I believe you. I’m so sorry. I love you.” 

They stayed like that for a while, on the floor. Whispering apologies and promises of love. She got up to make him a drink. He downed a pint of water and crawled into bed next to her. That was his last night out for a while, he thinks. Hopefully forever, she thought. 

November. Balcony doors open, the curtains rustling. Cold, 9am. Way too cold, now that Eddie was no longer beside her, or inside of her. Her legs are still shaky, hair a mess. Rumpled sheet. The smell of coffee and cigarettes coming from the kitchen. Eddie’s voice, talking to the cats. She smiled. When he reemerged, two mugs in hand, the pack of cigarettes he had been looking for in the draws now in his hand. 

“I told you they were in the kitchen.”

“Whatever.”  He mumbled, muffled by the one in his mouth. He passed her the pack after placing her mug down on her bedside table. He climbed over her to his side, placing his own on the other table. A mumbled come here, gorgeous as he opened his arm, urging her to curl up into his side. Leg thrown over his, his heartbeat in her ear. Happiness. 

“You know, I can’t believe you still  have a ridiculous amount of sugar in your coffee.” He said, taking a sip of his own. “I thought you would have grown out of it or something.” 

“It’s the way I like it.” She scoffed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Dunno.” He looked down at her, the hand around her shoulders coming up to run through her hair. “I think we have cereal.” 

“Mhm.” She hummed at the feeling of his fingers on her scalp. “We like cereal.” 

“Yes, we do.” He whispered. Tilting her head to kiss her. She pulled away too quickly for his liking, but before he could reel her back in she had bounced up and placed herself on his lap. Their lips met again, his hands going straight to her ass, pulling her closer against his chest. Her tits pressed against his skin made him groan into her mouth and knead the skin in his hands. 

“Round two?” She smiled against his skin, her lips travelling to his neck. Marks she had already left, a slight burning sensation as she sucked on them again. He loved it. 

“Damn baby, I thought you were tired?” He gasped as she reached down between them to grasp him in her hand. He went straight for her chest as he worked him slowly, his mouth closing around one of her nipples. Her hands tighten in his curls. Heat in her abdomen spreading, their mouths exploring each other once again when, like clockwork - two high pitched meows. 

“Hey!” Eddie pointed at the offenders, “I’m trying to seduce your mother! Go away!” 

Both of them laughed as he pushed her backwards off his lap, hand cradling the back of her head, his face above hers. Coaxing her to wrap her legs around him as he slid home. 

December. A snow storm. No Hawkins for Christmas this year, something Eddie was secretly pleased about. The glittering tree she had insisted they put up flashed in the corner every time a car drove past. The headlights catching the god awful tinsel. He didn’t hate the tree, he hated the decorations. The cats kept stealing them. They kept waking up to the living room covered in plastic and tinsel. Maybe he just hated cleaning. 

The awfully cheesy Christmas movie was long forgotten after he had convinced her to make out with him on the couch instead. Something that was going well until the words ‘hot chocolate’ had been mentioned on screen. Then suddenly, she had to have one as well. So here he stood - in the kitchen, arms wrapped around her waist, his chest to her back as she stood at the counter. Stirring the drinks that had distracted her from his body. 

“Stop pouting.” She giggled, looking at him from the corner of her eye. 

“I’m not.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before stepping back. 

“You are.” She cooed, bringing a hand up to pinch one of his cheeks. He shooed her hand away, mumbling an ow. 

“Come on!” She laughed, leaving the kitchen - mug in hand. He took a sip of his own drink before following her. He had to admit, it was fucking good. 

“Very well done, my love.” He commented as he joined her on the couch. 

“Thank you.” She giggled as his lips met her forehead. 

“Please don’t put that movie back on.” He whined. 

“What else do you wanna do then? There’s nothing to-” 

She stopped talking as the whole apartment went dark. The only sound, the cats paws as they both ran in, skidding to a stop in front of the couch. 

“Well, I was going to say I had something in mind.” He teased, his hand reaching her thigh. “But now, that seems to be the only thing we can do while we wait for the power to come back on.” 

“I don’t know about you, but I'm gonna finish drinking this.” She brought the mug to her lips. “And I'm gonna go find some candles.” 

He watched as her silhouette left the room. Eddie sipped his own drink again, hearing a commotion in the hallway. Neighbours asking each other “is yours out too?”. He laughed to himself. 

“Do you have your lighter?” Her voice behind him. Her arms are full of candles. Placing some in the kitchen and some of the table in front of him.

“Yeah, here.” He said, reaching for it where it lay next to his cigarette pack. While they were busy lighting candles, they failed to notice their two children eyeing up the presents under the tree. Two made the first move, dragging a small, badly wrapped box out from underneath. Obviously wrapped by Eddie. The corners are thick, and there is too much tape. While their parents kiss and giggle in the kitchen, Eddie whispering things in her ear that made her want to cross her legs, the cats get to work on ripping off the paper. 

“You hear that?” Eddie asked, pulling his mouth away from his girlfriend's chest. 

“No.” She mumbled, sucking on his jaw, trying to pull him back. But the unmistakable sound of rustling paper foiled her plans. 

“Those little shits!” He exclaimed, running to the lounge. Trying not to trip in the dark. The candles gave just enough light to see what they were doing. His eyes widened as he realised which one they had picked up, just enough paper being ripped off to expose the velvet box underneath. 

“Fuck! Not that one!” He gently pushed the cats away, scooping up the box. 

“What did they get?” She asked, coming in behind him. 

“Nothing!” He said, a little too quickly. Stuffing the box into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“What? Let me see!” She laughed, trying to reach into his pocket. 

“No!” He grabbed her hands, stopping her from grabbing the box. “It’s one I got for you.” 

“Looks tiny,” She joked. She tried to reach for it again, “Let me see it! The cats have spoken, that gift is an early one for me to open now.” 

“No, this one's special. You can’t see it till christmas day.” 

“Oh,” She pouted. “Why do you hate me?”

They both laughed against each other's mouths, him trying to pull her back down onto the couch with him. A distraction. Hate? Well, the ring currently in his pocket would beg to differ. Those damn cats.

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

[writeforthehellofit]

“A man needs a good pocketknife,” my dad once told me. More than once, actually. He said the phrase many times.

My first knife was one he bought for me in Germany. He had spent a few months there with McDonnell Douglas in 1977. I was six, and my first knife had a big fork on one side and a spoon on the other. I wanted nothing more than to use it at the supper table, and I did to my mother’s horror. It wasn’t long though before I saw the absurdity of needing another utensil to cut a piece of meat. I’ve been like this for a long time.

I ate pork-n-beans with it though. Even opened the can with the built in can opener. It had a bottle opener that I used some, and a big ol’ janky corkscrew that I wouldn’t even need to for years to come. It had a screwdriver and a file too. It was basically a worse Swiss Army knife with the added benefit of limited-use foldaway flatware.

I was a little older when he bought me my first real knife. Twelve maybe. It went everywhere I did. It was an Old Timer. Not super nice, but far from shitty. It had a locking blade and the plastic handle looked like wood and was finely textured with diagonal grooves for a good grip. Dad taught me how to sharpen it, and I kept it sharp.

The last knife he bought me was a Case. That’s the good stuff. I honestly don’t remember much about it. My wife and I were moving out to Oregon and the day we left, the folks were out of town. Dad called to tell me to swing by his house before we left. He had something for me on his dresser. I don’t remember much about the actual knife, but I remember the note. “Every man needs a good pocketknife. Keep it sharp. Also I want to tell you what my Daddy told me and what his daddy told him. ‘Any time you get four people together, one of them is going to be a son-of-a-bitch. Don’t be him.’ Good luck. Hope we get to see you soon. Love, Dad.”

I lost that knife in the crawl space of a house in Eugene. I had this damn job inspecting for termites, but the actual job was sales. Crawl through some old lady’s cobwebs and try to sell her shit she doesn’t need. I lasted three days. I would give anything to have that knife back.

I’ve bought myself several knives over the years. Always Case, like Dad bought for himself. I generally keep up with a knife for four or five years, then it will just disappear one day. God knows where they go. Then I’ll go buy a new one and get a few years older while it develops the shiny patina that one gets when commingling with change and cigarette lighters.

Maybe ten years ago I was in a knife shop and saw a style I hadn’t seen before. It was a Case, but it has this cool lever on the end of the blade and you can just kick the blade out with your thumb. The lever is handy for prying on shit and the whole thing feels good in your hand. It also gives me something to do with my hands. It probably looks like I’m playing pocket pool, but the god damned thing is better than a fidget spinner.

I really loved that knife, so when I lost it—right on schedule—I had to get one just like it right away. Well, we all know that the best way to find a lost item is to replace it. It took a couple of years, but I did eventually find that lost knife. I cleaned and sharpened it, oiled it up, and put it it my top dresser drawer, which for me is devoted to whatever treasure I own. Been that way since I was a boy. Socks and underwear go below all that, though I’m starting to rethink priorities in my 50s.

Dad passed away a few weeks ago. His health has been up and down a lot the last six years or so, but it was COVID that finally got him. It’s not a pretty way to go, as I’m sure many of you can attest to. We traveled back home after he died to get our funeral clothes and things, and I found myself looking through my treasure drawer, sort of getting lost. There was the knife.

“Every man needs a good pocketknife.”

The old phrase that I had come to believe in ran through my mind as I thought of my dad. I thought of him lying in that box in the suit we helped Mom pick out. Lying there with no shoes. Did you know they bury you in socks? No shoes. They’re too hard to get on your swollen feet. That’s just a nugget I have picked up recently. I thought of Dad lying there with no pocketknife and I thought it was a damned shame.

I stood over his casket with my arm around my mother. His pants pockets were hidden below the split in the lid, so I slipped it into his coat pocket. Every man needs a good pocketknife. I guess it doesn’t matter which pocket it goes in. I hope not anyway.

Part of me is like Dad, and thinks it would have been better to pass it on to one of my own boys. Practical. Like it was a waste of a good knife.

Part of me wants to believe in magical things. Part of me wants to believe in some sort of life after death. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Part of me knows it’s all bullshit, but that other part wants to believe in ghosts. It wants to believe bad things come out of the closet if you play with that Ouija board. It wants to believe that the things I’ve seen were NOT the result of a leaking flue. Like prayer works if you really believe. Like God is real and Spot crossed a rainbow bridge and Dad is in heaven with that knife. Part of me wants to believe that Dad’s empty husk can feel that knife against his chest and it comforts him to know it’s there if he needs it.

Every man needs a good pocketknife, right Dad?

I had a dream last night. We were at Mom’s, moving things out. I moved Dad’s chair aside and saw that knife. I knew he had put it there for me. Then I found another one just like it. Then two more. They were for my sons. I don’t know what it means, but I can’t quit thinking about it. I’ll probably be purchasing three knives just like mine. I’ll stick them in my drawer. I’ll probably write the names of my sons on the boxes. I guess I should print this out to explain things.

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[imaginationmess]

TAKE MY HAND (ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE) [BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER]; TWO

Bakugou Katsuki X Reader

AGED UP AU!

Summary: When you take on the burden to keep the ones living safe, which causes you to become a traitor, but you had to pick a decision, and it cost their trust in you. You reverted to your old violent self. Months later, you find yourself face to face with your old friends. They want you to help them because they know you can handle yourself in this current state of the world. They are still ignorant of the state the world is. They have no idea how more dangerous it has become.

“We are still fucking fighting and won’t stop fighting. If you fucking give up, we lose!”

BEFORE READING! PLEASE READ DISCLAIMER!

Previously Chapter ONE; Masterlist

Chapter TWO

Word Count: 1,600+

Spoiler Alert for Anime watchers: There will be mention of Midoirya’s new quirks that haven’t been introduced in the anime.

Once the four of them have taken a shower and had time to discuss with each other weighing the pros and cons of trusting you. You did have a good record of keeping up with your promises before the incident where you betrayed all of their trust. It’s a tie between trusting you or not trusting you over a deal.

They are gonna reconsider the vote about it, later at night. They are all curious how you became a Mafia boss from just an original teenager who wanted to become a hero. To only become a cold killer and making a name for yourself years later.

They only have heard stories and rumors of the alias you go by.

Glitch.

A masked individual who is widely known for their cold,calculated mind and a heartless killer who didn’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. A leader who rapidly climbing up the ladder in the mafia world during the time of the apocalypse. A leader who became to hold more territory and killing off of other leaders to take their territory and expand their army.

A name alone made your enemies tremble in their boots.

They are hoping to get better judgment, seeing how things are run here.

The young boy that goes by the alias Speedy gave them a quick tour, but didn’t show the whole building due to being confidential from outsiders. He is just following orders. He was taking them to the cafeteria to grab something to eat to only notice where the children were eating all together were pointing at them. Most of them have eyes of admiration and pure awe looking at them.

“They are fans of you guys. They have seen the old video recording of previous sports festivals. We had to keep them somewhat entertained. Glitch got her hands on those old videos.” Speedy explains to continue to eat his soup.

The boys nod, understanding why the kids are so excited to see them in the flesh. It was weird, but somewhat comforting that the younger generation isn’t taught to hate heroes.

“I would keep those degrading comments of Miss Glitch to yourselves because the people who live here aren’t fans of heroes, much less of outsides. I heard you guys arguing earlier outside the room. You weren’t very quiet.” He looks at Bakugou in a way saying you are the loud one, before adding, “Everyone here would not agree on whatever image you decide to picture her.”

“Why wouldn’t they agree? Isn’t she a killer though?” Todoroki is just addressing the tension in the air. Midoriya and Kirishima choked on their food before coughing. They forgot Todoroki still struggles to read the social situations.

“Yes, she has killed many, but it is done to keep everyone safe. At the state of the world, it isn’t run by heroes who never got their hands dirty. It is run by killers because prison doesn’t exist. Who is gonna be the one to put those low lives underneath the ground? You guys never faced the true danger of the current state of the world. You are always protected just because you attend a prestigious school before the apocalypse hit.” Speedy spits out before taking a deep breath and just continues eating his food. His left hand was

“I apologized for his comment. We just have a history of them. It didn’t end on a good note. I know yo-.”

Speedy interrupts Midoriya by slams his spoon on the table before taking a deep breath to recollect himself.

“You don’t know any of our experiences. It was hell before Miss Glitch came to save us and took us in with no judgment. She taught us how to freaking survive by teaching us numerous tools such as self-defense and weapon handling. She never expected anything in return, unlike other mafia groups.”

The sound of a clap pauses the tension being created by five of them. The ex heroes in training look up to see meet the emotionless man covered with tattoos and scars. The same man who was within the room left to the minor from earlier. He placed a hand on top of Speedy head to ruffle his hair.

“Go ahead, eat with your sibling. Take a breather. I will take over making sure these little shits behave.” He removes his hand from his head before taking a seat beside the teenager.

“But-” Speedy was hesitant on leaving his position.

“It’s an order. Spend time with your sibling. Enjoy the night off.” The older man takes out a red apple from his pocket. Speedy stares at the four outside and gives a quick nod before taking his leave.

Bakugou Katsuki was staring at the man with suspicion as if he saw him before this mission. He wasn’t the only one who was thought so. Midoriya recalls those same tattoos, but it must have been a long time ago. He couldn’t easily recall. They were eating quietly until they finished.

“Let’s start ny introducing myself. I am Daichi. I am usually the one who runs this base when Miss Glitch isn’t present. It must have been your lucky day because you would have been tortured to death for trespassing.” The hairs behind their neck rise and getting goosebumps.

They sense malicious by the way he is sounding. Midoriya’s danger senses were activating and going crazy causing him to want to step away from him. It takes him back to when All For One and Stain’s presence.

Daichi’s yellow eyes stare at every one of them as he takes out a pocket knife directs it at Midoriya who was sitting in front of him. “The only reason you four are alive and even getting treated with special treatment is because of Miss Glitch. Step out of line, I wouldn’t hesitate to beat the shit of you wannabe heroes. That’s the only thing. I am allowed to do.” He swiftly put his pocket knife after cutting his apple into six pieces which fall on the napkin. He claps his hands together cutting through the tension for him to drop the act to replace it with a fake smile.

“Anyways comes to my question. What did you talk about with the young boy making them lose their composure?”

He was oblivious enjoying tormenting these wannabe heroes.

_______________________________________

Meanwhile, inside the hero’s refuge base where there is a tall metal barrier that runs underneath 20 feet underground.

There was a young man with black hair with his signature scarf, looking at a map looking where to travel to get more food and other resources. They are running out of places to investigate. The last 2 locations were a complete bust. It has been cleaned out completely. He is one of the leaders of the camp where they have stayed safe since the beginning of the apocalypse.

There was a knock on the wall, before someone coming in through the curtains. They pull a chair across from him, before taking a seat. They are twirling it around for them to rest their arms on the top of the chair.

“Aizawa, I can’t believe you took my suggestion seriously.” The young male with the purple bed hair as if he just rolled out of bed, comments. He has a small scar above his eyebrow. He has a few scars on his arms that have grown muscular.

“It was insane, but not outside of the possibilities.” Aizawa laid back in his chair and stares at his former student who is now somewhat a version copy of himself when it comes to fighting styles.

“Do you tell the trio? Whom they are gonna be meeting?” The purple-haired questions, not seeing they would be willing to see a former classmate that so-called became a traitor in their eyes.

“No. They wouldn’t be willing to do it despite us being a tight spot right now when it comes to resources.” Aizawa answers, before ruffling his hair and keeping his eyes closed. He is stressed out and not having a lot of options. They are running low on adults that were pro heroes. They have lost many throughout the apocalypse. Many of them abandon their original mission to save themselves.

The apocalypse revealed the true heroes who aren’t for the money. They are a good amount of pro heroes who got captured by mafia groups to have power. Some of them show over time randomly at their doorstep after being spared by the mask individual Glitch. That’s the only information they are allowed to share about their interaction with Glitch.

Aizawa and the other leaders of the camp believe the individual took them close enough for them to walk to their camp. Aizawa suspects it is one of his former students whom he didn’t have any contract  ever since the infamous incident. Majorly of his students calls them to be traitors.

“I still don’t get why we never told the truth about what actually happened that day.” The purple-haired male looks to the side to see Eri outside away from any harm playing with Kota.

“Hitoshi, It was a quick agreement exchange of keeping our mouths close and follow whatever story they want to make up. She swore to keep her word on securing your guys safe within her presence.” Aizawa applies pressure on his forehead to relieve the headache.

Aizawa remembering back to the U.A dorms where you are smiling and being a normal teenager. The image of that student whom he watched over for months became dark. She was no longer a child, but an emotionless shell of what she should be.

The lifeless eyes staring back at him, covered in bruises and blood that wasn’t her own. She was carrying unconscious Eri. You were bathed by your enemy’s blood. The remaining light of innocence in your eyes had vanished from existence. It only reveals just cold, calculated eyes that were staring at his soul.

“Aizawa.”

💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

Any thoughts/Feelings/Predictions that you have while out reading this chapter.

I would love to hear them! <3

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