#its still a tiny bit purple so i will save it for tomorrow or even the next day tonhave on my birthday lol

[guinevereslancelot]

first blueberry of june! :0

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

--

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your t��a’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓎 | after an anxiety episode, you and ari make cookies together.

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 | steamy angsty fluff!

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 | daddy!ari levinson × black//woc!reader

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.3K

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | 18+ ddlg! ♡ anxiety attack ♡ some sexual themes ♡ degradation ♡ dick jokes ♡ hints to smut but nothing else! ♡ this is all 100% concentrated fluff

𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈 | love language by ariana grande ♡ tuxedo junction by glenn miller  ♡

𝓌. 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 | okay so i tried okay i tried to make it as fluffy as i can but i just couldn’t help to not lace my own school circumstances into this while writing :( i can’t believe I got this out in just a day but i hope y’all enjoy this cherubs!!! ♡ do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

 ♡ the sight of the tiny blue ‘submit’ button at the bottom of the screen increased the swirling thoughts as your eyes turned to the ticking clock at the bottom right of the computer screen.

 ♡ you don’t take a second to breathe but anxiously bite the flesh of your lower lip, this week long project was coming to a crashing deadline as it was due in just a minute from now.

 ♡ how have you gotten yourself in this distressful circumstance?

 ♡ well typical clumsy you blacked out in a power nap for the past hours when you thought you submitted the assignment while waiting for your friend to do the touch ups of her portion of the assignment worth one-third of your semester grade.

 ♡ waking up from the long nap felt like cloudy heaven, mind finally relaxed accompanied with the delicious looseness of your energized limbs as you stretched them.

 ♡ of course the rosy moment was quickly diminished when you reached for your phone at your side table, hoping to catch up on any recent news you missed out from your nap.

 ♡ and you had as you skimmed through each and every exhilarating and restless text from your friend who apparently got a message from both your professor that the assignment wasn’t turned in.

 ♡ your mind raced as you quickly opened your laptop, tracing through your emails you eye the message from your professor that was outlined in red.

 ♡ the simple sentence of: this assignment affects your semester grade, turn it in before the deadline.

 ♡ had your widening eyes taking the email in, your mind flashed through the memory when you strictly remembered that you clicked the submit button.

 ♡ you know you did, you fucking know it but here you are anxiously rushing to submit it again.

 ♡ but at this point it doesn’t matter because you are now seconds away from turning it in before the whole portion of the google classroom submission turns grey.

 ♡ gathering the link to the word document that held your assignment the beating in your chest was beginning to level once your hand dragged the mouse pad cursor to the little blue button.

 ♡ rechecking the links you don’t dare take an inhale until your painted cherry red index finger clicks down hard on the submit button, eyes widening and heart pounding when the little loading circle appears.

 ♡ “c’mon!” your hushed whisper stresses, your hands forming into tight fists that rest onto the warm plushness of your thighs your skirt didn’t cover.

 ♡ uneasy eyes flash to the clock onto your macbook and notice the white font against the black outline displaying 11:59, you let out a closed lip whine when the loading whirlpool doesn’t go away and the bold purple words of ‘submitted!’ don’t appear on your screen.

 ♡ however, with whatever saving grace and golden strand of luck that was fortunately bestowed on you, that easing message appeared seconds away from the striking hour of midnight.

 ♡ letting out a relieved sigh your head falls back as you closed and rubbed your eyes, your cold fingertips attempting to cool your racing head you move them away from your face when your phone tings.

 ♡ grabbing your phone that was thrown in your blitzing uneasiness minutes ago the sight of your friends name appears on your lockscreen, under it holds their message.

 ♡ please [y/n] tell me you turned it in.

 ♡ you unlock your phone and message them back, informing them that you have turned it in which you received the same relieved feedback that coursed through your mind a minute ago.

 ♡ closing off the conversation with a comment of speaking to them tomorrow you shut off your phone and closed your macbook, setting them both on their individual chargers before walking out of your room.

 ♡ you can hear the light jazz of glenn millers ‘tuxedo junction’ fuzz through the halls, the pinkness of your socks that cover your feet guide you to where the music gets stronger and stronger.

 ♡ ari’s office door is slightly cracked, the music bustling inside it flowing out into the hallway you step closer and peek your eye through the crack.

 ♡ there you see your lover, sitting at his polished desk, a cigarette in hand he puffs it as his spectacle eyes glance down at the papers that lie in front of him, an ink pen in his other grasp writes down what he needs to.

 ♡ glancing down you notice his feet tapping against the carpet to the suave rhythm of the jazz blasting on a small speaker at the corner near his numerous chestnut bookshelves and flourishing green potted plants.

 ♡ taking a deep inhale of the cigar the white smoke that slips through his lips looks like a soft cotton cloud, your heart jumps to an opportunity when his hand that holds his pen stops writing.

 ♡ his eyes skimming through his papers as his fingers adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose, setting down his burning thick cigar on the ashtray near him as well.

 ♡ fingers framing the sides of his bearded cheeks, your lover reads his written work with a careful eye, foot continuing to tap as the beat enters into its main rowdy trumpet chorus.

 ♡ pink tongue gliding against his rosy lips, his eyes shine and with that he takes the papers in both his hands and evens them out, grabbing the stapler that’s set near his neatly arranged pens he clicks the thick papers together.

 ♡ grabbing a navy blue folder he sets the papers in it and opens one of his desk drawers before setting his paperwork amongst his other files, shutting it closed his fingers grab his cigar that is still burning.

 ♡ taking it back between his lips your eyes don’t leave them, you never wanted to be that cigar so badly, your heart skips a beat when ari’s yes set against yours, a smirk peeking his tobacco smoked lips you let out a hushed ‘eep’ and back away from the door.

 ♡ you hear ari’s deep chuckle from in his office, causing your face to heat up and limbs to go stiff in embarrassment, peeking your face again through the doors crack your eyes set back on ari’s amused smirk and you gasp and move your head away.

 ♡ ari let out a airy laugh, oh he was enjoying your flustered state, he always found it so cute when he caught you staring at him.

 ♡ “come in princess,” he spoke.

 ♡ smirk still plastered on his lips he exhales another white smoky cloud before putting out the thick cigar, not wanting you to inhale any of the fumes.

 ♡ hears the door open, eyeing your shy figure walking to him growing confident with each step.

 ♡ your hips, legs and shoulders dance along the jazzy miller piece, making his smirk widen as you sway and swing your body to emphasize your pronounced curves that hide in your thick collared sweater and tennis skirt.

 ♡ he can’t snatch his eyes away from your soft thighs that aren’t properly covered from that ridiculously short skirt, his eyes darken when he sees your fingers unbuttoning the buttons of the top portion of the designer sweatshirt.

 ♡ your hands do a sinister job at gliding up your curves slowly, teasingly rising the hem of your flowy skirt before gripping the bottom of your unbuttoned canary yellow sweatshirt.

 ♡ pulling it off your bodice and over your head you throw it behind you to reveal the crop top that tightly wraps your chest, displaying your plump cleavage ari’s darken eyes latch upon.

 ♡ “hi daddy,” you speak through your glossed lips and batting lashes, stepping around to stand besides his figure sitting in his leather swivel chair.

 ♡ those honeyed words are spoken in an almost purr, your eyes skimming his face and to the objects that cover his desk your curious fingertips and cherry painted acrylics graze and clack against.

 ♡ the image of his dark eyes sparkle when they meet yours, they glimmer in adoration as one of his large warm hands rise to cup your cheek.

 ♡ “hello princess,” the deepness of his words has your chest fluttering and the heat of your core radiating sensually, your eyes leave his and your lips press against each other abashed.

 ♡ his smirk turns into a soft smile, how can his little pearl be so bold yet shy at the same time?

 ♡ whatever it is about you he savors and cherishes, his hand that cups your chin is removed to pat down on his trouser thigh but maybe he thinks otherwise on the known signal that you're a bit to latched on the mood and want him to take over whatever thick sexual tension he started.

 ♡ however he’s surprised as his little shy pearl wraps her arms around his neck, pedicured fingers lacing in his shoulder length hair as soft legs smoothly straddle his lap, it made it all easier that they were parted slightly as you settled your bum against his calves.

 ♡ took him by another surprise as you smashed your bubblegum glossed lips against his, rubbing your chest against his as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

 ♡ you usually don’t kiss him like this after he had a cigar but ari isn’t complaining as he swirls his tongue with yours, his large hands travel down to cup your bum to find a nice surprise which results in his pants tightening more against his thick bulge.

 ♡ your shameless skirt doesn’t even cover your ass properly, the fringed designer cloths trimming curtains the curve of your ass but leaves the plump dips of your under cheeks uncovered for his rough palms to smooth and grope.

 ♡ you moan against his lips but that soft moans turns into a pitched whine as he releases his lips from your erotic mouth, in result he lightly slaps your ass before groping the flesh.

 ♡ “how was your nap sleeping beauty?” ari’s voice low and raspy at the cause of your kiss, you sigh and bow your head at remembering the thought.

 ♡ “it was nice daddy but it turned a little rotten after,” your pout causes his brows to scrunch.

 ♡ “why’s that princess?” his hands smooth and pat your hair still slightly untamed from your nap, your hands that grip his expansive button up smooth the material down.

 ♡ “because I had to rush to turn in an assignment I thought I turned in, it was so stressful finding out from my friend who thankfully reminded me of so,” you mutter, your mood becoming spoiled when remembering school.

 ♡ nowadays you barely enjoyed your time with your daddy without worrying about any uncompleted assignments or the thought of your grades dropping or being fully invested in studying.

 ♡ school was a killjoy, it was killing your special time with your daddy and even though you still turned in that project your mind still was filled with anxiety and stress.

 ♡ “have you turned in your assignment doll?” ari spoke and you nodded your head, calming a bit as his hand rubs your back up and down, the sensation almost therapeutic. “then what is my princess worrying about?”

 ♡ your pout signifies it all, you don’t know what your stressing about, maybe you forgot another assignment that needed to be turned in, maybe you forgot to study for a test that was nearing soon, maybe you missed a virtual class during your nap.

 ♡ your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles, the grip you have on his button up tightens with your fear-riddled scrunch, your breathing stuttering which has ari sitting up to grab your face in his hands.

 ♡ “hey, hey. baby calm down-,” but your breathing still stutters as your face scrunches and streams in your aggressive tameless tears.

 ♡ “baby, sweetheart look at me!” his voice snaps to your attention as your red eyes meet soothing aqua pools, hands gripping his shoulders and teary eyes locked in need to keep him close but he seems like an ocean away.

 ♡ “count with me baby, like we practiced before. inhale-” he says, inhaling a breath and your stuttering lungs are quick to inhale a breath along with him, your mind however races still. “exhale,” he whispers and lets out a breath and you do so.

 ♡ “one,” you two continued this breathing session till your tears stopped and your pacing chest settled calmly against his, the only sound being the soft trumpet of another jazz song playing and your soft sniffs.

 ♡ his arms cage you in a warm secure hug, hands rubbing soothing circles against your back as your open hands rest against his chest, he had you drink a glass of water with a tylenol tablet to ease you.

 ♡ yet your silence is a major tell to ari that your mind is still scrambling despite feeling your stable heartbeat against his, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

 ♡  “[y/n]? princess?” ari softly speaks, your eyes slightly sting from your vicarious crying and your head aches from the episode that happened a while ago, cheeks slightly damped, you raise your hands to wipe them dry.

 ♡ pulling your head away from his collar bones you sit up to meet his reassured glance to yours, “i’m sorry daddy,” you spoke, it was almost drenched in seeking forgiveness but ari shove his head while cupping your face in his hands again pulling your face to his.

 ♡  “no sweetheart don’t apologize, it’s all alright. something like this shouldn’t need an apology, you aren’t at any fault because you’ve done nothing wrong but let out your emotions.” your eyes watered with his comforting words.

 ♡ “it’s not the things that are stressing you that are bothering you, it’s just the thought. it’s just your thoughts, just and only your thoughts but you got through that so well princess. i’m so proud of you.” ari’s thumbs swiped away at each of your tears, your lips slowly curling up in a small smile at his praise.

 ♡ sitting up on your knees you rested your forehead against his, nose bumping against his you giggled as our daddy’s eyes squinted at the impact before letting out a soft chuckle,

 ♡  your eyes glimmering as they twined to ari’s cooling blue hues through his frameless thin glasses, your hands rise up to caress his bearded cheeks, his finely soft hairs tenderly scratch your fingers and palms while his rub your bare lower back.

 ♡ an equally tender smile radiates off both of you before he pecks your lips to his.

 ♡ “tell me princess, tell daddy what you want. anything you want you’re getting,” his words string together a thoughtful expression compressed on your pretty facial features, your stomach interrupts you both as it loudly growls.

 ♡ “clever princess, you didn’t have to tell daddy when he could hear your hungry tummy,” ari’s own comment makes him laugh loudly and your face heats up as you swat his chest.

 ♡ “stop being mean daddy,” you grumble with a pout but you still see that handsome smirk against his face and as much as you wanna turn your head away when he grabs your chin you allow him to kiss you.

 ♡ “alright daddy’s done with being a meanie. c’mon sweetheart, lets get some food inside that tummy,” he says poking your belly.

 ♡ the tickling sensation lets out a giggle from you while he grabs your body to wrap your legs around his waist as he gets off his seat.

 ♡ ari carries you out of his office to the kitchen, setting you down on the lavish island that stands in the large kitchen however you whine when the cold surface hits your back thighs.

 ♡ the little sound alerts ari who turns his head to you after searching the refrigerator for some ingredients to create a suitable meal for you.

 ♡ “oh right, sorry princess,” he says and carries you to a cushioned chair near the dinner table, of course you could jump off the counter and walk to the seat yourself but you both like it when he babied you.

 ♡ after just a minute of searching through the refrigerator he closes his with a sigh, “do you wanna order something sugarplum?” he said and you smiled and nodded your head.

 ♡ “yes daddy,” you spoke and his chest hums in glee seeing your joy laced in your voice, he allowed you to order whatever food you wanted on your food delivery app since he wasn’t an expert at those things.

 ♡ a thing about ari is that he was so old fashioned, he didn’t have a computer to organize all his files because he had numerous drawers and file cabinets to keep all his important documents.

 ♡ his portable device was a flip phone and as much as you teased him for it he didn’t bulge at taking interest in any technological advances to his life.

 ♡ “is that all you want sweetheart? you don’t want anything else for the night?” ari spoke as he poured you a glass of ice cubed strawberry mint water from a glass pitcher, setting the cup in front of you as you scrolled through your phones feed.

 ♡ you smile up at him as you take the glass, “can we make cookies?” you ask before raising the glasses rim to your lips and taking a sip of the cold minty berry water.

 ♡ “didn’t you order a dessert on the app?” he asked and you shook your head no, the dessert options the restaurant of your choice didn’t really have anything that sparked interest to your midnight cravings.

 ♡ “don’t you think it’s a bit late to bust open the flour and sugar baby?” he said and a naughty smile grazes your lips at his question.

 ♡ “daddy it’s never too late to bust open anything if you put your mind to it,” your smooth voice spoke as you got off your seat to walk to the refrigerator, possessing a bit of flounce to your hips.

 ♡ you opened the stainless steel door handle and grabbed the large bar of nestle tollhouse cookie dough, closing the door behind you you walk to the island and place it in front of ari.

 ♡ if you both weren't doing it from scratch then this was the only option.

 ♡ he still stares down at it while you prepare the oven to preheat, getting out the cooking spray, parchment and cookie tray, “what’s wrong daddy?”

 ♡ “that’s big baby,” he said, his eye’s proximate on how many chocolate chip cookies the large bar could make but he doesn’t notice the naughty smirk that crosses your lips again until his eyes move up towards yours.

 ♡ “I know daddy but it isn’t as big as you,” ari’s face blushes at those words but before he can recollect any thoughts or get his hands on your insatiable figure of your moving skirt turns away to grab a knife, diminishing all his thoughts he rushes to take it away from you.

 ♡ “daddy can do this part, you can roll the dough in balls. can you do that princess?” ari softly asks, cutting open the bar he cuts even slices then cuts the thick circular prism in half to have you roll them both into spheres.

 ♡ “of course daddy but only if you can let me lick yours after we’re done with this,” you say getting straight to work with rolling the cold dough in your palms but only after brushing your ass against his thigh.

 ♡ ari couldn’t help his face from flushing into a crimson rose, feeling his pants tightening around his hardening erection at your shameless proclamations and actions.

 ♡ but it didn’t have him distracted from the task at hand or from quickly smacking your ass, commanding you to behave for him.

 ♡ and you did, kept your dirty remarks to yourself as you placed the spheres of cookie dough in a correct distance from each other in rows on the cookie tray.

 ♡ you both decided that ten cookies after a bit of a banter between you and him as you used your puppy eyes on him to make the whole tube but he set the discussion to an end with a compromise.

 ♡ the compromise being that he’d let you stay up and watch whatever movie you want with him as you had your take out and cookies, adding your additional requests to the compromise that there better be lots of cuddles and kisses.

 ♡ he slides your hot pink baking oven mitts with the mini stitched cupcakes on them and popped the cookie tray in the hot oven. 

 ♡ turning to your figure sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the island setting the kitchen timer for twelve minutes and placing it down beside you.

 ♡ ari prepares the cooling rack and spatula for when the cookies are done, not noticing your neediness and attention seeking grabs at his collar and hair.

 ♡ “daddy,” you mutter, that bratty persona becoming clearer with each of your restless limbs and pouting lips attempting to grab his attention.

 ♡ “yes princess?” he spoke, his eyes moving towards yours to set sight of your signature doe eyes he knows so well.

 ♡ those doe eyes you give him when your bare and desperate underneath him. 

 ♡ scratching crescent moons on his back, moaning so sweetly for him as he thrusts his cock in and out of your velvety pussy.

 ♡ you don’t say anything though, all you do is part your legs and his eyes darken once they set sight of your wet core open on display under your skirt. 

 ♡ those same lust blown eyes dart down and meet your small peach colored panties crumbled on the floor underneath your dangling socked feet.

 ♡ before he can even do anything, before having the chance to rip that skirt off your body or getting on his knees and lick your tangy slicked folds the doorbell interrupts him.

 ♡ remembering your take-out, annoyance captivates ari but he smirks at the opportunity to tease you as you did him. 

 ♡ so instead of ignoring the delivery person he walks away from your weeping cunt and gaped mouth to get the door.

 ♡ returning with your food and to your glossy pout your whines and grabs for him become more demanding and louder as he takes his sweet time taking each plastic take-out container and brown bag filled with food out of the delivery bag to the table.

 ♡ “daddy!” your bratty calls for him but he just ignores as he takes out plates and napkins for you and him, setting them to look their best on the dinner table.

 ♡ organizing the plastic containers and bags of food in between your plates he finally turns and walks to you, grabbing your waist you smirk thinking you got what you wanted but it disappears when the following words leave his mouth.

 ♡ “dinner time princess,” his smirk is more arrogant than yours and it only widens as you glare up at him, you’re so cute when you don’t get what you want.

 ♡ “you don’t want dinner princess?” he asked and you nodded your head, ari’s brow quirks in amusement.

 ♡ “then what do you want then princess?” it wasn’t a question, more so a demand to have the brat in his arms to speak on what she wants.

 ♡ you cross your arms and turn your head away from him, setting your angry sight on anything besides ari which he doesn’t permit as he grabs your jaw firmly in hands and shifts your sight to him.

 ♡ “speak up dolly. good girls get whatever they ask for, brats get nothing,” he spoke and your glare doesn’t ease one bit but your answer is mumbled to softly and lowly for ari to hear, your attitude only adding only the impatience ari has for you in this situation.

 ♡ “i’m sorry princess,” ari spoke before gripping your ass in a rough harsh handleful, “but daddy didn’t hear you. can daddy’s little dumb brat speak up? or does daddy have to give his dumb baby dinner and send her to bed with no cookies and cock?”

 ♡ the growl that rolled off his lips hit against the shell of your ear as his fingertips dig sharply into the raw warm plushness of your ass, your breath staggered but the wetness that pools your pleasure seeking core doesn’t lessen.

 ♡ “I want daddy please. please can I have it daddy?” you whimper, your voice meek and fragile and nothing like the cocky brat that teased him both verbally and physically moments ago.

 ♡ “you’ve been making jokes on daddy’s cock and balls since I let you make your cookies and now when you're on the receiving end of the joke you can’t properly tell daddy you want it?”

 ♡ his voice was rough and course, his hands that smack and grope your ass hold the same fierceness as he picks you up before slamming your back against the metal of the refrigerator. 

 ♡ hearing the little breathy whine when his fingers purposely glide through your folds, his smirk darkens as your wetness coats his thick fingers.

 ♡ “oh, does my spoiled brat want daddy’s fingers? or does my spoiled brat want daddy’s cock?” he whispered as his head snakes in the crook of your neck.

    ♡ nibbling the tender skin under your ear that practically makes you cream against his stroking fingers.

 ♡ “I want your cock daddy! please, daddy! I need it!” your voice is a combination of whimpers and moans, the sound of it music to his ears.

 ♡ before he can give you another teasing stroke at your needy puffy folds, or command you to unbuckle his belt the timer for the cookies goes off.

 ♡ ari’s dark smirk shadows his face and you let out a whine knowingly the results of the night.

 ♡ it was going to take a while until you’ll get what you want and ari will partake in the satisfying discipline to teach you a lesson on misbehaving.

[manikas-whims]

A Place Good Enough

[Read on AO3]

Ship: Kaz Brekker X Inej Ghafa

Summary:

Kaz pays Inej's indenture at the Menagerie and she joins the dregs.

_

A short fic that adds a little more of what happens that night after Kaz takes her with him.

Note:

I'm a new fan and read the SoC Duology this Feb.

This is my first time writing these characters so please excuse anything weird, I tried my best.

Inej may seem a bit scared in this because she isn't the Inej we know in SoC. This will be the first fic of many where I'll try to show our Crows before the events of SoC. A look at their daily lives in the Dregs. And the slow development of feelings between Kanej.

Hope you enjoy this short piece ♥

Kaz

“Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he says, “don't ever sneak up on me again.”

And yet as he ushers the Suli girl out of the salon, the bustling streets remind him how foolish it will be to roam around the barrel at night. Ofcourse a mere glance at his cane and gloved hands is enough to ward people off. No one in Ketterdam dares crossing the young man that goes by the title of Dirtyhands. Even so, it won’t be good for his carefully crafted reputation to be seen limping around at indecent hours with an exotic girl in tow. Dirtyhands doesn’t waste time on frivolous things. He has vengeance to condemn and for that he requires proper focus and meticulous steps. Brick by brick. He reminds himself.

With a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure no one is looking, he removes the deep grey coat he’s adorning and hands it to the girl. He doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the action, probably just as scared of him as the rest of this city.

“Cover yourself.” He commands and continues walking. Thankfully, the girl doesn’t waste time being confused or shocked and quietly does as told. He also notes how she maintains a distance whilst following him but makes sure to stick close enough, her feet soundless despite the bells tied around her dainty ankles.

Inej

Kaz Brekker finally slows his walk as they approach a shabby building in the remote parts of the Barrel. Its lit and noisy but Inej can tell its definitely not a clothing store. And it is only moments later that cold realization dawns on her. There was no release from enslavement to begin with, just a deal struck between a bawd from the west stave and the lieutenant of a notorious gang in the east stave. It was a sham all along. Why wouldn’t it be? Why would one of the most sinister criminals in Kerch buy her out of slavery only to be shifted to an indenture? She should’ve been skeptical. Instead, she had been hopeful because the boy named Dirtyhands is after all, a young one like herself. She thought he may have empathized with her. He had even offered his coat to her. But oh what an utter fool she had been! Everything in Ketterdam comes with a price. Even something as natural as freedom.

Should she sprint away? She can take-off right now. He hasn’t looked back even once to check if she’s there. And he’s a cripple! She can easily outrun him. Yet all these plans formulating in her head are laced around a grim sense of fear. Kaz Brekker doesn’t need a reason. Or so she has heard. He has already earned an ill reputation for being whimsical. She mustn’t start giving him reasons to chase and drag her back down these dark alleys. So she quietly trails behind him as the door opens with a creak.

Men of varying ages who had been busy chatting and drinking, stare at them. His entry seems to raise everyone’s attention as they watch him walk by and approach the staircase. Although that’s all she sees as she continues after the uncaring boy, she does hear numerous brazen remarks.

“Am I too drunk or has Brekker actually brought in a girl?”

“Ghezen! We all must be sloshed.”

“I almost believed something was going on between him and that Zemeni boy.”

“So…Suli huh?”

Some snickers follow this particular remark but the boy doesn’t seem to mind. Does this mean their assumptions aren’t wrong? A wave of panic courses through her but Inej tries to calm herself with deep breaths, tries to focus her mind on the stairs instead. She has faced all sorts of repulsive men in the sheets. Dirtyhands can’t be much different. And even if the rumors aren’t false and he’s part-demon beneath the façade of his sharp suits,  she can still push herself to handle anything. If serving as his mistress will warrant her safety from the likes of Tante Heleen, she can do this. 

A soft clicking sound pulls her out of her trail of anxious thoughts. She notices they’ve walked past several floors and are currently going up into an attic. The inside isn’t much special but appropriately furnished— an old door placed atop several crates acting as a desk, a big window overseeing the surroundings and a door separating what she assumes must be a storage of sorts or a bedroom.

When Brekker finally turns around, his expression as unreadable as ever, Inej shivers. She takes one last gulp of air in hopes of easing herself. She can do this. She just needs to leave her body like she always does. Let the little lynx take care of such matters.

She begins by discarding his coat. Her eyes are lowered to the floor but she can sense his unwavering gaze. Maybe he’s one of those who take pleasure in watching a woman undo herself for him. Or maybe its something else entirely. His stoic demeanor doesn’t provide much to guess. Her shaky hands reach for the hooks in the back of her purple blouse. I can endure this! She mentally assures herself.

“What exactly are you doing?” comes his low voice, like a rasp of stone on stone.

Her hands fumble and come to a halt. She raises her eyelids to find a barely visible, amused smirk marring his pale countenance. “I..thought..I just–”

“Inej, was it?” he interrupts, leaning his weight on his frightening cane shaped like the head of a crow. Did she do something wrong? Will he use it on her? Her shoulders hunch slightly in preparation of whatever is to come. She hears an audible sigh instead. “I don’t remember us agreeing to such terms back at the Menagerie.”

Now she does look up, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh..”

He passes a hand through his hair. “But since you seem eager to–”

“I’m not!” she yells, her cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink. Frankly she doesn’t know how to react. It’s her first time speaking to a man who isn’t demanding any sexual favors from her but isn’t being very nice either.

He hobbles over to the makeshift desk and settles on a chair behind it. “Let me guess,” he starts, resting his bad leg on the tabletop and the cane in his lap. “You didn’t trust me.”

“I did!” she protests like a child  falsely accused of stealing candies. However, the embarrassment of her response follows immediately and she tilts her head down again. “Not truly but–”

“Wrong answer.” His tone is even more gritty now. “Its good that you expected the worst. Never trust anyone in the barrel.”

Inej looks at him again. It’s far too late for that lesson now. She’s learnt it the harshest of ways.

“I may be many things but I keep my word, Inej.” He adds solemnly, then fishes out a lone key from his pants' pocket. “Here” he gestures for her to come forward and receive it.

She scurries to the desk and takes it, her fingers lightly grazing along his gloved ones. Is he sending her on an errand already? Is procuring something important going to be her first task for the Dregs?

“Head downstairs and unlock the room directly below this attic with the key.” He tells simply and starts working on the tall stacks of papers lying on the desk.

She waits for further details but when he says nothing more she inquires herself, “For what?”

He glances at her, a brow quirked as if mocking her obliviousness. “Its your room from now on. Go get some sleep.”

“What about my..services?” she asks.

“We’ll discuss all that tomorrow morning.” He answers and waves her off, willing her to leave already.

Downstairs, upon unlocking an old cream-colored door and switching on the light, Inej is greeted by a tiny room. There’s a window overlooking the barrel, a cot arranged directly below it and an empty trunk lying open. Fortunately, everything is clean and dry and without any trace of smells.

As she steps inside, memories of her old life flash before her bleary eyes. This place is not even close to the large tents she used to perform in with her parents yet for some reason, she feels warm. Its not home but it’s good enough.

Shutting the door, she turns off the light and drops unceremoniously onto the cot. Moonlight illuminates the room- her room- in a dim glow. And slowly it happens. Her tense body relaxes into the mattress and her unshed emotions are set free in the form of tears slipping down her cheeks. Loud sobs rack her small frame as her hands hug the grey coat close to her chest. Amidst her shock and disbelief at actually being saved from sexual exploitation, she must have forgotten to return it. Kaz Brekker’s statement was like a dream she’s had every night since being stolen and shackled. A dream of being saved from the hell that is prostitution. I keep my word, Inej. She giggles at the sound of her real name being called by this stranger, tears staining her lips. She hasn’t heard it in so long that she almost forgot who she was. In letting her body go so as to persevere everyday at the Menagerie, she hadn’t noticed that the lively girl called Inej Ghafa was also withering away. She clutches the coat tighter as if fiercely trying to hold onto her remaining self. And for the first time since an year, she sleeps without the fear of being hurt.

Hope it was enjoyable!

I'm thinking of writing a short sequel drabble where Inej just goes to return Kaz's coat in front of everyone at the Dregs xD

.

SoC Masterlist

( divider by @firefly-graphics )

[duskholland]

Breaking Windows (Peter Parker)

Summary: You’re Thor’s daughter and may have a teeny tiny crush on your classmate and fellow Avenger, Peter Parker.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Action and fluff! There’s a fight scene and a minor injury, but it’s nothing too gruesome. Also like one swear word? Otherwise just fluff.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing in...a year and a half? Ish? I’m nervous to post it but I really like how it turned out! It was requested and I love the concept and had a great time writing it, so thank you anon! I hope you like it too :D

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging… There are ways to escape a building that don’t involve leaping from the fifty-third floor.” 

You scoff loudly. “Peter, I can fly,” you remind him. You stretch your hands above your head and let out a muffled groan as your muscles tense and flex, the tension of the previous battle draining away as you walk into the Avengers compound, your companion following just behind.

“And?” Peter squeaks. You glance to your friend and feel a little bad when you see the concern in his eyes. “You could still get hurt.” His eyes narrow. “Look- you still have glass in your hair!” 

You bat clumsily at your head, hands scraping through your messy locks. “Got it?” 

“Nope.” 

You pause abruptly, irritation causing you to furrow your eyebrows. “Stupid glass,” you mutter. You’d already spent several minutes picking shards from your hair, and several hours more regretting your choice to dive through that window. Not that you’d ever admit that to Peter. 

“Do you want me to get it?” Peter asks, voice gentle. He’s eyeing a spot just above your left temple.

You sigh, deflated and defeated. “Yeah, please.” You bow your head.

Peter shifts a little closer, and for the first time you become truly aware of the circumstances.

Now seventeen, Peter’s shoulders have filled out and he stands full and stocky, the worn reds and blues of his spidey suit clinging to the definition of his arms and chest. When you move your gaze up, you see ashy black lines clinging to his jaw, and a bit of soot nestled up against his ear. The wildness of his brown hair as it sticks up in all directions really adds to the whole just-escaped-from-battle look he has going on. 

You smile quietly as you feel his fingers knock through your hair, and remain silently still as he works his magic. 

Maybe you have a tiny crush on Peter. Maybe. But you’re both seniors at Midtown, and you’re both also superheroes who have to work together, so it’s complicated. Far too complicated. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t admire him.

“Got it,” Peter says. He’s part way through bringing his hands back from your hair when there’s a sudden burst of noise, and from around the corner comes two all-too-familiar figures.

“Oh- what do we have here?” You can practically hear the smirk in Tony Stark’s voice as he swaggers forward.

Peter quickly snatches his hands back, jumping away from you as if he’s just been caught doing something incredibly sinful. 

“I told you,” Thor’s voice bellows. “Two young ones like these. Keep them together enough and… Well, I told you.” His eyes flick to you, a loose grin on his face. 

“Shut up, dad,” you mutter. Embarrassment flames the apples of your cheeks as you scowl at Thor. 

“Oi.” Tony and Thor are in front of you now, and Thor’s got his arms crossed. “I’m just saying.” You receive an affectionate scruff of your head from your father. 

“No canoodling on official Avengers business,” Tony chimes in, voice lilted with tease. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to start separating you both now.”

You groan, exasperated beyond belief. You’re tired, sore, and dirty from spending the last two hours fighting off New York’s newest threat, and now you’re dealing with this. “Goodbye,” you say, and grab Peter’s arm before he can complain. You drag him away from Thor and Tony and across to your room, slamming the door behind you as pointedly as possible. “They are so annoying!” You groan, resting your forehead against the cool wood. 

“They call us immature.” 

Your and Peter’s laughs mingle in the air, and you turn to meet his tired gaze. His cheeks are flushed and his lips a cherry red, and you find yourself momentarily losing your breath as you take in just how cute he is. 

“I should go shower,” you say, after a moment of looking. Peter nods his head.

“Yeah, me too.” He scratches at his arm, looking down at his feet. “See you in class tomorrow?” 

You nod, moving away from the door so he can shuffle past you. “Definitely.”

Peter’s hand rests on the doorknob for a moment of indecision, before he blurts- “No more spontaneous jumping out of windows, yeah? You’ll give me a heart attack.” 

You grin. “But it makes my cape look cool!” You protest.

“I don’t care!” Peter’s laughing, but he’s still frowning. “You’re my partner- you- you have to be safe.” 

You feel your heart melt. His eyes are round and soft and flooded with concern, and he’s staring at you bashfully. “I’ll be safe,” you promise. You’re starting to feel a little guilty now. “Besides, if ever I’m not safe, I’m pretty sure I know someone who’ll be near that can save me.”

Peter tilts his head to the side. “Who, Thor?”

“No, silly.” You reach out and push his shoulder, rolling your eyes. “You!”

His cheeks flame. “Oh…” 

“Unless you don’t want to save me?” You tease, rocking back on your heels. He looks frazzled, and you can’t help but swoon slightly as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“No, no. I’ll save you.” Peter finally twists the doorknob and steps aside, preparing to head out. He looks up to you, a mischievous grin on his face. “My life would be pretty boring if you weren’t around to keep it interesting.” He raises a hand in a friendly wave as he walks away. “See ya tomorrow!” 

“Bye!”

You quickly shut your door and immediately press your back against the wood, sliding down until you’re resting on the floor with your knees pulled to your chest. You groan quietly, hands fisting your hair as you try to calm your racing heart. 

“God damnit,” you mutter. You close your eyes and all you see is Peter and his stupidly cute lopsided smile floating behind your eyelids. You sigh, and open your eyes to instead stare up at the ceiling. 

Maybe your crush is growing a little out of control. 

----------------

It’s the following week when it happens again. 

One moment you’re sat in maths class, mindlessly scrawling the answers to the pop quiz (turns out Midtown is a breeze compared to the education you got on Asgard), and the next the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on end as a cold feeling of dread sweeps through you. Your eyes dart up, finding Peter’s from two rows of desks away, and a moment later the both of you leave the room without a word.

“What is it?” You ask him, digging through your bag as the two of you walk quickly down the corridor of the school. Luckily no one’s around to gawk as you pull out your sword and quickly change out your jumper for your cape.

“Looks like it’s those Chitauri scrappers again.” 

You’re at the end of the corridor now, and you peer out of the window to see Peter’s right: in the distance you recognise the same glowing purple light from the battle the week before. You eye the staircase to your right, and realise you’re on the fourth floor of the school.

“Race you?” You offer, hands already on the window sill. You jerk up the glass panes and feel the cool afternoon breeze rush onto you. The feeling of the wind on your skin is like no other - being the daughter of Thor, the God of Thunder, certainly has its perks. 

Peter grabs your shoulder just before you’re ready to launch out into the city. He’s traded his clothes for his suit, but his face is still there, a deep worried line between his eyebrows, his mouth pursed with worry. “Be safe.” 

His hand is on your shoulder, and he’s looking at you with such care and adoration that you just can’t help yourself. As if you’re two opposing magnets, suddenly his arms are around you and your mouth is on his, your lips connecting in a hot kiss. You melt into his body as you grab at his hair, his mouth feeling so good against yours. It feels like it lasts a blissful, wonderful infinity, but you know it’s only a few stolen seconds before you pull away. There’s a moment of silence, of you looking at him, and him looking at you, his head tilted a little to the side, and you know that a line in your friendship has been crossed. But is that such a bad thing?

“Last one there is a loser,” you say, after a moment. There’s a smile fixed to your face so strongly that you doubt you could drop it, even if you tried. You reach up and ruffle his hair before turning your back on him and launching yourself out of the window. 

Wind rushes past your face as you soar across the city, happy laughter escaping your mouth. Your sword hangs off your belt as you do a few spins through the air, just because you can, and you have to concentrate extremely hard in order to calm down from your unbelievable high as you approach the dangerous scrappers. The last time you’d had a run in with them, they’d scarpered before you and Peter could apprehend them, taking with them several thousands of dollars worth of alien weapons. Today, you can’t afford to let them get away. 

When you’re nearer the action zone, things pull into focus. It doesn’t look good. There are around twenty scrappers spread down the busy high street, but unlike last time, they are now equipped with the dangerous Chituari technology that they’d stolen from Tony’s lab. They have blasters of all shapes and sizes, and you can already see scorches on the side of buildings and rubble littering the streets. Though some of the Avenger team have already arrived, the civilians haven’t yet been cleared, and you feel your heart sink as you notice how near some of them are to the danger.

The communication device you’ve got shoved in your ear buzzes to life now you’re in the vicinity of the team, and it’s only a moment later that you get your instruction. “Y/N, clear the street with Peter. We’ve got this for now,” comes the stressed bark of Ironman. You mutter an affirmative agreement and quickly swoop down, landing on the street with a loud thump.

You begin scattering the crowd, using your sword to offer a barrier from any flying debris and laser beams that might harm the screaming people. After about a minute of your work, Peter shows up, swinging from between the towering buildings of the city before landing next to you. You hear him get similar instructions and look to him, flashing him a quick smile.

“I beat you,” you yell, voice rising above the noise. You continue to usher the civilians out of the street.

Peter scoffs, his voice static through your earpiece as he swings around, roping back the bricks and scaffolding that threaten to topple onto the street. “Barely,” he responds, breathless. 

The both of you work together until the street is cleared and all that remains is around ten of the scrappers. They’ve made some considerable damage, even with the Avenger team slowly taking them down. You survey the scene before shooting up into the sky and stretching out your hands. Time to do some real work.

Closing your eyes, you concentrate for a moment on the sky, imagining the power seeping from the clouds into your hands, building, building, building, until…

With a crack of thunder, you blast a large pile of their weaponry with a lightning bolt, causing a few of the scrappers to fly through the air, crashing into the ground where they remain motionless. You hear a few whoops in your earpiece and smile, but only for a moment, because a second later, you’re being shot at by four remaining canons, their dangerous purple strikes skimming uncomfortably close to you.

“Shit,” you mutter, zipping away. They seem intent to pull you from the sky, and with each second, you feel the strikes getting nearer to your skin. As you’re forced to concentrate on dodging them, getting in only the occasional blast at the ground, you hear the static voice of Tony in your ear again.

“You alright being our live bait up there?” He asks. “We have a game plan. Distract them.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, pausing to curse as you feel a blast graze your side. “Just hurry.” They’re getting angry now, and you watch as the scrappers focus in on you, seemingly oblivious to the rest of your team on the ground who are slowly approaching them and picking off the weaker outer members.

You continue to pirouette in the sky, doing your best to be a distracting force. After a few minutes alone, you feel the air shift and look behind you to see you’ve been joined by your father. “I can do this by myself,” you say, not unkindly. You watch him shrug.

“Looked like fun up here. Finally some challenge.”

And you work back to back, combining your strength as Gods of the Sky to pinpoint the few remaining scrappers on the ground, just as the ground team swing into action. Before you know it, there’s only one guy left, and he’s glaring up at you with such piercing hatred in his eyes that you feel a little scared. He has one final shot with his canon before he’s webbed up by Peter, but much to your horror, the blinding purple light of his weapon pierces into your leg and you tumble from the sky, pain ricocheting through your body as you curse. Too blinded by agony, you wait for the inevitable collision with the dusty concrete, eyes screwed shut. 

It never comes.

Instead, you feel chords of tight stringy material wrap around your body, and swing away from the ground. A moment later, you’re gently lowered to the road, and meet it with a soft oomph. You pry your eyes open and see layers of white sticky spider web wrapped around your entire body, and let out a watery laugh between the tears of pain. 

“This- This is gonna take me so long to get off,” you whine, clenching and unclenching your fists as you’re surrounded by the rest of the team. Your head lulls to the side, and your eyes find Peter, who’s now crouching by your head. At your feet, you see Tony, and feel a cold pressure on your leg as one of his machines gets to work stitching you up. Wincing bravely through the pain, you look pleadingly to Peter.

“I can help you,” he says, face white with worry. He keeps glancing to your leg. “Uh- that- that was really impressive,” he mutters, forcing his gaze to your eyes. Grasping the importance for distraction, he clears his throat. “Until the point where you got blasted out the sky, that is,” he adds. 

You laugh, the noise slightly strangled but still alight with appreciation. “It was epic,” you agree. “Did you get them all?” 

Peter nods, his fluffy hair shifting in the wind. “Yep. Got all the weapons too. They’re taking them all into custody now.” You look back and see Thor roughly shoving the remaining conscious men into the back of a van. 

“That’s your leg bandaged,” Tony announces. You look down and see him looking at you, arms crossed. “Try to stay off it for a few days. I know how you Asgardians are, so please, make sure to rest-”

Before he’s finished talking, you’re already on your feet, shaking out your leg as you marvel at his handiwork. It feels like brand new, the pain now just a distant throb. 

“Thanks,” you say, beaming.

“Rest it,” he threatens, shaking his finger at you before moving off to help the others.

And then it’s just you and Peter, alone in the middle of the carnage of the street, a pocket of serenity amidst the chaos. 

“Thanks for saving me,” you say, a little shy, now. You would’ve been fine if you’d crashed straight into the hard concrete, but you’re feeling particularly smitten now as you look at Peter, his face still pinched with an element of stress, but more relaxed now you’re up and about. 

“‘S okay. Said I’d save you, didn’t I?” He replies. He reaches out and pulls at some of the stringy web that still covers your body, and winces. “This might take a bit of work, though.”

You laugh, and stretch your hand out to where his is resting on your side. Your fingers wrap around his and you slowly intertwine them, a tentative movement until he pushes in against you, connecting your palms and squeezing your hand warmly.

“We make a pretty good team,” you say, swallowing nervously. You meet his eyes, his brown eyes warm and inviting, and feel your heart pulse in your chest.

“We do,” he agrees. He steps a little closer, cheeks blooming with a rosy pink. “Maybe we should work together again sometime.” 

You nod. He’s directly in front of you now, your hands still laced together. After a moment of just looking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his waiting lips, your bodies slotting together gently, perfectly. It’s just a small kiss, but in the seconds that span out afterwards, your foreheads press together, and his breath fans out across your face. Your eyes are closed, and for a moment, you feel everything slotting together. 

“Oi!” There’s a holler from the end of the street, and you peel back from Peter to see your dad glaring at you. “Stop that.”

You laugh lightly. “Go away!” You respond, and quickly tug Peter in the opposite direction. “They’re going to be so annoying about this, aren’t they?” You mutter, jerking your head back in the direction of the team, whose eyes burn into your backs as you and Peter hurry away.

“Yep.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to deal with it.”

You nod your head slowly, your heart feeling lighter than ever before. “I guess we will.” 

And what follows may or may not have involved a secluded alley and lots of kissing, but you’d never tell. 

----------------

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

[yunho-es]

Member/s: Wooyoung (ATEEZ)

Genre: soft

Warnings: swear words

Words: 2043

Before reading, I want you to know that I don't use any names or Y/n's because I know many people don't really insert their names, they read it as Yin 😂 I also write in first person pov because I think it's easier to read and imagine yourself in that situation

Beads of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead as I pulled out a piece of paper from my sleeve. I knew that the exam would be hard, but I wasn't expecting it to be this detailed. Thank God my friend made me write it all on a small piece of paper. At least I will get a positive grade. Of course he made me do it, he passed the school with those. Thankfully, he didn't go to medicine school. If I ever ended up on his surgery table, I would die.

Three more minutes until the end and one more question unanswered. The teacher noticed me shifting in my seat, but she knew I always get good grades. She finally stopped looking at me and gave her attention to a group of boys trying to switch their papers. I glanced one more time at the piece of paper and put it back in my sleeve. Just as I finished the answer, the bell rang. Half of the class groaned, probably because they didn't manage to finish in time. I took my backpack and left the paper with my name on the main table.

"Good job! Honestly, your exams are always my favorite to grade. I'm really happy to have a student like you."

"Thank you, Mrs Johnson. See you on Monday."

Once I got outside I noticed the sky already getting dark. It was just 5 pm and winter was already doing it's job; the roads were wet and slippery from mixed rain and snow and it must've been under 0 Celsius. Usually I walk home because it's not far away, but my school uniform, rain and cold weather didn't go well together. I was just about to call my roommate when I felt car lights on me, followed by a familiar voice.

"I think quicker than you do." Wooyoung smiled as he opened the door. "Get in please I don't want to spend the next week taking care of an annoyingly picky roommate. I have plans to get drunk and do something stupid."

"You do stupid things anyway without drinking. So save the money and the time. And oh, save me from embarrassment." I get in the car sticking my tongue out at him. "Did you cook anything? I'm starving."

"No, of course. I slept the whole day." I look at him, hoping to see a smile on his face that would give me a sign that he's joking. "Don't look at me like that, I was tired from the night shift. I'll take you to McDonald's." he drove out of the school parking.

"I don't want trash, Wooyoung. I want food." I groaned. He told me that he would try cooking something, but it's been a week and he didn't do anything. "Please buy some pasta and tomato sauce I'll make something."

"Honestly, I really don't feel like waiting. And McDonald's is f**king awesome!" his hand reached out to turn on the radio. "How can you not love the little purple box full of 12 golden beauties?"

It did sound good, but we haven't eaten any "real" food for a month and my stomach started to ache. Living with Wooyoung has its bad and good sides, the bad sides mainly being his laziness and stubbornness. Speaking of stubbornness, of course he took the left turn towards McDonald's.

"What do you want?"

"What a polite way to ask me. You've loosened up I see." I frown at him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and turns towards me with his whole body.

"Your Highness, what do you wish to consume today?"

"That's just too much."

"What the h*ll do you want? I'm taking 3 burgers and fries and you aren't touching them." the brown haired boy points his finger towards my face. I squint my eyes at him, then bite his finger. "Crazy woman."

"Hello, may I take your order?"

"Hello, yes. I'd like a..."

***

"Is this place good enough for the Queen?" Wooyoung spoke with his mouth full of fries and ketchup. We sat on the roof of his car on a parking lot near a river. The place is good enough for the Queen.

"Eat before you speak, what's wrong with you?" I laugh at him, seeing that he spilled the ketchup on his t-shirt. "No girl will want you like this."

"To be honest I'm not interested right now." he replied immediately.

I'd lie if I said that my heart didn't sink a bit. Whoever said that boys and girls can't be friends was right. One side always catches feelings, big or small. In my case, I believe it's a small crush. He's the only boy I hang out with, so that must be why.

"Why?" I allow myself to ask.

"I had a little crush on a girl but I had to give it up." he kept stuffing his mouth with food, trying to avoid the conversation.

"And...?" I look at him expecting more. But he keeps his mouth shut and folds the paper of the burgers in his hands.

"Are you thirsty?" Wooyoung offers a can of soda, still looking at his fingers.

"Yes, thank you." he opens the can for me, first taking a sip himself, then giving the green beverage to me. I drink the whole can almost immediately.

"You could've said earlier that you were thirsty, I had water in the car." his tone visibly changed. He sounded more serious now, as if he just wanted to go home and lock himself in the room. "Want another one?" he reaches for another can.

"I think I have one more sip here." I throw my head back trying to drink every single drop of the refreshing juice. I slowly started to lean back, forgetting that I'm not in the chair but on the roof of the car. "Sh*t!" I curse as I almost fall on the rocky floor.

"Hey!" Wooyoung quickly reacts and grabs my hands, pulling me towards him. All the empty cans rolled down on the floor, making loud noises. "You good?" he asks, eyes on my face.

His hands felt so warm around mine. I really didn't want to let go. "I'm good." I pull away, trying to get down to collect the cans.

"Leave the d*mn cans there. You almost fell down. Do you see those rocks down there? What if you hit your head? What would I do?"

"I'd pay to get your car cleaned from my blood, Wooyoung." I laugh, but when I notice that his face didn't change, my smile drops. "What's wrong? Why isn't it funny when I say something like this?"

"Behind all these jokes you have to understand that you are very important to me and I have a soft spot for you. If anything happened to you my life would stop. I'm a serious man behind all my sarcastic jokes. Please watch yourself, because I can't do it all the time. It takes a second to turn a peaceful situation into a disaster."

I stare at him with my mouth a little open. I'm surprised at his words, I never heard him talk like this. I manage to say a sorry, turning my head away from him.

After a few seconds of silence, which seemed like hours, he got down and picked up all the cans, then offered me his hand. "Be careful." I put my hand in his, slowly getting down on the floor. "What dumbass even puts these rocks on the parking lot?" he picks up a few of them and pushes them away, leaving the bigger and heavier ones where they were.

"I think because they don't want someone else to have the spot." I watch as he tries to move a few more rocks. "Leave it, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let's just go back home, please?"

"Alright." he leaves the rocks and opens the door for me. Then he proceeds to enter the car himself. "But just for the record, I could've moved those rocks." his lips curved in a small smile. He can't help himself.

***

It suddenly became quiet in the house. Wooyoung layed on the sofa, watching the TV, and I sat on the floor behind the coffee table with my back leaning on the sofa.

"I'm a bit disappointed that we didn't take any photos." I pouted, scrolling down my Instagram feed. He didn't respond. I kept quiet for a few more minutes, then broke the silence again. "Do you think you could pick me up tomorrow from school again?" again, no answer.

I turn around towards him and see that his eyes are closed. He fell asleep while watching the TV. I took a blanket from my room and layed next to him under it. It's not my first time napping with him, but most of the time he refuses. He says that he is a kicker in his sleep and that he doesn't want to hurt me.

The sofa in our living room is quite small so I have to basically lay on Wooyoung. Just as I close my eyes, I feel his hand around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. Now my head was on his chest and I was surrounded by his scent and warmth. This must be what heaven feels like. Usually when we sleep like this together, it takes us a few hours to fall asleep. Mainly because he can't stop making jokes and I can't stop laughing. But this is different. It's calm. It's beautiful.

I couldn't tell if he was asleep or just pretending. He held me close and rubbed my back slowly. "Wooyoung?" I tried calling.

"Hm?" he responds sleepily.

"Are you okay?" I look up at him. His eye are still closed, but his fingers are still drawing tiny patterns on my waist and back.

"Mhm." again, I receive a short answer. When I try to move and give him some space so he can sleep peacefully, he opens his eyes to look at me. "Please don't move. I want to sleep like this." one of his hands moved my hair from both of our faces. "Please?" he asked, almost whispering.

I have never witnessed this side of Wooyoung. His voice was different, his movements were different, his eyes were different. This is the Wooyoung I wanted for myself, but couldn't have him. It took me a few longer seconds to realise that we are staring at each other, doing nothing but breathing quietly. Once his hot breath fell on my lips I couldn't help but close my eyes and sigh. Right now, I hoped for one thing to happen.

"Why can't I have you like this every day?" his soft voice whispered. I try to speak, but as soon as I move my lips, I feel something soft brushing against them. My breath stops and I force myself to open my eyes. He's looking down at my lips as if thinking if the next step is smart to do. I allow myself a moment of bravery and I put my hands on his chest, getting closer to him. "F**k it." he mutters, finally putting his hands on my cheeks and pressing his lips against mine.

His lips must've been the softest thing to exist on this planet. I tried to move, but my body was frozen. I couldn't do anything, just lay and enjoy the softness and the warmth of his lips. He pulled away for a second, trying to say something, but when he didn't succeed, he went back to the older position. Then, again, he pulls away.

"You are so sweet. You taste like I always imagined." the red cheeked boy whispers, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

"More, please." I manage to say. My lips and throat are dry, my mind is going crazy, and my stomach is witnessing fireworks. Wooyoung smiles, still not letting go of my cheeks. "Please." I get impatient.

He leans in again, this time kissing me with more passion. It stopped being sweet and soft, now only one word existed in my mind: more. And he happily listened.

[squishneedsahero]

Oh Yeah, I Remember Now

It’s Who I Am Part 4

Word Count: 2555

Warning: I didn’t go into much detail but there is mentions of abuse and other things which the reader went through during their time with HYDRA

How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

You'd had a relatively good childhood, sure your father was a dirtbag to both you and Tony but your mom was good. She tried to protect the both of you, Tony had done his best to protect you as well. But you'd always lived in their shadow. It was always, "oh you're Howard's daughter? I didn't know he had a daughter," or "aww what a cutie, you must help your mom take such god care of your father and brother." All of this made you sick. None of it was Tony's fault it was all misogyny and your father's sexism.

The next thing you remember is a science fair. It's third grade and you've made a tiny drone, which you can fly around and take pictures with. You were so excited to show everyone, to show your dad that you could be an engineer as well, but only your mother and Tony came. They tried to encourage you but you didn't say anything, it isn't until you get home and you're lying in bed that you cry. You're good at keeping your crying quiet, quiet enough that no one would know you had spent the night crying and when you got up in the morning the tears were gone.

Then you're at boarding school, somewhere they could teach you to be a proper 13 year old girl. One night sticks out above the rest, the dorms caught fire everyone was getting out. You tripped as you tried to get out of bed and then when you tried to get up a cold metal hand covered your mouth and someone picked you up, throwing you over their shoulder, you feel something prick your arm as you begin to kick and scream, and then things go dark.

You're in a small cell with grey walls and grey floors. You're 15 as you're sitting there, refusing to cooperate with HYDRA's current plan, the door slams open and in walks one of the nameless agents. They show you a newspaper, the headline announcing that your parents had died in a car crash, they then show you other photos, and tell you how they had had them killed by the Winter Soldier. From there they go into great detail on the fact that if you didn't begin cooperating they would bring your brother to be the next one they make you torture.

From there things get especially messy in your mind. Some days remembering your past and other days not. Some days you're the one doing the torturing and other days the one being tortured. HYDRA had forced you to commit many atrocities in their name, so many you couldn't begin to count. There were the times where you were the one who was in charge of resetting Bucky's mind, wiping it and preparing him for a mission. There were other times when you were difficult and they had the winter soldier beat you into submission.

There was one day, one day during which nearly all of HYDRA's agents disappeared and never came back. You were locked in your tiny cell, you don't know how long you were there on your own, hunger clawing at your stomach and dehydration quickly becoming an issue. You don't remember how but you got out and escaped.

It's who knows how many months later that you become aware of anything again. You're lying in some alleyway somewhere and have none of your memories. You find your way to a library, feeling safe there, from there you begin to figure out how exactly the world works and how you can survive.

It's another few years after that, having short term memory loss and being slow to pick up on anything. It is at this point where you've some how ended up in NYC and as you're walking down the street that you bump into Tony. You don't recognize him but he recognizes you. It happens quickly, he gets a DNA test to be sure but soon you're living with him and have some of your life together but still no memories. It's during this time that you meet a few other people, but thanks to Tony they keep the fact that you're still alive quiet, not wanting to overwhelm you with his life when you barely have yours together.

After that you're sitting in the Avenger's compound with Rhodey when something happens and people you haven't meet before show up. First it's just one guy named Bruce, then a group of people Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Vision and Sam. That was the first time you had met Sam, though you hadn't spoken to him. From there you all go to Wakanda, try to save Vision, apparently cross paths with Bucky, fail to save Vision, fight some aliens in one of Tony's suits, punch a giant purple dude in the face a few times then ultimately get turned to dust with a few billion other people on the planet.

Then you find yourself lying on the ground in the jungle of Wakanda with half of the people you'd been fighting Thanos with. Some sort of portals open up in front of all of you and you fight even more aliens. You pass by Tony at some point and give him a quick hug in the middle of all of it, despite not having memories you still knew you cared deeply for him and was one of the few people you felt safe when you were with. Then as soon as your world had come together, it falls apart again, Tony had sacrificed himself to save the rest of you.It is when you're at his funeral that things begin to set in for you, your brother is gone, you're once again alone in the world... except you weren't. Tony had a wife and a daughter, Pepper and Morgan, it didn't take much for them to take you in and act as though you had always been part of their family.

It's in the six months following that when you create your own suit, and somewhat get yourself together. At least you have it together enough that your memory of that time is pretty solid even if your mind felt scattered. It is after those six months of relative peace and calm that brings you to the present. Where you had met up with Sam and Bucky on accident and teamed up with them to figure out this problem.

There is a knock on the door you have your back too, and it shakes out of the state you are in. "Hey, y/n," it's Sam, "are you alright in there?"

"Uh- yeah- yeah- I'm fine." You stand up and quickly wipe the tears which had formed in your eyes before opening the door. "Hey," you can see the concern in Sam's eyes, "I'm fine, just needed a minute," you pause before changing the subject, "so what's the plan?"

"Sharon is going to be hosting some people here and will ask around to see if anyone knows where we can find Naegele," Sam explains, "so we can join the party and just have to blend in with the crowd."

"Sounds good," you look down at your dress that has some blood splattered on it then look back at Sam, "you think she has a different dress I can wear?"

"Probably, we can go ask her."

You let Sam lead the way back to the other room, where you give Zemo a death glare before asking Sharon, "hey, you have a dress I could borrow? I don't think blood will blend well."

"Sure," she goes over to a closet and gets out a dress which she hands to you, "here, put this on, I'm going to get headed down to begin letting the guests in."

You nod and take the dress, going to change quickly before coming back out, where you're greeted by Sam and Bucky telling you Zemo had gone with Sharon. "Can I help you?" you ask with more than a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

Bucky doesn't hesitate, "what happened?"

You raise an eyebrow at him and pause for a moment before say, "shit. Shit happened, and I... remembered." You shake your head a bit, "before you ask, no I don't want to talk about it. It's a lot, it's fucked up and it's a lot but like, I can get drunk so I'm going to go do that downstairs right now then drunk cry it out so I'm good to go tomorrow."

You admitting that you remembered has Bucky feeling uncomfortable because you were right it was fucked up and he had been involved in it.

"Y/n, getting drunk it's going to help," Sam says.

You sigh and look at Sam, "I know that but I'm going to do it anyways because at the moment I don't want to deal with it. Plus I don't think I've ever gotten drunk before so it won't take much to do so I'll be good to go in the morning."

"It's still a bad idea," Sam says but isn't going to argue further since you're obviously set on this plan.

You go through with your plan, and you were right about it not taking much for you to get drunk, but its enough that you don't have to think about life for a few hours. Then in the morning you wake up hungover, but with enough time to mostly recover by the time it's time to go find Naegele. You get dressed in in your 'suit' of leggings and a shirt before heading out with the other four to find Naegele.

You go with them down to the docks, where they keep all the shipping containers. Sharon leads all of you right up to the one he is supposed to be in. You let the boys go in and you stay out with Sharon, mostly to make sure Naegele doesn't make a run for it but it ends up being pretty convenient for fighting some of the guys the power broker sent to stop all of you from getting to Naegele.

It is with ease that you take them down, discovering that the reason you hadn't been great at fighting before was because of HYDRA wiping your mind. They took the methods you picked up over time from your mind, making it nearly impossible to improve even if you instinctively knew what to do. There is a lull in the fighting, during which you and Sharon slip into the shipping container and go to the back and into the secret are to find the others.

The two of you barely make it into the room when a gunshot goes off, Zemo killing Naegele right there. You only have a chance to shout, "what the hell?!" Before the box around you explodes.

You tuck and roll, escaping the flames and second rocket fired at the shipping crates. You don't know if anyone else made it out but for now you just need to make sure all of you will survive past this point. Your suit had protected you well, and you were thankful since you'd learned the evening before that you weren't at all enhanced but just had an unusually high pain tolerance. It doesn't take you long to spot one of the people who were after you and you focus in on them, one thing you could control. You could control that they were kept busy fighting you and you could control where they were so the others could get out.

As you throw yourself at the man in front of you, you hear gunshots and you're thankful. That means the others made it out of that explosion. You don't want to kill anyone, you had come close when Zemo had activated whatever it was HYDRA had put in your head, but you'd done enough killing in your life. You just needed to incapacitate them, and you do. It's just a matter of hitting a few pressure points and he should stay down for a few hours at least.

From there you move onto the one other person you can see but you are beat to them by Sam. You jog up to him now that things had calmed down a little and see Sharon and Bucky, leaving Zemo as the only one unaccounted for. "Hey, did we get them all?"

"Seems like it," Sharon responds.

Sam looks at her, "come with us."

Sharon shakes her head, "just get me that pardon you promised."

Sam nods once then looks at Bucky, about to say something only to be interrupted by Zemo pulling up in a car. "Shall we?"

You get in the car without hesitating, taking the seat behind Zemo so you can keep an eye on him. Bucky claims the front seat and Sam gets in behind him, saying something about him not moving the seat up. Then you're off, leaving to get back on Zemo's plane and head to the location they had gotten from Naegele.

When all of you are on the plane there is a short conversation as you go over the plan. Then silence falls over all of you, not a nice silence but an awkward silence and you can feel their eyes on you. You finally decide to break the silence and look at Bucky, "hey, I should apologize for all the shit HYDRA made me do to you, so... sorry," you frown and shrug a bit in an attempt to play it off like no big deal as it's always awkward to experience emotions with other people around.

Bucky just shrugs a bit, "it's alright, not exactly your fault. Sorry for kidnapping you."

You don't know why but you laugh. Maybe because it's so ridiculous but you shut up as quickly as you can and shake your head, "it's alright, not exactly your fault either."

"Having less of a memory problem I see," Zemo cuts in on the slight moment the two of you are having.

Your head snaps around to look at him, "you're on thin ice, so tread lightly, or I'll make you wish you'd died in that explosion back there."

Zemo laughs, "ah, there is the Stark attitude that HYDRA had so much trouble controlling." He presses his fingertips together and relaxes in his seat before continuing, "HYDRA was only able to get Lemonade to stick in your mind. It was in case you needed to protect one of the agents from a monster you had created. They had to manually mess with your memory thanks to you being so stubborn, as they couldn't seem to break you."

You can't help but feel a little nauseous as he speaks but you know he's telling the truth. "Yeah, and you better not use it again though I'm pretty sure I broke it last night." Then you look at Sam, "in the case that I didn't break the programming I have weak knees if you hit them from behind and a peanut allergy, knock me out if needed I shouldn't die."

You don't get a response to that but you felt better knowing they could easily stop you if Zemo pulled anything. But that was it and with that you were able relax for the rest of the flight.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Painted Windows 4

Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You make a move.

Note: Okay, here’s some more. It will start to rev up soon, promise. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

Bucky was silent for two days, not that you could muster anything to say to him. He came with your meals, watched you eat, cleaned up your dishes, and slept in the chair. You spent your time alone walking in circles, laying on the floor, staring at the same page. It was worse than the cell because it was so close to the outside. You could hear the winds on the other side of the wood and glass but you couldn’t see them. That was a new type of torture.

But you hadn’t lost count yet. You marked the days by the pages. You folded the corner of the fifth that morning and slid it back on the shelf. You stretched and rubbed your eyes. You crossed to the covered window and placed your hands on the wood. You closed your eyes and imagined the shining snows and the hollow sky. Would spring come soon? 

You left the bathroom door open an inch and undressed. You pulled the stopper down and turned the taps. You stepped into the tub as it filled with steaming water and sank into its depths. The heat cradled you, seeped into your skin and bones, you felt… calm. You closed your eyes and floated away as a blue sky pained your imagination. Clouds crawled across in obscure shapes. You smiled as the sun hid behind one that resembled a butterfly.

You heard birds singing and the soft breeze in the leaves. You could smell the pollen and feel the warmth across your face. And then the symphony turned to a drone and then a voice, clear and firm through the crack of the door. You opened your eyes and sat up to listen.

“No, no, I told you, I’m still fixing this place up,” Bucky’s voice drifted in. “Yeah, I know it’s taking longer than I expected. I can just meet you-- No, just in the city. Your place?... An hour?”

You stood and lifted the plug. You reached for a towel as the drain groaned and stepped out onto the bath mat. You slowly pushed against the door and peeked into the room. 

Bucky stood before the table, a plate there with eggs and toast, a glass of orange juice, and a fork. He spotted you and blanched as he held a phone to his ear; it was small and unlike the clunky flip phone you called your own.

“Alright. I’ll be on my way shortly,” He said into the speaker. “Bye.”

He hit the screen and tucked the phone in his jeans pocket. He turned to you completely and sighed. His eyes lingered on the top of your towel and he swallowed.

“Get dressed. Eat.” He looked to the clock. 

“You’re leaving?” You wondered.

“For a little. I…” He went to the dresser and began to pull out clothes. A pair of black pants, a purple shirt, a pair of white cotton panties, and socks. He grabbed the stack and stalked towards you. “We’ll talk while you eat. Now get changed.”

You made to drop the towel and he caught your hand. He shook his head as his face paled. 

“In there.” He glanced at the bathroom door. You recalled the day before how he had been too distracted to notice as you stripped the wet clothes. “Here.” He shoved the clothing into your arms and nudged you towards the door. 

You hugged the bundle and tiptoed into the bathroom. You closed the door with your foot and set the clothes on the counter. You didn’t look at the mirror as you dressed; couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the strange reflection.

You hung the towel on the bar and went back to the bedroom. Bucky leaned against the wall with arms crossed. You went to the chair and sat. He was tense and impatient. You picked up the fork and he nodded.

“Look,” He exhaled, “I work in the city… mostly. Sometimes, I travel. So, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make sure you’re taken care of. That’s what I’ve been working on.”

You cut out a piece of egg white and popped it in your mouth as you listened wide-eyed.

“I have work coming up soon and I’ll be away a couple days so today you’re moving.” He explained. “You’ll have everything you need. And I have a special phone for you in case you need me. Emergencies only, understand. It only dials out to me so don’t think of trying anything.”

You put down your fork and grabbed the toast. You bit into it and chewed slowly.

“Are you hearing me?” He squinted. You swallowed and took a sip of juice.

“I am,” You assured him. “So your work… you kill people?”

“Bad people. Or I like to think so,” He said. 

“And you… save the good?” You asked.

“Try to.”

“And am I a job to you?”

“If I had done my job, you’d be dead.” He said evenly. “You are... “ His eyes flicked down and he shrugged. “You are here.”

You blinked at his vague answer and took the fork again. Even when this man was talking, he said nothing. You finished your eggs and nibbled the toast to the crusts before draining the glass.

“So… where are you moving me to?” You glanced over at him.

“To your room. It’s all yours.” He dropped his arms and pushed himself away from the wall. 

“Mmm,” You stood reluctantly. “Am I supposed to call it home?”

“Call it what you will but you will be safe and comfortable,” He replied. “I doubt you would say the same of your former accommodation.”

“A prison is a prison.” You muttered. “Bars or not.”

He said nothing as he went to the door. Just waited for you to follow as he pulled it open.

It wasn’t far at all. Only just down the hall, the very next door. He ushered you inside and was just a quick as ever to close you in. The walls were grey, padded with a soundproof barrier. There were two other doors; a closet and a bathroom. A small dresser and night tables that book-ended the bed.

Along the opposite side of the room was a compact kitchenette; mini fridge, microwave, tiny counter and sink, some cupboards. Had he done all this in mere days? You looked around again and your stomach flurried with nerves. You neared the windows slowly. No boards, only thin lace curtains.

He followed as you peered out into the snowy yard. “You can see out but not in.” He stated. “Shatter proof.”

Your elation died at his words. Still a cell to keep you. You stepped around him and wandered along the foot of the bed to the small round table. He came up on the other side as you looked down at the hardcover notebook. He slid it toward you.

“You should try writing out your thoughts.” He suggested. “It’s supposed to help.”

“I don’t… know.”

“You should do something to keep yourself busy,” He insisted. “You don’t have to write about what happened, just about now or anything.”

“I don’t get it.” You looked at him. “You act like you’re helping me by keeping me here but it’s no different than before.”

He frowned and backed away. “There’s more than enough food for you to survive in my absence. I trust you can figure out how to make yourself a sandwich or two.” He retreated to the door and spun back. “Phone’s in the nightstand to the left. Television remote is with it. Movies just beneath and Netflix pre-programmed.” 

“You’re leaving today?” You asked.

“Tomorrow.” He said. “But I’m meeting a friend in the city. Co-worker. Then some running around. I’ll bring your clothes when I return.”

You nodded and lowered your head. “Am I supposed to thank you for all this? This pretty little cell?”

“Do what you want,” He uttered.

The handle turned audibly and was followed by the snap of the door closing. A heavier lock whirred into place and you peeked up at the punch pad. You couldn’t hear him walk away or the creak of the stairs. You could only hear your own breathing as you were once more trapped.

Bucky returned hours later. You barely noticed as you were enraptured by a show you found on the television. It had been so long since you’d seen a screen. So much had changed. The characters all had glowing skin and phones like Bucky’s and the world was so bright. Unlike yours.

He brought a special meal with him. The smell of the pizza broke your concentration. You went to him as he opened the box. 

“I should’ve asked you what you wanted,” He said. “But I just got cheese.”

“That’s okay.” You sat and took a slice. “It’s…” Your eyes began to water more than your mouth. “I haven’t had pizza in ages. I…”

He grabbed a slice and settled in the chair across from you. “Take it easy. Don’t push yourself.”

“Thanks,” You said without thinking and bit into the slice. “Mmm.”

He was slow to eat his. You barely noticed that it was because he was distracted by you. You ate even the crust and sat back. 

“You can have another,” He offered.

“No, I don’t think I could,” Your stomach felt full already.

“Did you write anything?” He looked down at the notebook beside the pizza box.

The momentary cheer left you and you stood. You grabbed a piece of paper towel from above the counter and wiped your hands. 

“I have nothing to write about.” You said.

He was quiet. He took another piece and finished it quickly. He rose shortly after. 

“You can put the rest in your fridge and keep it for tomorrow. I’m leaving before sunrise.”

“Okay.” You muttered.

He huffed and dragged his feet to the door. You didn’t look at him as you went back to the bed and hit play. You could feel him watching you.

“Don’t forget, you can call me.”

“Mmhmm,” You nodded and watched the colours flash on the screen though the words were gibberish in your head.

“Good night.” He said.

You focused on the television as the air grew tense. He opened the door at last and left you with the usual grind of the lock. You fell back against the pillows and grunted. You hated this. Him acting like it was all normal. Like it was paradise. 

And you just couldn’t figure him out. One moment he seemed caring, even nice. The next he was steely and cold. The swing of the pendulum was worse than the sheer cruelty of your former wardens.

For the first time since your arrival, you slept alone. No chair by the door, no rhythmic snoring to calm you. Only the silence encapsulated in your new cell. The shadows of furniture loomed over you and your heart raced too much to doze. The night was fitful and restless.

You rose before the sun and stared out the window. You heard nothing in the house but watched as the car backed out of the long drive and disappeared down the winding road. You felt lonely now that he was gone, not that he was great company. Helpless might have been a better word for it.

You boiled water in the microwave and made a cup of tea. You sat at the table in the light of a single lamp. You sipped and wondered what to do with yourself. It had never been much of a question before. There wasn’t anything to do but lay in wait of your next assault.

You could finish the series you stayed up late watching or try reading again. You set aside your mug and reached for the notebook. You opened the cover to the first page. It read; this journal belongs to ___________. You uncapped the pen and twirled it in your fingers. You scribbled in the corner until the ink began to work. Then you wrote in unsteady, slanted script; no one. 

You flipped the page and hovered your hand above the top line. You didn’t know the date so instead you wrote the number six. Your sixth day there, though it felt like longer.

You moved to the next line. Your hand was slow at first, unsure of the letters to write. Then they formed easier as you reached the fourth, fifth, six lines. You went until you were at the bottom of the page. Your tea was cold and so were you. You closed the notebook and went to the bed. You fell asleep in seconds.

[migeviellardi]

Out Of Comfort

Rottmnt Donnie Centric Fanfic

Genre : Adventure, Action, Humour, Hurt/Comfort

Summary :  Silver has gone to the part where he made Donnie involve in some slightly criminal-related work. Will Donnie regret his decision to ever trust him? Or will his life ends miserably knowing that he should’ve just headed home and not taking any part of Silver’s plan?

Chapter 4 Help Wanted

Run-on-the-mill Pizza place can be a good place to vent for some reason, he always felt better having to just sit down, ordering food, and let go of his thoughts away. The weight lifted off from his chest immensely or is it just that his wisp is his Gram-Gram, sitting on his shoulder to keep him company?

Donnie can’t help smile to see her there, she smiled every he looked at her. It gives him warmth, knowing that he wasn’t entirely alone. At least now he felt a lot better that he took joy to eat his pizza to satisfy his hunger. 

“Grrrr!!” Donnie jumped hearing a growl from the person sitting in front of him. The stranger who called himself Silver, glaring at his phone. His finger tapping hard on the screen. Donnie chewed away as he watched the men frustrated himself with his phone.

Silver gritted his teeth, “Stupid, son of a-” he screamed and threw away his phone. Donnie was surprised to see his phone flew away out of sight. Sia flew after the phone. Silver sighed while shaking his head, he chomps on the pizza he ordered.

“Is-is everything, okay?” Donnie asked.

“It’s not your concern, kid.” Sia flew back with the phone and put it in his hand. Silver saw the phone and frowned at Sia, who scolded him. Donnie saw the wisp flailing angrily at him. Silver shook in disbelief, putting the phone on the table.

Donnie stared at the object. It seems like it just got bought, looks all sleek and new with its black with blue stripes background.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Just some troubles, like many.” he chowed down the pizza, mozzarella cheese melted to his mouth. Donnie can slightly see that the guy somehow had fangs. Until then he realized that he also had a pair of small brown horns. They’re obscured by his unruly hair, which makes him wonder what kind of guy he is.

“Can I take a look on your phone?” he asked. Silver stared at him. He paused for a bit, thinking if he should listen to the kid. 

He sighed and give the kid his phone. Donnie carefully took it and began his inspections. He turns on the phone and found the thing had a hard time finishing the intro. Once Donnie had access to the content, he took his time checking every system, apps, and settings. 

Silver rests his head on his hand, watching the kid gone all quiet, eyes fixated on the screen. He can see the kid in full concentration on what he’s doing, so he didn’t bother to ask anything. 

“Is it okay if I upgrade them a bit?” Donnie offered. Silver raised his eyebrow. The word ‘upgrade’ intrigues and astonished him. Can the kid really upgrade his phone? The kid seems serious about what he said. Although, is it a good idea to let a kid messes with his phone?

But Silver is more curious than worry. Silver gives him a nod. Donnie looked around for Hueso. The skeleton saw the turtle waved at him. He approached him, “If you looking for your coffee, it still in a brewing state.”

“Oh, okay. But also, do you still have my toolbox here?”

“The one that you keep forgetting to bring back with you and instead of you taking it insisting to let me store it for you?” Hueso said in a nonchalant look. Donnie grinned nervously. He sighed, “I’ll go and get it for you.” he walks towards his office.

Donnie went back to the phone in his hand. Silver just watched in quiet, finishing his meal. A waiter with six arms came and put a mug of coffee at Donnie’s side. He quickly took a sip and continue his inspecting. 

Hueso came back with a purple toolbox, he put it next to the mug and went off to do his business. The table shook as the toolbox was set down, how many tools the kid have in that thing?

Donnie put his mug to his other side. He pushed a button on the box and attracted all the tools held by small robot arms. Silver was shocked by the sheer amount of tools that came out of it. 

Donnie opened the phone’s casing. Pulled down his goggles, he types something in his tech bracelet and the robot arms helping him out to do some tinkering. Silver blinked, he observes the kid doing something to his phone. 

He watched the three-fingered hands deftly moves between each tool, once seeing his hand reaching something inside the box and implanting it onto the phone. He waited for the kid to finish as it seems the kid doesn’t want to be bothered while doing his work.

Finally, Donnie plopped back the casing. The toolbox retracted back all the tools, back to its former form. Donnie turned on the phone and give it back to Silver. He took his phone and take a look at it.

“I upgrade the memory storage, which now can hold 200 GB. It’s the biggest one I can get other than stealing it. I upgraded the ram storage, the system processor, the cache settings. Updated further the anti-virus with my own coding, also put a tiny Donnie-blocker to keep off all kinds of mal-ware, aaand installing a new set of cameras for further perfection on either photo or video making ability. Oh, and I give you some unlimited access to the internet. Your Welcome and Thank you!” he smiled with pride and joy. 

Silver nodded in amazement. He explored his phone further and he can already felt the significant difference from before. No lagging, quick accessing, one-second loading. Whatever the kid has done, it did wonders for his phone. “Well, I gotta say, Kid. I’m impressed.” he praised.

Donnie flinched by the appraisal from him. He smiled broadly with tears of joy. How long has he been dreaming for an adult’s appraisals and approvals? Too long perhaps that he can’t contain his smile. Which made Silver cringe at him. Hueso walked past them and saw Donnie glittering in happiness.

“Did you praised him?” he asked.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Just brace yourself, that’s all.” he added, leaving them alone. Silver pinched his nose-bridge.

###

Silver walks along the Hidden City’s streets with his new modified phone in his hand. The first thing he finds is that the kid had put thousands of songs on the music list. He’s really intrigued with the titles of each of them, noted to himself that he should give them a try.

“So, where are you going?”

He sighed, he nearly forgot that the said kid still on his tail. 

Silver : Why don’t you just go home, kid?

Donnie : First of all, I am not a kid. I’m 16.

Silver : And, I’m 28. So you’re a kid to me.

Donnie : Scoff! I am a teenager, thank you very much! *arm-crossed*

Silver : Why are you saying ‘scoff’ out loud?

Donnie : And, second, I’m not ready to go home, yet. 

Silver : Why not?

Donnie : Well, even though I’ve been here for an hour and fifty-one minutes, but I just got here.

Silver : And, now, you can go home.

Donnie stopped in his track. Silver noticed the lack of sound of the kid’s footsteps, he turned around at Donnie who clearly unhappy, avoiding eye contact.

“I just won’t, alright? You won’t understand.” he shoved his hands in his pockets. Silver raised an eyebrow, the kid still refused to look at him. 

He sure didn’t understand what the kid’s deal is that he doesn’t want to go home. But it’s not like Silver would want to be part of it, especially if it’s a personal matter. He rolled his eyes and continued his walk, eyes fixated on the screen until he heard the kid’s footsteps following him again.

He peered his head back to the kid. Donnie saw him staring and froze. Silver stares nonchalantly. Donnie frowned, looking away dejected. He can still sense being stared.

“Okay, FINE. I’ll go! Stop staring at me like that!” Donnie quickly turned around, grumbling in his hood. Silver watched the kid's leaves, the kid’s wisp flew close to his head, caressing him.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel bad, he knows the kid can take care of himself, as long as he stops spacing out. Sia stares at him, unimpressed, which triggered Silver in the way.

“What?” he flatly asked. Sia scolded her living friend, squeaking away like no tomorrow. “The last thing I want other than being stranded here is becoming a babysitter. Okay?”

Sia pouts, she crossed her arms and look away. Silver rolled his eyes, he doesn’t need this right now. “Uuuugh!!! HEY, KID!”

Donnie quickly turns his head. Silver sighed, there’s no turning back now. “Come on, there’s a place that I wanna go. You can help out there if you want.” he walks away.

He didn’t need to wait or looking back to know that kid accepted his offer when he heard a running coming from behind. Donnie joined him on his side, keeping it quiet, in case if the man changes his mind.

He has a lot of questions, but putting them off the table. Keeping it cool as he observed the guy scrolling through his phone. Donnie shoves his hands, trying to obscure his fingers fidgeting restlessly. He’s giddy for some reason, he doesn’t know why. 

What he should do is be cautious, especially when you’re meeting a stranger. But so far, the stranger had been kind to him, despite all the snarkiness. 

He saved his life from a falling boulder which he still doesn’t understand why it’s there. He responsibly trying to make him feel better in case he was shaken from the near-death experience--which he got to be honest, that he was, only a little. And, he let him tinker his phone and upgraded it, and not to mention, appraisal--legitness--for his work.

He can’t help but smile with that thought, this Silver guy sure is an interesting one. He learned that souls can leave a part of their own, remnants of their memories, and formed into these little ghosts called Wisps.

The concept of this little entity really intrigues him, and now that he knows that he has a Wisp of his own, which is none other than his Gram-Gram. And, that hits him,

Donnie : About the Wisps...

Silver : Hm? 

Donnie : Gram-Gram is a part of a family, my family. And, I’m sure that she also loves my brothers. Right?

Silver : Put it this way, you have how many people in one family, and there’s one who passes away and that person loves every single one of them. If a wisp wanted to go back to their loved ones, and there are many, so they’ll follow them all.

Donnie : How?

Silver : The explanatory still confuses me, but a wisp can actually exist more than once in the living. For example, if your wisp is following you now, they also follow the others. Like,...ugh, putting it simply, they can be in two or more places at the same time.

Donnie : That’s......mildly confusing.

Silver : You tell me.

Donnie : Wait, so...if my Wisp actually exists somewhere else and following my family,  that means, she’s also there.

Silver : So?

Donnie : So, that means, if I can speak her language, she can help pinpoint their locations, etcetera.

Silver : .....

Donnie : .....

Silver : Huh, I haven’t thought of that.

Donnie : Really?

Silver : But to be fair, not all wisps had the same case. For example, Sia right here.

Donnie : That also hits me, who is she to you?

Silver stopped, Donnie flinched at him. Silver stares blankly at the phone, although he is sure that he wasn’t staring at it. He was getting worried about how the guy didn’t say anything. He figured it actually hurts him, being asked that question.

Donnie guiltily looked away, rubbing his arm. “Sorry.” He apologized. Sia the wisp turned sad, followed by Karai.

Then, he flinched when he felt his head being patted. He meets Silver’s eyes, he didn’t smile but he’s certainly caressing. Silver let go of his hand and continue his walking. Donnie blinked, trying to process what he just did. He rubbed his head, still confused and took off to catch up.

Silver took a right and went up a stair. Donnie paused to see that he was heading towards what looks like a Museum, Yokai’s Museum. Silver went inside, not waiting around for him. Donnie ran in, until, “OOF!!!” he bumps real hard into a large hand and fell back. 

“Oww!” he rubs his head. A troll-like yokai with massively oversize hands stood guard at the entrance.

“Buy ticket first! Only ten dollars!” he said with a deep croaky voice. Silver showed up from the Museum.

“Go get yourself a ticket, kid! I’m only paying for your food.” he disappeared into the building. Donnie stood up peevishly, raising his shoulders. He sighed, reached out a ten-dollar from his wallet.

The Museum looks somewhat bigger than the outside. On the way in, Donnie picked up a pamphlet from its racks. The Museum contains artworks like statues, paintings, carvings, etc. Even some historical objects and artifacts. 

Donnie curiously looked in every direction. Never in his life went to a Museum legally and full of people and bright lights. Last time he has been in a Museum, he had to fight a psychotic hypo and the Foot-clans, breaking every content within.

Donnie scurries along through to find Silver, he isn’t in the Gallery, which now leads him to the Artifact Room. Donnie peeked into the hallway, he didn’t see him yet. He went further as he took his time sightseeing until he stumbled upon a large circular room.

The room was littered with weird, wacky, and interesting artifacts floats on pedestals. And without Donnie’s goggles, he can still see that some of them had mystic powers lingers within. He assuming they all real artifacts that are no longer in use, despite that some still have little powers to spare.

He found Silver stands and observe a floating crescent-like object. Donnie stood beside him, looking at the name on the info board. Rubbing his chin as he translates the language, “Obliath of Secrecy.”

“It’s an artifact that once used to conceal a massive gate that prevents Oble Troll from entering a farm patch for the early season of Fire Cabbage Festival, thirty years ago. Created by an old fairy farmer who lives with the farm patches.” Silver explains. Donnie looked at him astonished.

“You know about artifacts?”

“No, it says so in this info board.” he points at the board he just read. 

“O-oh...”

“Anyway, we’re not here for sightseeing.” he said, “Come.”

Donnie raised his eyebrow, he looked at Karai, she shook her head, not knowing what it means. Donnie shrugged and followed the men.

As Donnie follows, he saw Silver talk to a tiger yokai from afar. Donnie paused for a moment, he observes as Silver received some kind of a key from the yokai and quickly put them in his inner pocket. As the yokai leaves, Silver turned to Donnie and gesturing him to follow.

Donnie became suspicious, still, he does what he’s told. He approached Silver who’s standing near a big sarcophagus. He looked around, to make sure nobody’s looking and opened the coffin. “Get in.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” And, Donnie did. Silver followed and closed the coffin, hiding the two inside.

###

Silver slowly opens the sarcophagus slightly, peeking out to the now dark Artifact Room. Sia emerged from the coffin, looking around as she flew away. She went back and nodded, Silver opens the coffin entirely, letting Donnie and himself out. 

Donnie gingerly looks around, unsure of what will they be doing.

“What are we doing?” he asked, only to be shushed by Silver. Silver promptly stealth walking into the empty room. Donnie follows without difficulty as he was trained to be stealthy. Silver leads them both to a turn left to the sarcophagus that leads to a storage room. Silver stopped, assessing the situation.

“What are we doing here?!” Donnie whispered. Silver ignores him and lets Sia come forth first. She flew ahead towards the door until she passed an invisible barrier that reanimated as she came through. Donnie was amazed by the presence of the invisible wall. 

Silver waited to make sure it didn’t trigger any kind of alarm, which it didn’t. He comes close to the barrier, putting his palm onto it. It was solid, as it should be. Donnie looked around to make sure they were alone, getting more worried about this whole situation.

Silver took a breath in and out, he casts an energy flow onto his hand, the bluish energy glows stunningly in the dark. Donnie watched in awe from a couple of feet away. It then formed itself into a long energy stream, condensed into a sword-like structure.

Donnie was surprised by the guy’s capability, it looks different than any mystic weapons he saw. Silver slashed the barrier right down the middle, then proceed to slice the bottom frame. The sword disappeared, Silver opened the barrier like it was a curtain. He gesturing Donnie to get in first.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?!” he protested in a whisper.

“I’ll tell you when we get inside. Move!” Donnie opened his mouth to speak, “Kid, you’ve gone far to follow me here. And I don’t mind at all that you bail right this second. Your choice.”

Despite him whispering, Silver’s voice was sharp and stern, giving massive goosebumps towards Donnie’s shell. A strike of fear suddenly picking up, Donnie momentarily having a staring contest with the guy.

He could bail, but he needs to know what this guy’s doing. If he’s doing something bad, it’s his job as a Hamato to stop him. He can’t let it slide, he needs to know what’s going on. He stepped into the barrier, no turning back now.

He stopped at the door, Silver came up and use the key on the door. The storage filled with unshowcased artifacts organized in some ways. Silver carefully closed the door behind him and locked it, Donnie took a moment to look around. 

He has seen some of these artifacts in Draxum’s research notes. Few of them extremely foreign. 

“THOOOONG!!!!”

Donnie jumped at the sound from behind him. Silver cast some kind of barrier in bluish and white streams of energy. Suddenly, he toppled over, lying on his side. Donnie jerked up and ran at him. His breathing is normal and his pulse is steady but the guy had fallen unconscious.

“Silver?” he patted his cheeks, hoping to wake him up. Silver let out a groan. Donnie helped him to sit, leaning him to a wall. “What happened? You okay?” 

“I might...have put....too many in....one go.” he said, sounding really exhausted. Donnie looked at the barrier. It looks very sturdy, not sure how many he actually put in one spot. Donnie turned back to him.

“But, you’re okay, right?

“Yeah, just....a little tired.” he hoists himself up, pushing up against the wall to get back to his feet. Donnie ducked under his arm, helping him walk around the storage room. Silver leads them further inside, Sia flew right ahead. She pinpoints the directions around the many crates filled with artifacts, to where they should go and they follow.

Until they reached a large pedestal with an object that floats right in the middle. Silver let his arm go from Donnie. “There it is.”

The artifact shape is a trapezoid, with carvings all over its dark plum coloring. The object felt different than the others, felt threatening in some ways. Donnie frowned by the sight of it as Silver approached the thing. He held his hand out to it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like?” he said, “I’m stealing it.”

A paused for a moment.

“Wait, WHAT?!”

[sophiexteresa]

Thomas Sanders Instagram Q&A Transcript

From @thatsthat24’s Instagram story, 25/8/2020. Questions in bold. Text added to the story in (parenthesis/brackets), and descriptive info in *italics*. I tried uploading the video(s) too, but Tumblr is having issues, so here’s the transcript only! 

Thomas: I had some time this evening so I figured, hey, why not? Another lil’ Q an’ A, so if you want to ask a question *posh French voice* be my guest!

When approximately will the next sanders sides be out? Very good question! Uh, we are aiming this for a late September release, that’s what we’re all working towards.

Favourite musical you have been in or just favourite musical in general? This is really tough, I can’t decide. I’m between Rent where I was in the ensemble, Peter Pan where I played Slightly Soiled, which was just one of the lost boyos — boyos? Boys — and, uh, Into The Woods where I played Cinderella’s prince and that’s where Roman’s first costume came from.

Are you ever gonna due your hair purple again? I loved it! Yes! I miss the purple hair too.

Do you love me? *laughing* Yes of course! I do love me.

What would each of the sides’ reaction be to seeing the Grand Canyon? *speaking very quickly* Roman would be revelling that we made the journey, Patton would be marvelling at the memories being made, Logan would be telling you to look at these fascinating signs for important information, Virgil would be telling you to ‘get back from those cliffs!’, Janus would be telling you to take pictures to make it look like you’re next to the cliff, ‘for clout’, and Remus would be like *Remus voice* ‘you could push somebody and get away with it’.

Also when will we get more Picani, I miss him? You and me both, Bri, and honestly with the amount of amazing cartoons that have come out recently *sighs while smiling* yeah, I am a-hankering (?) to get back to Emile!

How have you been doing, like really? Mental health is important as you teach us: I feel like everybody’s kinda struggling with mental health right now, especially people in the USA with COVID. Uhm *clears throat* for me I continuously struggle with the balance between work and leisure time, um, social media makes that difficult, blurs the lines, and I’m working on it.

Do you have any tattoos? Umm, I don’t, uh, I struggle with the permanence of tattoos. And like do I, can I, make a decision that I like? But! There are tattoos that I might like. Where I’d put them, I have no idea, umm, but I think like, maybe like, little stars!

What rank of “Gay” are you? Big gay? What rank? *speechless pause* uh... General. You know? I wanna do my duty. Come back a hero. An all-American Queero *gets an idea* *roughly quoting Hamilton* Queer comes the General!

Can you please make Logan day something Patton would say? *Logan’s voice* Something Patton would say? Umm... please, I request more baked goods from the kitchen so that I can fill Thomas’s body with more trans-fats at 3 am. I don’t know, I don’t like this game.

Have you ever dated a girl? *awkward silence* I have. It was pretty uneventful.

Do you miss your friends? *laughs* Oh... *face crumples as if he’s about to cry*

What are you voice acting in or are you now allowed to say? Not until tomorrow.

When did you know you were gay? I think I answered this one on the last Q&A, but it was early. I was like, 9 or 10 at least.

When will we see Gavin? Gavin has started school! He’s back in his hometown, so I don’t know when I’m gonna see him. He’s still getting taller — I can actually include a picture of him that his mom sent me after he got a new little hairdo *insert photo of an awesome Gavin here*

Do you miss vine? For like, sentimental reasons, yes. Uh, I mean, technically it had its issues and I don’t miss being restricted to 6 seconds anymore *laughs*

What has been your favourite part of the day? My favourite part of today was actually... I came up with this last minute short video, and I got it done and I sent it to some friends and they really liked it. I have to save it until Thursday thought, but it’s just nice to come up with stuff that makes your friends laugh.

Janus acting like Remus? *Remus’ voice* Remus here! Looks like the Dukey just dropped in! *Remus’ laugh* *Takes a breath and snaps into Janus’ character* I spend a lot of time with him so I’ve had a lot of practise.

Why do I feel like we’re gonna have another angsty Virgil moment? When is Virgil not being angsty...?

Please can you say trans rights? Uh, heck yah trans rights! I, uh, this one was very simple but I wanted to say it!

Do you think Virgil would be into anime? Actually, if you remember from, uh, Accepting Anxiety, uh, part 2, there’s actually a Death Note poster in his room, so he definitely likes some anime.

Hi! Can you say hola to the Hispanic fanders in el vecindario fander? Please? We love you! Oh my gosh, *a very naturally american pronunciation* hola! that’s very kind of you guys. I appreciate all of the support you guys give, and I love all of you guys. 

STORYTIME! I love you: *upbeat voice* Storytime! I love you back.

How gay are you? Like, 15 gay! I rank General! 

How did you end up meeting and babysitting Gavin? Gavin is actually Leo’s nephew, so he would come up here, uh, during the holidays or during the summer, and alternate being baby-sat between me and Leo’s mom - his grandma.

What was the inspo for Janus’ outfit? Ooh, that’s a really good question, uh... Joan had a vision in their mind for almost kind of like this early 20th century or late 19th century kinda Jack the Ripper vibe.

Any advice for gaybies to fit in with society? Don’t apologise for being yourself. If people have an issue, that’s their issue that they have to work through. Do not apologise for being yourself. 

What type of gay are you? (Math gay, plant gay, caffine gay, etc): Wait, there’s such thing as a math gay? I am absolutely that, and I feel like I’m just gonna be naming traits about myself but I’m a trivia gay, a driving gay, apparently a math gay, a Disney gay *laughs* and a theatre gay.

Not a question but I’m glad to be alive at the same time as someone as great as you: Dude, this stuff is really sweet. *laughs* That’s really sweet, umm, trust me, I feel the same way about all of you. Honestly.

Why don’t you own a doggo yet? I... went to Petsmart today - I didn’t get an animal, but like... I’m thinking about it and this question is like... hmmm...

I’ve run out of cartoons to watch, any recommendations? Owl house! Owl house, owl house. I just tried it, and I immediately got hooked. Infinity train’s also a really good one, duck tales is amazing, and I’m getting ready to start Tangled: the animated series, so *shrugs*.

What is Patton’s opinion on rats? *adorable Patton voice, slowly zooming in on his face* They are tiny little squishy precious babies!!!

How do I ask people for their pronouns? I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think it’s like a big deal? I hope we could get to the point where we could just be like ‘what are your pronouns?’ and then they would tell you, and then you’d just, you know, carry on the rest of your conversation. 

A circle has no bounds and it’s the same with your beauty: This is really precious, and it of course came from Nash (?) who is a poet, he published a lot of wonderful, wonderful poems on twitter, they are are amazing, and you are once again far too sweet, Nash. 

Dream role? This is a pretty broad question, so maybe dream theatrical role would be Sweeny Todd, dream movie role would be anything in the marvel universe, uh, really just give me anything in any voice acting role, *smiling mischievously* egg rolls are also really good.

Can Remus please say ‘I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand’? *Remus voice* I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand! (love that vine)

Are there still plans for the Roman series? *nods* Oh, yeah, yeah, it was definitely hindered by COVID, uh, as was this Sanders Asides episode that’s coming up, which is why it’s taking longer in the editing stage, it is our, uh... strategy, for circumventing the obstacle, and we hope you like it.

Are we still getting an August playlist? Uh, heck yah you are! But honestly, actually, if you guys have any suggestions I should include in the playlist, lemme know! I’d be happy to get some suggestions - but yes. You will be definitely getting one.

May I please see your feet? *confused, slightly disgusted expression* *begins to move the camera away from his face* *holds up a tape measure, extended to 1 foot long* *grins*

Any shows on Netflix to recommend? Umbrella Academy is really good, Dragon Prince, uh, She-Ra, of course, umm The Hollow (?) is really cool, there’s a documentary about video games called High Score, that was really fun.

Roman, who would you say the gayest side is? *Roman’s voice* Oh, we’re all equally gay, okay? *chuckles* it’s a sexuality, not a personality trait. *takes a breath and speaks quickly* I’m just kidding it’s *sings* meeeeee!

If you were not a YouTuber, what would you see yourself doing and why? Uh, maybe putting my chemical engineering degree to some use. *laughs awkwardly* Uh, I went to school for 5 years for that one.

Like you literally make me so flipping happy: I’m glad! I don’t know what I’m doing to do that, but the feeling is absolutely mutual. 

Can we have Virgil saying “Falsehood”? *hair already over one eye, in Virgil’s voice* Uh, c’mon, okay, sure. *very quietly and unenthusiastically* falsehood. Is that good? Is that? I don’t know, I don’t wanna steal his bit.

Which Sanders Side do you feel you embody most? Ah, I would probably say it’s either Patton or Roman because Patton can be definitely me, all the time, just really enthusiastic about things and finding things cute, but Roman... Roman’s sensitivity, oh. That’s me. 

What was the first job you had? I actually worked as a page in a library! A- pages basically just kinda like, shelve books, check books out; it’s one of the chillest jobs I’ve ever had, one of my favourites, and my dad always had a lovely dad joke for it: ‘you’re working as a page, when do you get promoted to a book?’

How tall are you? I usually say 5ft 10, but I think I’m trying to be a little more realistic with myself. And I’m probably 5ft 9 and a half. *zooms in on his face, staring into the camera* I’m holding onto that half a foot for all dear life. 

DROP THE SKIN ROUTINE PLEASE! This is very sweet, uh, I, *laughs nervously*, uh, I use Curology? They’re very nice. Umm, just... different kinds of lotion, I guess. (I suppose I should write down what I do lol)

Can we get a FALSEHOOD? *is standing* *clears throat* *points upwards from his eyeline* FALSEHOOD! 

Do you have a boyfriend if not are you planning on dating soon? I do not, uh, dating is kinda difficult right now midst COVID, you know, kinda tough... love... in the time of Corona... umm, but, you know, option’s open.

When was your first kiss? I’m sure I’ve answered this somewhere, it was in high school, I might have been 15 or 16. It was with a girl. *Shakes head* And all I can remember is hitting teeth. A lot.

Can we get a super super vague hint about the new Asides episode?  Alright, I’m getting ready to end the Q&A, so this, you know, if you’ve made it so far you deserve this super vague answer, umm... it includes a side that was not in the last episode. (This isn’t much, I apologise lol)

Thomas: And that is it for this evening! Thank you so much, you guys, for watching. I know some of you are still over in Europe watching and it’s like 4 in the morning, and I need to go to bed so thank you all so much for your questions - I gotta do this more often ‘cause I really enjoy it. Love you guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Peace out!

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

2020 Can Take My Hair, But Not My Hope

My hair started falling out on election night.

I thought at first it might be the anxiety, that I was literally pulling my hair out with worry over numbers I already knew were not going to be definitive before the night wore into morning but which I stayed up until 3:30am watching anyway. I tweeted rapidly, reassuring my jittery timeline that not only had we all known that the night would bring no results but that we had even expected Trump to lead in key states because of the greater number of mail-in ballots from urban areas that would largely count for Biden. We knew. We all knew. But we were all terrified, flashing back to 2016 and already dreading another four years of living life on high alert, in constant survival mode.

I posted a selfie with a tweet that read, "Could be the last presidential election I vote in (blah blah stage 4 cancer blah blah) and I wish it were better and clearer than this but it's a crucial privilege to have voted. Remember, whatever the outcome, the last thing they can take from you is your hope."

To me that last sentence has been a mantra for these years and for my treatment. I have consistently refused, despite overwhelmingly terrible odds, to lose hope. The story of Pandora's Box tells us that the very last thing left inside was Hope--that even once all the demons were out in the world there was that tiny, feathered creature left to hang on to. It hasn't been easy, but I am one of the most stubborn people you will ever meet (and if you doubt this just ask anyone who's ever fought me on anything!) and it has turned out to be a saving grace rather than an irritating personality trait. Feeling like the world was trying to take my hope away made me angry. And when I get angry I will fight back.

I know I'm not alone in feeling like we entered some kind of alternate nightmare timeline on election night 2016. To that point, despite periods of immense personal difficulty, nothing truly terrible had happened to me. Then, in short order, my marriage ended and I was diagnosed with and began being treated for a terminal illness, all against the backdrop of a regime so deliberately hateful that it was truly incomprehensible to me. Then, a global pandemic and national crisis swept away the small consolations I'd found in my new life with cancer. The temptation to feel hopeless was strong and I struggled with it, particularly in the isolation of quarantine. I'm struggling with it now, facing a winter of further lockdowns, social isolation, continued chemo, and the added indignity (and chilliness!) of not having any hair. But somehow the coincidence of my hair loss with election night seemed like a good omen for the future, if a sad thing for the present.

I heard the news that they had called Pennsylvania for Biden at a peaceful Airbnb in the Catskills after stepping out of a shower where lost hair in handfuls. It felt oddly like a sacrifice I had made personally. I joked about this with friends on the text chains that lit up and that (despite my promise to myself and my writing partner that we'd "go off the grid") I responded to immediately. Instant replies, with emojis and GIFs, participated in the fiction: "Thank you for your service!!!"; "We ALL appreciate your sacrifice!"; "Who among us would NOT give up their hair for no more Trump?". The feeling was real for me, though. It was as though the good news demanded some kind of karmic offering. You never get something for nothing, I thought, and really it was a small price to pay.

The rest of the weekend passed too quickly, with absorption in the novel I plan (madly, given that I also work full-time) to work on for "National Novel Writing Month" (NaNoWriMo), walks in the unseasonably warm woods, and nighttime drinks on the back deck under the stars, watching my hair blow off in fine strands and drift through the sodium porch light. My friend and I read tarot and both our layouts contained The Tower, the card for new beginnings from total annihilation, the moment of destruction in which (as the novel's title says) everything is illuminated. "This might sound dumb," he said, "but maybe yours is about your hair." It did not sound dumb.

[shaved heads, the 2020 election, and a couple pics under the cut]

There is probably no more iconic visual shorthand for cancer than hair loss. It happens because chemo agents target fast-proliferating cells, which tend to inhabit things that grow rapidly by nature (hair, fingernails), or that we need to replenish often (cells in the gut), as well as out-of-control cancer cells. But not all cancer treatments, not even all chemotherapies, cause hair loss. In my 20 months of being treated for cancer and my three previous treatments (four, if you count the surgery I had) nothing had yet affected my hair beyond a bit of thinning. This despite the fact that my first-ever treatment (Taxol) was widely known to cause hair loss for "everyone." I had been fortunate with this particular side effect in a narrow way that I have absolutely not been on a broader scale. "Maybe," I had let myself think, "I can have this one thing." The odds were in my favor too; only 38% of people in clinical trials being treated with Saci lost their hair. I liked the odds of being in the 62% who didn't. But--as we all felt deep in our gut while they counted votes in battleground states--odds aren't everything.

I had come to treat the "strength" of my hair as a kind of relative consolation (though as with everything cancer "strength," "weakness," and the rhetoric of battle have nothing to do with outcomes). I treasured still having it, not just out of vanity (though I have always loved my hair whatever length, style, or color it has been) but because it allowed me to pass among regular people as one of them. I had no visible markers of the illness that is killing me, concealed as first the tumor and then the scars were by my clothing. "You look wonderful," people would tell me, even when I suffered from stress fractures from nothing more than running or sneezing; muscle spasms in my shoulder and nerve death in my fingertips; nausea that I swallowed with swigs from my water bottle that just made me look all the more like a hydration-conscious athlete; and profound, constant, and debilitating fatigue. Invisible illness had its own perils but I would take them--take all of them at once if necessary!--if only I could keep my hair and look normal.

It was not to be. A part of me had known this, since a lifetime with metastatic cancer means a lifetime of treatments a solid proportion of which result in hair loss. But I had hoped. And I had liked the odds.

The hardest thing for me is having to give up this particular consolation before knowing whether or not my new treatment is also working on my cancer. Unfortunately, there really isn't a correlation between side effects like hair loss and effectiveness of treatment. If it is working then I will feel that--like the election to which I felt I had karmically contributed--it was all completely worth it. Yet, even in this best case scenario, there's a new reality for me which is that while I am on this treatment I will stay bald. When you are a chronic patient you hope for a treatment that will work well with manageable side effects. And if this treatment works--and if the other side effects are as ok-ish as they are now--then I will remain on it.

It's that future that I am furious about more than anything else. I want to continue to live my life, of course, but I don't want to have to do it bald! In part that is because I don't want to register to people constantly as an archetypal "cancer patient" when I know that I am so much more. It is also in part because I don't want to think of myself as being ill, and living every day having to disguise my absent hair will make that all the tougher. I have already noticed that I feel, physically, as though I am sicker because of my constantly shedding hair. How could I not, in some ways, when every move I make and every glance at myself (including in endless Zoom windows) shows me this highly visible change?

For that reason, I'm shaving my remaining hair tomorrow (Wednesday). It's a way to feel less disempowered--less like hair loss is happening to me--and wrest control of the situation back. I will try to find agreeable things about it: wigs, scarves, cozy caps, bright lipstick, statement earrings, and a general punk/Mad Max vibe that is appropriate to 2020. But I don't want anyone to think for a second that I find this agreeable, or even acceptable, or that I don't mind. I mind a whole hell of a lot. My hair was my consolation prize, my camouflage, my vanity, my folly, and my battle cry.

I dyed it purple when I was first diagnosed because I knew (or thought I knew) that I would be losing it soon. I didn't, and I came to cherish it as a symbol of my boldness in the face of circumstances trying to oppress me, to make me shrink, to tempt me to become invisible. I refused and used it to "shout" all the louder in response. Because of what it came to mean to me, I'm nearly as sad about losing the purple as I am about losing the hair itself. It both symbolized the weight I was carrying and also that I would not let that weight grind me down. It was my act of resistance and my sign resilience all at once.

I sent a text to my friends, explaining this and offering, as an idea, that I could "pass the purple" to them in some way, small or large. It would feel more like handing off a torch or a weight (or the One Ring) than anyone shaving their head in solidarity. (After all, if they did that it would just remind me as I watched theirs grow back that, in fact, our positions were very different.) You're welcome to do it if you'd like too, internet friends, with temporary or permanent dye or a wig or a headband or one of those terrible 90s hairwraps or whatever. But I don't require that anyone do it because I feel support from you all in myriad ways, all the time. (But if you do, please send me pictures!)

It's November 2020. The election is over and Joe Biden has won. I still have cancer and I'll be bald tomorrow. I hope it's a turning point, both personal and global, because it feels like one. We've given up a lot in the last four years and I cannot say that I feel in any way peaceful or accepting about having to give up yet one more thing. But in losing my hair I absolutely refuse to also give up my hope.

(On our walk we did also seem to find a version of The Tower, all that was left of an abandoned house)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villain x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: Having the kid of a Slasher. These have vastly different blurbs though so they have lil’ titles! 

Includes: Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers 

Warnings: Freddy’s one includes the kidnapping of a child by their father (A child killer, to boot). Other then that, what can I say? This is Slasher fanfiction, Freddy is himself. Michael’s is pretty humorous though... :D

Notes: 

I really wanna build on these some more! I plans to write a oneshot where Michael and reader eventually get ‘back together’ sort of? And a prequal to Freddy’s where Maggie visits her half brother and Luke questions her and reader about their father. 

Note: Freddy is going to call you mummy if you are woman, man, or gender neutral. And I’m going to spell it the American way because it just seems more fetishized that way and more like the wrapped up Egyptian dead people the English way. I am not sure how you would accidentally have his child if you have a penis, but who knows in this universe. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 

~~~

Freddy Krueger: Luke // ‘Protecting your child from his father’

“Hey! How are you?” I call, breathless to the receptionist -Judy, - sitting in school office. She looks up and a haze of confusions crosses her pretty green eyes, and I try not to worry. There could be any reasin this woman is confused to see me that is unrelated to my son’s whereabouts. Deciding not to wait for her to tell me how she is because the anxiety in me clenches around my heart like a boa constrictor, I paste on a bigger smile ask. “Where’s Luke? He didn’t come out when the bell went.”

Maybe he’s in the sick bay, or… I don’t know. What other acceptable reason could there be that my son is not here with me?

Don’t think like that.

My smile must look stiff and sharp at this point, because Judy starts very slowly. Cautious. “… Hi-His Dad picked him up, Miss L/N.”

Dad? My nose scrunches up in utter confusion. I’m absolutely certain that I had Bradley taken off the register as Luke’s secondary emergency contact- I stood right here with this woman for half an hour figuring out how to do that. And besides, why would my ex-husband pick up my son from school and not tell me? Luke doesn’t have a-

His… his Dad? Freddy couldn’t have. I’ve been giving Luke Hypnocil pills since he could take them, crushing them every night and stirring the dust into his dinner. I haven’t heard any signs of Freddy for 8 years and a couple months. Let’s set aside that crazy, ridiculous theory for now. Because its impossible! Even if he did want to do something with Luke, he would try to get to him through his dreams, yes? It would be too risky to come on out here and take him from school. That’s crazy.

“What?” Where is my goddamn son? Who took him?

“U-um, uh. A uh, ‘Fredrick Krueger’ took him about an hour ago. His name was in the system, and they looked a bit alike in the eyes, s-so I-we just assumed it was okay.”

For a moment I think I’m going to die on the spot. Then I spit out. “Is this a joke?!”

Its too horrible, too unthinkable to be true. I’ll say it again; I haven’t heard from Freddy in nearly a fucking decade, and that’s the way I was hoping it would stay. What is this.

“N-No, Miss L/N.”

“Did he say where they were going? Did Luke say anything?” My baby. Starting to breathe heavily now from the effort of staying calm and thinking too fast for a clue as to where my son is and what the hell is going on. Did this chick even look at Freddy’s face?! This school is just handing babies over to suspicious men who look like they should be in the burn ward of the intensive care unit?!

“Miss L/N- “This woman is scared, I know, and anxious as she looks with wide eyes all around me instead of at my eyes but she’s really grating on my nerves. A maniac has my son and she is going to give me all the information she has.

“Do you remember your dreams last night? Or the last couple nights?” That’s how assume Freddy got in the system, manipulated Judith here to do it for him. Maybe he left a clue.

“My- my dreams? Um-mm, well I… “My hand slams down on the bench between us so hard the pen attached to a string attached to the early leavers clipboard jumps up a little. My hand shakes, and as she quickly recalls her dream I read through the most recent entries on the board for the early leavers. Right at the bottom, in tiny handwriting that does not belong to Luke is the name Luke Krueger under student and ‘Doctors appointment’ under ‘Reason for leaving’, and a smiley face. I take a deep breath and turn back to Judy with eyes of molten lava. She fumbles with her glasses, on a string around her neck. “I-I remember a junk yard in a couple… “That’s it.

Already flying to the door, I call back. “Have some child’s school exit forms ready for me tomorrow Judy; Goodbye.” And promptly, I fling the door open and run for hell and leather for my car.

~~~

“LUKE!” I scream into the old junk yard, hands shaking but courage as strong as an ox. Nothing, not even death itself will stop me from saving my kid. Looking around every corner and trying to listen to any sound over the loud beating of my heart in my ears, I speed walk around, heading towards the burnt down old shed, yelling for Luke every 2 seconds because I’m deluded into thinking any second he might hear e, and come running out safe to me. When the horrible thing, the shed, comes into view, I feel sick. Its still burnt up, and rust litters the ground around its four walls but its standing.

They’ll be in there.

Forcing myself ahead, because I never wanted to see this, the place Freddy was killed -Because it’s something so terrible. Not because I give a fuck about what happened to Freddy, - I open the door and immediately there they are. It takes me a second to catch my bearing’s, because this place has such an awful feeling and I’ve never been in a situation like this and I don’t know what to do, and because theirs a child killer with his filthy hand on my 7 year old son’s shoulder.

“Luke?” My eyes soften as soon as they find his. Glancing from him to Freddy’s other hand to see if he has a weapon, especially that glove to find nothing, and back to him, I gesture for my him to come here. “Come over here, baby. Its okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, just frowns and whimpers, looking wearily up at the man who’s holding onto him and for an awful second I think Freddy’s going to pull a fast one on us and pull out a razor or something… but then one finger at a time he lets go of Luke and Luke rushes to me so fast that the force pushes me back a little when he reaches me, wrapping his little arms around my waist and digging his face, shaking so I’m well aware that he’s crying now, into my stomach. I drop to my knees and look him over thoroughly, searching for any indications that this ‘doctors’ appointment’ that he was taken for occurred, but theirs nothing.

A sick taste wells up in my throat as I realise this, and as Luke burrows into me again for more hugs and I wrap my arms around him I look back to the problem. “What-What’s this doctor’s appointment I read about? Just a cover?”

“Not in the slightest! But I thought we should probably wait for you before starting… Mommy. I got us a good deal- family pack!” With that, Freddy takes out a scalpel and grins madly. I tighten my grip on Luke. “Who should go first, eh?”

“Stay the fuck back.”

“Oh, I think not!” I gently tug Luke back as Freddy advances, wondering if it would be smart to make any sudden moves right now.

“I called the police!” God, I wish I had now. But I was too focused on getting here before something awful happened that I…

Forgot.

Oh my god.

He stops coming towards us, but then an evil, knowing smile creeps across his mouth. He tilts his head, calling my bluff. “No, you didn’t.”

“Uh, yeah I did!” So, I’m buying for time. Main objective: Save Luke. Leverage: Me. Freddy’s a being made completely up on vengefulness and anger at this point, and I escaped him. He hates that.

Stroking the back of Lukes head with my thumb in thought, I know what I have to do and make like him giving him a little, worried head kiss- but really whisper to him that our car’s in the carpark and my phone is in the passenger seat. He clutches me tighter. Oh, baby… I wish I could come with you.

“You called nobody. Don’t try to bullshit Daddy. Now, I think our little bundle of joy should go first, more fun for me! Little blast from the past, ey?” He takes another step towards us, causing me to jolt back violently from fear, because I’m so close to saving Luke and if Freddy makes any sudden movements, we both might be done for, and tats just unacceptable. That scalpel is unnecessarily big. Where the hell did he get a scalpel that big?! What is it for? Crocodile surgery?!

Luckily, we’re closer to the door then Freddy is -oopsie made on his part,- so when I let go of Luke he goes straight out the door and before Freddy can reach the door and slip out after him, and push myself hard against the door, slamming it closed. For a second everything is still, which is a scary thing when it comes to this killer, and I just sit there on the ground and watch his scary face just be still.

His eyes, though, expressive as they are, reveal how utterly furious he is.

Then slowly he looks down his chest at me, aiming that mad anger at me as his shaking hand grips the weapon so tightly that his knuckles go absolutely white. “You bitch.”

Michael Myers (RZ): Rachael // ‘Visitation’

“Morning Rache!” I exclaim, setting down cheerily on my 12-year-old’s bed as golden early morning light slips through her purple curtains and leaves stripes on my thighs. “It’s Sunday!”

“Why does it always have to be so early with him? Its not church.” She informs me, sleep thick in her voice as she pulls the doona up over her head and rolls over so her back is to me.

“He thinks very highly of himself.” That or this is when visiting hours are.

“I see that.”

“So… “Like I always do on Sunday, I put pluck the blanket away from her face to see her eyes are open and she’s already fully awake. She always is on Sunday morning, it’s because of what she knows is coming. I tuck some of her hair behind her early, and speak gently now, like always. “You wanna go see your Dad?” It always, always, always needs to be her choice. She always says yes, though.

For a moment this time, she pauses. Then deeply rolls her eyes and flicks the blanket back up over her face. “Yeah, okay.”

“Alright. We’ll head off in half an hour, then. Oh- maybe you can tell him about the awkward you got!” I exclaim, brightening immediately because my baby is so smart! Captain of her class, and she just got an award for doing well in maths! Her teacher even told me at parent-teacher interviews that she’s getting the work so much easier than any of the other students. This has been the same since she started Elementary school. Dunno where she got those brains from, but I like to believe if it’s me and not Michael. And I am so proud of her.

“Yeah, I will. Can you get out now so I can get changed, parent?”

“Whatever!” I exclaim cheerfully, like the immature one between us two that I am as I leave the room and shit the door behind me, heading to make her toast. She is more like Michael, in that regard. So focused and serious- I, on the other hand, have Goldfish brain.

Which makes a lot of sense when I ask myself ‘What made you think fucking the Shape of Haddonfield was okay?’ because then I remember ‘Big man, strong hands, big dick’ and I remember.

I’m a moron. Was, a horny moron. But no more! I am a mother now, and mothers don’t get horny! No, no. Ahahaha.

… But that doesn’t mean I regret having Rachael. No fucking way. She’s the mother-fucking light of my life, and I’ll have sex with Michael a thousand more times if that’s what it would take to keep her.

Wait, that doesn’t sound right.

… Ah, oh well. Toast!

~~~

When we get to Michael’s cell, Rachael goes straight over to the door and uses her foot to move the little stepping stool they keep right there, specially for her -well, I bought it and made them keep it there, but that’s just semantics,- and hops on so she can peer through the window to her father. I stay back a few feet with Dr Loomis, my jacket hung over my crossed arms. Because I don’t have anything in common with Sam Loomis at all, as we have previously discovered on these visits, I turn bluntly to him and ask, shamelessly. “So, how’s he going Doc?” Even though Michael’s condition hasn’t changed since he was six, that is what I ask.

Loomis offers me a crooked, humourless grin and explains that nothing has changed, but he did make Rachael a new mask. “Oh, that’s nice.” I say, although really, don’t think that’s nice. Does Michael think I have endless wall space for these things? I don’t want my home to look like his sanatorium cell. I have taste!

Hey, don’t judge me. The only way I can get through these visits is by being sarcastic and making jokes to myself.

And to Loomis, but he doesn’t really like me.

Probably because I make sarcastic jokes about his most dangerous patient.

Eh, oh well.

I turn back to Rachael to see her holding up her award to the window so Michael can read it, and after I lean to the left a bit to see inside the cell I see that he is doing so. He’s just sitting in his dressing gown on a desk chair at the other side of his cell- no wonder Rachael has to talk loudly!

He communicates through head shakes and nods, and sometimes even writes on a white board he always has set on his big -big mannnnnn. Oh jeez, the thirst is still strong, despite him now being an irritating part of my life… I have to get up at the ungodly hour of nine on a Sunday for this. Just to get a new stupid mask and stand back here with Doctor humourless, - lap, which I do concede, is pretty sweet. He doesn’t communicate that way to anyone else, as Loomis told me, except for with her.

Visitation usually lasts an hour and half, if Michael’s feeling ‘chatty’, And he definitely is today, so our visit bleeds into breakfast time so we join him -without a door between us and him,- for breakfast in the cafeteria. Rachael and I sit on one side and Michael and Loomis sit on the other. Mostly Rachael and I chat during this time, but Rachael looks to her father every now and then for his reaction.

“Hey mum, do you want the last pancake?” Rachael asks, eyeing the last fluffy breakfast food just as hungrily as Michael just after Dr Loomis gets up to go check quickly on another patient, leaving us as a ‘family’ for a little bit.

I pat my tummy. “Naw, I’m stuffed! Why don’t you and your dad share it.”

A little smile breaks across her little face, making me grin too. She’s so cute! She’ll always be cute, I don’t know if she’s 37, a pasty scientist and mildly mangled from experiments gone wrong, she’ll still be adorable. I’m sure Michael agrees. “Okay!”

As she goes off to get the pancake, I leap to take the chance alone to have a chat with Michael myself.

Or attack him.

Placing my elbow securely on the table between us, pointing at him, I squint. “Stop making her masks, Michael! Anything else, really!- We’ve had this talk before, multiple times. You know I have no wall space!”

He shoulders jump, like he silently chuckled at me, and my squint-greasy, just enhances.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

After a moment, he veeeeery purposefully shrugs those huge shoulders of his. He does know, he does. I knew it!

“Ooooooooh… “I nearly shake with annoyance, returning to my seat properly and glaring I hope subtly from my side of the table as Rachael returns and carefully tears the pancake in half for them. As she does, I watch and just sit and take great pleasure in the fact that they wont even trust plastic knives around Michael. Ha!

He see’s the too-happy glint in my eye and drinks all my juice.

Damn him.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: you can have half 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.0k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: my first a3! fanfiction

He was in three of your classes. Three, and not once have you gotten the chance to talk to him! Granted, you never took the initiative either but after a few months, you’d think some kind of pair or group activity would pop-up to help you out.

The two of you were even in the class with the highly-acclaimed (by the student body) matchmaker professor, and either you were too subtle with your pining or weren’t interesting enough because not once has she tried to pair you up with him, or anyone for that matter.

Seriously, what does one have to do to get close to Hyodo Juza?

There wasn’t a particular moment you could pinpoint when you fell for Juza, but rather it was an accumulation of things that got you more and more attracted to him.

His cool and tough exterior first caught your attention, from the way he dressed to his purple hair. It didn’t help at all that he was extremely attractive to you.

Then you started noticing more things about him, like how polite he was to the professors, or the tiny smile he wore when he ate the anmitsu from the school canteen, or when that one upperclassman handed him some mochi, or when the photography-club senior gave him a box of pocky.

Juza being a sweets lover? Isn’t this what they call ‘gap moe’? Ahhh, your poor heart.

“That’s it!” You exclaimed to yourself excitedly, sitting up from your bed so quickly your head hurt slightly.

“I’ll give him some sweets as a conversation starter!”

Easier said than done.

“Isn’t it awkward to just give sweets out of nowhere to a guy?” You whined, hiding your face with your arms and laying your head down on the table. Your friends sighed for the nth time within the past hour, patting your head comfortingly as the two of them looked at you incredulously.

“It’s normal to confess feelings through sweets though?”

You jolted your head back up to look at the girl. “And who said I was gonna confess?”

The disbelief on their faces increased tenfold. “You’re not?”

Grimacing at the volume of their voices, you looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. By the history books section, you locked eyes with the librarian who paused putting back returned books to glare at your table, causing you to give an awkward smile in return.

Right, library. Inside voices.

“I wanna become friends with him first, but I’m too much of a wimp to even approach him huhu…” When the two girls don’t respond, you turn to the direction where they were staring straight ahead. A slight heat spread throughout your chest and into the roots of your hair.

“Omg, yankee Barney is here.” Choking on saliva, the speed at which you turned away probably gave you whiplash.

“I was gonna go with Dibo the Delinquent Dragon, but I like yours more.”

The two crackheads were stifling their laughter and looked like they were moments away from bursting out and getting themselves kicked out of the library. “Shut up! Let me wallow in my misery in silence.”

“Oh? Since when did Elmo get so dramatic?” Feeling your face heat-up and redden further, you stood up to leave.

“I’m gonna get strawberry milk from the vending machine, go talk shit without me.” You groaned, only staying long enough to hear them laugh as loud as they could without getting caught.

...

There was only one left, and you were the only one in line. How lucky was that? You waited for the machine to do its thing and drop the milk carton through the chute.

Except it wasn’t doing its thing. Odd. Should you stick your arm in the slot? Shake the machine? Kick or punch the glass? Ask someone for help? All of the above, in that order?

Fate had decided for you.

“You, do you need help?”

Holy holy holy-

Hyodo Juza was behind you! And he was talking to you!

Okay brain, here’s the game plan. Turn around, casually ask him for help, thank him, introduce yourself then continue the conversation from there!

Except you decided to make like the vending machine and malfunction.

“I- uh- yes? Please?”

Fuck, you probably sounded dumb. What kind of first impression is this? That response would probably get you intimacy points close to none. You went outside to cool down but weren’t the heat levels rising again?

He stared at you for a second, before quickly looking away and kicking the machine. Ahh, wasn’t that really cool? He crouched down, sticking his hand through the slot before handing you the carton.

“Strawberry milk…”

It looked like he was glaring for a second, but wasn’t he staring because he actually liked the flavour? He was holding out the drink to you, but you hastily pushed his palm back towards him.

“Thanks! You can keep it since you helped me with, you know. The machine! Okay, see you in class Ju-san!” You spoke quickly, before swiftly fleeing the premises.

Back in the library, you let your head fall down on the wooden surface. “You look like crap, what happened?” Letting out a pitiful whimper, you look up at them with a pout ready on your lips.

“He probably thinks I’m weird now…” The two girls exchanged a look with each other.

“Not that you aren’t, but what you do boi?”

“Ju-san…” He murmured quietly, palming the pink and white milk box in his hand. He sat in the dorm’s living room, wondering what he should do.

Juza’s seen you before in a couple of his classes. You always sat somewhere in the middle beside your friends, taking down notes and asking questions when needed. Other than the fact that you were a hard worker, he didn’t really know anything else about you.

Until the fateful encounter today.

At first, he thought you were scared of him from the way you froze up like a mannequin. Then you turned to him, not looking afraid but definitely a little faint and red-faced. Were you sick?

That didn’t explain how you just rushed off without your drink, and that odd nickname.

Ju-san.

Ju-san.

“Juza? Are you okay?” Flinching a bit, his eyes met with Omi’s concerned amber coloured ones.

“Omi-san, I’m fine…” He replied, doing little to convince Omi who proceeded to sit down next to him.

The strawberry milk was still sitting in the purple-haired boy’s hand.

“Are you not gonna drink that?” The brunet didn’t say it aloud, but both of them knew what he meant, ‘It’s not like you to just save it for later, so something’s up.’

“Someone gave it to me.” If the 4th year student was surprised, he sure didn’t show it. Instead, he gave a smile as if he knew this would happen eventually.

“And then? Why don’t you want to drink it then?” It probably wasn’t cold anymore if he had it since class hours.

“It’s not that… it feels…” Juza trailed off, looking for a word that would describe their chance meeting.

“Weird?” Omi supplied, but he shook his head. No, that wasn’t it.

“Sudden? Confusing?”

“Both of those, I think. Also, Ju-san…”

The brunet’s ears perked up at the nickname, almost believing he misheard it. Was this Ju-chan 2: Electric Boogaloo? Ah, Juza attracts cute people, doesn’t he? Can it be that cute people see through that toughness and see his softer side? It’s certainly true with Juza’s cousin.

“So they called you that, huh. Ju-san because Ju-sa sounds like Juza?”

Said person ignored him, unaware of the pink on his cheeks. Being a good mother senpai, Omi decided to help him out. Since Juza’s been delaying drinking the milk, he probably thought he didn’t deserve a free drink out of nowhere. That was an issue with a quick and easy fix.

“I’ll help you give them something in return on Monday.”

That was enough for Juza, who finally ripped the little plastic packet and poked the straw through the carton hole.

For a lukewarm drink, it tasted particularly good today.

You spent an hour last weekend praying to a couple deities that you could start over your first meeting with Juza. Not only that, but didn’t you end up calling him something weird?

You were walking to class when your friend leaned in closer, voice quiet so only you could hear. “Alert, yankee Barney is approaching. I repeat,”

“Don’t repeat.” You mumbled, not having the nerve to respond further, watching as he slowly neared you.

“Hyodo-san? Did you need something?” His mouth twitched at that, before handing you a purple tupperware.

“For last Friday. You can give the container back tomorrow.” You stared at the purple-haired man in shock, before accepting the gift.

“Thank you, Hyodo-san. I’ll be sure to enjoy it!” He lingered for a moment, waiting to see if you’d say something else, before nodding and walking past you and your friend.

Did that just happen?

You didn’t even realise your friend had stepped away from you until she came back running and shaking you with a magnitude strong enough to make a tree collapse.

“I thought you said he was gonna think you’re weird and shit! The fuck is this then?”

“Wait hoe I’m still shookt, let me check.”

Lifting the lid, the contents inside made your mouth water, and you wouldn’t be eating lunch for another 3 hours! Cookies! The torture of having to wait to consume them. Well, one couldn’t hurt?

Delicious! And the crisp, the size, the texture- all of them were to your liking.

“Hoh— isfh— so goo—“

“Oh look, there’s a note. While you’re greedily eating your heart out, let me read it.” Your friend pointed out, before unsticking it from the plastic lid.

“Juza felt bad for the free strawberry milk, so I helped him prepare something to show his thanks. I hope you enjoy. P.S. Ju-san? That’s cute.”

You almost choked, your friend wildly patting you on the back. “What’s this? A note from his mom or something?”

“Ju-ju-san…” You muttered in embarrassment. So he did pay attention to that! Not only that, but he even told someone about it? Well, that wasn’t your biggest worry right now.

“Isn’t this too much just for one strawberry milk? I have to find a way to repay him back!” Your friend narrowed her eyes at you, before shaking her head.

“Why do I feel like this is gonna be the start of a strange back-and-forth between the two of you?”

The next day, you handed him back the purple tupperware.

“Open it, it’s my favourite from the bakery two streets down.” You told him, doing your best to mask your shyness before walking away.

As soon as you left, Juza opened it to find a slice of red-velvet cheesecake and a disposable fork inside. He’ll eat it for dessert later. As he was about to close the lid, he noticed the cute sticky note designed like a strawberry.

Thank you for the cookies, they were really good! I passed by a bakery last night and thought you’d enjoy this!

You signed it off with your name, and he realised that he never knew it until then.

He said it quietly, testing out how it sounded.

He sighed, staring at the library door which you exited from.

The school canteen had some delicious milk bread, but don’t they sell strawberry shortcake on Wednesdays?

…

Wednesday, you delightfully ate a slice of strawberry shortcake which came with a plain white sticky note with nice calligraphy from Juza.

On Thursday, Tsuzuru found Juza eating dorayaki while reading something on a pastel blue paper.

Friday came, and the usual purple tupperware had two Castella cake slices and a lined paper, clearly ripped from his notebook, folded and taped to the lid.

Juza wondered if it would stop by next week and be handed an empty tupperware, but a surge of courage must have overcome you because Monday came with brownies and a note.

I don’t want you to keep ripping pages from your notebook. Do you have Inste? Discord? If you’re up for it, I can message you there instead. Otherwise, my number is…

He placed the paper with your socials somewhere he wouldn’t lose it.

...

Monday night arrived when you got a text from an unknown number.

This is Juza.

What a simple message, but somehow your heart fluttered. Your phone dinged again when you got a follow notification on Inste. Scrambling to follow him back and check out his posts, you didn’t know whether to laugh or be amazed when you saw that the posts there were purely promotional for MANKAI plays, some of which he wasn’t even in.

You took a screenshot of the image of him with the vest and purple tie and asked about the play.

It may not have been in person, but that marked the longest conversation you’ve had with Juza so far. Somehow the two of you went from talking about acting to food, to hobbies and complaining about teachers and before either of you knew it, it was midnight.

A couple days pass by and its Thursday night when people notice a change in Juza. Particularly, his phone habits.

“He’s not as bad as Itaru, Banri, and Kazunari but…” Tsuzuru trails off, looking at Omi who only seemed amused.

“He’s been spending a lot of time talking to someone is all.” The two of them turned their heads back to the first year as he let out a small laugh.

Three weeks in the food exchange and the two of you began having actual conversations in real life. It started when he handed you the purple tupperware, asking how you were and how your weekend was.

It somehow resulted in the two sitting together during classes, and having lunch together when Omi and Tsuzuru were busy.

You began to wonder who would break the streak.

You were running late. Maybe it was a bad idea to rush an essay worth a good chunk of your grade in the span of 8 hours, but somehow you managed to complete it at 3 am.

Thank god for online submissions. You wouldn’t be able to stand a noisy printer at this hour.

After plugging in your laptop and phone to make sure it would be fully charged before classes start later, you flop onto your bed to take a well-deserved rest.

When you woke up, it was 11 am.

Shit, you just missed a 3-hour lecture. Shit raised to the power of two Juza was in that class. Would he be worried that you weren’t there?

It looks like you’ll be the first to turn in an empty tupperware.

Still, you have a plan B prepared.

...

Juza was worried. When you messaged last night you hadn’t mentioned being sick at all. Had something happened? Sure, he didn’t get to message you that much over the weekend because of increasing practice hours but you’d definitely say something.

Omi and Tsuzuru eyed Juza as discretely as they could. No purple tupperware, no wonder he was upset. It went unsaid, but it clearly stopped being about the surprise desserts every other day and more about the person giving them.

“Ju-san!” An unfamiliar voice reached the former two’s ears, but the latter was clearly well acquainted with it based on his reaction. All three men turned around to see you, smiling and holding out Juza’s favourite food.

It was anmitsu with cream, specifically the one from the campus canteen.

“They wouldn’t let me put it in the tupperware, but will you accept it anyway?”

Did he look like he cared where the anmitsu was placed? Sure, it made him happy that despite skipping a class she still remembered to get him something, even more, his favourite dish, but…

“You didn’t show up to class a while ago.” Juza was frowning. You knew he usually gave off an angry disposition, but this was different.  

“Sorry, I was up ’til 3 am and forgot to turn on any alarms, haha.” He sighed.

“So the goodnight text then was-“

“A lie so you wouldn’t scold me for it, which obviously didn’t work in my favour.”

Having previously failed to notice the two upperclassmen, you turned to greet them, introducing yourself as Juza’s friend. “Sorry to disturb your lunch.”

Omi smiled. He introduced himself, as did Tsuzuru. So this was his troupe mate’s special friend. “Not at all. Have you eaten? You’re welcome to join us.”

Too tired to protest, you thanked him and sat down beside the purple-haired boy. “I just rushed here without eating, actually. Oh, I should probably get my lunch-“ You proceed to stand back up, but a firm hold of your arm from Juza stops you.

“You can have half.” He says, sliding a lunch set with a serving size you didn’t even know the university provided.

“What?”

“You slept through breakfast time, too. We can share.” He insisted, clearly not accepting no for an answer.

You take the unused chopsticks and begin to prod at the side dishes. “Fine, but now I owe you something. Should I get you banana milk from the vending machine?”

Juza looked away for a second, eyes hesitant as he glared at the anmitsu instead of you. When he looked back, he seemed to be filled with resolve.

“Then watch me… Autumn Troupe’s next upcoming play, I mean.”

For a moment you felt heat beginning to encompass your body, but quickly tried to shake it off. Of course Juza meant his acting.

“Obviously I’m watching it. Opening night and closing night, if I can help it.” You insisted. As if you would miss the chance to see him on stage. Sure, your massive crush on him wasn’t gonna go away any time soon, but to be able to see him do something he was extremely passionate about?

“Quick, help me finish lunch already so you can enjoy your anmitsu, Ju-san.”

...

The two of you somehow forgot the presence of Omi and Tsuzuru, both of whom were listening to your conversation intently.

“Then watch me? Seriously, lines like that can be interpreted…”

“I think we’ve become the third and fourth wheel, Tsuzuru.”

want to order again?

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-two: heart of gold

“i wanna live, i wanna give, i’ve been a miner for a heart of gold. it’s these expressions that i never give: that keep me searching for a heart of gold.” -”heart of gold”, neil young

Oswego was a rather tightly woven little dot upon the southeastern shore of Lake Ontario, at least according to Joey. He also explained that the nuclear power plant on the far side of town was so set apart from everything else that it seemed to come from another world altogether. He made a joke about the river waters being radioactive but it only made Sam wary of everything around there.

“Nah—they haven't had a meltdown up there,” he assured her, “that's just the whole joke about being from here is all. That we all glow in the dark like a buncha of glow sticks or sump'n.” But then he drove them back to his place down in a town known as Camillus, not too far on the outskirts of Syracuse.

“Hang on, I thought you lived closer to New York City,” Sam confessed.

“I mean, it technically is—about a half an hour less of a drive. Oh, you talking about my old place? I had to move back around here in March 'cause that drive was getting treacherous in its own rite and rent was getting to be too much. I would'a told you sooner but—you know. Things happen. I'm making a little bit more money than I was before so I was able to do it.”

“Right, right, right.” Sam flashed back and when she, Frank, and Charlie had to rescue him from the snow.

“Besides, I was startin' to miss this part of upstate, as you'll see here in a couple of minutes.”

Despite the darkness, the orange and yellow trees that lined the landscape made her think of fire or the cotton balls she would find a craft shop. The nondescript edge of town reminded her of California as well as the outskirts of Reno and Carson City. The two lane highway turned into a four lane main street and she spotted the faint line of lights over a ridge on the southern side of town: the brightest yellow light shone out from the top part of the ridge. Sam glanced about the block for anything notable to recall for the next time she visited.

“Not much here,” she remarked.

“Nah, there really isn't,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “'Swaygo is even worse as we'll see tomorrow. But every part of this is home to me. I was born in 'Swaygo and I grew up all around here. Even though I've moved outta 'Swaygo, I still call it home.”

They rolled up to a stoplight and Sam peered across the intersection to the long low brick building nestled next door to a fuel station. She recognized a paint palette over the front window and a line of big bold text right over it.

“Is that an art store?” she asked with a gesture out the windshield.

“It sure is!” he declared. “Given it's night time and we're a buncha hicks 'round here, they're closed for the night. But we can go in there tomorrow if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I kinda need something to make an artistic rendering of you,” she explained, “and even though I have plenty of things back home for that, it's still a four hour drive regardless.”

The light turned green and they lunged forward. They drove past the art store and a mere white light shone in the front window: she knew that tomorrow was going to be quite the eventful for them as Joey hung a right past the shop.

“Right down this way,” he explained as they drove down the dark side street to the very end. He reached the stop sign and he peered both ways about the dark neighborhood. No one coming.

He rolled forward to the low apartment complex right in front of them, such that it took her by surprise.

“Yeah, it surprised my mom when I brought my parents along when I moved in here,” he told her; even in the dim light, she could make out the sight of that lopsided grin upon his face. Even though he had just turned twenty six, he still resembled to a little boy with that smile on his face and that twinkle in his eyes even in the darkness.

They bounded into the driveway and then they posted up at the big cube of silver mailboxes.

“Gotta check it out first,” he told her as he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of his car. He rounded the front end, and the headlights shone upon his slender body as he made his way over to the mailboxes. Sam watched him fetch for the mail but then she noticed the soft glow of the headlights on the back of his curls. It was right there she wanted to draw him and then to paint him out with oil paints. Not watercolor, not acrylic, but oil paints.

She hadn't worked with oil paints before, but she wanted to do it right there for him.

He returned to the driver's seat with a little pink sheet of paper in hand.

“Gotta care package from my aunt,” he told her.

“Oh, boy!” she declared.

“I can't get it right now, though—tomorrow is gonna be quite full for the both of us.”

He started up the car again and they made their way over to the building on the right. Right before their parking spot stood a little walkway that extended around the building and into the darkness. Joey led Sam around the corner to a low doorstep and a cold blue door: when he unlocked the door, he let her go inside of the dark and cool apartment first. When she was inside, he reached for the light switch on the wall. It was a small place: they stood in the living room right there, which consisted of nothing more than a small thread bare gray couch and a small side table with a black lamp and a low glass coffee table; an eggshell colored vent about the width of the door itself stood on the left side of the room. Right in front of them was the kitchen, a narrow sliver of a room rounded by a low table with three chairs. To her right was a stone stairwell which led up to the loft.

“I assume that's your room upstairs?” she asked him with a point to the stairs.

“Sure is. Bathroom's up there, too, and—I think I have a spare tooth brush in my medicine cabinet. I'll haveta check 'cause I know how sucky the aftertaste of coffee can be, especially this time of day. But in the meantime, make yourself at home here, Sam I am.”

He shut the door behind him and he darted up the stone steps. Sam peered about the small living room: right behind her was a tiny television with rabbit ears over the top; a long low barren bookshelf, barren saved for a small handful of books and a few stacks of vinyl; another lamp up top with a cream colored lampshade, and a small hockey trophy. She stooped down for a look at the bookshelf: nothing she had heard of herself, but it was in fact comforting to see that Joey did have another nuance to him. She eyed the vinyl records, at all the Journey and Led Zeppelin, Foreigner and the Beatles, Deep Purple and Rush, Kansas and Yes. She let her eyes wander over the record player itself, tucked behind the television and with the cable coiled up on top of the protective glass. She wished for her copy of Spreading the Disease to merely appear before her just so she could play it right then and there.

“Yeah, I do have a spare one,” he was saying as he descended the stairs, and he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her attention to his standing on the bottom step. Joey showed her another little grin.

“Ah, I see you found my music collection,” he proclaimed; he lay the head of the plain red toothbrush in one hand as if it was a club.

“Of course,” she declared with a beaming smile on her face. She lifted herself into an upright position and brushed herself off even though the floor was clean.

“I learned to sing by singing to songs from the Beatles and Journey, y'know,” he said as he neared her, “I literally would sit in my parents' living room and listen to records on their player and try to sing along to the Fab Four and Steve Perry. I'd also sing to Foreigner and Rush, and that was how my voice came to be so high and light.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” she added.

“Gotta start somewhere, right,” he echoed, and he handed her the toothbrush.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice as if he had just given her the best gift ever.

“I also hate to make you sleep on the couch,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just think back to how uncomfortable we both were in the cabin last year for my birthday.”

“No, no, no—it's okay,” she assured him, and she couldn't think of anything else to follow up to that.

“It is pretty comfy,” he continued on. “I've napped on it many times before. One time, I came home at three o'clock in the morning and I pretty much collapsed onto it face down ass up. I actually woke up face down ass up. That's how comfy that couch is—I slept for four hours in that position. Wouldn't use one of those pillows, though—it's hard on the neck.”

“Do you have a spare pillow?” she asked him.

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you have a blanket?”

“I have many. Sam, this is upstate New York and I've lived out here the twenty six years I've been alive—we gotta have a shitload of blankets and a warm place to sleep at otherwise no one can survive up here. You can use a bit of my toothpaste, too.”

“Good to know,” she confessed as she tapped the head of the toothbrush against the inside of her palm. “'Cause—I gotta get this taste of coffee out of my mouth.”

* * * * *

Sam jerked over onto her side there on the couch cushions. Joey was in fact right about the couch: it was comfortable. Almost too comfortable. She had a difficult time even so much rolling over on her side or onto her back. She had woken up twice throughout the night but she had fallen back asleep. Perhaps it was from laying in a bed different from hers that threw her off a bit.

The spare soft pillow cradled her head: she sighed through her nose and kept her eyes shut against the rich darkness before her. The only sound came from the pipes running in the wall and Joey's slow, gentle breathing upstairs.

She thought about the incident with Alex back at the coffee house and that little raise of his eyebrows. He had softened for her a little bit right there, even with Joey right behind her ready to beat him down yet again. She barely knew the young man and he looked at her like that because of her past with Cliff.

She couldn't stop seeing it over and over again inside of her mind. Not to mention that little sliver of gray hair over his brow kept reappearing in her mind.

She thought about the mysterious man and the stripe in his hair. No way that was him, even though he shared a lot of similar looks to him. The stripe was far too big and Alex had too soft of a face as well. And yet she wondered about him. One thing that baffled her about him was his referring to Joey as her boyfriend. As far as she knew, he only saw them together that one time, unless he saw more of what Joey was doing at the memorial than she did: it made no sense to her.

It was all so much to think about that she wound up falling asleep again.

No sooner had Sam fallen back to sleep when she woke up yet again, that time to the sound of a heavy rain outside of the apartment window right in front of her. Joey yawned upstairs and cleared his throat. She opened her eyes and soft bluish gray light shone through the heavy white blinds.

Joey cleared his throat again.

“Hey, Sam, you awake?” he called out to her.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah—I just woke up. Why? What's up?”

“Kinda hungry right now. You want some breakfast?”' “Please,” she said in a broken voice.

She heard Joey climbing out of bed up there, and then he padded down the stone steps.

After a brew of coffee and a bite of biscuits and gravy courtesy of him, they climbed back into his car and drove down the block to that art store right as it opened for the day.

There were only six aisles before her, but she knew it was all for the best with all the smallness of the town. She couldn't hardly resist that new art supply smell as she picked out a pair of paint brushes and some acrylic paints: she had considered those beautiful oil paints but she wasn't willing to bust down for a can of turpentine, nor was she willing to fill Joey's apartment with that acrid odor. A brand new medium for herself and for Joey as well.

Meanwhile, Joey himself checked out the little wooden blank mannequins on the other side of the room: he picked one of the smaller ones for a closer look. Sam watched him move the arms about for the perfect pose. He set down the mannequin and he posed in its wake, as if he was ready to pose for her when they got the chance that weekend. But she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him.

Once she had picked out a canvas and spent the rest of the spare change in her pocket, she and Joey made their way back out to the lake effect rains.

“I got a little something waiting for us back at my place,” he said once they ducked back into the car in unison.

“Like what?” she asked him, but he didn't reply to her. He never did reply to her as they returned to the apartment and she set her things down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Joey ducked into the kitchen for something: Sam took the plain off white canvas out into the open. She ran her hand across the heavy grain of the canvas: like a thick heavy rug right underneath her skin.

“Sam?” he called to her. She raised her gaze to the counter top, and the tall brown glass bottle right before him, right in between his hands. She spotted the label on the front side there and her heart skipped several beats at the sight of it.

“Joey,” she begged as she shook her head at that. “Joey, please don't.”

“Why?” He frowned at her.

“Because it has booze in it.”

“And?”

“Joey, please,” she pleaded as she stood to her feet and scrambled closer to him. “I want you to stay away from the booze for a time.”

He never changed his expression at the sight of her.

“Why? It's just you and me here. And it's a whole weekend, too. You've got time before you gotta mosey on back to school.”

“Joey—you don't want to go there right now.”

“What? It's just one drink, though.”

“Yes, and one drink leads to a second one and a third one. It happened at the restaurant with all of us there before—and it'll happen again.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and she watched his hand as it rested on the bottle neck. His fingers stayed curled around the smooth glass. It was dead silent in that room: silent save for her own shuddered breath.

“What if I told you,” he began in a low voice, “that I feel better stripping down to bare skin with a drink in me?”

“Just one?” she demanded.

“Just one.”

“I'll stand here while you drink it down, though. I need you to be as clear as possible to boot.”

“Clear but also loose.”

“Exactly,” she said, reluctant. Joey pried off the cap and he tipped the bottle back into his mouth. She set her hands on the edge of the counter and watched him. He drank it down in four large gulps, and he ran his tongue around his lips like that of a snake.

He fluttered his eyelids at her and set the bottle down on the counter in between them. She scanned his face and at his brown eyes in particular. Even in a few seconds time, she could see the effects of it overcoming him. The canvas and the paints awaited her.

“Let your clothes fall to the floor,” she told him in a low voice. He stuck out his tongue at her, and then he cracked a little grin at her.

“Come on—let them fall right off of your body.

He unfastened the button on those tight jeans and he let them fall down his legs towards his feet.

“D'you take your shoes off?” she asked him.

He then stooped down and pried off his shoes.

“I have now,” he said as he kicked off his jeans and left them there on the linoleum. He then peeled off his shirt and lay it across the counter.

“Man, you do not hold your liquor well, do you?” she joked.

“I dunno 'bout that,” he admitted; he stood there in his underwear right before her with a giddy look on his face. Sam frowned at him and she set one hand on her hip.

“What's the matter?” he asked her.

“Take off your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Don't question it. Just do it.”

He sighed through his nose and then he slipped his thumbs inside of that elastic band. He let them fall onto the floor, right next to his jeans. Sam gestured for him to follow her.

“Right over here,” she encouraged him in a gentle tone; and she led him to the middle of the living room, right in front of the coffee table. “Hang on a second—”

She doubled back to the kitchen table for a chair, and she brought it back to him. A perfect fit in between the coffee table and the vent on the wall.

“Have a seat.”

Joey plunked down on the cushion and spread his legs out a little bit for her to see in between his thighs.

“Want me to pose for ya?” he cracked as he raised his arms over his head.

“No. Just sit normal. Let me see you. Let me see you in your entirety.”

Joey set those large hands on either side of his hips, right on the edge of the seat. Sam headed into the kitchen for a wash basin.

“There's an empty pickle jar right there next to the sink,” he told her; indeed, there was, so she picked it out and filled it with clean cool water from the faucet. She returned to him and picked up the paint brush. The sole light came from the kitchen and from the window on the side of the room but it proved to be enough for her. A nice moody painting for the man himself.

Even with the cool lighting in that apartment, there was a bit of a sheen to his skin, especially right around his knees and his ankles. A healthy shine of sorts upon the rich darkness about his skin, and one that she was eager to cover with her paint brush.

She didn't have her pencil in hand, but she could have a good look at his slender nude body before her. He had eaten and drank down a bit of alcohol: he was full enough for her and those soft yellow and brown tones for his skin.

She thought about Alex and the little pearl of gray hair over his forehead. She gazed at the painted head on the paper, at Joey's head of black curls. A fleeting thought crossed through her mind that told her to dip the brush into white paint and make a little pearl over his forehead. And yet she flashed back on their scuffle back at the coffee house: she need not draw attention to that, even if it was art.

Such a small, slender little body. Much like Cliff, he had a little crease in between his waist and his thighs as if he had had a belt there. Maybe it was just part of the male anatomy, to have that little crease there near their thigh region. If there was one thing she needed to polish up on in her future drawing classes, it was all of that. The taste of the fundamentals and perhaps running away with them more and more in her own artistry.

She used that one brush for his whole body and his thick black hair. A touch of blue all over and she had a portrait of Joey, done with nothing more than her and him in the safety and privacy of his own home.

“May I see it?” he asked her.

“Of course! You are the subject after all.”

She picked up the canvas and she showed it off to him, and he brought a hand to his chest.

“I don't have a pencil on hand so I just winged the whole thing,” she confessed, “so it's a bit rougher than I like and what I'm used to, too.”

“No, no, I love it! And it's not just the booze talking with that, either—that really looks like a Native American painting! I wanna share that with everyone now.”

“Well, it has to dry out first,” she told him as she placed it back down on the coffee table.

“Okay. Should I get dressed now?”

“Please,” she encouraged him with a gesture to him.

“I'll get dressed and I'll drive us up to 'Swaygo 'cause the day is still pretty young.”

“As long as you're up to par,” she pointed out. “I'm not riding in the same car with a drunk dude.”

“I ain't drunk, though—just kinda tipsy. I can talk you there, though, if you'd like.”

“Yeah, sure, I'll take that.”

Joey headed back into the kitchen for his clothes and his shoes. He then handed her the car keys and they strode on outside, where the rain had backed off a great deal into a fine drizzle. She climbed behind the wheel of his car: it felt like a million years since she last drove a car with all the rides she had gotten, from Charlie as well as the subways. But she managed to drive them up to Oswego, the city by the lake, by Joey's direction. Even with the one drink in his system, she could tell that he wasn't up to par to drive any distance, but he was lucid enough to tell her about it.

By the middle of the day, and by the time they had cleared a low rolling hill outside of Syracuse, she spotted the vast black sheet off in the distance and she knew that had to be Lake Ontario. The gray of the lake hung over that small city like a protective blanket, and she thought of the towns back in California, all the ones that lined the coastline and beckoned everyone with beaches, but there was something else to it. The gray washed over everything and left it all muted in its wake: the sole black and white light house off in the distance only added to the feeling of it all.

“So this is Oswego,” she declared. “This is where you grew up.”

“Born and raised!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “The lake looks so cold right now,” he added.

“I imagine the snow here getting crazy,” she said.

“Oh—the time you, Charlie, and Frankie had to come get me was only a little part of it. Up here, we really only got two seasons: winter and road work. If they aren't working on the roads, it's probably snowing a shitload. And we often get feet of snow down by the lake shore, too. Speaking of which, I think it might snow in a bit. It feels like snow and looks it, too.”

“Sounds like Carson,” she noted as they rolled up to the first stoplight. “Almost word for word. Except Carson and Reno are both in the desert rather than near a lake.”

“Huh. Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, it's—kinda crazy to think about especially when I hear the same thing being said about a place that's still relatively new to me.”

He then turned his head in her direction.

“I think I like you, Sam,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“I have seen you after all,” she added.

“You've seen me in the buff. And—if I'm bein' perfectly honest, I kinda wanna see you do more of it.”

“You want me to do it again,” she stifled a chuckle.

“If ya don't mind,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I'll have a pencil next time. I'll also make sure you're genuinely comfortable, like I want to make you comfortable around me sans the alcohol.”

“You have a heart of gold, Sam,” he declared.

“Nah—you're the one with the heart of gold, Joey,” she said as the light turned green. “It's in there under all those proverbial scars. It just needs to be coaxed out.”

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Eden [M] ︳Prologue

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Genre: Smut with plot; romance, angst and some fluff to unfold.

Rating: NSFW-ish

Warning: Mild dirty talking, mild dry humping, mild degradation, and inappropriate touching.

Words: 5300+

Notes: Happy valentine’s everyone~! I hope you had a fantastic day/evening, and here is a lil’ present for you all. It’s the prologue of ‘Eden’, and hopefully you guys get a taste of this new, upcoming, series.

Please note, updates are going to be slow. At the moment, ‘Limerence’ is my main series (Greek Mythology is my side project). But once Limerence is done, Eden will be my main focus! Tags aren’t working (why am I not surprised) - but hopefully that fixes itself soon and appears in people’s feed.

Thank you for reading, and please don’t be shy to leave a like or comment, take care~!

Masterlist ︳01

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

It seems he managed to wander into a garden, and he was starving for a taste of that forbidden fruit. And now that he got a taste, he was not going to let go. His fingertips were engraved with sin, burning her skin with every touch, chin dripping of her sweet juices. “Fuck.” He grunted under his breath because he knew – this was more than just a quick taste.

Savory

(flower); spice, interested.

           “Ah, you’re a lifesaver!” Izuku Midoriya declared, face flushed as his head bounced up and down. His dark green hair flew everywhere, a pretty contrast from his pink freckled cheeks. He was the living definition of ‘rookie’ – filled with an unreasonable amount of energy and enthusiasm. You’re surprised you didn’t see his face plastered beside the word in every dictionary around the world.

           But it was that same energy, desire to be a hero, that had your lips curving upwards, a kittenish smile painting your rose-coloured lips. How could you not shoot him one of your infamous smiles, brushing back your hair as you mused. He’s a ball of motivation and joy – a real hero in the works.

           “If Recovery Girl finds out I healed you despite her orders, she’ll have my head,” you advised with a click of your tongue, truth lingering in your statement. After showing up to work slightly hungover – courtesy of Midnight’s refusal to accept ‘no’ for an answer for bar-hopping – the last thing you wanted was to be caught healing Midoriya.

           As if he could read your mind, the green-haired boy moaned under his breath.

           You wiped the last bit of ointment onto his skin, wrapping his wounds, spotting the way his shoulders slumped for a moment – remorse painting his face. But just like that, he puffed out his chest, a sudden resolve overcoming him.

           “I’m sorry. But I can’t let All Might down – I need to push myself-”

           “Keep pushing yourself, and you won’t have any of ‘yourself’ left to be a hero.” You interjected, causing Midoriya’s mouth to shut close, taking in the weight of your words. He stared at you with those large eyes of his, watching your fingers ease their way off his bruised limbs, the bandages new and tightly wrapped.

           “Recovery Girl is going to whip All Might’s ass if she finds out you were hurt - again.” You spoke honestly, causing the pink tint of his cheeks to turn into a darker hue. His freckles almost blended in with the flush, nodding his head furiously at your in-direct warning.

           It was at times hard to believe that this naïve, well-natured boy was Katsuki Bakugo`s supposed ‘rival.’ It was like comparing apples and oranges – this year’s students were something else. Your hands fell over your lap, leaning into Midoriya, you gaze meeting his.

           One for all…

           “Come on, let’s get going before we get caught. I’ll wrap up a few herbs for your mom to smash up. Make sure you rub it into your skin after your bath. It should numb the pain and stop the bruising and swelling.” You spoke, shooting him another cheeky smile, a weak attempt to wipe that look off his face.

           With a tired sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, the sound of your black heels clicking against the white tiles of your office, filling the quietness. It was as you strolled around, eyes scanning the dozens of tiny planters that hung along the walls, you realized how late it has gotten.

           The sun was setting; the campus eerily quiet as most of the students were already home. Shit – and you still have to make dinner. Your index finger fell over your pouting lips; eyes eagerly searching for that one particular pot-

           “Ah- there it is.” You hummed pleasantly, reaching forward. The tan planter fell over your desk with a soft thud, your fingers dancing over the dirt until you felt it.

           The roots were starting to stretch, the shoot wiggling its way from the soil, pushing and shoving the dirt painfully slow before breaking the surface. “Come on, baby.” You muttered softly, focusing on the energy of the plant. And you swore, because you could feel the annoyance of the plant, undoubtedly grumbling a faint ‘fuck you, you forgot to water me last night,’ before spouting into a perfectly formed leaf.

           “Hero alias; Eden. Real name; Y/N. Quirk; Bioterra – can take any seed or spore and manipulate them in movement or growth…” Midoriya muffled under his breath. You let out an airy laugh hearing Midoryia mumbling to himself, clipping the newly formed seed leaves carefully, before thanking the plant.

           You prefer not to piss off the seedling. Afterall – this little babe has saved your ass far too many times to count.

           Looking over your shoulder to Midoriya, you tossed the last of the herbs into a cute little baggy. “If you keep mumbling under your breath like that, you’ll end up just scaring all the villains away.” you teased, and Midoriya scratched his head.

           “I never saw your quirk before – it’s really pretty!” He gushed, and it was then you realized that the boy was no longer patiently sitting on the examination table, but eagerly hovering over your study with a pen and book in hand. Where and when did he even-

           “Word of caution, Midoriya, while I may be the sidekick of Recovery Girl – don’t think for a second that all I can do is heal. I can grow some pretty toxic things. Get too close, and you might cease to exist.” You warned wickedly, wiggling your brows at him. But rather than deterring the curious boy, it seemed to have done the opposite.

           His mouth widened, lips racing, “If that’s the case, does that mean you’re immune to all poisons or toxins created by plants? Does that mean no plants can cause an effect on you, whether its good or bad? Does that mean you can’t heal yourself with your medicine-”

           “Midoriya. Just because you’re my favourite doesn’t mean I won’t force-feed you some valerian root for some quiet.” Midoriya’s face stoned at your threat, instantly bowing up and down. “S-sorry-” Midoriya began to stutter before a sultry singing cut him off.

           “You sure you aren’t a sadist, a villain?”

           Both of you shifted your attention to the entrance, eager to find the owner of that vibrating tone.

           “Good evening, Midnight.” You spoke, smiling radiantly to your best friend, as your arms fell over the shy Midoriya. His green eyes widened, studying the pro-hero up and down in interest – no doubt he was thinking about the rated 18+ hero’s quirk. And given a chance, he would ask her thousands of questions like he has done to you since the start of the school year.

           The stunning deep hue of purple against her red mask brought out the teasing glimmer in her eyes. Midnight cocked her head to the side, arms crossing over her chest, emphasizing her ample bust as she stepped into the room.

           “You’re not doing some unauthorized healing, are you?” Midnight pestered, cocking an eyebrow as she eyed the fresh bandages decorating Midoriya’s fingers. In a flash, your hands squeezed Midoriya’s shoulders, shaking your head with a falsely sweet smile on your lips.

           “Of course, not – I’m just showing Midoriya here, my quirk! It’s getting late; we can talk more tomorrow.” Your grip loosened, shoving the boy forward. While Midoriya was undoubtedly naïve, he wasn’t dumb. He quickly got the hint, stepping forward before waving at the both of you, “Thank you for demonstrating your quirk, see you tomorrow!”

           He dashed away from the voluptuous dominatrix, the sound of his heavy feet running down the empty hallways of UA slowly fading the further he ran. The moment he was out of earshot, Midnight twirled her whip, purring.

           “Lying to a teacher, how naughty of you.” Midnight snickered, tapping her chin as she inched her way forward. Her skin-tight costume only seemed to accentuate her sex appeal, and you rolled your eyes.

           “What are you going to do, spank me?” you challenged with your tongue sticking out. Your hands made haste with sweeping up the dirt that littered your counter, giving your seedling a lil’ treat for working so hard today.

           Midnight laughed obnoxiously loud, “You’ll enjoy that too much, you kinky bitch.”

           “And that, I won’t deny.” You giggled back, already knowing Midnight was snooping around your office, sniffing all the flowers that were blooming. She, in particular, loved the darker hued flowers, saying it matched her aesthetic.

           Placing the planter back into its spot, you turned on your heel, reaching for your purse that you left on the floor. “What are you doing here so late, anywho?” You pondered, swinging the strap over your shoulder, checking for your house keys and wallet.

           Midnight sighed dramatically, taking another whiff of the roses, “Meetings. I could use a drink, girl.”

           “Well, count me out, I’m starving, and it’s late.” You stated, shutting the window of your office, and locking it. It was officially dark outside, the streetlights looking like twinkling stars. Time moves faster when you’re having fun.

           “Oh, come on! You’re young and sexy, go out. Get drunk – better yet, find yourself a hot daddy.” Midnight argued, waltzing over to your side in a flash, tone rising with passion. “Just because you work for UA doesn’t mean you can’t live a little. You’re starting to turn into your grandmother – work, work, work.”

           You pouted, “Please don’t compare me to my grandmother.”

           Don’t get it wrong; you loved and respected your grandmother – Recovery Girl.

           She was the first hero of the family, the family pride. Hell – she was the reason why you even wanted to become a hero. She used to take you to her workplace when you a mere toddler, showing you off to all her co-workers, bragging how you’re going to be the next big thing. She was the definition of a proud grandmother.

           That’s why you worked your ass off, becoming the second hero in the family – and next-in-line to become UA’s healer once the old lady decides to retire.

           “Come on, one drink? Maybe I can hook you up with some of my friends. They know how to treat a woman. Want a submissive, a dom, ou- maybe a switch?” Midnight insisted and at that point, you huffed loudly. You saw the stars in her eyes the more she talked about the possibility of hooking you up with one of her friends. This woman-

           Linking arms with the sex addict of a friend you had, you shut your office door behind the both of you, walking through the deserted hallways. The hallways of UA was dead, all the classroom doors locked, blinds lowered so only the poorly functioning lights of the school could guide you out of this prison.

           “Don’t ignore me! I have yet to see you with someone. What do you want? What are you looking for, girl?” Midnight groused under her breath.

           What do you want…?

           Your mouth opened, a sly smirk on your face. “You know what I want? I want a fuck buddy, no feelings. Just good, hot, rough sex.”

           “And I know a friend who can do just that!” Midnight blurted, but you merely shook your head.

           “I already have someone.”

           Midnight’s eyes widen, stopping abruptly in the dimly light hallway. “You have someone? Excuse me, who is this person and since when? You haven’t gotten laid in god knows how long, and it shows.”

           You grinned mischievously, leaning into her. Midnight was on her tippy-toes, eyes and ears eagerly waiting for the spicy gossip. Her hands clasped together, leather whip firmly caught in between her tight grasp. If only she knew.

           “They’re the best. Their name is ‘dildo,’ and they’re always ready to get down whenever I need them.” You whispered.

           The moment Midnight realized what you were saying, the look of utter annoyance was clear as day.

           “You’re fucking ridiculous, Eden.” Midnight fumed, throwing her arms up in defeat as she stormed forward. You laughed from behind her, watching the way she cursed under her breath, her whip swinging back and forth. To be fair, you’re surprised she didn’t use it on you.

           “You love me, Midnight!” You screamed from behind her, and she merely shot you a glare over her shoulder, lips pressed together, trying to hold back a grin. “If you were my toy, I would’ve beaten your ass till it’s purple and blue.”

           You shoot her a kiss, playfully slapping your own ass as she raged. “I can’t wait till you find someone. And I hope they put you in your damn place. Fuck you till you can’t walk.”

           “That’s the goal!” You chirped, earning another hiss from the queen of lust, herself.

           The cold breeze that funnelled its way through the mutedly lit alleyway in which you walked was borderline painful. Your dress suddenly seemed far too short for the summer weather, your arms wrapping around yourself as you grumbled. The temperature seemed to drop in a matter of minutes – the twenty-minute walk from the school to home seemed like a journey.

           It was unreasonably dark, and the brisk air added an uncomfortable feeling in your gut. Not even the flicking neon signs that littered the city seemed to lift the mood – the atmosphere dark and grungy. The faster you get home, the better.

           Your fingers dug into your purse strap, tugging it closer to your body as your UA lanyard bounced off your chest. The bobbing of your identification card matched your heartbeat at this point, your stomach screaming to get some food inside of it.

           Pace hast, you turned the corner abruptly -“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

           Four men, of medium build, laughing obnoxiously loud and recking of alcohol crowded the already narrow alleyway. Their words were heavily slurred, arms wrapped around each other as they struggled to walk forward. Their clothing was old and dirty, and your nose scrunched up – god even the smell of shitty alcohol smelt better than whatever odour they were emitting.

           Your footsteps eased, cautiously walking behind them.

           They were moving forward, slowly, but they were moving. The smart thing to do would be to walk back and take a long way home  - but that means it’ll take longer for you to cook dinner, take a hot bath, and have a steamy session with your lovely date called ‘dildo.’

           You have the patience for neither.

           With a frustrated huff, you brushed your hair back, letting your gaze fall back onto the ground. Come on, it was a Monday night, and you just wanted to get home. Was that too much to ask?

           Trying to lessen the sound of your heels against the broken concrete, your steps were sluggish. If someone were to be watching behind you, they would’ve thought you didn’t know how to walk in heels. So fucking stupid, these dumb, drunk, idiots-

           “Heeeey maaaan, come over hereeee. We just wanna taaaalk.” A man shouted, and you felt your blood freeze. Your head snapped upwards, hearing the men starting to speak brasher, the slurring of their speech clear.

           Was he talking to you?

           No, they couldn’t be.

           Their backs were still facing you, staggering back and forth as the men seemed to puff in demeanour. Your eyes narrowed, observing one of the men walking hastily, his hands reaching for his back pocket. If he wasn’t talking to you, then that can only mean – he was trying to catch up to someone.

           “Don’t ignore meee, you skinny shit. Come hereee before I add more scaars.”

           Not caring anymore if you made noise, your pace quicken, swaying side to side to catch a glimpse of who this man could be chasing. They can’t honestly be planning on mugging someone; they can barely walk, let alone mug someone. A tired sigh escaped your lips – time to play the hero.

           Your fingers trailed into your purse, grabbing rose seeds, feeling the vines starting to rise over your fingers-

           Heat.

           The sound of your plants whimpering, retreating into your purse as blue flames flooded your vision had your eyes widening, a hostile shiver running up your spine.

           Ashes floated into the clear night sky, the smell of burnt flesh taking over the stench of alcohol as you instinctively pressed your body against the brick walls, seeking any form of coolness. You could feel the hot air rush past your ears, hair flipping for a split moment. Sweat beaded down your forehead – these flames…

           They were explosive.

           Uncontrolled.

           Pure rage.

           But most importantly - absolutely stunning.

           Your long nails dug into the brick wall, shamelessly staring at the light show in front of you rather than saving the other three men. The diverse hues of blue, clashing and mixing like a wild dance. Did that dirty, drunk man unleash this power, such a beauty?

           You quickly realized how wrong you were.

           The ash that was floating in the sky, the smell of rotting flesh – that was him.

           “You’re fucking nuts, man! You killed him – you burnt him alive!” The men screamed, their speech no longer slurred, bringing you back to the reality of the situation. And as the realization of the sight in front of you unfolded, you found yourself swallowing.

           The low-slung chuckle that caught your attention, a snicker that carried in the cold breeze, had your skin rising and lips parting.

           “Well, aren’t you an observant one. It seems I did…wanna be next?” a man spoke, voice raspy, contemptuous in tone.

           You pressed yourself off the brick wall, desperate to seek the man who caused the flips in your stomach. His voice alone was eargasmic, and when you stumbled back, heels clicking loudly, you realized you not only caught the attention of the three drunk men but the man with blue flames, as well.

           The azure embers that lingered in the cold air reflected the streetlights, highlighting a tall, lean man at the end of the shady alleyway. The way his thin lips curved upwards, a sinister smirk emerging as he licked his lips in delight.

           His light skin contrasted against the seared scars that littered his face and neck, staples piercing his flesh in a sadistic fashion. But yet, in some messed up way – the look suited him. The darkness of night adding an air of mystic and dangerous enchantment around him.

           “Well…hello there, doll.” He mused, tilting his head to the side, black hair falling over his eyes. You could feel it, the way his gaze trailed up and down your body, a wild look flashing – appreciating what his eyes were settling upon. You swallowed, a needy flush overcoming your skin, because fuck.

           He was sexy – the type of man, your parents, warned you about. The type of guy, your friends, told you not to associate with because all he was going to do was fuck and dip. You couldn’t strip your gaze away from the man, and he seemed to notice. He let out a small snicker, raising a brow as you gawked shamelessly.

           “Y-you’re a hero from UA! Save us, stop him, arrest him. He killed our friend-” The three men shouted, running towards you with desperation in their eyes. It was their loud and unwanted voices that snapped you out of it.

           What were you doing?

           Here you are, blatantly checking out some stranger – a stranger with an overpowered quirk who just murdered a man. But the enigmatic stranger continued to stare with a look of amusement, even daring to take a step closer.

           “A hero? Oh, this is becoming a lot more work than I wanted.” he snuffled under his breath, eyes half-lidded. The men ignored the man’s commentary, staring at you with annoyance.

           “Do something, you useless women! We don’t pay our taxes for you to look pretty.” One of them shouted, their spit striking your face. Oh - hell no.

           “As if you guys even pay your fucking taxes. Maybe if you didn’t get piss drunk and try to mug the man, your friend would be alive.” You shouted heatedly, stepping forward and shoving the man back. He was getting far too close for comfort – he needs to learn something about personal space.

           The man’s eyes widen, stumbling back a few steps before narrowing his gaze. “This damn psycho killed someone!”

           “He was defending himself against you morons.” You fumed, hands balling into fists. You may be a hero, but you weren’t forgiving. That was the problem nowadays; people could not take responsibility for their damn actions. Starting fights, getting their asses kicked, and then crying wolf. And of course, you had all these ‘heroes,’ eagerly picking up the pieces of their messes to fuel their damn ego.

           “If you’re smart, you’ll leave before I report this whole incident. And I can guarantee it’ll be you three going to jail.”

           “You can’t report shit if you’re dead.” The man sneered before raising his hand. There in his grasp was a small dagger, the moonlight bouncing off the thin blade. So enraged by this man’s ignorance, you failed to notice the way his hand lingered into his jacket pocket.

           You could feel the blood drain from your face, impulsively cowering away from the blade. He caught you out, and you were surely going to pay now, shit-

           That was when you spotted it, the dash of black, a pretty hand reaching for the idiotic drunk. The manic smile that painted the blue flamed stranger’s face, a lust-filled look as his hand outstretched over the man.

           His long boney fingers wrapped around the side of his head, clawing into the skin of his face. You saw the terror etched into the drunken man – eyes shifting to look at your unexpected hero — the last thing he would ever see.

           “Burn.” The stranger whistled, and that was when you felt the overwhelming heat once again.

           An explosion of blue fumes flared before you, and the man who held the knife didn’t get a chance even to scream – incinerated in seconds. There wasn’t an ounce of control or restraint in this man’s flames, just pure and utter chaos. Smoke fluttered from the man’s skin, eyes crazed as he grinned, the flames ceased in intensity.

           Ashes and embers erupted into the air, the sound of the blade hitting the ground echoing between the brick walls. The stranger let his hand drop to his side, before tilting his head to your direction. That was when you spotted it — one of the untouched men was reaching for the burnt knife that laid on the ground.

           “Oh no, you don’t-” You hissed, the tipsy man staring up at you in surprise. But his resolve was set in stone, eager to get revenge for his now two dead buddies. The hot blade twisted in his hand, holding it tight as he swung down.

           He wasn’t aiming for you at all – he was trying to injury your anti-hero.

           You lunged forward, chest clashing with your newly developed crush, arms reaching around his neck. The inebriated man swung, and right before the blade could come in contact with your dark hero, your hands tightly gripped the man’s wrist, nails digging into his skin.

           “Let. Go.” You threatened, teeth clenching as you tried to hold him back.

           “Dude, the fuck are you doing? They’re heroes – they’ll kill us with their damn quirks. Run.” The only reasonable man of the two shouted, and that was all it took. The weapon slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor, and your grasp loosened.

           He whipped his hands from your touch, spitting on the ground where you stood as he ran down the alleyway with his only remaining friend. “Let’s get out of here.” They slurred, the sound of their shoes drumming against the concrete – turning the corner and out of sight.

           A drained gasp escaped you, arms going limp as your forehead rested against the man who saved your ass. Holy fuck – talk about a giant cluster fuck. The air around you smelt like death and fire, sparks spreading across the block, courtesy of the night breeze.

           How are you going to explain this? All the paperwork and details – you really outdid yourself tonight, didn’t you?

           “Hmm…he wasn’t lying; you’re a ‘hero’ from UA.” A dark voice droned into your ear. His hot breath tickled your neck, skin tingling in bliss, and your head shot upwards. That’s when you took in how utterly striking the man; you currently had your arms wrapped around, was.

           His eyes were magnetic, a turquoise so damn vibrant and clear your mouth dropped.

           Being as up close as you were, you could appreciate the silver piercings that decorated his nose and ears — an unpredicted attractive mix with his purple and red coloured scars. Overall, his features were soft, despite his attitude and whisky-like voice, although his jaw could probably cut diamonds with how damn sharp it was.

           Damn, he was attractive, and you couldn’t help but feel your breath getting heavy the further you gawked. Midnight was right – you were sex-starved, and the way you studied this man up and down like a damn snack, was the proof.

           His lips curved upwards to a smile that even the devil himself would swoon, noticing how your eyes scanned him with longing. Your fingers brushed his long black locks by accident, and you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

           “Do all UA heroes dress like this? Short dresses, low necklines?” The man chuckled, his fingers playing with the lanyard that was perfectly nestled between your breasts. Your cheeks flared, feeling his calloused fingers against your cleavage. His touch was far from tender, purposely letting the ID roll between his fingers, conveniently pulling your neckline further down your torso.

           And the worst part was you weren’t mad at his erotic touch as much as the comment, nipples hardening at the thought of this going further.

           “I beg your pardon?” You retorted, and the stranger merely laughed, licking his lips as he leaned closer to your face.

           “Oh, you can beg all you want, doll.”

           Fuck, this man knows what he’s doing. You snickered under your breath, untangling your arms away from his shoulders, pulling the lanyard that he played with away. “Thank you for saving my ass back there.”

           He smirked, running his hands messily through his hair before stepping forward. Your bottom lip rolled between your teeth, eyes fluttering as you watched the way the man before you dominated. He was rolling his shoulders back, each step of his lazy in demeanour, eyeing you like how a predator stalks its prey.

           “You come here often? Walk down these sketchy alleyways for fun.”

           “I’m kind of a hero, and unfortunately, walking in creepy alleyways is in the job description.”

           “Is eye-fucking people also included in that job description?”

           “Nope, that’s something I do on my own time.” You grinned, earning a handsome one back. He licked his lips, hands falling into his pants pockets as he stepped closer. You didn’t even realize the little dance that was happening.

           Both of you, stepping closer and father between words, walking in circles as you bantered pointlessly. The fact that this man killed two people was lost to the wind (literally) – you were a hero, sure, but you never said that you were good at it.

           “Personal time…that means you’re on your way home. Good to know.”

           “Plan on stalking?”

           He merely shrugged his shoulders, eyes falling back to your breasts without a care in the world. “Mm…maybe. Y/N – pro hero, Eden.” He muttered under his breath. This time you didn’t bother stopping him, the way he outstretched his hand, jerking on the ID card and drawing you closer to his body.

           Both of your eyes were glossed over, a heat building between your damn legs as he studied every curve in the dress you wore. It wasn’t even skimpy or short, but the way his eyes lingered – you would’ve thought you were wearing nothing but lingerie if you didn’t know better.

           “Next time, wear something shorter.”

           “Excuse me?” you blurted, and he merely laughed, letting go of the makeshift leash. But now that you were close, he seemed to take advantage. His hands fell over your hips, drawing you up against his body, his scared skin brushing against your jaw.

           “You see, doll, boobs are great and all, but that ass you got? I much rather have my hands on that.” He growled into your ear, and you couldn’t stop your small moan. Your hands fell over his shoulders, and you couldn’t even wrap your head around the fact that his hands were running up and down your thighs, shoving you backwards.

           Your back hit the wall roughly, him growling into your ear as he licked down your neck with a low grunt. “F-Fuck, what’s your name?” You blurted, and you could hear him chuckle breathlessly, listening to your gasping sighs.

           “Dabi – that’s the name that you’re going to be screaming.” He grunted, his hips thrusting into yours. You could feel his arousal, hard and heavy, rubbing perfectly against your parted legs. Your head tossed back, another mewl escaping your lips as his fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing his hardening cock against your wet heat.

           “Fuck, you’re nasty, a perfect lil’ slut for me, right doll?”

           His words had you purring.

           “Dabi-” you gasped, and the flashing lights of blue and red caught your attention. The sounds of sirens were clear in the dead of night, and they were rapidly approaching. A pout formed on your lips, eyes shutting close for a moment as you swore because the wet mess between your legs was far more concerning.

           You blew frustratingly; you’ve got to be fucking kidding-

           “Told you I’d have you begging.” Dabi chuckled, thrusting his dick perfectly against your sopping panties one last time, before pulling back. He licked his lips, and you couldn’t help but whine under your breath, seeing that bulge in between his legs – something you so desperately wanted your mouth over.

           “See you soon, Y/N, my delicious lil’ fruit.” He teased, before stuffing his hands back into his pants and running off.

           Your face was flushed, your breasts practically falling out of your dress, your thighs and ass on full display. You watched as Dabi managed to mix into the darkness as if he wasn’t even here a minute ago, dry humping you against the wall.

           “Over here- that’s where people reported the noise.” A few voices bellowed, and in a flash, you pulled down your dress, running back down the same alleyway you came from. Here you were, speedily walking down the very route you should’ve taken to begin with.

           If you had taken this path from the start, you would’ve been already home, dinner cooked, and probably in bed.

           But you couldn’t stop the cheeky smirk on your face, your hands falling over your neck, where his lips practically ravished. You were sure there were going to be some marks, although faint, and that thought made you wetter.

           It seems like Mr. Dildo found himself a new name for tonight – Dabi.

Copyright © 2020 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Walking the tightrope - A "The Greatest Showman" Fanfiction 1

Yeah I started writing something else, sorry 😅 I'll keep writing the Beetlejuice one, don't worry, I just had an another idea... With one of my other crushes. This won't need any warnings so we'll just skip that :3 Have a nice time reading! Chapter 2 coming tomorrow or the day after! 😘

🎶When the world becomes a fantasy🎶

Drops of sweat were rolling off of Constantine's back. Sparks of joy, confidence and concentration were glowing in his dark brown eyes.

🎶And you're more than you could ever be🎶

He did a twirl, letting his cape fly freely. He was feeling really good that night. The crowd was clapping and smiling widely as the circus company danced.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

The cast changed places, but Constantine stepped even closer to the viewers from his place. Lettie told him lately that he should sing a little alone if he was feeling like it, cause he had an angelic voice. Oh and he was feeling like it.

🎶YEAH, YEAH🎶

He belted while stepping on the ring stool, causing the first row scream out and clap even harder. He smiled at his little admirers: four little kids; three girls and a boy, not one older than 8. And a fair young woman with them, with an excited look on her pretty face. She was cheering just as hard as the children she were with. Constantine changed a quick glance with her as he stepped back in line.

🎶And you know you can't go back again🎶

The cast all posed as Mr. Barnum slipped before them. Constantine flexed his muscles like the greek hero he was on stage, causing several women to gasp. He couldn't help but glance at the young lady he looked at before. She had a naughty little smile on her face. These tiny adoring looks boosted his ego and made him feel less ashamed about how he looked. So he smiled back.

🎶To the world that you were living in🎶

Mr. Barnum tipped his hat towards one of the kids the woman was with, which made the little boy scream in excitement. Mr. Barnum really knew how to make the crowd cheer, thought Constantine.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

Constantine huffed as he got to his place before spinning again. His hair got all wet and rumpled. I'll ask Anne what she does with her wig so it doesn't fall apart.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

They retreated back to the back of the stage, then jumped back to their original places to finish the grand finale. They all raised their hands in fists.

🎶So come alive!🎶

They opened up their fists and turned around to face everybody in the crowd. Constantine belted out his last lines with closed eyes and a huge smile spread out on his face. He then did his end pose with a confident smile.

After the company finished the show with bowing, they retreated to their quarters with huge smiles on their faces. Constantine took his cape off and threw it on his bed. His small room with red walls, arabian style drapes on the ceiling and dark brown furniture with fretwork all over it was way better than his old hammock in the poopdeck of the ship he was "working" on. He transferred back to reality by the feeling of someone touching his skin. He looked at the person who gave him a friendly pat on the back. The warm smile of his best friend welcomed him, as always.

- How are you feeling, my friend? - asked the sicilian man with a heavy accent while he sat down on Constantine's bed. It was packed with colorful pillows and was covered in dark green satin bedsheets.

- Very good, Lentini, very good! - said the greek while he walked to his wardrobe. He pulled out a white shirt, a pair of suspenders, some underwear and a pair of burgundy red trousers, with light fishbone patterns on them. - This night was a true blast. - he said with a wide smile, then disappeared behind his dark brown, wooden dressing screen.

- That's why I came, to be honest. - said the sicilian as he stood up from the bed. He walked up to Constantine's trident and touched its edges. They were sharp as knives. - I wanted to congratulate you! - Lentini turned around with a huge smile on his face when he saw from the corner of his eye that Constantine came out from behind the dressing screen. That's what Constantine liked about him the most. That Frank Lentini was the most positive, most wholesome man he ever met. And that he was always smiling. That made the tattoed Prince of Greece feel better, no matter how gloomy he was. He was still buttoning his shirt when Lentini grabbed his shoulders. - Your act was very good! You are getting better and better in pleasing the crowd! - he winked. Constantine laughed and shooed his hand away.

- You are making me blush, Frank. - the sicilian shrugged while he put his third leg up on the chest that was placed before Constantine's king sized bed.

- I wouldn't know it though. - Constantine rolled his eyes.

- Come on pal, my face is not THAT covered in tattoos! - they both laughed. Constantine grabbed Lentini's shoulder with his right hand while he put his left hand on his heart. The real one, not the one that was tattoed across his chest. - But thank you, I really felt great on stage. Have you seen how many people came tonight?

- I'm not blind, my friend. - Frank leaned closer with a cheeky smile. - Did any of your cheering fans caught your attention? - Constantine pushed the three legged man away with a half smile.

- Maybe. But you know I'm a lone wolf, my friend. - Lentini raised an eyebrow.

- I also know that's a lie, dearest Prince. - he grabbed the Prince's shoulder again and squeezed it. - Don't worry, amico mio. Sooner or later, you will find your Princess. - Constantine looked him in the eye with hope in his eyes.

- You know how hard it is for us. But, I hope you're going to be right. - Frank patted the greek man's face.

- I'll go and grab a bite in the tavern nearby. Care to join me? - Constantine stepped away from his friend and sat down before his vanity.

- Maybe later. I'm not really hungry now. - the sicilian bowed, Constantine waved.

- See you later then, my friend.

Constantine washed his hair in his iron basin. He grabbed a towel and just started to dry it up when suddenly he heard a woman call out.

- Melody? It's time to go home, honey! - the man pricked his ears. The greek was pretty sure that the woman who was calling out was young. And beautiful. Such an angelic voice couldn't come from some old hag. The voice kept repeating "Melody" over and over again, the next call always more panicked then the one before. Constantine decided that he should help this damsel in distress. He stood up and started following the calls.

Constantine gallopped down the stairs, still drying up his hair with the towel when he spotted the owner of the voice. She truly was a young lady, a beautiful and petite one, to be exact. She wore a dark purple spotted white evening dress with dark purple lace on her slim body, which really made her light caramel coloured skin pop. Her black, wavy hair was tied into a tight bun, but several loose locks framed her pretty, triangle shaped face. She wore little golden hooprings in her ears, which matched her thin golden bracelets. She didn't have any gloves on. She was looking under the seats next to the ring. Constantine stepped behind her and threw the towel across his shoulder.

- Can I help you? - he asked. The woman straightened herself up.

- Yes! I'm really sorry to bother, sir, but... - she turned around to face the man. The young woman's hazel colored eyes widened and her bow-shaped lips parted. Constantine just realized that this was the girl he spotted during the finale. She was still speechless. He cleared his throat and stepped back as a sad glow found its way to his eyes.

- I didn't mean to frighten you. - the woman shook her head with a smile, kind of awkwardly.

- Oh my, no, you didn't! - she stuttered a bit. - I just... - she flashed a perky little smile as she looked into the man's dark brown eyes. - ...I just got starstruck.

Constantine smiled back at the woman. He immediately felt happier, knowing that his appearance didn't frighten her... Not like many others. Most normal people felt either disgust or fear when stood face to face before him. But it looked like this woman was fairly different. He bowed a little. As he did, he heard children giggling from the back. He looked at them, a boy and two girls. The boy's brown skin was spotted with white patches, like he got sprinkled with white paint. The girls looked normal. He winked at them, which made them giggle even harder. Constantine's smile widened. Oh how he loved kids. They were much more accepting than grown adults. He looked back at the woman, who crossed her hands before her chest and rested her head on one of her fists. He couldn't help but glance at the young woman's soft feminine figure - which her corset emphasized even more - as he faced her again.

- It seems you have one less children then you had before. - the woman rubbed her temples and growled.

- Yes, my little Melody decided to sneak away from my watchful eyes... - she opened her eyes and pointed at the greek man. - Wait. From where do you know I had 4 children with me? - Constantine shrugged, held a hand up, rubbed his scrag with his other hand and smiled widely.

- You were the loudest members of the audience tonight. - the kids all giggled from the background, just as the woman they were with. The woman's glance ran all through the tattoed man face, not too conspicuously. But Constantine kind of noticed that her glance stayed a bit on his mustache... Or his lips? It was hard to tell. - Well, I hardly think that your little escapee will be somewhere here. - Constantine pointed back to the staircase. - Would you like to come into our quarters with me to see if she sneaked up there? - a relieved smile found its way to the woman's face.

- Yes, thank you so much! - she sighed and tilted her head. - That would literally save my job! - she turned to the children and crouched down before the eldest looking girl. - Alice, would you be a lamb and watch after the others?

- I'm the man, I should take care of the girls! - said the boy with a pout as he crossed his arms before his chest. The woman stroked his face with a gentle look.

- Yes, Jacob, you will be a wonderful gentleman one day, but right now Alice is the ranking member of our party of criminals. - she kissed the boy's forehead, scruffed his hair, then looked at so-called Alice. - So, honey? - the girl did a courtesy.

- Yes, Miss Munroe. - she got a kiss on her forehead as well. The woman stood up and faced the tattoed man. The Prince gave her his hand.

- Shall we? - Miss Munroe put her hand in the man's palm. Constantine gulped. Yes, several woman gasped at the site of his muscular body and tattoes and awed as he flexed on stage, but he couldn't go near any them... Once the show was over, he was a freak in their eyes again. But not to this woman. There wasn't a spark of disgust in her eyes. No. Constantine only saw the colors of autumn leaves, rays of sunshine and appreciation in her eyes. It was so weird for him. Weirdly comforting.

As they started ascending the stairs, hand in hand, the man helping the woman, Constantine started conversation.

- So tell me, what are these children doing with you? You are pretty young to be a mother of four. - he said with a cheeky halfsmile. The woman jokingly punched his shoulder with the hand he wasn't holding.

- Mind you, sir, I'm 24! Almost a spinster. - she said with a laugh. Constantine glanced at the woman with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- You're still younger then me, little missy. I'm 30. You could call me a spinster as well. - the young woman stopped at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

- You are a bachelor? - she pointed her index finger at the man, touching the tattoed heart on his chest. - You?! - he leaned closer to the young woman. His sparkly dark blue makeup made the mischievous look in his brown eyes even more dangerous.

- I hope not for long. - the woman bit her lower lip while flashing a playful smile. Constantine winked. He stepped back and opened the first door. Lentini's room. He looked around, not a single child in sight. Constantine shook his head at the woman. She sighed. They started to walk towards the next door.

- You are right though, I am not their mother. I am their teacher. - Constantine flashed an amazed, impressed look. - I work in a rich people's orphanage, you know. I teach orphaned upper class little kids history, music and literature. - Constantine stopped, opened the next door and looked into his own room. No one was there. When he stepped back to the woman, she was looking down at the children who were playing tag in the circus ring. She smiled caringly. - I brought these kids here to show them the wonders of humankind. That there are many shapes and colors of humans and they are all beautiful. - Constantine stepped closer to her, hands crossed before his chest.

- That's a rare opinion. - he said as he leaned against the wooden parapet. The woman shrugged.

- Most people are unfortunately narrow-minded. - she looked back at the man. - I want to teach younglings that they shouldn't be narrow and dark as a corridor. - Constantine let out a laugh at the girl's joke. She smiled as well. - You know, kids in our orphanage are very restricted, so...

- You sneaked them out, I suppose. - he chimed in as he opened the door to the room of Deniel, The Lord of Leeds. Not a soul there neither. The woman put her left hand in the air and her right on her chest as Constantine looked back at her.

- Guilty, your honor. - she lowered her hands. While walking, she was twiddling with her thin bracelets. She had at least 3 on each hand. - I sneak different children out every day, so each one of them could see your daring acts. - she shrugged and pushed a flock of hair away from her eyes. - Plus I like it here. - Constantine stepped to the next door. There was faint music coming out.

- Just a second, darling. - he opened the door after knocking. His colleague was sitting on his sofa, reading a book about Napoleon. - Hey Charles, have you seen a little girl running around here?

- About this tall, pretty golden curls... - said and showed the woman as she stack her head in under Constantine's muscular arm. She waved with a wide smile. - Hi, sorry to bother you, sir. - Charles closed his book and jumped off his sofa. He was 130 centimeters, max. He walked up to them.

- Lost kid, aye? - he shook his head. - No, I haven't. Sorry, ducky. - as soon as Miss Munroe left the room, Charles tucked on the leaving Constantine's trousers. He started whispering. - Hey, Prince! - he pointed after the young woman. - New girl in the crew? - Constantine shook his head and waved his hand. Charles looked after the woman and flashed a toothy grin. - She's pretty, invite her out! - Constantine rolled his eyes and pushed the short man away. He closed the door behind him. The woman was blushing. Oh Hell, she heard Charles...

- I'm here, sorry. - Miss Munroe waved.

- No problem. - they started to walk towards the next door. The girl looked down at her shoes, still blushing a little. - You know, it's kind of fortunate that Melody got lost. I really wanted to tell you that I loved your act. - Constantine stopped. - I've seen like 5 shows already and your act was always my favourite. - the greek's chin dropped a bit. The woman lowered her voice as she looked deep into the tall Prince's eyes. - You're really talented. - Constantine chuckled nervously and scratched his scruff. Nobody from the outer world told him personally that they liked his act yet...

- I'm just throwing around tridents... - the woman stepped closer to him. Even in her heels, that made a clanking sound with every step, she was way shorter than Constantine. And she was intimately close.

- But you do it with style and elegance. - she looked down at his chest, then back to his eyes. Her minxy little smile made Constantine see stars and those cute dimples in her cheeks made him weak in the knees. - And your aim is phenomenal.

- T...thank you... - he stuttered. He didn't know what else he could do so he quickly opened up the door that was behind him. The owner of the room let out a little scream. Constantine faced her with a nervous smile and a shaky voice. - Lettie! Darling dear! - he grabbed the towel which was still on his shoulder, and wiped the sweat off from his forehead. What the hell has gotten into me?! - Have you seen a little girl? About ye tall, with golden locks... - the bearded woman reached down.

- You mean this little angel? - she lifted a little girl up from the floor. She was about 4 years old, had golden hair, piercing blue eyes and dark caramel skin and was playing with a fan. Her blue eyes lit up as she looked at the young woman. Miss Munroe gasped and opened up her arms.

- Melody! - the little girl put the fan down and ran to her and hugged her teacher's neck, who hugged her back. - Sweetie, what did I tell you about running off? - she placed a kiss on the top of the child's head. - You scared the hell out of me, I was so worried! - Constantine watched as the young woman peppered kisses all over the little girl's head. She looked so caring... - You little nasty... - she let go of the little girl and looked at Lettie. She put her hand on her chest. - Thank you so much for taking care of her! - Lettie smiled back at her and nodded. - I'm happy she was in good hands. - the woman reached down to lift little Melody up to her hip. Constantine put his hands before her, blocking her reach.

- Oh nonono, I'm the stronger one, I'll carry her. - the woman's mouth opened, trying to say something, but in the end she stayed quiet. She closed her mouth with a smile and stepped back so Constantine could pick up the child. He grunted as he put Melody on his hip. - Wooh you're a heavy one! - the little girl looked down to her teacher. - Hey honeybee! - Constantine lifted the little girl's chin up, causing her to giggle. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely. - Hi! Did you like the show? - Melody nodded enthusiastically. Constantine squeaked. - Aw you did? That's awesome! Who was your favorite? - the little child looked back at Lottie and pointed at her.

- The bearded lady. She has the voice of an angel. - Lottie awed and rubbed her eyes. Melody looked back at Constantine and put her little hands on his face. - And you. Your drawings are pretty. - Constantine gasped.

- Thank you! Tell you what, I did some myself! - he held up his left hand and showed her his big palm. There was a tiny birdie in the middle of it. - Look! - Melody let go of the tattooed man's bearded face and touched the bird in his palm. Miss Munroe gestured 👌 to Constantine with a wink. She waved to Lottie and exited the room. Constantine nodded with a smile towards the bearded woman. - Thanks Lettie!

When they reached the end of the stairs, Constantine threw the girl up in the air, then started to lower her towards the ground slowly. She was giggling hard.

- Here we are, little honeybee! I'm gonna put you down, okay? - the little girl hugged the Prince's knees, then ran after her friends. Miss Munroe fiddled with her hair as they looked at each other with the bearded man. She looked down with a cheesy little smile, then back at Constantine.

- Hey kids! - she called out, still facing the man who now leaned against the banisters. - Could you wait for me at the exit? - the four children ran towards the exit. Little Melody slowed down for a second before Constantine, just to say:

- Byebye, pretty mister! - Constantine waved back to her with a smile and blew her kisses.

As soon as the kids disappeared, the woman stepped closer to him with a welcoming smile on her face and with glistening eyes, like they were filled with thousands of fireworks.

- Well, thank you very much for helping me. - she sighed. - Now all I have to do is sneak the kids back into the orphanage. - for a couple seconds, Constantine thought that that was all she wanted to say. But she took a deep breath and started talking while gesturing heavily. - Look, most of the time I'm the one who gets invited, so this is kind of a first for me. - she breathed out and locked eyes with the Prince. - As an acknowledgement for your helpfullness, would you accompany me to dinner tomorrow?

Constantine gawped. He almost fell over by the surprise, but quickly regained his composure. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

- Dinner as in... - he asked hastily.

- As in you and me eating at a restaurant. - came the quick answer from the young lady. Her cheeky half smile and her cute dimples already made Constantine melt. - Just you and me, no kids or colleagues. - she explained. It would be so nice... But...

- I don't know... - he anwered with a shaky voice. He suddenly felt the worst anxiety and unsteadiness he experienced in a long time. He looked down at his shoes and sighed. - I mean... - he looked back up at her and raised his hands. - Look at me. - he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in an annoyed way. - People always stare at me and chase me away eventually. I... - he got stopped by Miss Munroe's hand stroking his beard. He gasped at the sudden touch. The clanking of her bracelets sounded like windchimes on a sunny morning. She smiled warmly.

- Well, all I see is a handsome, fine young man. - Constantine didn't say a word. He just... Couldn't. He couldn't find his voice. Which was not a fortunate thing in this situation. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, the woman let go of his face and stepped back. She anxiously bit her lower lip and looked down. - Emmm... - she stepped even further from Constantine and put her hand up in an apologetic way. - You know what, this was a way too bold idea, I'm really sorry. - she did a quick courtesy. - Good night! - and she ran off.

Constantine just stood there, touching his face where that small, delicate palm touched it with an open mouth.

- What the Hell are you doing Constantine?!? - shouted Lettie from the middle of the stairs. Did she see the whole scene?!

- What? - asked Constantine in a dumb manner, which only made Lettie come down from the stairs and slap the Prince's nape lightly. He grabbed his scrag after the slap with an "OW" sound.

- Go after her RIGHT. NOW! - said the bearded woman angrily.

- Lettie, I... - Lettie rolled her eyes and grabbed Constantine by the shoulders. Even though she was at least a head shorter than him, he still feared her more than O'Clancy, the giant.

- She invited you out on a rendezvous, you moron! - since being terrifying didn't work, she huffed, closed her eyes for a second, than continued in a much calmer tone. - Don't screw this up, Constantine, please... - the Prince wanted to say something but Lettie signaled to him that he should shut the hell up. So he just sighed. - You know I have a good knowledge of character. Trust me. - she cupped the tattoed man's face in her palms and looked deep into his eyes. - She is not like Selena. I know it. She is not going to break you heart. - she let the man hardened into stone go and pointed towards the entrance with a small laugh. - Run after her you idiot or you'll miss your chance! - Constantine shook his head to gain back his confidence, planted a soft kiss on Lettie's face and ran like his life depended on it.

When he reached the exit, he pushed the doors wide open. The warm wind of June brushed through his hair as he looked around, trying to find the woman he helped out. He spotted a carriage, and Miss Munroe as she loaded the kids into it. Constantine ran towards them and almost tripped just before reaching his destination. When he finally got hold of the chariot, he huffed out, basically bent in half before the woman he met earlier. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. God he hated to run.

When he finally straightened himself up, the young woman he was facing almost burst out into laughter but was trying really hard to cover it. So she cleared her throat.

- Hello, Miss Munroe! Again. - Constantine scratched his scruff anxiously. - Umm, when do you finish at work? - the woman's eyes lit up with excitement and mischief. She started putting her weight from one leg to another, like a deb before her first ball.

- At 4 in the afternoon. You?

- If I don't perform at the night show, then at around 5. - he stepped closer to Miss Munroe with a light smile that turned more and more confident with every passing second. - What do you say, could we meet at around 6 o'clock? - the girl jumped a bit as she clapped her tiny hands together.

- Absolutely! So, meet you here tomorrow? - Constantine hesitated.

- Not eeeexaaaaactly, I think the back entrance would be safer for you. - he pointed at one of the threatening boards that was left on the stairs of the circus. - You know, the protesters... - Miss Munroe nodded enthusiastically, with a wide smile.

- Oh yes. Absolutely. See you tomorrow then. - she said as she grabbed the handrail of the rig. But Constantine grabbed her hand.

- Wait! You forgot to tell me your first name. - the woman stepped back to the ground and pulled a lock of hair beneath her ear.

- Oh, it's... - it sounded like she hesitated for a bit. - Hazel. - she offered her hand for shaking. - I'm Hazel Munroe. - but Constantine didn't shake her hand. He gently held it, turned it flatways, bowed and blew a gentle kiss on her hand. He was pretty sure he felt the girl tremble.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hazel Munroe. I am Constantine. - her eyes narrowed.

- Like your stagename? - Constantine rolled his eyes with a devilish smile as he stood back up.

- Well... It's actually Prince Constantine. The tattoed héros of Greece. - Hazel giggled. The Prince let her hand go, so she stepped closer to the man.

- Alright. I can't wait to see you again, your majesty. - the man sighed with an eyeroll, but turned to stone when Hazel planted a kiss on his beard. He watched her with wide eyes as she pulled herself into the carriage. - Have a good night! - she waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.

Oh, it certainly will be good.