#only serve to burn me out. Still I hope it can be of some interest or use

[nieranddear]

I know it was probably supposed to be to be in tags but I soon realized that it just Couldn't possibly fit so... here is a whole 3k+ word semi structured ramble on the matter [being Ayin and what the hell that man is] and my own thoughts on him. I hope you’re fine with it

Sympathetic, yes. Excused and able to be seen as a saint or the sort where his actions are 'justifiable' or that he is a 'good man'? Oh fuck no. Absolutely not. How about a Monster? Easily a flat out no. Does that make him a horrible person or ‘bad person’? I can’t say for sure as the definition of both depends on who you ask, but in mine it he isn’t a ‘bad person’. It would be far easier to be able to call him a bad person. A Monster. But he isn’t. He’s a person with numerous sins and blood on his hands but ultimately he is just a Person. Human. Painfully Human. Mind you, I've only played Lobcorp. Nothing on Ruina so perhaps my opinion may change. I will say this first. Just because he expresses guilt and remorse, just because he actively shows and expresses care for those around him in forms to where it was true and unfiltered [Abel “ Fatigue and Waiting” meltdown, Abram “Regret and Atonement” meltdown, day 40 literally deadass] it doesn't mean shit to those he hurt if he, Ayin, the man at his core, doesn't go ahead and attempt to Make It So his wrongs are even somewhat put right. Which he does. In a way that I’ll talk about in mixed feelings later. It doesn't resolve him of the 'sins' or his faults. But he is so so painfully Human. Which is why I do like him, as a character at least, and can feel sympathy for his plight. Just because one feels sympathy doesn’t mean that the person they can feel it towards is ‘clean’ or doesn’t hold ‘sin’ or, in a way that sounds less pretentious and used more commonly in the internet, ‘unproblematic’.

Perhaps the main problem with him is that he never did Stop. A huge thing when revolving around him. Not looking back, refusing in a way and unable in another. Be it in needing progress, to a want to achieve the goal he sees entrusted onto him from, seemingly, a woman he joined the project for and solely for as “...She wanted to save them, and guide their souls back… to dedicate herself to save humanity. Yet I, who held no such ambition, had to continue her legacy” [Day 50]. No such ambition to save humanity, for he “Lost [his] heart” and had known for a “very long time.”. Yet he didn’t stop and continued to carry her will and bring the Project to an end and was determined to do so by any means necessary For Her. Be it by not turning around to look at the bodies along his path or the fact guilt holds so heavy on his body he doesn’t look to see such a thing [Elijah, Binah's story [4] "And what happened to that coward? The one who with fear averted his gaze from my dying one." “Erasing your memories and running away from them as if nothing happened is your age-old specialty.”, Day 40 and the existence of the cognition filter in the first place and the response ‘Can you stop the recording, please?’, Abel on Day 47 “Yet you did not care to witness his final moments.”]. Or dulling himself to the atrocities he gradually grew and tumbled down into as the domino chain kept falling and the thorns along that past never subsided, getting even more grueling of a path to endure as time went on. The part that has me struggle to pin him as a ‘mastermind’ or the sort is the fact he Does express that guilt and remorse and even acknowledgement for his faults and acts.

Even though I did say it ‘didn’t mean shit’. Yes, to those he hurt it doesn’t, yet it doesn’t automatically disqualify either side’s pain. You can’t just go ahead and decide that one person’s suffering isn’t able to be taken into account solely due to the fact they also inflicted pain and hurt. Even if you don’t agree nor forgive, it still Does exist. If you shut out another solely due to the fact of personal vendetta or general hate you’re still silencing another. Yes, you can have an opinion but completely disregarding another, even if you did deem them ‘horrible’, is still Disregarding Another’s Feelings and Pain or even how they got to that point. He is someone that holds care. Yet he is also someone who did some unforgivable shit. Which is fine to not be fine with. But focusing on one side, that part of ‘Cruelty’ or part of ‘Affection’ without acknowledging the other is still ignoring the facets of the man. Which he has many of. He is someone that shows remorse and has a whole struggle with existing which can be seen in the later days. He is someone that can be seen calling it what it is. [Abram’s mentioning of them becoming “cruel” “We destroyed everything while holding her warmth in our hands.” Abram in his entirety even if the words are soaked inside guilt and self-hate it’s still aware of the actions, of day 50 and in its entirety “As you can see, we’ve become just like other Wings, committing atrocities just like them. The employees here have repeated hundreds upon thousands of deaths… My friends were robbed of their lives and trapped in this cycle of agony… All while I just sat and watch, justifying it all as the means to realize her ideal. This sin shall never be forgiven.”, Day 47’s “You realized how innocent, talented souls of young persons were trapped into machines by your hands, haven’t you?”] The idea of ‘Well why didn’t he Just stop? Just Notice it then? Not Do all of these heinous acts? Why didn’t he talk to Michelle and not experiment on Giovanni? Why didn’t he not force the procedure on Gabriel and not turn around and be safer with the key and with Elijah?’ It’s because he’s Human. He, Ayin, is a man shown to not stop at any means to realize a goal. Ayin is a man who doesn’t seem to be able to stop in his own mind, as shown before, and also a man who quite literally Didn’t Realize at the time what would happen with Elijah and Gabriel. Of the hazy specifics on the experiment with Enoch which was voted for as they didn’t want to lose their ‘binding light and ideal’ Carmen [Who is ultimately Human I love Carmen but this is a post about Ayin]. A man good with machines and the scientific part of things, methodical in the creation of a script, yet lacking inside the aspects that relate to the emotional response [See the ‘Old Lab’ as I don’t quite know the name so that is what I’ll be referring to it as with Michelle, Gabriel, Elijah, the lack of words to Daniel in the end, hurting the heart of the man that stayed by him to the end where he left as well. The obsession and drive for the project causing those nearby him to die. For the drive to get results and progress on research to complete the goal causing him to also be blinded by that and finally directly have blood on his hands with Giovanni not including the self blame of ‘driving her to her death’ (Paraphrased) with Carmen.] It’s only after the fact and after he is forced to stop [The Project halting in a way and the loops taking place over years and years] or after the fact itself [The talks from A when a Core Meltdown is about to happen and after it does is known to be after the fact though the actual time of realization is hazy, either it be directly after the death or awhile after, but it doesn’t matter as it is a realization that occurs after the tragedy happened] does he realize the mistakes and faults when looking back. [This can also be seen in Abel in his entirety. “We were too naive. I could only realize what wrongdoings we have done after transiently passing all these years.”]

It’s the fact he is self-reflective in the terms of knowing his faults after the fact, the fact he punishes himself [Loops, Binah [4] “Why is he down here suffering the same punishment as I?”, Day 35, Direct calling of this as a ‘Prison’ multiple times.], the fact that even still he persists for the wish of another when wanting to “Fade” and “Be forgotten” [Day 47,  Hokma Story 5, the elaborate farewell that is day 50, the desire and want to “Fade away without a trace” seen inside the Final Days and Hokma’s Story 5], the fact he sinks so commonly into the pit of guilt and regret [Abram in his entirety huge emphasis on Abram and his existence, Day 38 “It was also my role to butter you up with plain words, to help you avoid sinking into the pit of guilt”, Day 40 Again.], the fact he tries to rectify his mistakes and still pursue the goal of another, all for another [Day 43 “ I did not approve of you placing the Sephirot here. However, you told me that your atonement and the awakening of the Sephirot were key to the untying of this knot I lie in.”, the fact he sees himself as a core cause of Carmen’s death and feeling as he needs to complete her will in a way because of her no longer being there, the whole facility being ‘Penance’ mentioned by Adam who is a whole other thing that is fairly simple yet wordy to even talk about]. Ayin is a Man. Not a monster. Nor a genius manipulator that pulled every single string for his Script brings the ‘play’ to conclusion and the Project to its end in that part but still neglects various this [being emotional/mental aspects which is a common thing with him. That and completely lacking Angela in the end without her ever getting a conclusion in his script. STUPID script by the way]. He’s a Man who, when running to a goal, wouldn’t look back and almost in a way couldn’t for he had to bury that emotional response to be able to bear it all. A man who, inside his grief, is seen and stated to be is irritable and irrational [Snow Queen entry, Day 31 “If a ray of sunlight breaks your heart and collapses your mind with longing and nostalgia… And seeing plants outside evokes an unknown rage, tearing down your rational thought… Then we have no choice but to stay underground”]. A man who acknowledges himself [Abram] that he isn’t “normal” nor sane. A man who saw that he needed to bury his emotions underneath rationality and for his goal and who, scarily, started to become numb and apathetic to the acts the longer they went on. Became numb. Those actions that instilled fear, as it was stated to be fear, slowly happening again and again and causing the numbness. Just… the entirety of the Final Days and especially day 47 on this specific matter. Lobotomy corporation is a wonderful game I adore but it doesn’t know the word ‘subtly’ in any manner of speaking. If it wants to communicate something, it’ll say it upright. Which makes it a bit more confusing when some words may be seen as deceitful . Yes, it’s a good thing to think about the intent behind the words, but also just the plain style of how the story is delivered doesn’t make much wiggle room as it ends up plainly laying it out to the reading. It’s Very Clear on it. You see the struggles of the Sephirot, and then it is mirrored inside A, Ayin, himself. That’s how the game is also literally structured. Needing those answers from the Sephirot who mirror his own agony and struggle  in order to tell those resolutions and resolves he saw inside those people to the fragments of himself.

I totally understand why people would hate him or dislike him as a character. He's hurt so many people and taken so many lives. Done things seen as 'too far' which, yeah, absolutely can see that and I'm not excited to learn about how exactly the rest of this City functions as well. Do I believe him to be a monster? Nothing of the sort. All of his struggle stems from the fact he is so rawly Human. Do I believe he needs to be forgiven? No. No. I don't believe he should be for his actions. I don't think he Needs to be forgiven. I think they need to, his faults, be addressed. In fact it feels weird when people just forgive him for it all. He, himself, states something of the like on Day 50. He's left so many with wounds and scars that won't heal. Hurt the hearts of those nearby him and left until there was none and then only Angela which I’m not well equipped to talk about as from what I’ve heard LOR discusses her own journey and pains. But I feel as if saying he's a ‘monster’ completely ignores the other parts of his character which Are There. He’s not a messiah or anything idealized, nor is he without fault, nor does that pain and guilt erase everything. He's a person who is stubborn and adamant on achieving something when he goes ahead and dedicates himself to a cause. He’s someone who doesn’t communicate and whose face is commonly flat most of the time and seen to be in the memories at the least [Hokma, Gebura story, Day 50 expressions]. He's someone who held such love in his heart as I tend to point out in other parts and get stuck on, they used ‘Loved ones’ to describe the others. He’s someone who fully felt as if the will to live and exist died the moment Carmen did, as if his life held no meaning, as if dependent on her [Day 47 stated, shown in practice further Day 48].  He’s someone who used justifications and passing things off in the sake of a goal that he clings to as it was one of the only things he had left of Carmen at that point, especially since it was a request asked of Carmen herself. Justifications for numerous amounts of agony and torment. Grief that shrouded his actions in pain and irritability and cruelty. Yet a man who also still holds himself accountable and hates himself for feeling unable to protect those people who he considers dear to him. A man who deems himself and his existence as "very wrong". "Wrong from the start."

It feels as if some people are reluctant to bring up aspects of him? Brought up before it feels as if a layer or aspect of Ayin is taken and then the other parts of him fall to the wayside. Not quite sure where to go with this but it's a thing that feels as if it occurs. I say feel for I can't find any actual concrete examples so I won't say 'notice' or that it 'totally does happen!' so I'll leave that thought as this small section since I can't elaborate further

Ayin is Fucked. Absolutely, thoroughly. Yet in a way that the patterns and rationale for being brought to that point is understandable of How. I can’t find it in me to look for sources right now but from what I remember it’s as if Carmen was his only source to strive for. A blinding beacon that wasn’t like any other who had an earnest wish to save and support those inside this hell hole of a City that so easily seems to cut down and devalue life. One stated to be of survival where fear needs to be consumed to continue on living. Of one so focused upon advancements where the idea of empathy has degraded, systematically at least in that stand point. Endless continuation stepping over the bodies of others. Yet Carmen was always said and shown to be so vastly different. It feels as if he kind of clung to her in a way. As if a whole part of him physically Died the moment she could never smile anymore. Almost extremely dependent. It's easy to see how a man so attached could end up doing such things if it seems as if the person he felt took his Being away when she died asked it of him. Do I think that Ayin was doing this completely inside of how she would’ve wished or wanted? NO. She literally states herself that her goal wasn’t to become a wing yet L corp ends up as a wing for reasons relating to the monitoring of the Head. One of MANY examples, the other being the, oh I don’t know, numerous amounts of bodies they had to step over with. Perhaps the "Unique cruelty unable to be found in any other wing." Yet it's also stated that Ayin’s very heart is described as a void where the pieces of a heart used to be or something along those lines. That he shows a crushing and suffocating amount of guilt for everything. That he closed his eyes and ears to everything to become numb. Yet a facet of himself still basically berates and Knows deeply and regrets for if he didn't why the Hell would Abram exist? Yet, again, this brings into the fact that just because he regets it all and shows remorse and a want for repentance if he doesn't actually end up doing something relating to it or even communicate it to others it, on its own, won't 'Mean' much. I say 'mean' as emotions do, even if not communicated, have weight. But also this is a man who had done horrific, heinous shit. Let's see some Change, brother, come on man stop getting stuck inside that cycle and idea of the inability to move forward or change the past actions you also hate and the path you took that stripped you away of what could be considered your 'humanity'. Learn to. Well. Live. Live with it, too. Which is a whole thing they're trying to get people to do. Live. Not just survive. Practice what you want to bring forth and preach, man. Even if it were for the sake of another. Do it for her...

[Next part is from souly the perspective of someone that has yet to Play LOR but will soon.]

On the idea of how they handled him at the end of Lobcorp…. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I HOPE. I HOPE that they bring him back. Not in a way to where he has to be an active figure, but more of to where he can’t just fade away or forgotten the way he yearned to. I want that fucker to face what he has done. I don’t want him to be able to fulfill the Seed of Light Project and that’s it. There’s so much he has to atone for. It feels almost cheap to just have it seemingly stop at day 50 the way it did. I Want him to be able to atone [not to be confused with needless and endless berating for it will get nowhere]. To try and own up to his actions. To be that ‘better person’ he so deems himself incapable of being constantly. To not ‘Fade’ like he so wants to and actively yearns for and that want to die. No one has to forgive nor forget. I don’t want that shit to be swept under the rug so doing such a thing would feel flat. Gaping wounds he left behind hadn’t ever been fully addressed. The Sephirot found their reasons and ability to keep going in the Company but never really any active repentance or show of remorse Directly To Them by Ayin. Hey, big problem with Ayin, He Doesn’t Communicate Or Express when he is feeling things. One of the only reasons we as the viewer are even able to sort him out internally is because we see it all from His View. God I just HOPE that they do something more with him. They made a character that encompasses all of the struggles and pains of the others, yet not just used as a narrative device for ‘hey, get better and push on! Face your past! Confront it and even if you can’t find the ‘Answer’ or ‘Reason’ to now, just the ability to change and face and bear it is a start to even begin to Live!’ I know it was likely due to time constraints or how the game itself is structured. The days system that’s limited with the further details on Ayin and Carmen being crammed into the later parts after the rest as the lower layer seems to be implemented near the final parts when they actually added Carmen as an entity entirely from what can be reviewed and recalled at the moment. Either way, I really want him to finally not be a bitch when it comes to the others and actually start expressing that love he so feels for the rest by Doing something for Them. Instead of it all just being the project or bringing them back which was, indeed, a goal they all wanted but it was also done by the huge drive to finish Carmen's dream and will. Not for the Sephirot themself though perhaps there was also a drive to do it for them but I cannot say as it was never stated from what I can remember. I want him to do something, anything for the people he forcibly brought back. For Them. To Them. Directly. Hell, even him having to go ahead, even after seeking to fade ‘fading’ actively, to try and build up something be it physically or mentally to give back to the world he took too much from and caused so much pain to would be nice to see. It won’t make it better nor will it ever erase what happened, but it will be Something. Finally.

There are many parts I missed. Still so much I want to talk about. But I’ll stop here as this already is so much. I hope it’ll be at least somewhat interesting or informative to try and help with your curiosity on the matter

Tl;dr. Ayin. I love him because of his various parts that cannot be separated that make up the whole of this man I can't stop myself from being enamored with. I mean parts mentally and literally. I'm getting the ice pick for him to make this a REAL Lobotomy Corporation

probably going to regret asking this, but I want to know what the vibe is:

I know opinions are gonna be very complex, just choose the answer closest to what you feel. explain in the tags if you must.

And only choose "played LobCorp" if you've actually played the game, any level of completion. "haven't played" covers other ways of experiencing the game, like let's plays, wiki reading, secondhand knowledge from later entries, etc. I want to specifically understand any difference in opinion between those who have/have not played.

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

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Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

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Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[illneverrecover]

god dammit i like it (M) | changkyun

➛pairing: Im Changkyun (I.M.) x reader ➛genre: card shark/gambling Changkyun, cocktail server reader, poker!AU, hurt/comfort, smut, angst, fluff (in that order). ➛word count: 9005 (oof) ➛rating: M ➛warnings: excessive alcohol use, cursing, dirty talk, very very soft femdomme energy, oral sex (female and male receiving), changkyun begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, very brief mentions of blood, more soft clown changkyun. ➛summary: One last game, he tells himself. Just one last game, and he'll have enough money to take care of you the way you deserve, to show you how much you mean to him, to give you the life that you want... as long as he doesn't get caught. ➛notes: My second time writing Changkyun and as always, it's for the one and only @taetaesbaebaepsae. She had commissioned me (back when I still did those) to write something based on the God Damn MV, and then patiently waited for me to get my life together. I thoroughly enjoy creating new ways to hurt you with your ult bias, so I hope you enjoy this one! I did edit this one, but just barely, so please be gentle with me. Let me know what you think! ➛song: God Damn - I.M | Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo (Hippie Sabotage Remix) ➛tagging: @taetaesbaebaepsae @lvupmushroom @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife - thank you for letting me use your likeness for this, and for looking it over to make sure it would truly hurt Kristy's feelings. Teamwork makes the dreamwork, bbs.

He’s an idiot, but you already knew that. 

The alcohol in his gut sloshes as he moves to stand, his glass painfully empty. Changkyun stumbles towards the bar, the thrumming in his head keeping pace with the bass thumping through the speakers of the club. 

His eyes are glassy, faraway when he reaches his destination, the cup fumbling out of his grasp as he indicates to the bartender he wants another. The bartender looks him over, seemingly debating on following through with the request, but he turns to grab the bottle of whisky regardless. 

Changkyun hates it. Hates that he’s so drunk, that you’re not here, that the guy serving him thinks he’s a mess. He knows he’s an idiot, that he should stop. Put down the glass and pick up his phone. That he should just call you and tell you he’s sorry for being such a moron all the time, and that he’ll listen to you from now on. That he does love you, and wants to take care of you, and he can fucking prove it, if you’ll let him.

But then he recalls the look in your eyes when you caught him – the disappointment, the pain – and he reaches for his now refilled glass, taking a swig before facing back towards the club. 

He doesn’t deserve it – doesn’t deserve you, to provide for you, to do any of it. Not when he’s such a jealous asshole, not when he’s such a fuck up. You deserve the world. Someone who can really give you what you need. 

Fuck, he wants to be that. There’s some moments when things are good, when you’re tucked into his arms in bed, sleeping softly beside him that he thinks he might be that – someone who can provide, be reliable, strong. But then he remembers your fights; his words of jealousy and anger, his avoidant nonchalant fake ass attitude, his fragile little ego shattering with a flick of your eyebrow and a sharp word. 

So he leaves his phone in his pocket, instead slinking back towards his booth before dropping into it. It was easy to ignore his friends’ questions, to insist that he was fine, to pretend to be more interested in the tray of shots being dropped off at the table. He accepted the small glass, slamming it down before he could think about the burn, about the empty churning in his stomach.

 It was easy to ignore his friends, but damn, Changkyun was tired of pretending he wasn’t fucking exhausted of trying to be okay without you. 

It had always been push and pull with him.

From the minute Changkyun had walked into Yvonne’s, the lounge where you worked, you could feel the snap of electricity, the buzz of magnetism that pulled you to him. He would’ve stood out from his clothing alone; his lithe form draped in a bright red perfectly cut suit, shirtless under the vest to show off his tanned, broad chest. The combination of cut and color was lethal on him and he knew it, his dark hair swept back to allow the full potency of his sharp gaze. The group of men he was with were also impeccably dressed and attractive, but there was something about him that had your eyes following him, unable to look away.

Luckily for you, he had seemed to feel the same way.

His friends had gone to sit at the Baccarat table in Kat’s section, but he had stayed behind, noting which tables your body was sliding between as you delivered drinks before he made his selection at the blackjack table at the end of your section.

He couldn’t keep his gaze off of you, ordering more drinks than he was actually playing cards you were certain, but you weren’t going to stop a paying customer. The table he was at was pretty low stakes overall; the crowd was a bunch of casual players, but he had enough money to keep up with the table, so they were willing to ignore his flirting. 

You were also trying to ignore it, playing into him enough to ensure your tip would be secure, but also knowing that this was likely all just fun for the rudely handsome stranger. And if there is one thing you enjoy doing, it’s having a little fun – especially while at work.

But there was something in the way he looked at you, the way that he spoke to you, that had you hanging on a bit more than you’d care to admit. You wanted to tell yourself it was just the fact that he looked like that in that suit – that his tattoos and cocky smirk on top of it all was just too  much for you – but you knew it was more than that. 

It was when you were dropping off his umpteenth cocktail that he finally made a move, his tattooed hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you and slide a piece of paper into your palm. 

“When do you get off?”

You smirked, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood in your veins at his skin touching yours. “Why? Who wants to know?” 

His face deadpanned, his mouth dropping to a pout, and the juxtaposition of such a cute expression on such a lethal man made you laugh.

“I don’t even know your name,” you clarified, pulling away from his grip and tucking the paper into your apron.

“You could call me whatever you wanted,” he replies, voice low, glare fixed on you, “but others call me Changkyun.” 

The same things that had drawn you to him also made you roll your eyes, his cockiness frustrating just as much as it was attractive. He insisted on waiting until you had finished your shift, ensuring that you  made it safely to your car before reminding you about the paper tucked into your apron pocket. 

“It has my phone number on it so you can text me and let me know what time you want me to pick you up tomorrow.” He had murmured, his face so close to yours that you had forgotten to breathe. 

“Pick me up, hmm? Well aren’t we feeling awfully sure of ourselves,” you replied in a shaky breath, hating how much he was affecting you.  “What are you picking me up for?”

“I was hoping to take you on a date, but if you have things you need to do - errands, work - that’s fine with me too. Just let me take care of you.” 

It was as easy as that, the way he slid into your life. You hadn’t believed the offer, not really, but decided to text him anyway. You had some things to do before your shift, why use your gas when you could waste his?

But Changkyun was effortless, showing up in gray sweats and a black t shirt promptly at the time you requested, ready to chauffeur you all over town. He kept up with your teasing about his sad fuckboy music he was listening to, and let you mess around with his AC without complaint, like he had been doing it for a hundred years. 

Maybe that’s how he broke your walls down – acting so nonchalant, while also being dependable, always showing up when and how he said he would, always ready with an easy smile and a light joke. 

It could have been days, maybe weeks, but it didn’t take long for you to realize you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. That you didn’t think you wanted to. 

Which was a complete contradiction to what you had told him – that you weren’t interested in anything serious, but if he played his cards right, you could be convinced for an evening of fun. An offer he had declined, telling you that he would wait until you changed your mind and wanted him fully. An answer that had infuriated you to no end, but one that felt inevitable. 

It was the 14th or 15th day of hanging out that he finally said the words, putting the feelings out into the space between you. His “I love you” came out rushed, as if the words had pained him, but the flush of his cheeks and shimmering soft eyes had you cracking, reaching for him to smash your mouth into his own. 

The kiss was unlike anything you had ever felt; the intense rush of heat nearly choking you when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. He groaned when you had opened, the feeling of his tongue on yours sending the kiss deeper, starved for each other. He tasted like whisky mixed with the faint hint of gummy bears he was always snacking on, and you were drunk on his mouth, drunk on him. You don’t even remember if you had said the words back, the volatile energy between you now snapped and now your full focus until it was fully satiated. 

Changkyun slotted into your life like he had always been there. The familiarity of it soothed you, brought you a deep peace that you didn’t know you needed – but there was the other side of you, the one that had never allowed anyone to get this close, that was terrified of what this would mean. That knew letting someone in also gave them the power to break you. 

It was always a push and a pull with him, an intoxicating desire to give in, to let your heart find a home with him – mixed with the fear that eventually, that home would be ripped away. 

“Fuck,” Changkyun cursed, and your fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, tugging. 

“No marks,” you reminded him, though you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the feel of his mouth at your throat. His tongue was laving at the junction of your skin between neck and collar bone, suckling it between his teeth before soothing it with sloppy kisses.

You had been pressed against the wall of your apartment, him latched to you like a man starving until you had coaxed him down the hall towards your bedroom, letting him push you down onto the bed before resuming his work on your neck.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged, though he didn't stop his ministrations. “I wish I could mark you up, make sure everyone at Yvonne’s knows who you come home to.”

You had let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling though he couldn’t see it. His silly jealousy over the stares you got while working at the lounge was just that - silly, nothing of merit - and yet, you couldn’t help but play into it just a little bit.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” you whispered, using your hand in his hair to guide him to your mouth, only stopping his descent when he was a breath away. 

“Don’t play games, sweetheart,” Changkyun leaned forward, nipping at your bottom lip, and your grip deepened. “We both know I’m the only one you’d let stick around this long.”

He was right about that. 

Closing the distance, you melted your mouth into his, letting him take control of the kiss for just a moment before you tug at his head once more, dragging him down your body. He complied quickly, pressing small kisses into your flesh as you guided him lower. 

“I don’t know,” you breathed, eyes hazy as Changkyun settled between your thighs, a groan leaving his throat when he saw you had forgone any kind of underwear beneath your skirt. “That one guy at table 7 was tipping really well, I bet I could-”

Your words were choked off with a moan as Changkyun dragged his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to your aching clit, giving it a singular swirl with the offending muscle before pulling back. 

“What was that?” he asked, but he didn't wait for a reply, not before delving back between your legs. He lapped at your center, taking his time tasting you before he settled up near your clit, sucking it between his lips. 

Any retort you had been working on died as he made quick work of you, sucking and licking until you were bucking up into his face, both hands tugging at his hair to hold him in place. He had become pliant beneath you, molding himself just where you needed in order to push you over the edge. Just when you felt like you couldn’t take any more, that you were going to snap, Changkyun slid two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards. 

“Please, come for me, sweetheart,” he begged, murmuring against the heat of your flesh. “I want it so bad.” 

His words were your undoing, and you find yourself doing exactly as he asked, moaning out his name as he takes you over the edge, his mouth and fingers working you through it in tandem. 

You exploded, white bursting behind your eyelids until you were boneless, unable to do anything but ride out your orgasm at the will of the man in front of you. Changkyun made sure to taste every drop of your release, slowly sliding his hand away from you only to quickly replace it with his tongue to lap at you until you were shoving him away. 

You wanted to make him feel as good as you did in that moment, wanted to return the favor, so you pushed him off of you and onto his back, switching positions to settle between his legs.

Hands tugging at his boxer briefs, Changkyun complied to your silent request, lifting his hips until you could drag them off. You were quick to palm his erection in your hand and squeeze, relishing in the hiss he rewarded you with, your thighs squeezing together. 

“Please,” he groaned, and fuck did he beg so prettily. “I just want to be inside you already, let me be inside you, yeah?”

Teasing the head of his cock with your lips, you hummed, playing as if you were considering his words. The truth was, having a beautiful man like him pleading you for anything was your kryptonite, and you would give him anything he asked for as long as he sounded like that.

Taking a final swipe of your tongue over his sensitive flesh, you gave him a smirk, moving until you straddled him, hovering for just a moment. Grasping his length, you line him up with your dripping cunt, sinking onto him slowly, tortuously. 

You may be giving him what he had asked for, but only because you wanted to, because you had deemed it aligned with your desires. Changkyun gave you full control over your pleasure, and you took it greedily. 

Once fully seated, you moaned, hips beginning to undulate and swirl against his. Pressing your palms into his chest, you began to work yourself over him, sliding back and forth until you were panting, thighs burning. 

His eyes searched yours, waiting for permission before he did anything more than take what you were giving him. “Fuck me, Changkyun,” you gasped, voice teetering into a whine. “Wanna come on your cock.”

Changkyun didn’t need to be told twice, didn’t need any more instruction before he was thrusting up into you, pelvis meeting yours. His hands tugged you down until your chest was flush with his own, his mouth seeking yours and coaxing it into a filthy kiss. 

“Fuck, yes, please come on my cock,” he rasped against your lips, his pupils blown as they make contact with yours. His gaze was intense, searing, but you couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. You wanted to be engulfed; consumed by him. “Use me, baby.”

Slamming down onto him, your pace began to turn frantic as he matched you thrust for thrust, each connection against your tender clit sending you further into oblivion. 

“You feel so good, Kyun,” you praised him, adjusting until your face was pressed to his neck. “So good for me, so perfect.” 

His answering moan reverberated in your chest, his arms tightening around you as his pace turned punishing, and it drove you crazy how something as simple as your words has him frenzied, falling apart beneath you.

Drunk on the power, you felt yourself hurtling towards your climax, nails digging into the skin on his back as he relentlessly slammed up into you. “Fuck, yes,” you cried, letting yourself go, giving in until you were over the edge, orgasm overtaking your senses. 

It was too much for Changkyun; the way your scent was all around him, intoxicating him, the way you were moaning curses and his name, the way you were clenching so fucking tightly against his cock. Before he could stop himself he was chasing his high right alongside you, shuddering as he pumped his release deep, unable to still his hips even when you were mewling from the sensitivity. 

Panting heavily against each other, you had tried to pull away only for Changkyun to roll you beneath him, pinning you under his weight. He was still fully lodged inside you, face nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your still sweaty-from-sex skin. 

“What are you doing, Kyun?” you chuffed, making a feeble attempt to lift his weight before letting him resettle against you. It was all for show, the response he expected from you. The truth was  you didn’t mind it - the feeling of him still inside you, the familiarity of his lips on your skin, the intimacy of it all - you didn’t mind it if it was with him. 

“Just let me hold you like this for a bit, hmm?” he mumbled against your neck, and you hummed your agreement, letting your eyes fall closed. He pressed a few lazy kisses to your throat before his breathing became measured, even, and you decided joining him in slumber wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Promise me,” you murmured, voice thick and lazy. You were still naked and draped across his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart. You had already woken and showered, deciding that clothes weren’t necessary before jumping back into bed together. That was several hours ago now. The smoke coming from his cigarette was curling up towards the ceiling, leaving a dreamy haze in the room. 

“I’d promise you anything,” he replied quickly, taking a drag, “but what specifically am I promising you this time, sweetheart?” 

“No more going to Kihyun’s high roller floors, Kyun. I know the pots are bigger, but you don’t know those men at those tables - not like I do.” You paused then, taking a shaky inhale. 

Being in your line of work, you were no stranger to dangerous men, however you purposefully stayed away from serving on those floors of the lounge for a reason. Those men were the worst of the worst, and even if they weren’t, they rubbed elbows and served those who were. Either way, the money may be sweet, but the risk wasn’t worth it. You made better than you ever had at the lounge with the sections you served,  and that was fine with you. 

But Changkyun had always wanted more. 

Ever since you had told him about your lofty dreams - the ones that you had saved for yourself in the darkest parts of the night, when your mind was racing and you couldn’t sleep - he hadn’t let them go. Truthfully, you always loved the idea of retiring your waitressing shoes and being able to finally write full time, working on the novel you’ve been imagining for years in some quiet home somewhere, tucked away from the world. But it broke you to see Changkyun willing to risk his life to see it come true by hanging around that crowd, placing higher and higher bets at Yvonne’s most hazardous tables. 

It was strange for you to accept that he would even want to do this for you, to support you in this way, but he always knew how to soothe those concerns, promising you that he genuinely wanted to care for you before gently ribbing you to stop being so damn stubborn. 

However, it was his stubbornness that had been creating a wedge between you. 

“They’re bad people, Changkyun. And I don’t mean like - scamming old ladies for their pension money bad, either. I mean like extremely shady dealings with people who are involved with things that would get them sent to prison, bad.” 

His free hand fell to your head then, smoothing your hair back as he took another puff of his cigarette. 

“I know they are. I’m only just polite enough for the rules of the game, I never engage with them more than that. I’m not there for friends or connections, just the money.” He took a final pull before dropping the spent butt in the ashtray on the bedside table, his other hand moving to rest over the one you had placed on his heart.

“I get that, but it doesn’t take much to get on their bad side. It could be the slightest thing. Sometimes, just winning is all it takes.” 

He sighed, but let the silence linger, instead letting himself get lost in stroking your hair softly. You were about to say something again, to make sure he had heard you, when he finally spoke. 

“I just want to take care of you, you know?” His voice was low, thick with emotion, though he tried to swallow it back. “Give you what you deserve.” 

That pain came back, the one deep in your chest, and you sat up to face him. “I know that. But I already have everything that I need, right here.” 

You tap his chest once, twice - his hand still firmly resting on top of your own. 

He met your gaze, giving you a small, cocky smirk, as if his eyes weren’t shiny with unshed tears. “What, you mean this hot body?” 

You scoffed, eyes rolling. Maybe you should’ve called him out on his side stepping, forcing him to vocalize that look he had been giving you, but instead you fell back into step with your teasing. It was, after all, the familiar dance between you two. 

“No, stupid. I meant you - you’re all I need. The rest of this shit is just noise.” 

“I bet I can make you make some noise–”

“Changkyun–”

“Okay okay,” he laughed as your soft touch turned into pointed jabs into his chest, sitting up to wrap his arms around you and stop your onslaught. “I hear you, sweetheart. You’re right. I’ll stay away,” he said, pulling you up and back until you’re leaning against his chest, arms still wrapped tight around you.

“Promise me?” This time when you say it, you made sure your eyes were locked on his, made sure the fear you felt was evident behind the words. 

“I promise.” 

It felt like a sign from the universe. Well, either that, or a promise from the devil.

But sometimes, those can look the same. 

The posting for Kihyun’s upcoming game had just gone up, but it was already making the rounds. Games like these were advertised in a certain way - you had to know where to find it in order to play, and the regular gamblers all knew the common message boards to keep an eye on. Changkyun hadn’t been looking for it, wasn’t even checking the forums anymore – but had gotten a text about it from Joohoney, a screenshot of the flyer accompanying his message of “Bro, did you see this shit??” 

A high stakes game, in two nights. The winning pot large enough that he would be able to retire you permanently, and he wouldn’t be too far behind you, honestly. You were already off work that night, plans in place for a girls night with Kat and a few of the other servers, so you wouldn’t be at Yvonne’s. 

It would just be one last time.

One last game, and with enough luck, he could finally give you the life that you’ve always wanted, provide for you in the way a man should.  Sure, you wouldn’t like it – the idea of him going to the tables again –  but that was only if you found out, and the chances of that were slim.

He could win the money and set it aside, give himself a week or two of regular games to make it seem a bit more feasible. A few days of being off your feet and back on your laptop would have you forgetting about work anyway, and the top floor of Yvonne’s would fade quickly away from your memory. 

It had to be a sign. He could do it, could pull it off, could be the man that you deserve. 

His fingers hovered over his phone, the reply ready to be sent to Joohoney. It would be just as easy to delete it, to tell him that he’s done with that shit. To text his best friend back and tell him that he can’t, because he told you he would walk away and stay away from those men. Joohoney might give him some shit, but he would understand, likely wouldn’t push the matter. 

But the money…

It didn’t take long for Changkyun to do the math; it would take months at the regular tables to get this kind of money, and that’s only if he kept winning. Which didn’t seem like long in the grand scheme of things, but when he thought of how your eyes lit up at the idea of writing full time, made it seem like it was centuries. 

You wouldn’t have to know. It would just be one last time. 

He pressed send on the text, foot tapping nervously until he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. 

“I’m in - one last game.”

You were mad at him again, but your friends didn’t need to know that. 

All they needed to know was that you were in the mood for a girls night out, and if they knew what was good for them, they’d be there in their sluttiest outfit ready to indulge with you. 

However, it only took you ordering the second round of shots to have Bri’s questioning stare fixed on your own.

“So, what did he do this time?” she deadpanned, sipping from her straw. 

“What? Who? I don’t know what you speak of,” you replied. “I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” 

“Sure, okay,” Kat nodded, giving a convincing performance of someone who actually believed your nonsense. “If he didn’t do anything, then why isn’t he here, buying us all drinks?”

She had you there. Changkyun was always wanting to show up on your nights out – not to crash them, but so that you and your friends could enjoy your time without having to worry about a single thing. He covered the tabs, made sure everyone was having fun, and ensured each person got home safely – all while staying tucked away at a nearby table until you needed him, never putting too much pressure on you. 

It had pissed you off the first time he had suggested it, but after he showed you what he meant, showed you how he could be supportive in the shadows while still letting you shine, you had slowly given in. Part of you loved being able to enjoy yourself with your friends while knowing he was always looking out, even if he wasn’t directly visible. 

“Maybe he’s busy.”

Twin glares pinned you to your seat, and you allowed several beats of the bass blaring in the speakers to pass before caving. 

“Okay, fine, yes. We’re having a slight disagreement,” you conceded with a sniff, “over something that happened at work.”

“Wait a minute - is this about what happened with Vanda?” Kat questioned, mentioning the newest server at the lounge. She had only started a few weeks prior, but had been making a lot of work for you - constantly acting like she knew what she was doing in front of management, only to flounder and follow you and the senior staff around asking a million questions the minute they weren’t on the floor. 

It wasn’t her confidence in her lacking serving skills that had bothered you, not really. It was more so how the minute she did get called out on a mistake, she was quick to try to throw you and your friends - the same people who had just been helping her ass - under the bus. 

You had told Changkyun about an incident earlier in the week of this exact scenario – she was flirting with another customer instead of checking on the tables in her section, and a patron of hers ended up getting up to go to the bar to order a drink. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal, mistakes happen after all, except she had immediately told the manager on duty that you had promised to cover that table. Which was news to you.

“Are you serious? After all the help you’ve given her?” Changkyun had shook his head, irritation evident in his voice. “Did you tell the manager the truth? Who was on?”

You had smothered a smile at the question, trying and failing to hide how much you loved him wanting to know more about your life. 

“It was Amy, and yeah, I told her. She believed me, but still. I don’t get it, I’ve never done anything to that girl.”

“Want me to show up to Yvonne’s and request her section with the guys, give her some shit? You know how annoying I can be when I want to,” he offered, brows raised in a teasing lilt, but you could tell by the line of his mouth that he meant it. 

“Yes, I do know how truly annoying you can be. It’s almost like a super power.”

He grinned then, a full one, and you wanted to kiss his stupid mouth. 

“But no, it’s fine. I got this. I know how to handle people like this, and having anyone else fight the battle for me will only make her more bold about it.” This wasn’t your first rodeo, after all - you had been serving a long time, and doing luxury serving at Yvonne’s for even longer than Vanda had been out of diapers. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was handle people. 

But did Changkyun listen to you?

Well no, of course not. 

He did exactly as he had threatened - showed up the following day with his full group of rowdy friends, sitting in her section and dedicated to being the most obnoxious people Vanda dealt with all night. They didn’t do anything harassing or illegal, just toed the line of being pretentious drunk pricks gambling and drinking – sending back drinks for being made incorrectly, asking for complicated cocktails and shots, requesting a rundown of the entire menu before telling her they were no longer hungry.

Kat and Bri had found it hilarious, stating that your boyfriend’s malicious compliance of the rules while still making Vanda run around so much she was pouring sweat was truly an artform. And there was a tiny piece of you, deep in your soul, that was pleased at the lengths he was willing to go for you. 

But you were also pissed, because you had been exactly right. It did nothing to stop Vanda from sending bullshit your way; if anything, it had spurred her on, the following shift of yours even more annoying and mind numbing after hours of her questions and subtle sabotage.  

“Yes, it’s about what happened with Vanda! I told him to let me handle it, and he didn’t listen. I know he meant well, I get that, but still. He didn’t listen.” You had known his heart was in the right place - you hadn’t questioned that. But it didn’t negate the fact that it made you feel so small when he didn’t listen to your requests. 

“I thought that was hilarious,” Bri said, arm reaching out for another shot glass. She had one already prepped in front of her, but preferred taking her shots two at a time. “But I get it. Vanda’s been worse since.”

“I can handle Vanda, I don’t really care about that. But it feels like our fights are usually because he just doesn’t listen to what I’m telling him. It’s like he thinks he knows better than me.” 

Deep down, you know he didn’t mean it in this way, but it was like he didn’t trust you - your judgment, your read on the situation, whatever it is – and that hurt, especially when you had worked so hard to open up that piece of yourself to him. 

“And I know that I’m not always right, and it’s not like I don’t want to hear his opinions, but I don’t like the choice being taken from me. Or worse, dangled in front of me like he’s going to consider my feelings, only to have him do whatever.” 

Downing her two shots in rapid succession, Bri shook her head, reaching for her chaser before speaking. “I think that’s part of the problem, he thinks he is considering your feelings. He thinks he’s standing up for you and fighting for you. He thinks he’s taking some of that burden off your plate.” 

“I don’t need, I mean, I don’t-”

“When is the last time you let anyone fight a battle for you?” Kat interrupted, elbows leaning on the table to make direct eye contact with you. “You tell everyone that you got it, that you can handle it. And we’ve seen you do it, so it’s not that we don’t believe you. But sometimes, we want to help you, for no other reason than we love you. And we can.” 

The direct read into your defenses had your throat tightening, and you blinked back the tears that threatened to form and ruin your makeup. 

“He should listen and take your feelings into consideration, absolutely,” Kat continued, voice gentle, “but also, you should let him support you and help more. I think if you let him be there for you in smaller ways, he wouldn’t feel the need to be the knight in shining armor so much.” 

There was a lot of wisdom in your friend's words, and you had taken a moment of silence to chew on it, to let it sink in. 

“He really loves you, you know that, right? So stop being a dumb bitch about it,” Bri deadpanned, but her expression was soft, “and let him love you. And you know I say that with affection.”

“I know,” you said, nodding at your friends. As much as it wasn’t easy to admit, they had a point, which also meant that maybe Changkyun did, as well. “Thank you both, seriously.” 

It had only taken one text message, a quick “This tab isn’t going to pay itself” with a kissing emoji to have him showing up at the bar, settling into a table a few down from your own with a wink and a sly smirk, where he proceeded to wait out the evening, taking care of you and your friends as always when the time came. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you had panted against his mouth when you got home, letting him push you up against the wall and cage you in with his arms. He was on you like a starved man, and it had made your buzz intensify, making you drunk on him, his kiss. 

“Of course, I understand,” he mumbled, words barely intelligible in the urgency of his lips. 

You had to fight to pull away, using one hand on the base of his throat to push him back for a moment to catch your breath. 

“But, also, thank you. For what you did with Vanda. And for always wanting to protect me.”

If Changkyun noticed how soft your voice got, he didn’t say anything, instead leaning down to press his forehead against yours. You could tell he was going to say something – probably something devastatingly sweet – and you needed to finish what you were going to say, before the bravery lost you. 

“I’m not used to having someone who wants to fight with me, or for me, you know.” 

“I know,” he replied in a rush, like he had already known your confession, knew what you were going to say long before the words had formed.  “I know, and I also shouldn’t be an ass and push all the time. But I will always protect you, yeah?” 

Nodding, you fought back tears for the second time that evening, but this time you didn’t shy away from letting him see the emotion in your face. 

“You’re mine, and I will always fight for you, sweetheart.” 

This time when he kissed you, it was slow, purposeful, heated. Like he was going to  make sure you felt and wanted for nothing other than him, his touch, and that you could allow yourself to fall into him forever and would always have a safe place to land. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, to be vulnerable with someone, to let them in, if you could feel like this. 

Or maybe it wasn’t so bad, only because it was Changkyun. 

Tonight was the night, and everything was in place.

So why did Changkyun feel a ball of anxiety forming in the base of his gut?

Everything had been going according to the plan so far, not that there was much of a plan for any of this. It mostly relied on you and your friends being away from Yvonne’s for the night, which was easy enough since you were all off on the same evening. A rarity that you all were going to take advantage of, and had planned for movie night with drinks and sushi take out over at Kat’s place, an event that was common enough that Changkyun knew it usually ended in a sleepover. 

He had dropped you off an hour prior, kissing you gently and shouting a greeting down the hall to the girls before heading back to the car, ignoring the feeling of guilt roiling in his stomach. He had just kept reminding himself that he was doing this for you, doing this so he could support you and give you the life that you deserved. 

It was one last time, one last game. 

But that pit didn’t dissipate as the evening went on, not even when he met with Joohoney who had insisted he take a shot when they arrived at Yvonne’s to help with his nerves. It had burned his esophagus, blurring the edges of his tension a bit, enough that he felt confident walking through the lounge next to his friend.. 

“You good?” Joohoney asked, slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

Changkyun nodded. “Yeah, just really wanna win some money, you know?” 

Joohoney had given him an understanding grin before guiding him past the tables in the lower section of Yvonne’s towards the stairs leading up to the high roller tables. 

“It's our lucky night, Kyun,” Joohoney said, pausing in front of the door leading to where the game was about to begin. Through the heavily frosted glass, Changkyun could see several bodies already seated at the few VIP tables, and he felt his pulse spike.  “We’re going to win.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The sleepover at Kat’s had been just the reset you needed. 

A night of screaming at the television, drinking cocktails and eating your bodyweight in sushi with your friends was healing in more ways than one, and you had left the next morning feeling lighter and more content than you remembered in a while. 

 It was surprising to find your apartment dark and quiet when you returned, as you had assumed Changkyun would be there waiting for you, like he always was. You had given him a key long ago, figuring there was no point in pretending like he didn’t spend all of his free time glued to your side, but not fully ready to give up the independence of living alone quite yet. 

Sending him a quick text, you let him know that you’re home and about to catch up on sleep before your shift later. He replies quickly that he had fallen asleep at his place after a late night with Joohoney, but that he would be there once you got off work. 

Nothing had felt out of the ordinary, and you felt energized enough from your nap to get ready quickly, getting to work much earlier than you normally would for a shift.

You should’ve known something was up the minute you walked into work and saw that Vanda had a shit eating grin on her face.

She kept sneaking side glances, watching you with a scrutiny that made you uneasy. She’s normally more obvious in her attempts to annoy you, and her passive aggressiveness is setting your teeth on edge. 

After the third glare and giggle on your way to drop off more drinks, you decide you’re going to confront her and ask her what her deal is, when she beats you to it.

“Did you have fun last night?” Vanda questions, a stupid smirk on her face. 

“Why do you care?”

“Seemed like Changkyun did,” she continued, like you hadn’t asked a question. Your stomach dropped.

Raising a brow, you wait for her to go on, not wanting to give her any more satisfaction. She clearly knew something that you didn’t, and she was already well aware of that fact. 

“How much did he actually end up winning last night? I mean, him and Joohoney were upstairs until last call, and he seemed pretty happy when he left.”

Instantly, your throat tightens, unease now unfurled into full blown anxiety. He was here last night? If he was here last night, and with Joohoney upstairs, no less…

“I didn’t manage to hear how much he won, just that Changkyun shouldn’t worry, because you would never find out.”

It was enough. You had heard enough. 

It was surprising how quickly you switched into autopilot, spinning on your heel and striding out of the room before your throat tightens, before your vision fully blurs. Vanda says something more behind you, a lilt of concern in her voice, but you can’t hear her, not anymore. 

 Your mind quiets as your body takes control, moving you to find your manager to tell her that you need to leave, before grabbing your purse and coat, and leaving the lounge. Turning towards your apartment, your rage fuels your step, gut churning with the betrayal of knowing the only reason why Changkyun would be upstairs at Yvonne’s last night, why he would be leaving looking so pleased with himself. 

The wind bit at your face, chapping your lips,  but you didn’t care; needing the night air in your lungs and for the anger to be burned out in your movement before seeing him. 

Because once you walked out your anger and faced the betrayal, you would need to deal with the deep seated fear for Changkyun’s safety, and how the hell you would be able to protect him now. 

Changkyun wasn’t expecting you so early when you barged into the apartment, and the mix of confusion and excitement quickly bled away once he saw the look on your face. 

He strides towards you, grabbing your shoulders, concern knitting his brow. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Blinking, you allow yourself a moment to stare at him, to drink in his full mouth and stupid handsome face, before you swallow around the knot in your throat. 

“Tell me it isn’t true, Changkyun.” 

You hate how your voice sounds; weak and strained and like you’re just bone deep tired, defeated. Maybe you are. 

“What are you talk-”

“Tell me that you weren’t upstairs at Yvonne’s last night,” you sigh, irritated with the ruse. “Tell me that you didn’t go and do the exact thing that you promised me you wouldn’t, and that I didn’t have to find out from fucking Vanda, of all people.”

Pulling away, you slide from his grasp, tucking your arms around your middle so that you wouldn’t be tempted to reach back out for him. It was tortuous, how much you want to reach for him, even when your heart is breaking. 

“Sweetheart, I just- it was just going to be one last time, one last game. The pot was too good, it was enough to get you set up, so you could quit,” he lets the sentence hang, almost waiting for you to interrupt, but when you stay silent, he continues. “Joohoney made sure everything was good, and we won just enough to get what we needed, not enough to rock too many boats. I had it under control.” 

Closing your eyes, you let the last sentence settle around your shoulders like a heavy weight, the same old feelings bubbling up. “It wasn’t about you being in control or not, Changkyun. It was about listening to me, actually listening to me. You promised.”

It was on the last word that you broke, that the tears started to fall, and for once you didn’t turn away, wanting him to see. 

“You promised me you would stay away, and then you didn’t. You hid it. You thought you knew what was best for me, instead of just listening to me.” 

Pain laces Changkyun’s face as he takes a step towards you, only pausing when you take an equal step backwards. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I know better, I just-”

“Please leave. I’m done.” Your voice is low but measured, certain. 

“Baby, please, let me just explain, and- and-”

“I don’t want to hear an explanation. I want you to leave.” Tears continue to fall, but you don’t drop his stare, willing him to understand just how serious this all is, how serious you are. 

He wants to fight it, wants to say more, but something in your eyes must convince him, because he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he moves back to the couch, grabbing his coat and phone, before making his way to the door. His gaze is mournful as he gives you one last look, lingering, before shutting the door behind him. 

You aren’t sure how long you stand there, unmoving, before the autopilot kicks back into gear, forcing your limbs to move. Heading towards your room, you place your phone on the charger before you curl into your bed, surrounding yourself with the blankets and the lingering scent of Changkyun. 

And then you let yourself break down. 

Changkyun was drunk. Too drunk. 

He shouldn’t have taken that last shot, especially not after that last drink from the bar. It was too much, but fuck it. Who cares?

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he mumbles to himself, not caring how crazy he looks. He wishes someone would just give him some direction, tell him what he would need to do in order to fix this. 

He didn’t listen. He never listens. 

And now he’s lost the only good thing he’s ever fucking had, the only reason he got up each morning and what’s the point, if you’re gone? 

Fuck. Fuck. 

Sliding down low in the booth, he lets his head hang, the whisky glass precariously dangling in his hand. His body felt so heavy, so numb, and yet the anguish deep in his chest only worsened, throbbed along to music blaring in the club. 

If only he could apologize, he’d beg for mercy, he’d promise he’d never fuck up like this ever again. Explain how you were right - how he doesn’t need the money, or any of that shit, as long as he had you. 

He needs you.

His heart is in a vice grip, squeezing so tightly that he thinks he might explode from his body, his skin, until he’s nothing but red.

Pain suddenly licks up Changkyun’s palm, and he looks down to see the glass cup gone. In its place are thousands of tiny shards, twinkling in the dim club lights, reflecting everything back to him. More red, but this time welling in his palm, pooling in the deep lines of the skin. 

“What the fuck, are you alright dude?” 

Changkyun thinks it’s Joohoney who asks him, or maybe it’s Hyungwon? It doesn’t matter either way, because it’s not you.  

He goes to stand, to ask for a bandage or a rag or something, but instead his vision blurs, the room spinning. And then he’s flat on his back, blinking up at the cacophony of lights, faces coming in and out of focus, but not the one he needs, not the one he’s looking for. 

He can faintly hear his friends talking to him, feel them digging in his pockets for his phone, but he can’t be present anymore. It’s too torturous, too heavy. Much easier to close his eyes, to think about your face. To let himself get lost forever. 

He’s happy to die here on the floor of this stupid club, imagining your smile, your laugh, your lips as you say his name.

Changkyun just wants to take care of you, just wants to give you everything that you deserve. How can he do that if he’s here? If he can’t listen? 

He lets the darkness swallow him.

Changkyun isn’t sure where he is. 

He feels like he got hit by a truck, his head specifically feeling like it had been trampled on, though it’s his right palm that's aching in time to his pulse. 

Without moving, he opens his eyes slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. It’s dark, wherever he is, and his head is propped on a pillow, body stretched out on a couch. He can see a small trash can directly in front of him, as if whomever brought him here wasn’t sure if he’d be capable of finding a bathroom if the contents of his stomach decided to make a reappearance, and he groans.

Fingers swipe through his hair, easing the pounding in his skull by a fraction.

“Hi, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Changkyun thinks he has to still be sleeping, must be having a very good dream if it’s your voice he’s hearing, your scent he’s inhaling as he settles onto the pillow. He smiles to himself, not wanting to speak and having the dream fade too soon. 

“Changkyun? Are you going to answer me?” This time, you peer over him, leaning down to stroke his face. You let your fingers linger briefly on his cheekbone before lightly touching his lips.

His eyes snap open. 

“Is this real?” He asks, voice hoarse, gaze searching your own. He doesn’t feel strong enough to sit up quite yet, but you don’t seem to want to make him, either. “Are you really here?”

“Technically, you’re here at my place, but yes, it’s real.” You reply, your nails sliding back up to his hair to give his scalp a soothing scratch.

He swallows as he stares at you, as he drinks in the tenderness in your eyes that he thought he wouldn’t get a chance to see again. It took him a moment before he recognized your apartment in the dim light, and another more before realizing the pillow he’s laying on is settled in your lap. 

Even knowing that this was real, that you truly let him back in, he was still too scared to speak, not wanting to scare you off. Not wanting the moment to end. 

When he finally gathered enough courage, he cleared his throat.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. I don’t listen. I hear what you say, and then just act like an ass who thinks he knows everything.” Changkyun swallows thickly. “The only thing I do know is that you’re my everything. You’re all I need. Please, don’t give up on me yet.”

His pleas make your eyes well, and you force yourself to take an even inhale before speaking. 

You want to tell him that you couldn’t give him up, that you had tried because you knew it would be easier in the long run, but your heart wouldn’t allow it. You want to say that you had regretted telling him to leave the moment the words left your lips, that you hadn’t meant them. You want to say that you were just so tired of not being heard, of people making decisions for you.

Instead, you roll your eyes playfully. “Now why would I do that, after all the trouble I went through to patch up your hand while you were black out?”

You will tell him those things, but later. When the sting of last night had faded a bit from both of your memories, and the impact intended can land. 

He gives you a small grin, meeting your gaze. His hand - the bandaged one - raises slowly, tentatively, until it’s cupping your cheek.

“I just wanted to give you the world,” Changkyun murmurs, almost reverently. “I will give you the world, the right way. It might take me longer, but I will.”

His words soften you more, and you reach for his other hand, pulling him up until he’s facing you. He’s slow to move, the onset of a hangover taking hold, but eventually he settles sitting upright, eyes still intense on your own. 

He  is always trying to take care of you, trying to lessen your burdens. You know you’re not the best at accepting the help, but dammit, you were trying. For him. And he was trying for you, too. 

You lean forward until your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling. 

“I already have it, stupid.”

He kisses you then, a gentle press of lips that quickly builds, as everything always does with him. A push and a pull. Changkyun leans away slightly,  grins against your mouth. “I’m an idiot, but you already knew that.”

“You’re my idiot. The rest is just noise.”

[andrewisdoing]

Things That Definitely Made Me GAY (Part 2):

MUSIC ICONS: Part of my Coming Out would be incomplete without the music that found me during that time. I’d wager my survival had every bit to do with the singers, songwriters and entertainers I was playing at the time. I especially credit Madonna, Janet Jackson, Barbara Streisand and Rufus Wainwright. They were the unexpected heroes in my ears everyday reminding me it was okay to embrace the dramatic, funny, complex, sexual situations of life in song.

FILMS: I am a firm believer that people are always searching for bits of themselves in the movies. So, being the teen I was, I wanted to find parts of my being in the movies to be affirmed that I wasn’t alone. Whether it was a documentary or rom-com, I wanted to escape into a potential future or an idea of what it looked like to be a gay man in 2009. Documentaries were a gift from heaven because I got to see where we had been and where we were going. I still feel that way as a 30 year old. I feel like I still am eager to see stories of us and find parts of myself on celluloid.

VOGUEING/PARIS IS BURNING: This movie quite simply changed and saved my life in a LOT of ways. When Madonna’s Vogue (BEST SONG FOREVER ON REPEAT) came into my life, my godmother introduced to me to the Houses of New York City, the Ballrooms and the origins of Vogueing. I had never felt so seen as a black gay person in a film prior to seeing PIB. It was the antidote to existing in a suburb in Washington. To know I wasn’t alone in the world and that there was a place beyond Washington where people like me exist, was (and still is) the greatest gift anyone, especially from kin, could’ve given me.

QUEER AS FOLK: THIS SHOW TOOK ME THERE. I remember hiding the box sets at many friends’ houses when I first had come out. While the show can be a bit dated, the stories and original characters really shaped what being a part of the LGBTQ+ community could potentially be as I grew into adulthood.

HISTORY: When I first came out, I made it my personal mission to read up on all things gay history to understand who came before me and whose footsteps I was walking behind. I found so much solace in the bravery we displayed as a community. I know that I am free to be me because of the folks who came before me. I hope that as time goes on, we discover more unsung gay heroes.

HEROES: I went out to of my way to find people who were like me and people who had the same interests as me. Finding people who made me feel understood and created the work to express all the facets of not only the human experience but the gay experience. Whether it be through dance, poetry, filmmaking or photography, I credit these artists for saving my life through their work.

FATSO: Some kids first cartoon crushes were Aladdin, Hercules, HELL, I could even bet that some had crushes on The Beast, BEFORE HE BECAME HUMAN! Me? Mine was (and still is) Fatso. Some have read him as a queer coded character and for my sake, I really hope that it’s true.

PORN & The Pornstars That Make Em’ : As weird as it may seem, discovering Porn really helped me feel liberated and free to understand my sexuality and what I really liked. Also..boy, oh boy, the men and the videos that still to this day..get me off is a list that’s too long to count. From Zeb Atlas to Tom Katt, these men served the fantasies that were so hot and beefy, I still can’t believe my eyes. Being gay certainly has its perks.

NOAH’S ARC: In the same vein as QAF, Noah’s Arc made me feel not only seen as a gay man but as a black man. I love that the show gave the community so many versions of our existence. Making us more than a side character or the uplifting and sassy character, at that. We were portrayed as human and proof that we exist.

[tofics]

Broken - Chapter 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 3987 words

Warnings: Little bit of cursing, implied panic attacks, mention of insomnia, mention of nightmares.

Chapter 2 - Settling In

"Soooo?" Ellie drags the syllable out and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "What's she liiiiike?" Much to her disappointment, Joel just shoots her a glare as he loads his plate, then walks off to find a seat at one of the tables.

"Come on, man, give me something." She slides into the seat across from Joel and starts digging into her own plate in the same hurried manner as when she first met Joel. Some things just aren't that easy to shake.

Joel, on the other hand, carefully chews each bite, making a point of looking at Ellie every time he swallows. Fork after fork goes in his mouth, but not a single word comes out. "Ugh." Ellie rolls her eyes. "She's the only interesting thing to have happened around here for months." To her dismay, instead of serving her with some juicy details, Joel just chuckles dryly.

"What, life suddenly become too boring for you, now that you're not out there anymore?" She elbows him in response. "You know that's not it. Matter of fact, I like it here just fine."

"Glad to hear it!" Tommy pats Ellie on the back and plops down in the chair next to her. "So? How'd it go?" He looks at his brother expectantly. Joel glares at him grimly. "It went."

"What, that's all?"

"Can a man just eat a meal in piece, for god's sake?"

"Ohoooo," Ellie grins at Tommy, "you poked the bear."

"You poked the bear first." Joel points his fork at her.

"Just because you won't give me anythinnnng!" She knows she sounds like a little whiny toddler, but seriously. Your arrival was something out of a movie, the way Joel dashed into Jackson with your limp body thrown across his saddle. He hadn't even needed to call out for help; his spectacular arrival already speaking for itself. People immediately ran up and helped get you off the horse. Within minutes, you were in the hospital being tended to by Jackson's finest doctors. The town had had a good run for a few months by then, very few raiders and even less infected that had to be dealt with, and so a the new arrival quickly became the hottest topic.

You were out of it for almost three weeks, with a fever so high that for a little while, it wasn't clear whether you'd pull through. People asked about your state at town conferences. The younger kids started bets about what your name could be and where you came from. When the news came that you'd finally woken up, the council had to put its foot down and remind everyone that no, they couldn't all go visit you right away.

The excitement quickly died down when Jackson's people quickly realized that you were not the chatter bug they'd hoped for. You weren't exactly unfriendly, but it became very clear that you were not a fan of big social crowds or private house calls. At the dining hall, you usually kept to yourself, quickly wolfed your food down and left again. During your two weeks of internships, where you went from job to job to see what fit you best, you did well pretty much anywhere, but Maria could tell that none of it excited you or gave you joy. You came, you completed your jobs to satisfaction and you spoke when spoken to, albeit curtly. Even so, no one took it personal. Everyone in Jackson had their own story to tell, their own horrors that they'd witnessed. People knew that life out there changed you, so no one judged you for your curt demeanor.

Still, Jackson's council made it their mission to find a job best suited for a person. It was best for the community if everyone got to do something they liked and were good at. It was good for morale. So when nothing had stood out as a fit for you at the end of your two week internship, Maria had an idea.

She'd seen the way you carried yourself. You were confident but careful. You listened intently to the instructions you were given for each job and even asked for help where necessary, but you made no contact beyond what was needed. When you stepped into a room, your eyes flitted over the scene, searching out every exit before you took a seat. During gatherings, your leg would bounce indefinitely as you sat on the outer skirts of the crowd, as if you were itching to get away as quickly as possible.

Maria knew the type, of course. Almost everyone that came here had a restlessness about them for their first few weeks. It's hard to settle down when your nervous system has been in fight-or-flight for so long. But it seemed to take you longer to adjust than it had taken most of the others. Usually, people relaxed a little after a month or so. They'd slowly start to warm up and join conversations at dinner or just start talking at the bar, one of the most common places for newcomers to open up and make contact for the first time.

You, however, did no such thing. You were seen at gatherings and in the dining hall, but you kept to yourself, keeping your conversations to the utmost minimum. You showed up for every single job you got selected for, did your work, and then returned home as soon as you got to clock out. It worried her that you still hadn't formed at least one connection. And it reminded her of someone else, a certain someone she happened to be related to.

That's when she spoke to Tommy and suggested that Joel should take you out for patrol. Her husband didn't take much convincing as he quickly caught on to the parallels between you and his brother. "Might be good for him, who knows," he'd said as they'd laid besides each other in bed. "He's doing better, but I just wish he'd try and find someone again." Tommy had turned to face his wife and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Y'know, like I found you." Not a day later, Tommy caught Joel before his shift and dragged him to your house. That had been this morning.

"There's nothing to give. Can we drop it now?" Ellie can sense that Joel's getting annoyed for real now and it pisses her off a little. "Fine," she snaps and starts digging into her own food. She's not sure at first why it's pissing her off. It only comes to her when Joel has already left the dining hall and she's returning her plate. That fucker's not telling me something!

For the first time since you've arrived in Jackson, you have a routine, and you're grateful for it for the same reason you didn't mind getting switched around from job to job: it keeps you busy, and when you're busy, your mind can't wander.

Every morning now, you get up at the crack of dawn. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, you force yourself to take a quick cold shower before your morning coffee. Not only does it wake you up before you get your dose of caffeine, it also helps clear your head. Having a routine has helped with your insomnia somewhat and you occasionally manage to get something between four to six hours a night. On the downside, you're now often plagued with nightmares which you wake from in a cold sweat, panting and with the unnerving feeling that you've been found. By what, you don't know. You're not on the run from anything or anyone. But the feeling remains the same, and it's usually hard to shake for the first few hours of the day.

Going out and getting on a horse helps. You didn't have all that much experience with horseback riding before you started your new job, despite having grown up on a farm. But Joel's teaching you the ropes, figuratively and literally. Often enough, his comments about proper horse-care are the only words you exchange on your early morning rides. Despite the lack of conversation between you two, or maybe because of it, you feel oddly calm when you're doing your patrol rounds. You wouldn't go so far as to call it a feeling of 'peace', but still, you find yourself looking forward to your morning rides more and more. It feels good to be outside and to be doing something that serves not only you, but others too. In a way, you feel like you have a... purpose.

You snort loudly at the thought. Purpose. Like you're doing some kind of extraordinary work out on your patrols when really, you just get to sit on your butt the entire time and look at nature. Big sacrifice you're taking on there, really, you think before you notice that Joel's looking over at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, pff." You wave your hand dismissively in the air. "It's nothing, just had a stupid thought, that's all."

"Yeah?" It's the first time you hear his voice that morning. Quite on par with the rest of your interactions, his morning greetings usually consist of a nod into your direction.

"What was it?"

His inquiry comes as a surprise to you. A little bit of heat creeps into your cheeks, embarrassed that you made any sound to begin with.

"Uhh... I don't really wanna say, to be honest. Like I said, it's stupid."

"Alright." You peek over at him, out of the corner of your eye, and see a small smile twitch on his lips.

You ride on in silence. It's a bit of a grey day, the sky covered in hazy clouds that seem heavy with snow but so far, there's no downpour. You make it to your halfway checkpoint without any incidents, like every day so far. Granted, you've only been on the job for two weeks now, one of which was unofficial as you were still Jeff's replacement; you were only officially appointed to patrol duty last week.

Joel hands you a steaming cup. You wrap your fingers around, happy for a source of warmth for your slightly frozen fingers, but then gag after the first sip. "Eurgh." You pull a face and sniff at your drink before you turn to Joel. "This isn't coffee."

"Nope, ran out yesterday," he replies and takes a sip of his cup, obviously unbothered by its content.

"Uh-huh." You try another sip but end up spitting it back. "Right. What is this, then? Warmed up piss?"

Joel chuckles in response. "Bit too dark for that, ain't it?"

"Not if your kidneys' gone to shit. Say, Joel, when's the last time you had your kidneys checked?"

"How 'bout never?"

You nod with pursed lips. "Sounds about right. Now what in the hell did I do to you for you to serve me this shit?" You place your cup down on the picnic table and slide it over to him. No way in hell you're taking another sip of that again.

Joel shrugs and chucks the content of your cup off to the side before refilling his own cup. "Suit yourself. This's some kind of herbal tea. Doesn't taste great, but does the job when you run outta coffee."

You lean back on the table into the snow. "Yeah, you tell yourself that while you drink your piss. I'm gonna bring my own coffee tomorrow, thanks."

Despite the sky being one big grey cloud, you can still make out its movement as it wanders above you. Weirdly enough, there's barely any wind down where you are.

"What was that stupid thought you had?" His voice interrupts your cloud watching. "Oh." You sit up, propped up on your elbows. "Just some stupid shit about how being out on patrol gives me a purpose." Your voice has taken on a mocking tone and you roll your eyes. "Like we're doing heroic stuff out here when all we do is ride and have a hot drink, or, excuse me," you eye his cup with a wrinkled nose, "a cup of steaming piss."

"Hm." Joel smiles sarcastically and raises his cup to you before downing the rest in one swift go. "Best piss you can get out here." He starts packing up and you climb down from the table to wipe the snow off of you that got stuck to your coat.

"I won't tell Maria you said that," his voice comes from behind you. "Or she'll think that she's done something smart by putting you on patrol."

That same evening, your eyes wander over the tables in the dining hall in search of a spot to sit when you see a girl frantically waiving her arms at you. You find Joel sitting next to her, tugging on her shirt for her to sit down and obviously mumbling something to her with narrowed eyes. The girl keeps at it, unbothered and unrelenting. A smile breaks out on her face when you start to make your way over to them.

"Why do I get the feeling that you want to talk to me?" Your words might not be the kindest, but the smile that goes with your words is.

"Sit, sit!" The young teenager encourages you and you slide into the seat next to her, opposite Joel. He looks fed up, bordering on annoyed.

"Excuse her, she doesn't have any parents so no one ever taught her any manners," he presses out between clenched teeth.

"No, but I have you!" The girl beams at Joel before she returns her focus to you. "I'm Ellie, I live with Joel. It's nice to meet you." As if to prove Joel wrong, she holds out a hand to you and you shake it as you introduce yourself, amusement written all over your face.

"Joel here tells me that you hate his herbal tea too," Ellie says and begins shoveling food into her mouth like there's no tomorrow. You watch in amazement. "Oh, you mean that warm piss he tried to serve me this morning?"

Ellie grins widely. Some little chunks of food fall out of her mouth as she laughs. "That's what I said! See?" She turns to Joel and punches his arm. "I told you that crap is disgusting!"

"Yeah yeah." Joel rubs his arm and gives you an unenthusiastic look. "Do you have to encourage her?"

"Hey, I won't lie to an impressionable young girl." Your hands are raised in defense, but Ellie jumps right in. "I'm not impressionable!"

"No, you're not, that's true. At least you don't think that that 'herbal tea'," you say as you mime air quotes with your fingers, "can pass for anything remotely comparable to coffee."

"I never said it's like coffee. I just said it gets the job done." Even though Ellie's the one wolfing her food down, Joel's already down to his last few bites.

"Sure, if the job is tasting really shitty," Ellie retorts and glances over at you with a sly grin.

"Hey, I'm right there with you, kiddo." This is working up to be the longest conversation you've had in months, but to your surprise, it doesn't feel as tiring as every other interaction you have. It's almost... fun.

"I like her." Ellie points at you with her fork as she chews a humongous bite. "You should come over, play cards or something. I could read you some jokes from my joke book. They're very funny."

"Oh, uhh..." The invitation catches you by surprise. It's not the first invitation you've received since becoming a member of Jackson, but somehow, you find it a lot harder to turn Ellie down than the grown-ups that invited you before.

"You don't have to," Joel quickly chimes in, seemingly having picked up on your discomfort. "The jokes really aren't that good."

"Hey!" Ellie punches his arm again. You're about to reply when Maria suddenly approaches your table with a warm smile on her face. "Hey, what's going on here?"

"I just invited her over for jokes and playing cards," Ellie quickly points out before you can say anything. To neither yours nor Joel's surprise, Maria loves the idea. "That sounds great! You should go. I bet it'll be fun." She smiles warmly at you, but you know what's behind that smile. Go, so you won't be so lonely anymore. Great. You love being set-up. You look over at Ellie's face and see the excitement in her eyes. Can't say no now, can I, you think and sigh.

"Uhh, yeah, sure. Sounds great."

"Aw, yeah!" Ellie beams, but you can only smile faintly. What have I gotten myself into?

"Here, this is a good one. What is the leading cause of divorce in long-term marriages? - A stalemate!" Ellie breaks out into a giggle and you can't help but snort.

"Oh, or wait, this one. I'm glad I know sign language. It's become quite handy." Her laugh is shrill and light and infectious. You watch Ellie kicks her feet in delight and you can't help but think about how you won't ever hear her laugh like that again and right away, the hole in your chest reminds you that it's there, and that it's big and wide open and dark and hurting like hell. You want to laugh with Ellie and cry your eyes out at the same time.

You wrap your arms around your chest in an attempt to keep yourself from falling apart as Ellie chatters on in the background. There's a dark spot in the grain of the kitchen table. You focus on it until the pain subsides enough to where you feel like you can breathe again.

"Sorry, what?" You say as you realize that Joel's looking at you, holding up two glasses.

"I asked if you want something to drink." You thought your zoning-out went unnoticed, but with the way Joel's looking at you, you're not too sure. There's something in his eyes that you can't quite put a finger on, but you don't like it. It's too close to pity, and you don't need any of that.

"Oh, uh, yeah sure, thanks." Joel pours you a glass of water and sets it in front of you, then takes the seat opposite of you. You still feel like he's watching you, like you're under scrutiny. It's uncomfortable.

"So, how do you guys know each other?" You ask extra nonchalantly in an attempt to get the focus off of you. Joel leans back in his chair with a slightly pained look on his face, almost like he'd prefer if you'd asked any question but that one.

"He took me across the country for money," Ellie pipes up as she rests her chin in the palm of her hands. You notice that Joel shoots her a warning look, but Ellie doesn't seem to notice or care.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she shrugs, as if it's the most common way for two people to meet. "But eventually he grew so fond of me that no money in the world could have been enough to give me up. So he kept me."

"Huh." The way that Joel's rolling his eyes is adding to the grin that you notice has spread across your face.

"Next time someone offers me so much as a bent spoon for you, I'm handing you over," he grumbles and immediately gets elbowed in the ribs.

"He has to say that so people won't be suspicious. I've tried to escape twice, but this son of a bitch won't let me go." Despite her words, the affection in her eyes as she sticks her tongue out at Joel is unmissable. It's heart-warming and heart-wrenching at the same time. One arm wanders across your chest again to keep yourself together, but there's still a smile on your face as you lean over to Ellie.

"Blink twice if you need help," you whisper loudly to her and can't help but laugh when she begins to squeeze her eyes rapidly in a very overplayed manner.

"How 'bout you? Where're you from?" Joel asks when the laughter has died down. Both their faces are on you now, with clear interest written all over them.

"Small place near Peoria originally, 'bout 3 hours outside of Chicago. We had a cattle farm." Your mind wanders back to your hometown. It feels like a lifetime ago that all you had to care about was livestock and the smell of manure.

"Aww, did you have little baby cows?" Ellie's eyes glitter with excitement. You smile. "We sure did. Had a bunch of calfs every year. They'd suck on your thumb if you let them. It was pretty cute."

"Would'a thought you'd work with livestock here too, then, 'stead of going on patrol with me." There it is again, that watchful look in Joel's eyes that makes you feel like he's trying to open your head up and look inside. "What can I say, Joel," you say and lean in as you go for the attack. "You're just so damn irresistible."

Ellie makes a gagging sound and then grins as you shoot her a wink. One look back at Joel tells you that your attack landed. Clearly, compliments (even fake ones) rank high on the list on things that make him uncomfortable.

After your first games-and-jokes-night, Ellie invites you over periodically. You spend two to three evenings at the Miller household where you play one of the board games available for borrowing from the town's conference hall or just go for a round of cards. Maria appears very pleased when she catches drift of this new arrangement. You try to ignore it as much as possible. You're surprised by yourself and how much you enjoy these evenings with Joel and his surrogate daughter, but you try not to think about why you could be enjoying them so much. Anytime your thoughts drift anywhere near that particular area, your emotions shut down and you become unresponsive for a couple of minutes.

Joel noticed it the first evening at his house. He sees it happen again when you and him are out on morning patrol and he's just told you about how much Ellie enjoys her time with you when they have you over. You smile and begin to answer that you feel the same way, that it reminds you of - but that's where you stop midsentence and and your facial features turn from pleased to absent.

Joel watches as one of your arms snakes across your chest and latches on to your other arm, gloved fingers digging into your coat with such force that it looks like you're holding on for dear life. He wants to ask, but he doesn't. He doesn't know how and curses himself. Maria'd know, he thinks. Hell, even Ellie would. But he's not a woman, he's just Joel, and talking about feelings has never been his strong suit, not even when Sarah was still there.

So he just watches you out of the corner of his eye, not knowing what else to do, until you slowly come back to life. He keeps quiet for the rest of the ride, not wanting to say anything that could cause you to retreat back to wherever you just went, but for the first time, he can't shake the urge of wanting to know. It's none of your business, a voice tells him in his head, over and over again, and he knows that, but the urge doesn't pass. Something about the way you shut down, about the moments in which it happens, it seems all too familiar to him and he can't help but think back to what his brother said the day that he was dragged to your doorstep. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy." Joel thinks about the implications of what that could mean and just hopes, prays, that he's wrong.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

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[rom-e-o]

Oof, our little conversation between the boys has got me considering things. Imagine Adonis and Connie double-dating with Bess before she and Wolf finally come together. I doubt it's every date, maybe mostly only on the ones where Bess is meeting with guys from dating apps (I doubt she had a very long stint trying those) or guys she's been set up with. If they don't meet the guy on the first date and he and Bess make it to the third and Bess is liking him, that's a double date, as she wants potential suitors to meet her friends fairly early. They are an important part of her life after, Connie especially. And usually the guy cuts things off quick after that for various reasons.

Just imagine Adonis watching all of these young guys flit in and out of Bess' sphere, most of whom she doesn't click with, the handful she does leaving her in the dust as fast as they came in. It reminds him a bit of Charlie when they grew up, actually. Then turning around and seeing Charlie and Bess together and him just trying his hardest not to wring his brother's neck for refusing to see what he so obviously sees. "These plonkers suck the life out of her and you give it back! And you still don't believe you're RIGHT for her?! You TIT!"

Okay, so ... I kind of ran with this idea. For 15 pages. I've been mulling this over for a long time. I ended up turning it into a little fic, with some additional help from the chatted conversations we talked about the Twins having, haha.

Adonis can see Bess serves better, and decides to take matters into his own hands. sometimes, you need the power of an outside perspective!

All's Well That Ends Well

“Yeah, um, this isn’t going to work, love.” Markus, age 31, at the jazz club.

“Have you thought about a push-up bra? You’d look bangin’ if you showed more skin!” Cesar, age 29, at the boat races.

“What chit doesn’t sleep with a guy on the first date nowadays? Prude.” Brandon, age 26, at the nightclub.

“Look, you’re nice, but … I just don’t think we’re clicking. I’m sorry. I-I don’t want to waste your time. Maybe I can … call you instead?” Ahmed, age 32, at the ice-skating rink.

Bess sighed. He’d never even asked for her phone number, but she let him go without argument. Truth be told, they didn’t have much in common anyway. He was a graphic designer with his eyes on his career. Plus, he had seemed more interested in casual banter than a seriously romantic relationship. A taciturn half-date was all it took to determine that.

“Sure,” she called back with a weak wave. “Be safe getting home.”

“You as well, Elizabeth.”

At least he was kind about it, she thought. That was way more than she could say for a lot of the others. I hope he finds someone he clicks with.

As Bess watched the tall, handsome man slowly skate toward the entrance of the outdoor ice rink, she reclined against the iron railing. Her body sank forward, heavy with disappointment in someone she didn’t even know. It made her feel … silly? No. Defeated? Yes, it felt much more accurate.

Hot tears burned her eyes, and she cursed herself for it. The last thing she wanted after another bad date was to cry in public about it.

“Bess?”

At the sound of her best friend’s inquiring voice, Bess lifted her head, the furred earmuffs jostling slightly atop her obsidian curls. She was met with the sight of Constance skating toward her, arms stuck out ahead of her and her fingers splayed. With her knees knocked inward and her ankles shaking more severely than windchimes in a thunderstorm, she looked completely helpless in a way that even her fashionable brown coat and pink cashmere dress couldn’t distract from.

“H-Help,” Constance squawked awkwardly, sailing forward at a snail’s pace.

The sight caused Bess to forget her tears and literally puff a cloud of laughter into the winter air.

“You’re looking a little lost out there.” She quickly yanked up the lapel of her powder blue coat and blotted a tear away. “Wasn’t it your idea to go skating?”

Constance laughed as she clamped onto Bess and held on. “I-It wasn’t my brightest, I’ll admit.”

The redhead then paused before glancing around, noticing the absence of company. Bess dreaded the inevitable question she knew her soul-sister wanted to ask, but it never came. Instead, she saw Connie looking out over the ice in mute understanding. That, for some reason, stung worse.

“He wasn’t into it,” Bess explained, answering the unspoken question, “And, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t either. We couldn’t find a single thing to talk about, Con.”

“I’m so sorry, Bess.”

“…Con, be honest, is something wrong with me?”

“No!” Her grip tightened as the word surged from her lips.

“You would tell me if there was, right?” Bess asked, the tears threatening to return. Her own legs began to tremble in her skates. “B-Because all these guys keep—”

“You’re putting yourself out there to a whole ocean of fish,” Constance reminded her softly, reaching up to help dab a warm tear away from her friend’s cheek.

“And I’m only attractive to the losers, I guess.”

“Oh, Bess—”

"Ladies?”

The deeper, London-accented voice interjected itself politely into the conversation. The inquiring voice belonged to Ebenezer Charles Scrooge (nicknamed “Adonis” by the lovestruck Connie), who had just successfully escaped from a young entrepreneur trying to use their chance meeting at the ice rink as a chance to pitch his extremely niche business idea.

Earlier in the evening, he’d been the one to serve as Constance’s lifeline on the ice so Bess and her date could have some time on the double-date to be alone and chat more. However, upon being dragged unwillingly into the earlier conversation, he’d turned around to find his girlfriend missing.

Seeing that she was clinging to Bess’ arm for stability, he initially felt relief, then was hit with a wave of uncertainty. He quickly noted that the young man that Bess had brough on their outing was nowhere to be seen. Not only that, but the ladies both wore twin masks of melancholy. That most certainly wasn’t promising.

“I say, is everything alright?” he asked again, more softly the second time.

Bess tried to nod with her usual spunkiness, but her misty eyes deceived nobody. His face fell at the obvious sadness in her eyes.

“Oh, my dear girl,” he started, but Bess shook her head quickly.

“No, no, no,” she said quickly, blinking her eyes rapidly in a desperate attempt to hide tears. “Please, don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I promise you. I-I was just telling Con. We weren’t really clicking, anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, studying her expression. She didn’t seem fully well, he noted. Not as well, and definitely not as casual, as he was pretending to be. “I see.”

“Plus, he was nice about it. Way nicer than a lot of the other guys.”

She sniffled again, despite herself, and Connie’s reassuring grip tightened. “Oh, Bess … what can we do for you, dear?”

“Shall we hang up the skates and go for a stroll instead?” Ebenezer posed quickly. His skill of thinking on his feet in business negotiations occasionally came in handy in other areas of life. “You know, I have an idea! We passed Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland when the sun was still setting – I’m sure festivities are in full swing by now. I can hail us a cab, and we’ll be there in no time.”

“Ah, that sounds wonderful! Come, why don’t we—”

“No, please, you two are still on a date,” she reminded them, inhaling with a hiss. A date I’m probably ruining for you, she moped internally, knowing that vocalizing that statement would only make her feel even more sour. This wasn’t even the first time this had happened.

“Please, enjoy yourselves. Go, skate.”

Even if she was having a miserable time, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her best friend’s date with a man she genuinely seemed to like. Even better, he seemed to return those affections proudly and promptly.

She could never forgive herself if her own emotions even played a slight role in sabotaging anything.

“What about you?” Adonis asked in genuine concern. The prospect of leaving someone in a vulnerable state alone amidst a sea of people was unappealing, especially since she was becoming quite a close friend of his as well. He felt compassion and empathy for her.

After all … both he, and his twin brother, had been in similar situations.

She laughed, trying to make merry despite her resignation. “Dates are usually for two people, right?”

“Nonetheless—"

“I just … think I’d like a moment alone,” Bess finally admitted. “Just to think. Breathe.”

Constance tenderly laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. The look on her face must have been exceptionally dire because Bess snorted fondly at the sight. A spark of playful sass returned as she said, “Con, it’s okay. Thank you for worrying, really … but it’s just a bad date. There are worse things. I’m not gonna go rogue or jet off into the night, okay? I promise.”

The words were delivered with such poise that both were genuinely surprised when she gently unwound her arm from Constance’s embrace and quickly stepped onto the ice. With an artful strut, she set off across the silvery surface like a swan slipping onto a frozen lake, her curls spiraling behind her like inky ribbons. Flecks of ice danced off her heels, sending small puffs of glitter into the night air with each swish of her legs.

“Bess, please wait!” Constance wobbled toward the ice to give chase but was quickly rendered off-balance without anything to lean on. She flailed her arms briefly before Ebenezer swept in and caught her. One arm circled her waist while the other grabbed the railing for added stability.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked, but she wasn’t listening.

She only stared ahead at the silvery trails that her friend had left behind.

Ebenezer followed her gaze, his mind pondering what to do. After a moment of searching the crowds, he set his jaw firmly, his intention hardened. He urged Constance upright and, still holding onto her, walked her over to a nearby bench located just at the edge of the rink.

“I’m going after Bess,” he said, his hand lofting from her waist to cup her cheek. “I’ll make sure she’s okay. If she really wants to be left alone, I’ll respect her wishes and won’t pressure her, but…”

But he couldn’t just let her go off alone and in such a state, especially if there was something he could do to help.

“I’m sorry to leave you,” he said.

“No, please do,” Constance said, leaning into his touch. “Please check on her. I think it might be helpful for you to talk to her. From your perspective as a gentleman, I mean.”

It was an inappropriate time to color from praise, but he allowed himself the brief indulgence. He nodded, and after one last plea for her to please not try to move, he stepped onto the ice and drifted to the other side of the rink.

All things considered, the outdoor rink was larger in size than one might expect.

Despite being in London’s financial district, which was notorious for hair-wide alleyways and tangled footpaths, a decent chunk of the normally busy roadway had been temporarily blocked off for the short-term installation. The outdoor space couldn’t hold a candle in size to large skate-ways or rinks like the ones at Canary Wharf or Kensington Palace, but it was a lovely novelty for the many wealthy individuals who worked or resided close to the district.

As other couples held hands and skated beneath the archways of twinkling holiday lights, Bess found herself skating to an alcove off to the side. The area was somewhat desolate, its ethereal tranquility only slightly marred by the encroaching shadows of the nearby skyscrapers.

In fact, other than the unavoidable urban sprawl around them, the city had done a good job at making the installation feel festive. Lit sculptures of angels and icy archways lined the perimeter, and the feathery layer of snow perfectly dusted the overhang of wreaths and giant jingle bells suspended above the ice. It was a scene all too befitting of a holiday greeting card.

The spectacle of it all reminded Bess of when she’d watched holidays special of skaters in mink coats and pristine white skates dancing on ice at Rockefeller Center in New York. The setting had looked so … unreal. Like it was a movie set, not a place where real people would skate.

However, she’d never skated at Rockefeller. No, her memories involved her father taking her to a frozen lake back in Ohio, where she remembered him lacing her tiny ice skates and her laughing until her lungs were sore from all their antics. George would keep her little hands warm by caging them in his, and they would spend the entire midday practicing twirls and swoops.

She’d taken to ice-skating somewhat naturally back then, and even on a rink of crowded people, she’d been able to bob and weave through them without issue. The movements brought her no joy, however. Skating wasn’t something she liked to do alone. It wasn’t any fun without a partner.

“Get a grip on yourself,” Bess mumbled under her breath, clutching her gloved hands into fists.

As if the scenario of crying in public wasn’t humiliating enough, she didn’t want to be seen crying in front of her best friend’s boyfriend.

Yet, it seemed fate had other things in store.

“E-Elizabeth!”

The call made her breath stall in her frosted lungs. She turned quickly, operating only on instinct. “W-Wo…?”

No, it wasn’t him. The voice belonged to Ebenezer, who was skating her way, his cheeks (and nose) red from the cold.

That was right, she thought. If it would have been Ebenezar Charles Scrooge (nicknamed “Wolf”), Ebenezer’s twin brother, he would have called her ‘Bess’ without a second thought. The two had met and fostered a strong friendship since Bess’ time in London. They were close, and good friends.

Very, very good friends.

…She’d been so excited at the prospect of it being him that she had thrown logic out the window.

“W-What are you doing?” she asked him. “W-Where is Connie?”

“Sitting down on a bench,” he said with a light laugh. He bent slightly at the waist to catch his breath. “Don’t worry, I did not leave her stranded on the ice.”

“Well, thank goodness for that!” she replied, arching an obsidian brow. “…Did you come to check on me?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, sinking against the railing. “Please. I told you already. I’ve already made a royal mess of way too many double-dates—”

“I don’t recall you making a royal mess of anything.”

“—And now I’ve pulled you away from your actual date to come and coddle me.”

“I’m not here to coddle you,” he said, drifting beside her and assuming a post at the railing beside her. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Bess glanced up at him, her gaze forlorn … but slightly curious, perhaps? Perhaps cautious was a better word. “Eliza—erm, Bess. Apologies. I … I don’t know you as well as my brother does, but I feel like you need to know something.”

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze slightly. “I, erm, don’t know much about courtship or dating, I suppose is what it’s called now. I only dated one woman in my twenties, and it didn’t end as I would have liked it to. Now, with Connie … I find myself remembering what it felt like to be in the company of an admired lady. The way I want to hold and conduct myself has changed greatly, and I want to make sure that she feels respected and happy.”

He swung his head toward her. “When I see a woman like you struggling to find a man that treats you how you deserve to be treated, it is beyond frustrating.”

“Frustrating?”

“Yes. You are the type of woman any half-decent man would love to have as a partner. To see all these immature louts with no positive qualities brush you off as if you’re a leftover cut from the butcher? It’s a disgrace.”

She blinked her eyes slowly. “Y-You don’t think I’m the problem? Really?”

“I know you’re not the problem,” he said, his tone adamant as granite. “My brother would agree heartily with that, just so you know.”

“Wolf would?” Bess asked, perking up a bit. Now she was curious, Adonis noted with amusement. Not that he was surprised. He could obviously see that she fancied him. Constance could as well. As could everyone else in their growing social network. The only thing more obvious than her adoration of him was the fact that he knew his twin brother absolutely pined over her in return, and had for many months.

Perhaps he could get two birds with one stone, he thought.

“You recall me mentioning that I didn’t have much experience at dating, yes?” he started. “Well, Charlie does have more experience. He’s had a few girlfriends, some more serious than the others.”

He treaded carefully, unsure how much Bess knew. There was only so much of his brother’s dirty laundry he felt comfortable airing. When she remained silent, he continued on.

“Well, there’s a reason for that. You see, he always puts his whole heart into each relationship. He wants true partnership, not a fling. Oh, he’ll blush and deny it all day long, but after decades of loneliness, he wants to find someone to settle down with. To love, and to marry.”

Bess’ heart leapt in her chest as the words resonated with her.

“With these other ladies, it was obvious to see their priorities laid elsewhere,” Adonis said. “Certainly not in romance. He would plan lovely dates tailored around the lady’s interests, he would buy gifts … he would lay his heart bare for each one of them … and I watched each one stomp all over it. They always cracked and admitted that it was for the money and would leave. A shameless lot.”

“Multiple women rejected him?” she asked, unable to make her disbelief. How was that possible? She knew he’d dated before – they were friends, after all, so she knew that much – but not that his struggles had been so relatable.

“Yes,” he replied, the word more or a sigh than spoken sentiment. “Every time he introduced me to a new date of his, I knew how it would end. On some level, I think he did too.”

“Then … why did he keep …?”

Adonis’ brow slacked, the wrinkles smoothing and his gaze dipping to the ground. In that moment, he looked almost forlorn. “Who wants to be alone forever?”

He watched as the woman across from him fell silent, angling her face just slightly away. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he saw her nod.

Just as words threatened to fail him, an idea sparked in his mind. Quickly, he turned in the dark to seek out a specific building tucked amongst the other financial high-rises and modern storefronts of London’s financial district.

As his eyes fell upon the set of tall windows belonging to S&C Financials, he saw that the lights in the office were all.

Specifically, the light in the room he knew to be his brother’s office was on. It glowed like a lighthouse beacon in a sea of otherwise black windows.

There was a certain someone that could lift her spirits more than he or Connie ever could.

“I’m sorry, but I have to step away for a moment,” he told her. His hand went to his coat pocket, as if he was fumbling for his phone. “A call, I’m afraid. I’ll be right back! Please stay on the rink, yes?”

Bess let him go with a wave, not paying his excuse much mind. After all, he’d given her many other fascinating points to mull over.

<><><> 

Wolf tapped away at his desktop keyboard with one hand while the other cradled his forehead, his fingers tapping an aggravated rhythm against his temple.

On the monitor was a long list of financial transactions that another London nonprofit had submitted for their review. They were having their expenses audited and had reached out to S&C Financials, who they saw as peers in a sea of red tape and building paperwork piles, for advice as budgeting for the next financial quarter quickly approached. It was a favor, through and through, and Wolf was now paying the price for kindness.

They posed the mystery that their donation withdrawal figures from their online accounts were vastly out of sync, but the accountant swore up and down the numbers from the reports were true. ‘I pulled right from a CSV report,’ they’d added, as if that would help.

For cash donations, yes, he’d been correct. The transfer rate was 100%.

However, for digital contributions, he hadn’t factored in service fees. Now, he was staring at a list of donations with 5% deductions, creating a different between the gross and net totals. The non-profit had submitted their figures based on the gross donation provided, before the deduction was ultimately process out of the overall donation cost.

Most charities enabled an automatic processing fee, similar to a tax, to be applied additionally at check-out as a loophole. This non-profit had not.

“How in the bloody hell did they make such an error?” he asked himself with a sigh. He reread the email and groaned, sitting upright. “Of all the—”

Beep, beep.

The sound of the office’s entry pad recognizing a valid I.D. snapped him out of his frustration. He blinked, checking the clock on his desktop to see if it could have been security making hourly rounds. No such luck – there were still thirty-six minutes left in the hour.

With that possibility null, he slowly craned his neck to peer out through his open office door. “Hello? Who is there?”

Footsteps approached his office, and for a second, he thought that perhaps one of the custodial staff members had entered the space. Yet, the footfalls sounded too awkward and fast. Was someone breaking in?

Just when he thought to maybe reach for a paperweight or letter-opener, a familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. It was his face, his figure, his appearance entirely, except for shorter hair.

Wolf heaved a heavy sigh of relief, sinking back into his editor’s chair. His blunt fingertips steepled in front of his face. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You must have heard me key in,” Adonis said.

“You never come in on Saturdays anymore,” he argued. “Not since you and Constance started courting.”

“Aw, this that an admission that you miss me?”

“Hardly,” Wolf replied sarcastically, his attention drifting back to the screen. His fingers began to type away at the keyboard again, the keys polished and dented from ample use over the years. “The last thing I need on top of our list of plentiful inquiries is you and our secretary canoodling outside my door.”

He chose to disregard that comment. “Ah, so you’re working.”

“I was, dear brother. Is there a reason you popped in?” Wolf paused his typing, then cocked his lead like a confused pup. “Gods, your nose is as red as a tomato. And … are those ice skates?”

“Yes, actually. From tonight’s double-date.”

“Ah, that’s right, Bess mentioned that,” he said, his demeanor shifting slightly as he spoke her name. “She said she was going one with someone. Never mentioned a name.” Or maybe she had, and he was too disappointed to remember.

“Yes.”

“But now you’re here.”

“Obviously,” Adonis replied, getting impatient. They didn't have infinite time.

“…Constance already dumped you, then?”

“No! She did not – ugh, no, but we did lose someone. Bess’ date. I don’t know the idiot’s name. Who even cares?”

“Wait, Bess’ date … left her?”

Without invitation, Adonis stepped inside and dropped the skates on the floor by the chair in front of the large desk. Small clumps of shaved ice flaked off on the rug, then melted instantly on contact. He sank into the chair, his heavy coat scrubbing against the leather backing, and sighed.

“Stop working and come to the ice rink.”

One of Wolf’s bushy brows lofted. “W-Whatever for?”

He knew what for, Adonis noted, patience waning. “For Bess.”

Realization sparked in his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Charlie, the woman dashed away from Connie and I to be alone, and I found her trying to not cry on the other side of the rink, all alone,” he said. “She’s bloody devastated.”

The note of silence was also deafening. “She must have really liked him, I suppose.”

“Oh, you are a bloody MORON!”

“What do you want me to do?” Wolf asked, splaying his arms out. “I’m sorry Bess’ date left her.  The man is a moron! But my presence would not help her feel better, I’m sure. I’d muddy things up and make things even more miserable, I’m sure.”

“You obviously don’t know how much she cares for you.”

“There is nothing but friendship between us,” Wolf said, his eyes glinting like the twin edges of a sharpened knife. “Stop pressing it.”

“No, Charlie, and do you know why?” he asked. “Because I stopped pressing the issue with you, and look what happened. You went on date after date with these obvious harpies of women for years, and then took advantage of you and left you in the dust every time. I held my tongue for decades, and I’m sick of it. Especially since Bess is facing those same challenges, and she doesn’t deserve it either.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” he conceded. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Then go down there and be with her, Charlie!” he said. “You want to go, don’t you?”

Wolf looked away guiltily. His affection for Bess had been something he had pushed down for too many months to count. There were challenges, he’d always say, specifically regarding their age gap. She was a young and radiant woman, full of life and energy.

She deserved some young, handsome, lucky young man that could sweep her off her feet and give her all the romantic dreams she desired. She deserved to be courted with flowers and outings by a man who knew she loved roses and browsing local markets. A man who would indulge her love of thrifting and antiques. A man who would make her lunches on busy days at the hospital. A man who would have the courage to propose to her with the perfect engagement ring.

She deserved a man who would want a big family, and to move to the countryside with her for a quiet life with all the animals and pets she desired.

He knew all her romantic dreams and realized with a pang in his chest that he also might be the only man in the world that she had trusted them to.

“You know, it’s a wild concept, but if a girl makes you sight wistfully every time you think of her … you’re supposed to ask her out,” Adonis interjected. “Woo her, yes? You’re familiar with the concept?”

Returning to reality, Wolf flashed his brother another icy glare. “Sammy, if I were 20, 15, even 10 years younger, I would. But, you know as well as I do, youth is no longer on my side while Bess is brimming with it. She doesn't want an old duffer like me. She deserves someone closer to her age. An old, washed-up man like me is not the future a woman like her deserves.”

“Charlie, all these men Bess has been dating and given up on? They were all close to her age.” Adonis reminded him. “The man who walked away from her today looked to be in his thirties, and all the dates prior? Also, in their twenties and thirties. Age doesn’t seem to be a key factor here, Charlie.

“All the young men I've seen give her attention, she doesn't look at ANY of them the same way she looks at you!”

That sentiment gave Wolf pause, his eyes widening in genuine surprise for the first time during that discussion.

“These men,” Wolf started slowly, “She … really doesn’t seem interested? At all?”

“It’s like night and day,” Ebenezer huffed, leaning bag in the chair and crossing one long leg over the other. “These men, they act like boys. Ruffians, even! They’re crude and handsy, or completely ice her out when she tells them that she’s not interested in going straight to bed with them!”

The idea of some brutish stag trying to coax Bess into sleeping with him filled Ebenezar with a potent sense of disgust.  

All the while, his brother continued, “She kicks them to the curb, as she should, but  … she looks so bloody defeated each time. Like she feels like it her fault.”

“Feels like it’s her fault? H-How could…?”

“Bess is an amazing woman. You know that. She’s witty, charming, strong and incredibly beautiful. But she’s also sensitive. Caring. She constantly puts the needs of other people above her own, and she’s humble to a fault.”

Wolf smiled sadly, yet fondly. That was all true, he knew.

“She’s a whole, complex person, not an amusing, shiny trinket. None of these boys can appreciate her. None of them pull out her chair, make her laugh, roll their eyes at her puns, or even hold her hand. None except you.”

Wolf closed his eyes against the final statement, as if he anticipated the blow it would deal to his heart. None of the pain was cushioned.

In a flash, he bolted up from his chair and went to the office window. He peered out and looked down onto the street below, spotting the rink instantly even amidst the darkness and snowfall.

He spotted her instantly, standing alone amidst the other skaters. Her raven hair, her creamy skin, her effortless grace as she stood there on her skates in a sea of pearly white frost.

“…Stop getting my hopes up, alright?” he repeated, his breath fogging the glass from how close he was to the pane. “If she happens to have a … small flight of fancy for me, I’m sure it will pass when she finds a suitor more like her. Bess still has her whole life ahead of her, and I won’t ruin it by interjecting myself into her story.”

“Age isn’t the issue here, Charlie, it’s your stubbornness and self-sabotaging streak. You fancy her too. That’s why you seek her out. Do you really want your stubbornness to rob you of a chance at happiness?"

His fingers gripped the sill until his knuckles turned white.

"Charlie, Bess is different. The way she acts with you … it’s different from the others. She could be the one. You could be each other’s—”

“Even if she’s the one for me, I can’t be the one for her. I care more for Bess’ happiness than I ever could my own.”

“But do you care more for her happiness than your stubborn pride and need to be right?” Adonis asked. “Because the fact is, Charlie, in theory she could have any eligible man in the world, and that includes YOU. And what if YOU'RE the one who can make her happy? What if you're the key factor of her happiness?"

“…It can’t be me.”

“Why not?”

Because it's too good to be true. “It just can’t.”

“Okay, well, I used to think the same thing, and I was wrong. Bloody wrong, and Charlie, it felt amazing to be wrong about being unlovable.”

His brother’s targeted word pinned his body, and mind, to stillness. “... You actually think Bess could... love me?”

“Think it? I believe with every fiber of my being that she could love you. In fact, I believe she does. Deeply. A woman doesn't just learn how to make a man's favorite lunch the exact way he likes and bring it to him at his office if she's just a friend, Charlie. No matter how good of a friend she is. She doesn’t stay day and night with you when you're sick as a dog with the bronchitis taking care of you, risking her own health all the while, if she's just a friend.”

He remembered that. His memories were hazy from the fever, but he’d remember her gentle touch anywhere.

“Charlie, that girl is in love with you. Madly. And she’s right down there, waiting for someone. It should be you.”

Ebenezar continued to stare down at her, unable to look away. Was it really possible, in some wonderful twist of fate that his happiness and the happiness of someone he cared for so much could actually be intertwined?

He didn’t spare the time to think. Without even turning his computer off, he strutted out of his office and to the coat rack near the front door. He practically sent the pole to the floor as he ripped the coat off and threw it on, walking forward all the while.

He only stopped briefly at the stairwell to check that he had his wallet. Once he felt its outline, he pressed on.

After all, he’d need it for the skate rental.

Standing so still was starting to make her cold. Even her thick socks and tights couldn’t keep the chill out for much longer.

Bess glanced around again, checking to see if Adonis was on his way back to her. She couldn’t quite remember why he’d made such a swift exit. Admittedly, she’d been distracted at the time, but she wondered what could have pulled him away from not just her, but also Connie.

“Maybe I should go back to her,” she muttered to herself. “Keep her company, at least until Adonis comes back.”

Then, she could make her own graceful exit from the whole night. She could leave the happy couple to the remainder of date, sparing them any further awkwardness, while she called a cab and went back to the cottage. She could uncork a bottle of wine and soak in a bath. That sounded nice.

After checking the traffic around her, she pushed off the railing and skated into an opening between the other skaters. She sailed down with her head down, keeping pace with the others, her eyes upon the ice as cold air tossed her curls pleasantly.

Her posture did not allow her to see a familiar silhouette follow her onto the ice, then quickly catch up to her because of his long legs. It was only when she saw an unfamiliar shadow approaching that she looked up. Thinking she had accidentally drifted off course and into another skater, she was ready to apologize. Yet the words froze upon her lips like the snowflakes themselves when she felt the stranger slip their hand into hers.

Even in its leather glove, she knew that hand anywhere.

Wolf smiled as their eyes met, and he pulled her from the path of the other skaters and into the center of the rink. There, he led her into a playful spin, twin fingers twined as he lifted his arm and watched her pirouette slowly.

When she resumed her normal stance, she was breathless. And delighted.

“Wolf!” she cried, her smile wide and eyes alit with surprise. “H-How did …”

“I was working upstairs and saw you on the ice,” he said, almost sounding sheepish despite his easy smile. “I … don’t know if you’re still interested in skating. I know it’s getting quite late and chilly out, but—”

“I’d love to,” Bess interjected. She almost cursed her own eagerness, but his own matching grin wiped any doubt from her mind. “I didn’t know you could ice skate.”

“I’m only average,” he said, “Not nearly as skilled as you. It was quite tricky to reach you, you know.”

He chuckled and winked at her as they moved. Hands still clasped, he led the way, skating backwards while she did another playful spin. With their bodies coming together like two dancers in a ballroom, they waltzed upon the ice, their legs moving in perfect tandem. All the while, they talked easily.

“See? You are quite magnificent,” he said, pleased.

“Says the man who can skate backwards,” she noted, arching a brow at him suspiciously. “’Only average’ my butt, good sir.”

“Haha, I can be humble, I suppose.”

“Too humble for your own good, more like it.” She punctuated the sentence with a smirk, and she swore his cheeks turned a shade pinker. Perhaps it was just the cold.

As they danced, Bess chanced a glance over to the bench where she thought Connie might be seated. Her desire to check on her friend was still present, after all. Sure enough, she was there, but Adonis was now by her side. She couldn’t make out the words being exchanged, but Constance looked delighted.

She saw her jump up and pull Adonis into a tight embrace. The poor man had to grab the back of the bench in order to not fall over, but judging from the resonant laughter he let out, he didn’t mind the snafu.

By the time she pulled him into a deep kiss, she reckoned he’d forgotten all about it.

Glancing up at Wolf, she saw he was watching the couple as well. When they kissed, he rolled his eyes and refocused on her, shaking his head slightly.

“Ohhh, don’t be like that, they’re quite the pair,” Bess said. “Your brother is very sweet, by the way.”

“He has his moments,” Wolf admitted with a light laugh. “Do not tell him so. His head is already too full. He’ll start giving you brotherly advice.”

“Aw, come now. Would that be so bad?”

He hummed in thought and leaned in to push a loose curse away from her lovely eyes.

“…Well, I suppose not,” he relented easily.

She stared up at him inquisitively, curious about his sudden tone change. Her gaze held him captive, and hand lingered on her cheek a bit longer than needed. For that moment, the world stilled, and she felt happiness.

Immense happiness. With him.

“No matter,” he said, smiling down at her as he led her into another spirited twirl. “All’s well that ends well, as they say.”

As she stared up at his inspiring blue eyes, for the first time in a long time … she felt like perhaps that phrase could be true.

I had way, WAY too much fun writing this! thank you so much for the suggestion @quill-pen. Adonis is already accumulating hours at the "good brother-in-law" factory, haha. <3

[linkemon]

Home (Zuko x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]. ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ, ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇꜱ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ."

— I'd like a refill of jasmine tea. — Iroh was happily lounging on the couch.

Zuko sighed. His uncle looked almost healthy. He could make the brew himself. However, he willingly took advantage of the privileges of a sick person. The boy was forced to jump around him and serve him. He adjusted the pillows, listened to the nagging and also prepared drinks. The latter took the most time. Iroh was an expert and as a result, he was not satisfied with the first drink he came across. Usually [Reader] saved the situation. As a healer, she knew these things. In addition, she quickly became the favourite of the Dragon of the West.

The prince headed towards the kitchen. He hoped he would find the tray soon. The little temple was truly beautiful but there was a happy mess everywhere. Some rooms were used for drying herbs, others were converted into granaries and others into sick rooms. During the war, this must have been of particular importance. Currently, the only people who visited here were those from the villages below the hill. And now he and his injured uncle too.

[Reader] found them unconscious in the nearby forest. A chance encounter with a unit of Earth Kingdom soldiers ended in disaster. The boy's cuts and bruises healed quickly but he had strained his fire magic. The first day he woke up, he felt a strange emptiness. He couldn't do anything. There was no question of searching for the Avatar in this state. Only three days ago he managed to create a flame large enough to burn the wood in the fireplace. The healer, like Iroh, claimed that the condition of his tired soul was responsible for his illness. So, to heal it, he did all sorts of things. Starting with weeding the garden, sorting medicines and ending with cleaning up after Aiiro. The big, blue peacock gave him the most problems. The extremely proud animal did not like to move. He had to push it as hard as he could to get it to move. Sometimes it even snapped its beak but it never hurt him. After feeding, he felt like hitting it with a broom but he always remembered that it was that thing that had brought him to the temple, so he refrained.

Zuko took the tea leaves, the kettle and the clay cups. He put it all on the tray and headed back towards the living room. However, a familiar voice caught his attention:

— I'll say it one last time. They are my guests. You have no right to demand that I hand them over! — [Reader] was standing at the entrance to the temple.

— Consider this, even if we leave them alone according to the law, they can still convict you of treason. I say this as a friend.

The prince looked at the man behind the door. Slightly worn, green clothes and a straw hat marked the farmer. He must have come from Hefei. There were no other settlements nearby large enough to farm.

— Is this a threat? — The girl clenched her fist. — My family has been serving people for generations. We don't ask who they are, we just treat them. My grandmother delivered your mother, my mother delivered you and I delivered your children...

— That's different! They murdered innocent people! Our entire nation suffers because of them! — Hate burned in the man's eyes.

Zuko knew that look well. Almost everyone looked at him that way. The Earth Nation, the Water Nation, the Fire Nation after they were banished, the Avatar, his sister and most of all, his father. Everyone wanted him gone. He missed his mother. He had the feeling that apart from his uncle, she was the only one who truly loved him. And now he met [Reader] and for the first time in a long time he felt that someone had truly dismissed his mistakes. She looked at him, believing that he had changed, even though she knew how much evil he had done in the past. It was like a warm ray of sunshine after a long winter. That's why he froze with his tray, listening for the answer. He was scared. However, it was not that if he was extradited, he should run away. He was afraid of rejection. A girl standing a few steps away gave him hope. He didn't want to lose her.

— Go away! — The healer pointed to the stairs.

— Pack your bags!

— Are they coming for us? What a pity. I didn't have time to finish my tea. - The general put down his cup sadly.

Zuko was used to his uncle's calmness but [Reader's] composure told him something was wrong.

— Why aren't you packing? — he asked, leading Aiiro out.

— Because I'm not going anywhere. — The girl calmly handed him the saddle.

The prince froze as he reached for the item.

— You're not serious, are you?

— My family has lived here for generations. It is my house. We even survived the Fire Nation War. I will stay here like everyone before me.

The healer passed the boy and began to saddle the peacock. The bird sensed anxiety. He began to pace impatiently in place.

— It's stupid!

— Do you think years of tradition are stupid?

— Yes! If there's a chance you'll die from it, then yes!

Zuko grabbed the strap of his bag. He squeezed it as tight as he could.

— You can heal people anywhere — he added. — I think your ancestors would have wanted you to do this, even if not in this temple.

— I won't be able to help. There are all the plants and books here and…— Her voice broke. — Here's everything I know, Zuko. I grew up here. How do I leave it? — Tears welled up in her eyes.

— I know what it's like to leave home — he took a deep breath — but it will get better with time.

The moment of exile flashed before his eyes. When his father declared him a traitor, he lost his home. Since then, he has been desperately trying to get it back. Every step in recent years was supposed to bring him closer to his goal. His search for the Avatar brought him to this place. So did he have the right to ask her to leave? If he could turn back time, would he oppose the general? Would he agree to Agni Kai with his father? He wasn't sure. Yet he tried to force someone to voluntarily abandon their home.

He looked over the white marble columns. Over a dozen or so days, he managed to like the atmosphere of this place. The scents of lemon trees and flowers surrounded him. There were many little creatures living in the garden. He saw frogs, butterflies and birds. Even snails, although they destroyed crops. [Reader] didn't have the heart to kill them. Fat koi fish swam lazily in the pond. He felt at peace as he crossed the bridge over them. He felt like the last time he felt this feeling was when he and his mother were feeding the ducks. He was a little boy then. The times when they formed a family together with Azula and their father seemed very distant.

And now he had the impression that he was on vacation on the Amber Island again and like a child he didn't have to worry about anything. The curtains on the temple terrace fluttered slightly. He sat in the shade on soft pillows. A healer was sitting opposite him in the sun. Iroh poured tea for everyone while explaining the rules of pai sho. He set up the board, chattering happily. Zuko paid no attention to the ongoing conversation. He smelled fresh laundry. It was hanging on a string a little further away. His nose also told him that another batch of herbs was drying nearby. He took a sip of the warm drink. It had a mild, chamomile aftertaste. He bit into the cereal cookie, enjoying the crunch of the dried fruit. He glanced at [Reader] and saw Ursa for a moment. However, the impression quickly dissipated. He laughed at his uncle's weak joke as he moved his pawn. He knew he was losing because he wasn't focusing on the rules. He should be annoyed. After all, he was wasting his time and Aang was still enjoying his freedom. Still, this moment seemed too beautiful to care. The undisturbed idyll was stuck in his head. For some reason, he remembered this ordinary afternoon the best. He felt that it would come back to him again.

It was difficult for him to leave this place. It was hard for him to admit it to himself. Waking up at dawn on a cold morning, breakfasts with freshly brewed tea, hand-dug vegetables for dinner, afternoon walks in the shade of trees, afternoon teas with games, dinners by the warm fireplace and nightly reading of books — all this would now become just a memory. He knew he would leave this place one day, so why did it hurt inside like he was thirteen again?

— Zuko, get in, we don't have time! — The general grabbed Aiiro's reins.

Is it really about the place? This question occupied his mind.

He looked at [Reader]. He realized that he had been wrong so far. This house was not created by shapes, colours and smells but by her. Without her, none of the images flashing through his head would exist.

The boy threw all his supplies out of the bag and handed it to the girl.

— What are you...

— Take all the seeds and books you can fit in here. We will hold them until your return! — The flame flared up above the prince's fingertips.

— Better late than never! — Iroh, pleased, pointed to his nephew's fire.

Was this the balance they talked about so much? Now had his soul finally found a good reason to release the embers?

He created a wall of fire. It burned as brightly as when he fought Azula. He felt strangely calm. There was no nervous, battle fever about it. It was replaced by composure mixed with the belief that what he was doing was right.

Zuko looked up. That night, the starry sky was decorated with hundreds of constellations. The moon lit the way and the dense summer beneath them. Aiiro flapped his powerful wings, creating strong gusts of air. Uncle's loud snoring could be heard from the saddle.

— Zuko. — The girl's quiet voice woke him from his thoughts.

— You're not sleeping yet? — he sighed.

— I could not fall asleep. — She moved closer.

Up there it was hard to hear what others were saying. The wind effectively drowned out the words.

— Me neither — he admitted.

He knew it would be a long time before he forgot about the hill temple. The envious inhabitants of Hefei used his fire in anger. They burned everything that could be destroyed. From the peacock's back he saw first a burning glow and then thick, gray smoke. Ash danced in the cool air along with shreds of pages from ancient books.

— Thank you. — [Reader] wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

— What for? For burning down your house? — There was regret in his voice.

— You know very well that you didn't burn it.

The prince knew that what she was saying was true. And yet he didn't realize how much he needed to hear it from her.

— If I had stayed there, who knows…— She looked behind her. — Maybe I wouldn't be here anymore.

— I couldn't leave you there because…— The unspoken words hung between them.

He was afraid of another loss. That was the truth. He managed to trust someone and didn't want to face the pain again.

The healer spread her arms. He tentatively snuggled into her. She still smelled of flowers and herbs. Her hair tickled his face. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to cry. He didn't know why he was crying anymore. Was it from longing for a temple or a palace? Was it for family and a future that could never exist or for [Reader] who could be dead? Was he crying for himself or for others? It didn't matter. He sobbed like a little child, who deep inside he still was. In the cool air, hundreds of meters above the ground, the firebender found warmth.

[deluxewhump]

Pride of Princes

A standalone story in the Blackmuir Reign verse ~150 years before Therrin Blackmuir takes the throne. This story is complete, around 12k words. This is part one.

CW: fantasy setting with a monarchy, fantasy politics, fantasy religious tensions, pressure to convert, torture, beatings, burning, threat of execution, imprisonment, defiant whumpee, forced/arranged marriage, polygamy, sex, court drama 

Characters and terms:

King Thyran Blackmuir (tie-run) 55- Therrin’s great great grandpa. Has ruled 30 yrs at this time and recently suffered an illness (stroke)

Prince Aedric Blackmuir (A-drick, strong A sound) 32 - the eldest prince and heir. Has one brother Cedric and two peaceweaver brides, Esther and Miline. Has one child with Esther, 6yo Esti. 

Roan Barrowfen (Row-n, rhymes with shown) 28- noble-born second son of Randall Barrowfen, of the easterly reaches. Given (unwillingly) as a peaceweaver to Aedric 

Tercet The new official religion being implemented by the Blackmuir crown. (Also a term in poetry, but here it's the name of a religion lol) The Tercet has three sections of religious importance that focus on commerce, agriculture, and the sanctity of law (the monarchy). 

Peace-weaver (Old English: freothwebbe)- Anglo-Saxon tradition of marrying women to an enemy tribe in hopes of mingling bloodlines and encouraging future peace between the groups. Peaceweavers here are specifically matched to smooth over a current conflict in the region, and not the same designation as matches to strengthen alliances or procure wealth. I prefer it as one word, not hyphenated.

Other notes: 

Title from The Wanderer.

Polygamy is encouraged for royalty at this time in the Blackmuir rule, if they are peaceweaver matches. Peaceweavers can be any level of nobility, but the first bride's children are typically the only ones recognized as viable heirs, unless they do not bear one or the heirs do not survive, and then it goes down the line to the second spouse. As you can imagine this causes lots of problems, but not in this story. 

This is loosely inspired by the history/legend of Saint Juliana by Cynewulf, as told in the Exeter book. 

_

1.

Prince Aedric was fast asleep when he was roused by Juliana, a timid handmaiden of his first bride, Esther. She never entered Aedric’s chambers, certainly not without invitation, or her mistress’s presence. 

“Prince Aedrick,” she said, giving a hurried bow. Her head was uncovered, her hair in two mussed braids as if for sleep. 

Aedric cast his eyes about the room for signs that something was amiss. He heard nothing from the open door of his chamber, or from the eastern window that caused any alarm. The fire was still burning in the hearth. He could not have been asleep for more than a few hours. 

“Juliana,” he said sharply. “Esther? Esti?”

“Are both well, sire. I don’t come on her behalf.”

“Then why? What is it?”

The girl pursed her lips and looked behind her, as if someone might be standing in the doorway in pursuit. “I wish to tell you something, but I fear it is not my place.”

Aedric sat up further in bed, his head still thick with sleep. “It must be important, to wake me in the middle of the night. Have out with it.”

“I only mean to serve you and my lady’s interests.”

“…Yes, Juliana. I know. I’ll… make sure there are no repercussions.”

She nodded solemnly. That had been her concern. “I was not told to come to you.”

“I understand. What is it?”

“The lord from the far reaches. He arrived this afternoon.”

Aedric frowned. He’d been recently betrothed. It was to be his third peaceweaver match, and the first to be male. The match was the youngest son of a Barrowfen from the easterly reaches, that wild and unforgiving marshland he’d visited as a boy and never had any desire to visit again. The reaches were an insular and stubborn region of his father’s vast kingdom that had caused some difficulty of late, but Lord Barrowfen was prompt with the annual taxes, and receptive to the new religious order.

But if his new betrothed had arrived in the afternoon, why had he not been called to meet him? Why had he not been sent to him directly, as Esther and Miline had been? He asked Juliana as much.

“The king. He is speaking to him now, in the Oath Hall. He is displeased.”

“Why?”

Juliana shifted her weight, nervously twisting at a small silver ring on her right hand. “He is refusing the Tercet, my lord. It’s caused some trouble.”

Aedric shook his head. “Why has he come all this way,  just to protest when he got here?”

“I-I don’t know, sire. I don’t think he wanted to come.”

Aedric raised his brows. 

“I know nothing more than this. I only wanted you to be aware. They’re very displeased with him, my prince.”

“Go,” he said, throwing off his covers. “I need to dress.”

She hesitated, wringing her fingers bloodless.

“Your name will not be mentioned,” he assured her. “Go.”

_

Aedric wondered if he’d ever been in the Oath Hall at such an hour. Every brazier was lit, casting jumping shadows on the high stone walls. His father sat elevated on his dais, attended by two knights, his favorite Tercet cleric in robes of snowy white, and several members of his court. 

Aedric’s eyes swept over them in turn. All had turned to watch him enter, and soon their eyes turned to their king to gauge his reaction to the prince’s intrusion. 

“It’s late, Aedric,” came Thyran Blackmuir’s weakened voice from his throne. A sudden illness had struck him before spring’s last snowmelt, and he had not been the same since. 

“Indeed it is, Your Grace,” Aedric answered. “What matter could not wait until after we had all slept and breakfasted?”

At the base of the dais stood a young man in modest clothing, unmoving, with his gaze fixed on the stones beneath his feet. Aedric gave him a wide berth as he approached, looking to see if this was the peaceweaver he’d been sent a portrait of in the initial negotiations. It appeared to be. He was of a similar height as Aedric, and though he could only see his bowed profile, it seemed to be the Barrowfen from the picture — Roan, was his name, or else it was someone strikingly similar. The portrait had looked promising.

He was of a similar age as Aedric as well, highborn, and unrelentingly beautiful, with dark hair and green-brown eyes, high easterly cheekbones, and a particular, intriguing smile that Aedric hoped was not just the flattery of the artist, but a look the subject had worn while sitting for the sketch.

“Hello,” he said, standing to the nobleman’s right, a safe six feet of distance between them. 

Roan Barrowfen gave him the barest glance, looking up without lifting his head. Their eyes met for only a moment and he returned them to the floor, his jaw set in something between determination and fear. Aedric was mildly stung by the sheer disregard of the exchange, a disregard he was unaccustomed to. 

“Is this my new peaceweaver, then?” Aedric asked, addressing his father. “Is this Roan Barrowfen?”

“It is,” the king answered wearily, his left eye now permanently drooping like a melting clay doll. 

“Why was I not sent for?” he asked, in front of the men of court, the cleric, and the knights. “Surely there must be some reason I was not sent to greet him upon his arrival?”

“Sit,” bade his father. 

“I prefer to stand, Your Grace.”

Aedric was nothing if not a loyal firstborn son, but he was not as docile as he might be. He tried to remain respectful to his father, the king, especially in front of members of court, but he would not be seen as a mincing puppet, either. And the king could be stubborn.

Of late, that concern had flagged. His father was not the man he was the year before, or the thirty years of his rule before that. He sometimes lost his train of thought, or his words entirely, and spent much of his days in bed. 

“Your betrothed has insisted on an act of….of  treason since his… arrival,” managed the King. 

Cleric Alfonsus looked down from the dais at Roan Barrowfen with a disdainful sort of pity. 

“What treason is that?”

The King motioned at his cleric, inviting him to speak and save him the trouble.  

“Lord Barrowfen maintains the false gods of the easterly reaches,” explained the cleric in a smooth voice, still powerful enough to project. Aedric admitted his unnervingly blue eyes and unrelenting gaze gave him an air of authority. His arms were folded together in the white fabric of his robes of office, hiding his hands, which Aedric thought was another apt metaphor. “He has denounced the Tercet, and by extension, the authority of the King.”

Aedric could have laughed. The Tercet was a fledgling religion, breeding in several pockets of the north for only two generations before gaining fast favor these last ten years. When he was a boy, no one had even spoken of the Tercet, the three-deity trident of land, commerce, and law. It was about as relevant as whoever this easterly man’s far-flung gods might be. And now it was treason to refuse them?

 “I’m sure this is a thing being done on principle,” he said amiably, opening his hands toward his father and the cleric. Even the knights were looking at him. “A well-intentioned principle, at that. Your Grace, is not the point of a peaceweaver to make peace? Peace is not something that can be expected upon arrival, or overnight.”

“The terms were clear,” answered the cleric, speaking over Aedric’s last word. “Randall Barrowfen sent a letter with his son. He knew this might happen, and in it he outlines his sincerest regrets, along with fealty to the Tercet and the king. His son’s life, if not as a peaceweaver, can be of some use as a forfeit.”

Aedric made a sour face. “Forfeit? To be an example, you mean? That is the perfect opposite of the goal we have in making this arrangement.”

The cleric continued. “Rejection of the Tercet directly undermines-”

“Your Grace,” Aedric cut him off, addressing his father. “This is mad. Put a swift end to it.”

With some difficulty, the King adjusted in his straight backed throne, a simple and elegant design of carved wood meant as an homage to humility and efficiency. “Your Esther and…Miline are worthy brides, Aedric. They are peaceweavers, and they are Muirish now. They serve a purpose. This…” he waved a hand irritably, “open dissent is not something I can ignore. I will not have a hostile…. traitor at my table. Bearing…. our name.”

“Hostile traitor,” Aedric echoed in disbelief. He wondered, not for the first time since his illness, if those were his father’s words, or repeated words of Cleric Afonsus.  “Has he spoken of any plans to murder any of us in our sleep?”

“No,” said the nobleman in question. Aedric turned to him, surprised he’d spoken. “But I will not abandon my gods for you. Or for the king.”

A murmur of offense broke out among the men in attendance. 

“I am a theurgist for the gods of our land,” he continued, looking up at Aedric with his head still slightly bowed. His eyes looked greener in the light of the braziers, and he had a high color on his cheeks that Aedric couldn’t discern between a sign of good health or the start of a fever. “I will serve my gods, and my gods alone.”

“A theurgist. You conjure your gods?”

“On behalf of others,” he answered. “As much as it is in my ability to do so. And if they answer.”

“And where are they at this moment?” he asked quietly, directed only to the foreigner. He meant it in a friendly, exasperated sort of jest, but Roan Barrowfen dropped his eyes like it had been a taunt.

Aedric set his jaw and looked back to the dais. “Give me the night, Your Grace. Let me speak to him privately, as I expected to do upon his arrival.”

“When you arrived,” said the king, “I had just sentenced him to the holding cells. He will….await there. Await his…ah,” he struggled for the word. “His trial.”

A pit of dismay formed in Aedric’s stomach. They had only exchanged one letter, but it had been promising. Roan Barrowfen was clearly well versed in his letters, and well spoken. He’d seemed modestly eager for the arrangement. Had he not realized he would have to, at least publicly, lay down his gods and his theurgic practices to do so? Another thought— had he even written the letter? Had he come of his own free will at all?

Aedric wished he could speak his true mind to his father, but there were lines he knew better than to cross in the Oath Hall.

“He will have a chance to recant, Aedric,” said the King, as if he were placating Aedric when he was a petulant child, over some small matter. “He will have many chances.”

He thought the wording of that promise to be ominous. Many chances? Did they intend to harm him in hopes of eliciting it, like a confession from a criminal? A highborn? Betrothed to the prince? Roan Barrowfen seemed to take the same meaning from the words. His chest rose and fell with noticeably faster breaths, but he did not move a single muscle. Aedric felt a sharp pang of protective sympathy towards this stranger he’d so been looking forward to meeting. 

“I ask you to reconsider this,” he appealed again. “It’s highly reactionary, Your Grace, for naught but some words.”

The king only motioned weakly to the knights, who came forward and took the prisoner under each arm, leading him away. He stumbled, but caught his footing and went willingly. Aedric stood rooted to the spot as the King rose from the throne. Others followed, and Oath Hall began to empty. 

Cleric Alfonsus stepped down from the dais carefully so as not to trip over his robes. He fixed Aedric with his deliberate gaze. “Naught but some words,” he repeated as he passed him. It felt like an admonition. 

The following morning, Prince Aedric learned that the trial was set for a full month away. Roan Barrowfen’s noble status required three representatives from his home to travel to the Muirkeep to sit on the jury. Aedric knew this would influence the outcome, but he was not confident it would be in the way he’d like. Lord Barrowfen himself had condemned his son with that letter, to appease the king. Whoever came from the reaches was likely prepared to do the same.

The final decision would be the king’s, but that would undoubtedly be influenced by the clerics, as it was a religious matter. That was a fact that had been concerning him of late— more and more seemed to fall to the discretion of the Tercet leaders, namely Cleric Alfonsus. 

After speaking with his father to no avail, he did the other thing in his power. He went down to the cells. 

Next

[sadieshairbrush]

Stranger Things: Clementine

A/N: This is so scary to me as I’ve been working on this for a crazy long time! Unfortunately, I understand that a lot of people aren’t fans of Original characters but I just find the concept of it a lot more inclusive, and I can take more inclusive liberties with my character! No mentions of hair, skin, eye colour etc, just a name. As a Scottish girl imagining myself casually in Hawkins is strange and I usually find it better to envision myself playing a character I can become attached to. I love this character, and I hope she becomes as close to your heart and she is to mine. Steve slow burn.

Summary: Clementine Chase, a classic high school girl in Hawkins is suddenly faced with the mystery surrounding a missing boy.

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Will Byers

“Thanks again for helping me out here, Clementine. I really appreciate this.”

“I don’t mind,” I smiled, dragging a cloth over the surface of the kitchen counter. “Its all my mess anyways.”

Normally this mess was created while trying to entertain the group of 12 year olds I’ve babysat a couple of times but tonight, they were playing some nerdy board game the last ten hours. They’d begun this far before I’d arrived, so the mess tonight was my own.

I’d attempted to make the boys some sandwiches near 2PM. I’d been there for an hour and not once had any of the kids come up from the basement yet. Serves me right since I didn’t actually need to be there until it got dark.

It was around 6PM when Nancy had walked through the front door, more than surprised to see me. She’d froze half way through the door, and I looked at her with a daring smirk.

“Have fun today, Nancy?”

“Just… a little.”

I knew what that meant. Her tiny grin told me all I needed to know. Steve was in my circle of friends, after all. How could I not know what was going on behind the scenes?

The story had gone that Steve Harrington, King Steve had taken a shine to Perfect Nancy Wheeler. How long would it last, would everyone know if they were to go all the way?

It had been about two weeks. Everyone knew about it. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what the official story was. Is this a silly little thing or are they genuinely interested in one another?

I was only let in on this before the weekend, and had only decided to let my bitterness go so I had a ride to school tomorrow.

Seeing her come home while I was babysitting her brother wasn’t so awkard, not as awkward as it could be anyway. But I could always sense she wasn’t quite as relaxed as I’d like her to be around me. We didn’t generally run in the same circles, but who was I to care?

By 8PM when Mr and Mrs Wheeler came home with Holly, Nancy was clearing her snacks off the kitchen counter we’d been leaning against, unwilling to let her parents into the gossip we’d been sharing.

“I’m going to study before bed, so I’ll see you in school tomorrow, Clementine.”

“She’s got Kaminskys test,” I cleared up as Ted made a bee-line for the TV. Karen nodded, heading out to take Holly to her bed.

When she was back, I’d already had my coat on, clearing the mess I’d made with a damp rag.

The last time I was here ended the same.

Clearing up the days mess while Karen practically pried me away from the cloth with a, “you’ve done enough, I’ll handle the mess.”

Though I’ve not listened yet.

I smile cheekily as the kids loud voices upstairs as they yell tensely from the basement. I meet Karen’s eyes, and . “Those kids will be wanted home about now. I could walk them out before I overstay my welcome.”

She looked down at her own watch, noting the time. It was already reaching eight fifteen.

“Mike! …Mike!” She yelled, coming back to the kitchen area. She waits patiently with a hand on her hip, but the boys voices just get louder as they chat on top of one another.

“Mike!”

She walked towards the basement door, and swings it open without an other seconds thought.

And from there, I can just slightly hear Mikes voice over the others.

“Mom! We’re in the middle of a campaign!”

“You mean the end.” She taps her watch, meaningfully. “Fifteen after.”

Mike runs up the stairs, and catches my eye when he sees me, a look of confusion.

“How long have you been here?”

I could have choked on my own scoff. That basement is playing with his head.

“Uhh, all day? I made you guys your lunch? Ordered pizza and brought it down for you like an hour ago for dinner?”

He shook his head, probably an attempt to clear his already empty brain.

“Mom, just 20 more minutes!”

“It’s a school night, Michael, and I just put Holly to bed. You can finish next weekend.”

“That’ll ruin the flow–

“Michael–

“I’m serious, mom! It took two weeks to plan! How was I supposed to know it’d take ten hours?”

“Oh, no, it’s the end of the world as we know it!” I teased, ignoring his furious look.

“You can continue it later.”

Mike regards us with an ignorant look and rounds the corner to where Ted is attempting to watch the TV, which is still mostly static.

The storm from earlier on really had to have done a number on the electronics.

“Dad, don’t you think that–

“I think you should listen to your mother,” he interrupted, lazily, moving to hit the top of the TV. “Piece of junk…”

I bite back a laugh, and move to ring out the dish towel. I should have called Steve in advance. Though, I should count my blessings; I’d rather take the short walk down a few blocks than sit in a smoke filled car in the company of two of the biggest bullies I’ve ever known, Tommy and Carol, who would invite themselves along again.

“It was great to have you. But you don’t have to stay to clean up after we’re home, you know,” said Karen as I shrug my coat on.

“I know I don’t have to. I just feel a lot better about it. It’s a thousand times better than sitting in my dads house with no one to talk to or nothing to do,” I admit, matching Dustins wide grin as he approaches, pizza box in hand as the kids all fan out into the kitchen.

“Clementine! Want one?” He opens the box to show two decent sized slices of pizza left. “Was sausage and pepperoni your idea?”

“Sure was. And it looks amazing, but have you offered anything to Nancy?”

“I did, but she just shut the door in my face. There’s been something seriously wrong with her ever since she started dating that… douchebag, Steve.” He looked over his shoulder, making sure Mikes parents were out of ear shot, and once he was in the clear, he brought his voice back up. “Plus you’ve been stuck with us all day.”

“Yeah, he can be a douche,” I laugh, taking a slice from the box and taking a huge bite.

“She used to be cool...”

“She’s just a teenager. Trust me, I’d know,” I settled with a firm nod.

Teenagers can be mean to kids, but I’ve seen Nancy in school, as innocent as can be. Like a tiny, smart fish in a big, stupid pond.

We cut the conversation short when the rest of the boys begin to gather around with their jackets and bags, ready to turn in to their own beds.

“Alright, come on.” I nod them along and open the front door, and they race out towards their bikes. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for watching the boys,” says Karen as I close the front door behind us.

It wasn’t the coldest of nights, but there were still small puffs of condensation with every exhale of the November night. I patted Mike on the shoulder as he stood to see all his friends off.

“Get home safe, guys, no detours,” I half-joked.

These kids were good, but they were still kids.

They waved me off as they picked up and adjusted their bikes, and I made my way back home, more than ready to turn in.

I savoured my nights at the Wheelers. Really, I did. Whether I was there to look after Mike (sometimes all his friends too), or just there for dinner as a thank you for doing so.

For my house was just empty.

I mean it was empty all the time. When I wasn’t home I was at Steve’s, but ever since he’d begun to pursue Nancy, I’d always wait until there was a group of us, just out of respect. Same went for calling him up in the morning or at night just to talk about whatever had been going on in life.

So, really my options this morning were to watch TV with breakfast until my ride came, or to rush breakfast and walk.

I sighed, turning off the waffle maker just in time for the phone to ring.

My father had already left, so I picked up the landline in the kitchen, and held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I put my breakfast together.

“Chase residence,” I sing-songed in practiced tones. “Dad has already left for the office, can I take a message for you?”

“Hi, Clementine.”

I quirked my brow the minute I heard the voice. Joyce Byers whose son I had watched over just last night. Except this morning she sounded particularly anxious. “Will didn’t stay with you and your dad last night, did he?”

Why on earth would we have a 12 year old stay the night without letting his mother know? “No… Joyce, he left with the boys last night. He lives pretty close to Dustin, I know they ride the same way. I could call his house?”

“I-I’ll call. Thank you. Really, I think he just left early for school…”

I certainly wasn’t convinced. But I let her go anyway, and continued my morning as normal, not thinking much of the call. I had my fair share of surprise sleepovers at Wills age.

I’d already switched off the TV and washed my dishes by the time I heard the BMWs beeping horn outside.

I rushed out, locking the door behind me.

Tommy, the infamous dick of Hawkins was already yelling out the window towards me, lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Move your ass, Clementine!”

“Tommy, put that shit out! I told you a million times that I’m not going to be hotboxed by your smoke.”

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, but it always came back to the same argument.

“Those are the rules,” Steve defended with a shrug as I slid into the back beside Carol who offered me a stick of gum. “She doesn’t like smoke, you can manage the length of a car ride.”

“So prudish, Clementine~”

Carol teased.

I rolled my eyes and adjusted my seatbelt with a huff. “What’s the point on spending some amount of money on perfume just to smell of cigarettes before I’m even in first period?”

“Like money’s an issue,” Carol continued.

Fine, it wasn’t. But I’d still like to smell like the Love’s Baby Soft perfume I’d paid for. “Whatever.”

“Your perfume’s way too sweet anyways. And you’re still alright for coming over tomorrow, right? My old man’s out of town on a conference, and…”

“Yeah, yeah. The beers are on me, don’t worry. I’ve got it covered, you dick.”

“See, you drink but you won’t smoke,” Tommy scoffed. “The hell’s that about?”

I could waste my time bickering or I could simply shut up. But that wouldn’t be fun in the slightest.

“If you want to get sick and die, do it on your own time. You already look sallow and sunken, just don’t inflict that on me.”

“I look what?” He shot back, neck strained to look back at me. “Say that again, Clementine.”

“Oh, I’m just teasing!”

“You know you just piss me off when you start this shit!” He was seething. Best way to piss a guy like him off was to bruise his ego, that much was clear. And not to brag but I had years of practice under my best. It had yet to get old.

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning so much?”

“Listen to me, you little bitch-“

“Hey!” Steve yelled. “Don’t talk to her like that, alright? How you’re still friends at all is beyond me. Just shut up, and enjoy the ride.” He switched on his radio where Michael Jackson instantly blasted, and suddenly the ride was somewhat enjoyable.

Our daily procedure for the past two weeks was for me to give Steve an out to meet with Nancy. Sometimes that involved guarding the girls bathroom by standing outside, making up excuses.

“I told you, it’s a mess in there! There’s literally a tapeworm climbing up the wall, I swear…”

And of course people knew I was guarding a hookup. Probably even that it was Steves, but everything I knew about Nancy Wheeler told me the last thing she’d want is to be walked in on making out with a boy against the wall of the ladies toilets, even if stories of their dating life was floating around the school.

The other two didn’t quite get it. They couldn’t understand why he’d waste all his time chasing after a complete square who probably doesn’t even put out.

I mean that’s all he’s usually after, and they’ve all been okay with it.

But Steve was a friend. I was just happy he was finally after a girl worth his time. Nancy was nice, smart, and it made for a pleasant change.

Steve has dated tonnes of girls. They never lasted, and he never cared. He was a man of pure sexuality. But something was different about Nancy Wheeler… I could tell.

I knew her well enough what with being at her house every month or so.

What do you think our topic of discussion last week when I was paid to appear twice?

It’s the reason she’d offer a small, secretive smile as she exits the bathroom, and i’d return it with a sly nod.

Just like any normal day.

A normal school day also includes suffering through Steve and Tommy playing basketball until they knackered themselves out. Though, the athletes they are, it took them a while every time, so we would always keep ourselves occupied on the bleachers. It was a routine, one that I was about to invite disruption to as I held open the doors to the gym.

Nancy walked with her books against her chest as she talks with her friend, an almost ethereal floating opposed to stepping as she heads for the buildings exit.

“Hey, Nancy, c’mere!” I yelled out before I stopped to think that I might startle her.

She freezes and finds my eyes, startled as expected. “Hurry! Coming, Barb?”

Barbara was a tall girl. She towered above the rest of us, but she was hardly given a second of notice. I hadn’t paid much attention to her myself until Nancy took this position in the group. At the call of her name she looks shocked. It’s not that I didn’t usually try to involve Barbara, she’s Nancys best friend after all, and since Nancy was invited into the social group it only made sense to include Barbara too.

Except Nancy had always been popular in the subtle kind of way. Her trademarks were being pretty, smart and kind, and everyone wants that even if girls like Carol gave her a hard time. They liked her anyways, at least a little.

“Hurry where?” Nancy gave an unsure smile, still standing what felt like a mile away.

“To watch your boyfriend play basketball, duh!” I teased, pushing the door open as the pair approached. “You can sit with us, we’ll go out to Bennys after?”

The two turn to each other, but whatever Barbara was trying to get across to Nancy wasn’t delivered to me. Nancy then turns to me with an enthused smile.

“Sure! Sounds fun.”

With a grin, I lead them to our spot on the bleachers, trying to stay aware of how different these two were to the girls who watch us approach with weary looks on their faces.

“Are you lost?” Sneers Becky with a cruel laugh. As if I’m unaware that I had two girls trailing behind me.

Carol turns to push her, playfully. “She’s our friend!”

I motion for the pair to sit wherever they felt comfortable, and they sat a little far for my liking, huddled together as though I wouldn’t have their back if someone were to be snide.

“Yeah, be nice, you dick. You know Nancy, Steve’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Nancy spoke wearily, but she went ignored. It wasn’t my intention to push her, but Steve generally rolled that way, and I saw it as an inevitability.

“Oh, Nancy! I heard about that. Must be really different for you, huh?” Becky started.

She was one of three of Steve’s exes that were currently present. None of them truly seemed to mind when the boy moved on. They all had their turns and they all had their shot in the limelight.

Nancy doesn’t seem to understand the workings of this, appearing more shy than usual, eying the tonnes of magazines, packets of gum and cigarettes splayed across the bleachers.

“She’s doing fine,” I said, picking up the Just Seventeen magazine that caught my eye. “Did you catch this? It only launched for the first time last month, look at its first issue!”

I tilted the magazine towards Nancy and Barb, pointing out the ad for Tri-Ac.

“I’m breaking in on my chin something nightmarish, but they say Madonna uses it.”

“No!” Said Nancy, kindly, analysing my face. “No, I don’t see anything.”

“It’s because she’s wearing so much makeup,” Laurie spoke up.

I rolled my eyes, unable to deny this fact.

“Shut up, Laurie,” Carol sighed. “Barb, you’d look so cute in these!” She yelled, pointing out the latest male fashion trends down the side of one page. “It shouldn’t be too far out of your comfort zone.”

I turn to look at the girl in question. She looks at a loss of what to say, and Nancy is no better.

“Go polish your reebok, Carol,” I remarked.

“Go, Steve!” Becky whistled, watching his bare chest rise and fall as he sweats, actually drawing our attention to the game we barely paid much attention to anyways.

“Put that shirt back on!” I yelled.

The game went on for another painful hour, and by the time they were done my stomach had begun to growl.

After a short-lived argument over who won, the boys hopped into the (well needed) showers, and we left.

“I’m going to get the biggest burger you’ve ever seen, I could eat a horse,” I groaned, mouth watering at the very thought.

Bennys hadn’t been much of a tradition, but rather a routine. Steve had made a point that it’d only been him, myself, Carol, Tommy and Nancy. And Barbara as I’d gently remind him. He thought that inviting the likes of the other girls in the group would be disrespectful, and I clapped his back for it.

Usually though, we’d have brought as many of our friends that we could fit over two booths. I think I prefer what we’ve had going in lately if I’m honest.

As we walked towards the parking lot, ready to pile into Steve’s car, Nancys voice cut through all the jeering.

“Hey, you know, my mom will be wanting me home around now. She puts a dinner out every night and-“

“You’re not coming?” Steve interrupts, stalking close towards her.

He ducks his head so his face is closer, and brings his voice down. “Come on, we won’t be there long, promise.”

She looked rather awkward, eyes on Steve’s hand that rested on her arm.

“I shouldn’t.”

“It’s fine, they can join us another time!” Carol smiled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, for now, I think we’ll survive without them,” Tommy adds.

“Not sure that I will,” I muttered. Though I know it’s best that the pair go home. Why should they make themselves uncomfortable? Plus, Carol and Tommy weren’t exactly solid company. “Guys, it’s fine. Seriously, we have plenty of time to hang out. Go on home,” I told.

Nancy watched me, unsure at first, then she looks back to Steve.

“I’m sorry.”

He nods, then pulls her in for a kiss. It was soft, tender.

I wasn’t too sure where they stood, whether they were meant to be a secret or not. This little moment between them cleared that up for me, and I smirked to myself.

Nancy appeared to feel the same, a shocked grin she tried to hide.

“Want us to puke? Come on, Romeo!”

Tommy blanched.

“Shut up, stupid. Let’s go, lover boy,” I butted in just as Nancys embarrassed gaze fell to the ground of the parking lot. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, pulling Nancys stare back to him with his hands evidently magnetic eyes. “I’ll still see you later tonight, won’t I? Alone?”

I note Barbara’s shocked expression.

Clearly, Nancy didn’t let her in on this little plan. We, on the other hand, heard about their little meet up as soon as we were in Steve’s company.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “To study.”

I truly didn’t know Nancy well enough to understand whether she meant this or not. Knowing Steve, even if she did mean this, he might just try and sway her to do a little more than studying.

“To study,” I echo with a nod. “Let’s move it!”

And with reluctance, the pair were able to part ways.

We could have still had fun at Bennys like we normally did. But my mind slipped into somewhere I hadn’t expected. Something I didn’t remember until about halfway through taking my seat next to Carol.

“We should invite Nancy to yours tomorrow, right?” I asked, still rationing the contents of my burger around the table. Benny once reminded me I could order it without the pickle or the onion but why waste food when I could feed annoying teenage boys?

Steve perks up with a huge sigh of relief.

“Yes, Clementine. Absolutely, we should! And you know why?”

“So you can have sex and find out if she has a vagina?” Tommy remarked, earning a chuckle from Carol followed by an obnoxious wink.

“What, it’s weird for a girl who’s barely 16 to be a virgin now?” Steve challenged, flinging the spare pickles into his burger. “Not everyone’s been banging since they were 12.”

“I know that, douche bag,” Tommy retorts, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. I’ve come to learn that he’s rather proud of his sex life. So it’s easy to figure that his shamefaced defensiveness was more about Steve shutting him down. “I’m just saying every other girl has at least kissed someone. She’s not kissed anyone besides you. Either she’s a wasteland or… just a tease.”

I shudder annoyingly at the slow grin that pulls at his lips, turning to Carol.

“How do you let him near you with that mouth?”

“That’s for me to know,” she laughs, sending him a wink across the table.

“You guys are disgusting.”

“Okay, little miss perfect. Lost your touch or something? When was the last time you even had a boyfriend?” Carol jabs, eyeing me up with a playful malice.

“Can’t lose your touch if you’ve never been in the game,” I countered, having never actually had a boyfriend. I crossed my arms feeling pleased with myself and hopeful that Carol would be off my back as suddenly as she was on it.

“You dated Reed!”

Steve started, suddenly on me too.

“Yeah, for like two weeks! He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I squeaked. Although being that intimate with someone in the same group wouldn’t be too strange. I mean just look at Steve and his exes.

“But you got with him at my party.”

“You had sex on Carols bed, didn’t you?” Steve smirked.

“Oh, my God!” I groaned, gripping my hair dramatically. “That was Kieran, and there was no bed sex!”

“Nah, come on now, that was actually pretty bad.” Steve attempted to come to my aid, waving off the others as if he didn’t bring it up. “Don’t you remember what he did?”

“No, wait, shut up. I thought you guys dated for a while,” Carol drawled in thought.

“Oh my God!” Tommy laughs so loud that it startles Carol. “That was all fake, to made Kieran jealous. No one told you?”

“No!”

I’d have felt guiltier, but I couldn’t hold back the bubbling giggles even with a hand pressed against my mouth. All this time, and my best friend thought I’d had a whole relationship that never existed.

“Why do you think we’re still friends after he ‘dumped me’ for Laurie? Thanks for that, by the way,” I jabbed, still a little bitter about the situation.

I was so close, he was back in my clutches. But Steve just had to see what Laurie had to offer instead of helping a friend in need. Not only did he not help like he promised, but now it looks like I was dumped for another girl, and that I’m still friends with the dude who did it.

It’s hard to see the situation in a negative light now after all this time. Especially since I lost interest in Kieran a whole while ago.

“I can’t believe you never knew!” Tommy guffawed, shaking Carols arm to tease her. Her face remained stony, showing no interest in making this a laughing matter.

“Well, no one told me!”

“Whatever,” he shrugs with a mouth full of food. “We’ve been here ages, it’s getting dark soon.”

Steve stuffed the last of his fries into his already full mouth.

With a united murmuring (Carols being a little too sharp) we begin to clear our table, all of us picking up the shakes we’d left aside to bring home, a habit we shared between us due to the distraction we caused each other.

Except when we piled into Steve’s car that night, everything was suddenly far from normal, and we hadn’t had a clue.

I was driven home, said goodbye to my friends, and walked into to a quiet house.

Only my dad was there, worrying his hands at his place on the couch. That was until he saw me at the door. He was on his feet in a flash, bee lining his way towards me.

He still wore his dress trousers and a smart purple shirt.

His brief case had been abandoned by the coffee table.

“Dad? Shouldn’t you be at work still?”

I wracked my brain, trying to make sense of his presence, checking my watch, making sure I had the date right.

“Clementine! I came home as soon as I heard, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe, and when I saw you weren’t here, I got worried.”

I’d never seen him in such distress. I’d kept my gaze on him as I dumped my school bag on the floor. “We got some milkshakes after school… but, dad, what are you talking about? You came home as soon as you heard what?”

He froze for a second, his gaze suddenly sympathetic. “I thought you would have heard by now? The Byers kid… he’s missing.”

And just like that, my heart wrenched.

I watched him the night before, he went home alone, and his mother called me only just this morning.

“Missing? He can’t be missing, dad. He didn’t just stay at Dustins?”

I don’t know why it was hard to believe. I’d just never heard of someone I knew disappearing before. Will was always quiet, very rarely said a word to me besides a Please or a Thank you. But I knew him, I knew that little boy.

“Afraid not, sweetie. Nobody knows what’s happened quite yet, but until we do, you’ve to get a lift to school and back, alright, and no detours. Straight home, no adventures, no outings, no grabbing milkshakes.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, fine,” I nodded.

Tomorrow he’d be back to work the hours he usually was, and wouldn’t care less where I was as long as I was with friends. But I wouldn’t risk bringing it up now.

“That’s my girl. What do you say we put two nice mugs of hot chocolate on? I’m sure we can figure it out.” He whisks himself away to the kitchen and I just blink to myself.

“Yeah! Yeah, should be fun…”

Steve calls the house just as the cops settle into the livingroom that night. They’d come by to question me under my father’s watch.

They waited patiently as I promised I’d be off the phone in two seconds, taking the call in the hallway where they could see me incase I raised any suspicions.

“What do you want?” I said flatly.

I could practically see Steve as he scoffed, hand pulling away from his hair he was probably fixing in the mirror.

“Nice to talk to you too, Jesus.”

“Sorry, but seriously, what do you want?”

He exhaled loudly on the other side of the phone, voice becoming whiny.

“Nancy called. She says she’s under house arrest ‘cause of that missing kid.”

I turn to look over my shoulder towards the room my dad kept the cops company. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell Steve that they were here. Though I wasn’t worried. He didn’t even care enough to ask why I was basically whispering.

“Okay? What do you want me to do?”

“Convince me to do something stupid? I want to see her.”

Shit, that’s sweet.

I screw my eyes shut, knowing I’m about to give some stupid advice, just like he knows I will. I could be more stupid about it, so let’s cut me a break.

“Then see her. You’re not new to sneaking into bedrooms,” I shrugged, as if he could see me doing it. “Just don’t make her uncomfortable.”

“Why would I make her uncomfortable?”

He sounds offended, but he’s now heard exactly what he wanted to hear,

“If she wasn’t planning to have sex with you in the first place tonight, being in her personal space and trying to screw her is even worse.”

“I know, I know! Kaminskys test is coming up for her, I’ll help her study.”

The smile in his voice made my heart flutter. It’s like reading a romantic novel. But I know if I tell him how amazing it is to see him learning about what’s going on in Nancys life he’d take the huff and hang up the phone.

“You’re the devil, Steve Harrington,” I sigh.

“You’re the best, Clementine Chase!”

Then the dial tone.

It takes a good hour to let the cops know everything that went on that night. And then I found I was just repeating myself over and over again.

“I told you everything I know, already.”

It stands to reason I’d be questioned a little more intensely since I was one of the last to see Will. It was all unwinding just a little too quickly for me, and I felt as though I could never settle. Just a few hours ago I was enjoying shakes with my friends, laughing and making jokes about anything and everything.

Now here I was being interrogated in my own living room.

“We just want to make sure you’re not missing anything,” spoke the cop with the moustache. “You were one of the last to see him.”

I sighed, and the other, slightly more competent cop cut in. “I know it’s a little frustrating Miss. Chase. We’d just like to make sure we’ve not missed anything. Did he ever show signs of being unhappy? He fit in okay?”

I stopped to think for a second, feeling the pressure of the two looking down at me from my place on the couch.

Will was the quietest of Mikes friends, mostly timid.

“He’s really close to Mike Wheeler. He looks out for him since his friends are… you know, they always kinda picked on him.”

“They pick on him?” The second cop took to writing in his notes.

“I guess. They’re great kids but the Byers boy is sort of the runt. They kinda comment of his shoes, mimic things he says… he’s a little more… sensitive, you know?”

Thinking back on every interaction with Will, he was definitely the peewee, laughed at and teased. He wasn’t like the other boys. But what these cops were getting at wasn’t sitting right with me.

“But he’d never run away. He trusts them, his family loves him. When it comes down to it, they all have his back.”

He considers this for a moment, eventually nods and closes his note pad.

He folds his arms with a deep breath.

“We haven’t come to a near conclusion yet. Let us know if you remember anything else. Thank you, sir,” he says, nodding towards my dad who stands up to lead the pair out the door.

They need to find that boy in one piece.

He was just so small, a mouse among cats. He’d barely ever spoken a word to me, just always a polite smile, and an excited nod to whatever story the boys were telling me that night.

How could this all happen so fast? I thought, head buried in my hands as my dads weight sank into the couch beside me.

I felt his hand on my back. He was unsure how to break the silence, that much was for sure.

I lift my head to look at him, and he stills, waiting.

“I really hope he’s alive, dad.”

He leans over, planting a kiss on my forehead, grunting when the phone rings again. “If that’s one of your friends, tell them to make it quick. You’re in no headspace to be gossiping.”

I nod, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to chat away as if I wasn’t feeling sick to my stomach anyways.

I pick the phone up, not bothering to take the call in the hallway for privacy. Prepared to hear Carol, maybe even Tina or Steve, I froze at Mike Wheelers voice on the other end.

“What do you think happened to Will?”

What the hell is going on on this night?

I risk a glance at my dad to find he’s watching me with worry.

“I’m-“

“Did anything weird happen when you watched him ride off?”

“Umm, no.” I stand up, and walk a little further from my dad’s listening ears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything.”

“Meet us in ten.”

“What? Where?”

I should have asked why. Said no. Convinced him not to go anywhere. Why didn’t I?

“Mirkwood”

“What the hell is that?”

“Where Cornwallis meets Kerley!” He stressed, quickly. “Just meet us there!”

“No! Are you stupid?” I argued, not bothering to control my voice in front of my dad.

Who knows what’s out there right now.

“We’re going with or without you, Clementine. So suit yourself.”

Then that was it. He’d slammed the phone down, and left me helpless.

I turned to my dad, weighing my options.

I could tell him, then he’d involve the police and intervene with the kids plans to endanger themselves. Or I could accompany them myself, and have them still like me by the end of it.

I know what I should do.

Why don’t I tell him?

Because I’m feeling stupidly loyal to the group of boys who probably just want someone to talk to after hearing about their best friend disappearing.

“What on earth was that about?”

I don’t move for a long moment, blinking stupidly.

“Just Tommy! Carols birthday is coming up and his gift ideas are just shocking. But It’s his problem, so I’m gunna turn in.”

I yawn loudly and stretch a little more dramatically than I should have, hoping that would be enough

Luckily for me, I was allowed to make it upstairs without him following behind me.

What the hell was I doing?

I pushed all my thoughts from my head as I shrugged on my closest corduroy coat.

This is crazy, Clementine!

I cuss myself out when I open bedroom window, all too familiar. Except tonight I wasn’t climbing out to talk to a boy, or go to a party, or stay at Carols. Tonight I was meeting a bunch of kids in hopes they wouldn’t get themselves lost when I really should be telling someone about the whole situation.

But all they want is to feel like they’re doing something to help find Will…

“Oh, hell.”

By the time I reach the location they’d asked to meet at, all of them had arrived, bikes in tow. The tree line was covered with police tape. I felt my stomach drop as all four kids turned at my approach.

“What’s this all about?” I asked, arms folded lowly on my chest. “You know it’s a bad idea to be out here.”

“Exactly, yet Will is stumbling around here somewhere.”

Jesus Christ. As harsh as it is, there’s not a lot of land in Hawkins. It’s incredibly difficult to try and imagine that he’s not so far away right now.

With a sigh, I lean in close to Mike.

“So you think this is the answer? What if-“

What if he’s not out there? What if he was kidnapped?

But I couldn’t bring myself to say that to them. Mike blinks back, eyes doe-like and innocent. Mismatched with his occasional bite.

“What if nothing, Clementine. All I know is that we have to find him.”

“He’s a vital part of the party!” Lucas chipped in. I half expected Dustin to join, but he hadn’t made a peep. “We can’t let him down.”

“He’d do it for any one of us,” Mike finished.

“But if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”

He’s challenging me, I know it.

I hold his gaze, narrowing my eyes. If he’s bluffing about going ahead without me, his expression doesn’t betray him.

“What makes you think I won’t just go to your parents? Or the cops?”

“You’d have done it already!” Told Lucas, waving an arm to make his point.

“And you want to help Will nearly as much as we do.”

Except that’s not the reason. The best way to help Will is by letting the police do their jobs. The real reason is that I just can’t bring myself to let them down.

“Ugh, fine!” I groan, pushing myself to stand upright. “But only this one time. And that goes for all of you.”

Without a nod of confirmation from Mike he turns on his flash light, paying no heed to the on-going storm.

Dustin, on the other hand, speaks for the first time since I arrived.

“Hey, guys. You feel that?”

His head is tilted towards the sky, and he’s soon wiping his cheeks. Sure enough, it’s begun to spit with rain. The last couple of nights had all been the same. So I let myself wonder how I could be stupid enough to have worn a jacket with no hood.

“I think maybe we should go back.”

“No.” Mike told, a demanding tone to his voice. “We’re not going back. Just stay close. Come on!” Then two two were off, leaving Dustin and I behind, staring at the treeline.

I look towards Dustin, who looks nearly frozen in fear.

“Stay on channel six,” Mike instructs. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“This whole thing is stupid, Mike.” Making a last attempt to appeal, I eventually follow behind the pair, scared they’d wander a little too far away from my sight. When Dustin doesn’t take a step forward, I catch his eyes over my shoulder. “Come on, Dustin, stay close.”

And he scurries forward, dropping his bike among the rest. Then he ducks under the police tape, jogging to catch up.

God in Heaven above, we’re in so much trouble. No, I’m in so much trouble. I’m the oldest, I’m supposed to be the responsible one. But here I am, trailing along as the kids put themselves in harms way.

“You know there’s always time to turn back, don’t you? We could wait ‘til morning,” I tried, looking straight at Mike knowing he’ll answer for everyone.

He usually does.

“He could be hurt by morning!”

Mike marched ahead, flashlight shone in every direction.

I couldn’t argue. If he was safe, which I doubt, leaving it any longer would only increase the chances of him running into danger. Again, I didn’t voice these thoughts. it’s not like they’re stupid, they know as much as I do the possibilities deriving from Wills disappearance.

“And what am i supposed to do if someone jumps out from behind a tree and attacks one of you?” The scenario runs over and over in my head as the rain begins to fall heavier.

A masked kidnapper scooping one of the kids up, a crazed murderer chasing me away.

The heavier the rain became, the less sure I knew what I was hearing around me. The snap of every twig, the kicking of every rock under the kids feet, any of it could be danger in disguise.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, speaking to Dustin between the shouting of Wills name.

“This is bad, you know. This could go so wrong, so fast.”

But instead of a reply from Dustin, I’m with with a dangerous glare from over Mikes shoulder.

He yells out for Will whose name echoes ominously around us.

“Byers!”

“I’ve got your X-men 134!” Dustin called out, letting out a shaky breath. “Guys, I really think we should turn back.”

Me and him both.

“Seriously, Dustin! You wanna be a baby, then go home already!” Lucas argues, and I don’t like the sound of it.

“Hey, no! If we’re doing something this stupid we’re staying together. We’re not sending each other off alone,” I warned.

“So no one leaves!”

This kid! Their will is greater than mine. I have no choice.

“I’m just trying to be realistic, Lucas!”

“No. You’re just being a big sissy!”

“Shut up!” I yelled above the pair. “I’ve been trying not to scare you, but have you got any idea what are you could be in these woods? And you’re attracting all this attention.”

“Case. In. Point.” Dustin continued, flashlight now beaming from tree to tree. “Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

Like a bear, or a kidnapper or a murderer. Or a Martian.

“And now we’re following in those footsteps,” I agreed. “With only me to protect your asses!”

“Clementine, shut up!”

I look at Mike with wide eyes. “Wow!”

“Shut up, shut up…” he says now more softly.

He’s listening for something. “Do you guys hear that?”

I freeze, heart suddenly in my throat.

What are the chances it was Will Byers scuttling through the trees towards us, to safety?

The rustling is from our left!

Then our right!

And every flashlight in the group is being shone is every direction with every shake of every leaf.

But then it’s just a little too loud, and a little too close.

Four flashlights illuminate a person, and for a millisecond, I was scared.

But this wasn’t a threat.

This was a kid.

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 12 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

Sorry, I forgot to upload it here, too! On the other hand, that means less waiting time for another chapter for you!

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost returns home, but it’s different now. Too quiet.  Too barren. He’s never noticed before. Didn’t have any point of reference. He does now. Stripey brushes against Simon’s legs, and the man bends down to scratch the cat behind the ear. “You liked him, mate?”

“Meow!”

Ghost has no idea what that means. Simply takes it as ‘yes’ and smiles.

He takes out his phone, an old, cheap thing he barely ever uses. Hits the redial. There’s only a handful of numbers on the phone, even less so in the call history.

He hears the phone ring, and then there’s a click. “Simon?” It sounds a little confused, which is hardly surprising. Ghost is very much not the bloke that would simply call to ask how’s life.

“Gaz… What am I doing?” Simon crosses the room slowly, sinking on the futon he hasn’t yet bothered to magick back into the sofa.

“Have I ever seemed clairvoyant to you, mate?” Gaz chuckles. There’s some rustling in the background. Presumably, Gaz is moving into some more private space.

Ghost chuckles back. “Guess not.”

“Guess again,” Gaz deadpans, “how were the pints with MacTavish yesterday?”

“What? How the fuck…?” Ghost frowns, not even trying to hide his surprise.

“I can’t answer that question,” Kyle utters the line that all SAS know better than their own names. Burned on the back of their minds, etched in their muscles. Tattooed with invisible ink all over their bodies.

It’s an answer and not an answer at the same time. With a single line, Kyle has confirmed that he’s close to Soap without betraying anything. His commanding officer, most likely, and isn’t that hilarious?

“It was fine. I’ve let him crash at my place,” Simon volunteers a bit of intel in exchange.

“Really? Just like that? Back when you still served, nobody except Price even knew where you were living.”

“I didn’t want any bloody Christmas cards,” Simon tries to deflect with a joke.

Gaz lets it go. It’s an ancient history by now, and there are more pressing matters he’s interested in, anyway. “I hope you haven’t crashed him on the first date; that would be ruthless even for you,” Kyle’s smirk can be heard in his voice, but there’s an underlying tone of seriousness, too.

Ghost groans, frustrated. With himself, mostly. “No, of course not. I’m not an idiot. But…”

“But you thought about it, haven’t you?”

That man knows him way too well. Dangerously so. Of course, he thought about it. The face, the body, the way John moved, self-assured, a little cocky, not bothering to conceal what he is. And then the talking, the flirting. Especially the flirting. Without that, Simon would’ve been fine. Mates. Friends. Whatever. Simple, safe. Well, think again. Fuck! “Yeah, I did. And I feel like a bloody cradle-snatcher for it.”

Gaz snorts. “He ain’t that young, and you ain’t that old, Ghost. You know what he does for a living and how it is, so I’m gonna save my breath and spare you the lectures. Have fun, Simon.”

As if he needs the lectures. “That’s all?”

“Does it even matter what I say, Ghost? It’s not life or death business. You’re both adults, if not entirely reasonable. As long as your thing doesn’t fuck up my thing, we’re good.”

“You didn’t really help me, you know,” Simon notes bemusedly.

“If you wanted a voice of reason, I’m afraid you didn’t call the right number. I guess Laswell’s would be what, two numbers down?”

“One.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Thank you, Kyle,” Simon sighs.

“Anytime, mate. And show the kid some neat tricks while you’re at it, will you?”

“I have no idea what kept Price from strangling you,” Simon huffs a laugh.

“My charming personality, obviously,” there are some muffled voices in the background then. “Gotta run, duty calls and all that. Just… enjoy the life a little, old man.”

“Is that an order?”

“Might as well make it one. Cheers, Ghost.”

Ghost lets himself fall back, sprawling on the futon. Stripey is with him and subsequently on him the next second, stepping on Simon’s chest before he lies down. Kyle was right. If Ghost wanted a voice of reason, Gaz wasn’t exactly the right person to call.

So, if he’s read the situation right, and would like to take it further, what would the next step be?

[inkbyajm]

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

[bridgyrose]

Weiss slowly brought a dress up in front of her as she looked over her reflection in the mirror, fingers clutching the fabric tightly. A small smile crossed her lips as she held the dress close to her body, glad that she had found one that Winter was throwing away. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. Even if she had to hide who she was at home, this was enough to tell her that this was who she was. 

Her smile dropped as she heard a few footsteps on the other side of her bedroom door, quickly stashing the dress under her bed and moving the covers to keep it from being seen. Weiss turned around as she heard a knock on the door, voice cracking as she answered. “W-who’s there?” 

“Klein, Master Weiss,” Klein said from behind the door. “I have lunch for you.” 

“Come in.” Weiss gave a half smile as she watched Klein walk into the room pushing a tray. She was grateful it was just Klein and that her father wasnt following behind. She sat down on her bed and adjusted her tie as Klein made sure lunch was served. “You know you dont have to call me Master Weiss when Father isnt around.” 

Klein nodded and moved the tray to Weiss’s beside. “But you never know who he has watching you. After he found that skirt you purchased, I’m sure he has more of the servants around here watching to make sure you’re a model son for him.”

Weiss’s smile dropped as she let out a soft sigh and ran her fingers through her short hair. “Dont remind me. Though I’d wish he’d understand I’m not his son.” 

“I’m she he’ll understand it once you have the chance to leave home. You are still planning to go to Beacon in a couple years, yes?” 

“As long as I can pass the entrance exam and continue to convince Father that its in our family’s best interest that his heir also be a huntsman.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to.” 

“I can hope,” Weiss said quietly as Klein left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts again. She waited until she couldnt hear footsteps near her door before pulling out a sketchbook with a few designs she had made for the huntress gear she wanted to wear once she started at Beacon. A combat skirt to allow her to move freely, a nice top and jacket to match in order to show her status as one of Atlas’ elite. 

A smile crossed her lips again as she ran her fingers over the sketch, already glad she was that much closer to making this a reality. The real challenge would be to place the order without her father knowing, Most of the tailors and dressmakers in Atlas reported any orders the Schnees made straight to Jacques, and trying to order anything like this from Vale or Mistral seemed out of the question without coming up with some sort of an excuse. Waiting until she could get to Beacon sounded like a better option, though explaining any of this to a roommate or even any future teammates felt like a bigger hassle than she wanted to. 

Weiss closed the sketchbook and tossed it to the floor as she laid down on her bed. With quiet words, she looked up at the ceiling above her. “I know this is what I want, but father… he’d never understand and I wish there was a way I could get him to.” 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for just a moment, only to open them when she felt someone take her hand. In front of her was an older woman who gave her a smile, and her room had seemed to disappear in a realm of light.

“Please take care of this gift.” 

The woman and the room of light disappeared just as quickly as they came and Weiss fell out of bed as she felt a warmth in her chest as her heart pounded. Her eyes burned in a warm stinging no matter how many times she blinked to try to get whatever was in them out. And then she went still as she saw the floor under her start to freeze with a sheet of ice that almost seemed to grow on its own. She finally caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, catching a blue fire in her eyes. 

She finally caught her breath as she watched the fire disappear and she slowly stood up, nearly slipping on the ice on her floor as she heard a knock on her door. 

“Weiss?” Klein called out. “Is everything okay?” 

“E-everything is fine!” Weiss said as held her bed to stabilize herself. “I uh… I scared myself… with… with a book! A horror story! Nothing more!” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I am!” Weiss created a few glyphs to walk over the ice on the floor so she could make it to the door. She opened it just wide enough for her to slip out and nearly slammed the door when she closed it. “Though I think now might be a good time for me to take a walk. I know father keeps you busy, but… would you come with me?” 

Klein nodded. “Of course, Master Weiss. Where did you want to go?” 

“Through the menagerie that mother has,” Weiss answered as she started to walk down the hall. “Just need to clear my head and looking at the animals will help.” 

“Then I’ll follow your lead.” 

Weiss gave a soft smile as she started to make her way through the manor and to the menagerie. She slowed her steps as she walked by each portrait, her eyes lingering at how much like a boy they made her look. Even with her hair slowly growing out, she still looked enough like the son Jacques had wanted no matter how much she tried to change that. 

She stopped at one of the few portraits that had her whole family smiling, back before Winter left to be a huntress and Whitley had just been born. She reached out for it, her fingertips lingering against the frame for just a moment as she wished it all could go back to then. Weiss pulled back as soon as she saw a bit of frost start to run up the frame and quickly pulled out her scroll to look at her eyes. 

“Is everything okay-” 

“I-I’m fine!” Weiss said as she swatted Klein’s hand away from her shoulder. She took a breath as the flames in her eyes died down and adjusted her vest. “I’m sorry I pulled you along, but I’ve decided to go for my walk alone.” 

Klein nodded and gave a small bow to Weiss. “You know where to find me if you need me.” 

“Thank you, Klein,” Weiss said. 

She waited until Klein had left her sight before she started to walk again, taking her way out towards the front door instead of to the menagerie like she had wanted to originally. At least, until she passed by a painting of her, Jacques, and Whitlley. She stared at the painting, a reminder of how her father had wanted a picture of the men of his family together, the reminder of how her father and others would see her. 

Weiss didnt realize she had placed a hand on the painting or that it had caught fire, and she didnt care when she caught a reflection of herself in metal of a suit of armor as the fire in her eyes died down. She took a step back to watch the painting burn for a few seconds before rushing away from it. 

“F-fire!” she called out. “There’s a fire!” 

[kylie-writes-stuff]

heyyy was wondering if you did hcs and if you did could I request dating charlie kelly ones?? i cannot stop thinking thoughts

dating charlie kelly hcs!!

a/n: AHHH i love this i have so so many thoughts!! these are like my personal hcs but i still hope these make sense and i have a good grasp on his character. i think i do after watching 15 seasons multiple times but idk. let me know! thank you and i hope you enjoy it!! <33

not my gif!

charlie absolutely adores you!! he looks at you and just has absolute heart eyes

he’s also very obsessive (to a certain extent, not like with the waitress (unless you’re into that))

when you first met, god, he was so awkward. he thought he was constantly making a fool of himself but you found him very endearing :)

sometimes still can’t believe that you’re actually together

he LOVES stealing getting you gifts whenever he can

he hangs onto every word you say so he knows your interests very well. when he sees anything related to them, wether it be a shirt, a keychain, action figures, or even just little trinkets he think you’d like, he just has to get it for you

you get little gifts for him too and he loves them. cherishes each and every one

charlie’s doesn’t really like being touched but you’re definitely an exception

especially after coming home from a long day of doing charlie work at the bar. all he wants is for you to hold him and run your fingers through his hair while some random show plays on the TV

he’s the only one who ever actually does work at Paddy’s, but if you work with the gang he 100% procrastinates just so he can spend time talking to you at the bar

always trying to get you on board with whatever latest scheme him, or the gang, has because he just always wants to spend time with you. doesn’t matter what you guys are doing

dennis often flirts with you, mainly just to get on charlie’s nerves, and you always turn him down. charlie trusts you more than he’s ever trusted anyone (besides maybe Mac), but he can’t help but still feel possessive

not a big fan of PDA but will always wrap an arm around your waist or shoulder as his little way of saying “hey back off, they’re mine”

will also brush against your arm and leave just little touches throughout the day, especially when no one else is around

not that he doesn’t like showing affection in front of others!! he’s not like embarrassed or anything. in fact, he loves showing you off

he would just rather save all the cuddly stuff for when you guys are alone, away from the worries of the world

i feel like one of his main love languages is definitely acts of service.

oh you’re afraid of spiders? he’s immediately squashing them with his shoe the second he sees one in your apartment

will try to make you dinner. it usually goes fine but if he ends up burning it then, hey, it’s the thought that counts. you’re still super appreciative and give him a hug and kiss, before ordering take out for the two of you

anything he can do for you, he will do for you. even if it’s something as simple as getting you a beer from the fridge after a long day

if you’re always sleepy in the morning, he knows that about you. when you tiredly get out of bed, forced to start your day, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into bed. he’ll mumble something about a few more minutes and the two of you just stay in bed for a while, content in each other’s arms.

he loves to just observe you. like if you’re running around the bar, serving drinks, he’ll just watch and admire you.

the two of you absolutely adore each other. the gang teases you often but you guys don’t care. and the gang will never flat out admit it, but they’re happy for the both of you :)

little extra i think about often:

charlie has a soft spot for cats. if you happen to be a cat person too? you two are definitely going to the shelter and adopting one together

you’re content spending the majority of your time at home with just charlie and your cat. and so is he

he loves the gang, of course, but you’re his sanctuary. his safe place amongst all the chaos in his life.

spending time together on the couch, eating snacks and watching movies, with your cat cuddled up on your lap, is the perfect night to both of you <33

[khaopybara]

Started off the episode with mays terrible parents 😠 (I’m smad at the mom. Mad that she won’t defend May or stand up to her husband and sad because she is probably scared af of him. Divorce that man asap!)

Young May: How can someone be hurt emotionally?

Mays dad: hold my beer 😈

Hate that man with a burning passion!

Thankfully we quickly moved past that and onto the oonmay camping date. May struggling to remember that she’s supposed to be completely blind, the pluto necklace 😭, SEX IN THE CAMPER VAN 🫦🫦🫦. Oom’s twin senses were tingling so hard during that scene that she ended up waking up from her coma AND IMMEDIATELY LOOKING FOR MAY BECAUSE SHE ONLY REMEMBERS HER AND NOT PAUL!?!? Oy vey 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Ai seemed completely heartbroken right after she spoke with her grandma but it doesn’t seem to be stopping her since we see her texting May about cashing in for her reward while her sister IS RIGHT BEHIND HER. Bold Ai, very bold. and then AND THEN… the back to back reveals had me BOUNCING ON MY BED!!! Ai finding out may was the attorney who defended the guy who caused Ben to be paralyzed AND THEN IMMEDIATELY FINDING OUT THAT KOSAL WAS THE ONE WHO CAUSED MAY TO GO BLIND ALL BECAUSE Ai MADE SOME OFFHANDED THREAT OUT OF ANGER!!!!!

The repeated “i love her”s while breaking down had me breaking down 😭😭😭😭.

PinPangJan…

I totally understand that pim needs time after her breakup before she can jump into a new relationship but GODFUCKINGDAMMIT part of me wishes she moved on as quickly as pang! You and i seem to be switching stances on the whole throuple thing. I was initially hoping for a love triangle in which each person’s feelings went both directions(the ever rare true triangle!). Here we have Pang likes Jan. Jan likes Pim. Pim is still pining for Pang. Does Jan even like Pang? Doesn’t seem like Pang ever really loved Pim. I need someone who has read the books to tell me if pim ends up happy. That’s all I need to know!!!

Some last random thoughts…

-is ton breaking HIPPA every time he gives May an update on oom?

- i find it interesting that Jan basically knew everything about May from the start but didn’t say anything!!!!

-I’m curious as to how much oom remembers. She called May her gf but also remembered that May was the attorney. I wonder if she remembers the moments after that when she realized May met and fell in love with Ai that day way back when.

I’m am so sorry about this insane amount of word vomit of all my thoughts and feelings.

-🤫

i've said this before and i'll say it again, i hope the dad dies. he's probably going to get arrested or have a quick redemption arc and ask for forgiveness for being a despicable human being, but in a perfect world, he'd end up dead in a ditch. "bibi that's so revengeful", i couldn't care less. he's abusive to his child, he's abusive to his nephew and given the mom's response to all of that, he is most definitely abusive towards her (and he know it's not only mentally, given that he didn't think twice before slapping may across the face after very reasonably questioning him). so anyway, hope he dies.

i spent my free evening playing baldur's gate 3 and when i tell you i would regularly remember the way may would sneak glances at oon… *sighs* is it yearning when they are already dating? anyway, i didn't go into the tags and none of my moots reblogged anything like it (i think), but i'm so on my way to make a gifset about that because it made me feel things.

the sex scene was so beautifully shot, too. the light and the mood and the way oon had her hair to the side and looked quite dishevelled, it was better than i could have hopped (also, here i am, yet again, even more excited about girl rules bc yes, beautiful sex scenes with feelings are always great, but i'm so ready for the messy and angry that i know all three couples will serve).

LISTEN. amnesia plots are so cliche and used to be so overly used, and it's also one of my favorite tropes for some types of fanfics, SO HOW DID I NOT THINK THAT WOULD BE A THING? OOM HIT HER HEAD FOR GOD'S SAKE. honestly, that's on me, i didn't even think of the possibility like a fool. but i was so heartbroken for oom, too, bc imagine you go through the heartbreak of finding out your gf is in love with your sister actually, and then you marry a dude you don't care about, and now you forget him, and think you're in love with your ex again! when she finds out, it'll be heartbreaking. namtan will make me cry again.

the thing about ai and oom tho, they aren't telling her about paul and may right away just to avoid her going through more traumatic stuff after surviving an i-don't-know-how-many-months coma. at least the impression i got was that they were going to tell her once she got stronger, but then, BUT THEN! the revelations about batman, and ben, and kosol come to light and i wanted to die right then and there. you can see oon's face dropping and her heart breaking with each new piece of information she gets. i wanna commend namtan again bc man, how can she cry so prettily and make me feel all of these sad things? she did so great, i love her acting. i love the way she plays oom and say "pls forgive may, for me". i love how in love she looks whenever she's with may. how fond of her sister and her grandma she looks. i love this woman.

YOU SUMMED UP THE PIMPANGJAN THING PERFECTLY (for me). here's the thing, and i think i've said this last week, too. if pang demonstrated she has ever liked pim romantically (bc even when they were together, i feel like pang was just keeping pim to fill in space), i would be fine with a possible throuple. but pang has no interest whatsoever in pim, while pim can't forget pang, and poor jan is in this crossfire, bc she's respecting pim's decision to not get involved with her, but i don't think she's romantically into pang, either. it'll be great if they all kiss. i can't wait to finally add earn to the girl kissers list i have, and add two names to her tab, BUT STILL!!

to be fair, ton has been lying left and right to cover may, so i don't think he's too worried about patient confidentiality. he's an ally helping out his poor lesbian cousin get the girl, we can forgive him.

i was already suspicious that jan knew everything. watching back, it's so clear that oom was trying to set oon and may up, and bc jan is oom's best friend, i can only imagine all the things they've talked about and how much jan must have comforted her friend after the revelation about may's true affections.

i think oom has a selective memory loss thing going on. as in she forgot all the most traumatic things that have happened in the past year and regressed. even tho i wish oom would make things messier, i think she'll get her memories back on her own soon-ish. i do wonder what type of ending she'll get bc i must say, i'm an oom apologist, and i need her to somehow get a cute girlfriend who loves her for her too.

[historicallyaccuratecheese]

I’m now halfway through The Magnus Archives’ 1st season, so I thought it would be cool to just post my thoughts on each episode so far :). (Spoilers, I like all of them, and this podcast is going to be all I care about for a while.) Also NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!

Link to Masterpost (contains all of these thought posts)

- Episode 1, Anglerfish 🚬

Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh.

Really strong start, not the scariest episode so far but definitely unnerving, and it gives a good first impression and layer of intrigue. While the story is simple in comparison to the later ones, it was still enjoyable, and I was just appreciating the atmosphere and framing device of the episode as well.

- Episode 2, Do Not Open ⚰️

Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in the possession of an apparently empty wooden casket.

This is still one of my favorites. The whole time I was on edge, and this was the first episode that really kept me up at night. I went from wanting to know what was inside the coffin desperately, to wanting to stay away from it as much as possible. Joshua’s insuring dread and creative solution to his problems was fantastic, and it ends with some intriguing plot threads being set up.

- Episode 3, Across The Street 📓

Statement of Amy Patel, regarding the alleged disappearance of her acquaintance Graham Folger.

I think I share a common sentiment when I say that Amy stalking Graham was almost as creepy as the actual horror lmao. Overall I don’t have that much to say about this one, but it was very enjoyable, and I feel really bad for Graham in retrospect :(.

- Episode 4, Pageturner 📕

Statement of Dominic Swain, regarding a book briefly in his possession in the winter of 2012.

I…feel like I should hold off on talking about this one for now. While it was definitely well written and creepy, it just seems to be so full of setup for future plot lines that I almost don’t feel like I can form a concise opinion on it until I really get what’s going on. Honestly, my only complaint with this episode is that maybe it’s setting up TOO much in one go, but I still had a good time with it overall.

- Episode 5, Thrown Away 🗑️

Statement of Kieran Woodward, regarding items recovered from the refuse of 93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstowe.

This one actually did a pretty good job at getting me to think about waste disposal workers lmao, I never really thought about them like that before. This one was just really creepy, but also kind of fun in a weird twisted way. It did a great job keeping me on edge as well.

- Episode 6, Squirm 🪱

Statement of Timothy Hodge, regarding his sexual encounter with Harriet Lee and her subsequent death.

I am simultaneously horrified, and unfortunately aroused by what happened here.

- Episode 7, The Piper 🔫

Statement of Staff Sgt. Clarence Berry, regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen in the Great War.

Having an episode set nearly 100 years ago is a really fun idea, and it’s executed perfectly here. It was interesting how it also featured a real person, and I liked how the paranormal activity felt more metaphorical here, it really did feel like it was showcasing the horror of war.

- Episode 8, Burned Out 🌳

Statement of Ivo Lensik, regarding his experiences during the construction of a house on Hill Top Road, Oxford.

I found this one to be very nerve-wracking, since not only was the whole scenario with the tree just, like…three creepy things happening at once, but the fact that the statement was given by someone with schizophrenia did a good job making me question it’s validity, even though I’m certain it’s true after listening to a later statement. I also hope that I get to see how the history of the house is unveiled in the future.

- Episode 9, A Father’s Love 💡

Statement of Julia Montauk, regarding the actions and motivations of her father, the serial killer Robert Montauk.

This one made me feel really sad :(. I really felt Julia’s despair in this one (Jonathan Sims does such great voice acting for every statement btw, both the character and the actual person), and I was even more saddened by the implications of why Robert did what he did. If my assumptions are correct, then…SCREW THE MOTHER! It was also the first one that got me thinking about where exactly all of the paranormal stuff comes from, and later episodes only add to my theory that it’s all due to demons/cults/higher powers.

- Episode 10, Vampire Killer 🧛🏻

Statement of Trevor Herbert, regarding his life as a self-proclaimed vampire hunter.

Much like Episode 8, this one did a really good job at making me question the validity of the statement, although I became more sure of its truth a bit earlier. I also just love how nonchalant Trevor comes off as, compared to all of the other traumatized horror victims. (Also, I’m guessing that the name Trevor and the episode title are meant to be a Castlevania reference?) While vampires aren’t the most creative thing for an episode, at least in comparison to everything else, the beast-like execution here more than made up for it in my opinion.

- Episode 11, Dreamer 💭

Statement of Antonio Blake, regarding his recent dreams about Gertrude Robinson, previous Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Yeah…Gertrude Robinson did not die a normal death. My guess is that she was caught by ✨the horrors✨, but I’ll wait and see. This was another very tense episode, with the prophetic dream world being really, REALLY creepy. I do hope we get to see more of “Antonio” in the future, as I think he could be quite important. (I also hope he gets punched for DUMPING GRAHAM IN HIS TIME OF NEED-)

- Episode 12, First Aid 🏥

Statement of Lesere Saraki, regarding a recent night-shift at St. Thomas Hospital, London.

OMG GERARD KEAY HI HI HI HI HOW ARE YOU!!! Yeah I audibly gasped when he showed up again, it was such a cool moment. Anyways, hospitals already creep me the fuck out so this was pretty effective. Definitely some great setup here, and it helped to make a bit more sense of Pageturner, now that I have a better idea of what Gerard’s whole deal is. It also added some good fuel to the whole cult idea, and my god this poor nurse. Having to deal with all of this in a single night sounds like hell.

- Episode 13, Alone 🌫️

Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding the events following the funeral of her fiancé, Evan Lukas. Statement taken direct from subject.

Having a new voice in this episode was really cool, and Katie Davison did an excellent job as Naomi! It was also cool to see how Jon interacts with other people, he was…nicer than expected. This episode honestly felt like it was calling me out, as I am also someone who’s confident in my independence, but if I was in Naomi’s place I would also probably be scared shitless. I really hope she’ll get a happy ending :(. Also, The Lukas family is quite intriguing, especially since we now know they have a connection to The Institute…

- Episode 14, Piecemeal 👆

Statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding the murder of his associate Paul Noriega.

Firstly, this is probably my favorite of Jon’s vocal deliveries. His performance of Lee Rentoul just feels perfect. (Once again, this applies to both the writer and the character, I’m genuinely convinced the latter is an ex-theatre kid.) Outside of that, THIS ONE CREEPED ME OUT. The body horror was very effective, with the only thing holding it back being the fact that Lee isn’t the most likable protagonist in the podcast, but if this happened to someone else I’d be even more upset. Still though, it was a very creative concept, and the whole vibe and execution of the episode made it great.

- Episode 15, Lost Johns’ Cave 🕯️

Statement of Laura Popham, regarding her experience exploring the Three Counties System of caves with her sister Alena Sanderson.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fu-

- Episode 16, Arachnophobia 🕷️

Statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding his arachnophobia and its manifestations.

The way they tackled the concept in the title was really well done. Arachnophobia is seen as an irrational fear by a lot of people, so having it portrayed as an effect of childhood trauma was a good call. And as someone who is not arachnophobic, this episode got me close to feeling that way. What ever force was making Carlos relive his trauma is a sick fuck. Also the cat was a real one, glad he survived the whole situation. (Also THE WORMS, HOLY SHIT IT’S THE SEX WORMS!!!)

- Episode 17, The Boneturner’s Tale 🦴

Statement of Sebastian Adekoya, regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library.

This episode really compelled me to get out the rubber bands connecting images lmao. I really liked all of the connections to past statements here, like the presence of another book from the library of Jurgen Leitner, to the mention of Micheal Crew. The body horror here was once again very creepy, (outside of the flat rat, that was morbidly funny), but my favorite part of the episode was the introduction of Elias, which was a humorous, but also very intriguing scene. Also, the themes of books containing power was great as well. Great stuff all around.

- Episode 18, The Man Upstairs 🥩

Statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding his interactions with a first floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.

…ew. Ok in all seriousness, this is probably my least favorite episode so far. Still very far from bad, but after all of the extremely interesting themes and plot threads, having an episode where the idea was just “What if a guy had a house covered in meat? Wouldn’t that be fucked up?”, felt just a little bit underwhelming. Which like, the fact that my least favorite episode’s biggest problem is that I find it slightly pales in comparison to previous ones is just a testament to how much I’ve been enjoying the podcast. Still though, there were definitely a few things I really liked. The reveal of the room was creepy (especially considering the meat that seemed…alive…), and as someone who has had to deal with upstairs neighbors making noise for hours during construction, this episode definitely scared me.

- Episode 19, Confession, and Episode 20, Desecrated Host ✝️

Statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding his claimed demonic possession.

This, alongside Lost Johns’ Cave, was one (or I guess, two…) of those episodes that seriously fucked me up. While I am not religious, I have always had fears of how religion can negatively affect me and the people around me, despite the good that it seems to do for so many people. So seeing Edwin be charged for every “sin” he committed by a higher power that wishes to steal its faith, and then not get judged by it, but by the people around him for his one true sin, was absolutely haunting, and I hope he turns out ok in the end. Outside of the horror, the episodes were fantastic. Listening to the events of Episode 8 from Edwin’s perspective, and seeing how Ivo’s actions saved him, was really cool, and solidifies in my mind that Ivo’s experience was real. The connections to demonic magic and Latin script thickened, and it was overall just a great mid-season finale. In conclusion, I hope that Martin feels better soon, and if he isn’t actually sick and is being plagued by ✨the horrors✨, well then I hope he survives :).

Thank you for reading my silly little thoughts if you’ve made it this far, it really means a lot to me :). I’ll probably update this every time I finish half of a season, so hopefully my thoughts on episodes 21-40 will be here in the Reblogs soon. :)

[starsofjewels]

*slides over* heyaaaa how you doin? hope your doin great:], could i possibly ask for a gregor c fic maybe a smut maybe a fluff(possibly a continuation of the fic with the kids), okkkk now bye bye love ya!!❤

Warm Embraces and Warmer Beds

NSFW!!

Any and all characters depicted in NSFW pieces are of legal age. All characters are also consenting (Unless specificed by piece)

CONTENT: SMUT (underneath cut)- dub!con, Fingering, PinV, reunion! sex- Language, vague mentions of war + blood (it’s Westeros), discussions of SW

Big Greg… You know what you’re getting in to.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hey my pookies. Another day, another request, more regrets. Mistakes have been made, but I will do anything for my self-indulgent fics about a big ass man who’d probably turn me into a pavement pancake if we met irl (🤤)

Anyway…

Live long, prosper… I guess.

P.S. Als at some point (over) 50 of you silly geeses decided to drop a follow, so thank you sm my babies. I love you all.

I really need a Masterlist…

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

To be married to a knight- Especially one who boasts his own keep- Is something most ladies of your standing can only dream of. Most low, noble girls are thrown off to a favoured squire, to old men and their older books, who couldn’t be bothered to find themselves a wife until it was much too late. But you? You are lucky. Your husband is feared, truly feared, you have no jealous lordlings come to take your land, and no threat to you, or your boys. Gregor Clegane is a name known across the Kingdoms, and you, as sweet Lady Clegane, are his responsibility. Not even the Lannister bannermen ask for voluntary contribution when they come for the tithes. You need nothing, and you are asked for even less.

But there are always sacrifices to be made. It is part of womanhood; the men hunt and drink and fuck as they see fit, and you are left to pick up the pieces, and tend to their wounds. You have never minded, though, Gregor is a sweetheart when he returns, like a kicked puppy, demanding a hot meal and a kiss to his cuts. His duty is to guard, and yours is to nurture, that is how it has always been.

It is not uncommon for he, Tywin’s greatest weapon, to spend months away from you. He is a knight, and that is how knights serve their lords. He leaves you with everything you could need and more in his absence: control over his land, his keep and, his prized possessions, your boys. Ronan and Finny are old enough to understand their expectations as the heir, and the spare, to the Clegane household. Armed with wooden swords and a promise to protect their lady mother, and the small, pink sack of flesh they call a baby brother. Something in you is glad they still idolise their father’s profession, that their heads are still filled with the notions of saving princesses and slaying dragons.

Still, even excitable little boys grow restless after so long without their father. There is a hush over the keep, and the land, and it is almost peaceful; not that it could truly manage it, with Gregor at its helm, but it is nice to see the pheasants running about, when the men are too busy fighting to hunt them down. One runs past, chased by a kitchen cat, in turn chased by Ronan. You grab him before he can reach the animals, he has a habit of staging races, and annoying the gamekeeper with the scratches across the lawns. The boy squeals, as he always does, caught in the act.

“Mama?”

Ronan is placated with a book and one of the very old, very fat cats he has no interest in racing. The thing, titled ‘lazy arse’ by Gregor, affectionately or not, sits across your son, with the bored expression you’d expect from the child himself. He, with his pages open at an illustration of the Valyrian dragons burning each other, is enjoying himself immensely. At least, you think, his studies are partially educational.

“Mh?"

“When’s Daddy coming back?”

You sigh, looking out the window as though the mustard banners would appear at any moment. You don’t know, in truth, Gregor could be a mile away, or halfway across the world, and it wouldn’t make that much of a difference. Dead, or alive, or turned into a beast of cool flesh and ice, the distance is about the same no matter how you think about it, and double so for your boys. 

“I don’t know, sweet boy,” That’s all you can find yourself able to tell him. He looks at you, shrugs, and goes back to his book. You are glad he is not a girl, a girl would ask more questions, Ronan has always been happy with the simple. 

It is relatively calm, it always is on nights like these. Finny is beyond himself, refusing to go to bed, as always, and the babe is unreasonably fussy for no particular reason. Still, it is near surreally quiet. You do not know much about war, but you know what it sounds like, and in your world, it sounds like silence. Something in you tells you to let the boys sleep in your bed, instead of forcing them into the room the clearly do not want to go in. Finny is light, easy enough for you to lift up and plop on Gregor’s side, Ronan, with slightly more stamina, follows along beside you. 

The night has no major disasters, the babe is taken off by the nursemaids, and you wake to the sunlight streaming in through the window, you must have forgotten to pull the curtains, the staff would not have come in this early. Or perhaps they did; there is a bundle of daffodils upon your dresser, which you are certain were not there when you retired for the evening. Erra, one of your few handmaidens, enjoys making little displays, you assume she has snuck in some time before dawn to place them.

And then you hear it, those footsteps. No man alive can imitate the heavy, dull thud of them, you know it all too well. It stirs the boys, or, more likely, they were already awake, you aren’t particularly sure. You see the shadows change as the door opens, and you can recognise from the size of it alone who stands before you. 

“You awake?”

The response you give is somewhere between a hum and a groan, not quite aware enough to answer him, yet enough to know he’s there. You can hardly move, both for sleep, and the fact that Finny has clambered across your chest at some point in the night, but he still knows. He always knows.

Gregor trundles in, washed and dressed in his nightshirt. You wonder where he slept, surely not beside you, you are certain he would have woken you, or the boys, getting himself into bed. The light blocks most of his face, but he moves with such power you assume he has no injuries. If he does, he is good at hiding them. When he reaches the bed, he pulls the quilts away from you, and you make a noise of complaint for the cold, even if the day itself is reasonably warm. Gregor pulls Finny from your chest, and Ronan from your side, and lifts them up, into his arms, and you are quickly reunited with your warm blankets. You hear one of the boys stir, though unsure which, and he is shushed by Gregor as they leave. For once, they may sleep in their own beds.

Your husband, your Mountain, returns to your side, and climbs into your bed. He is as warm as he left you, and just as willing to wrap you in his embraces. You feel the urge to go back to sleep, to rest in his arms as though he had never gone in the first place, and it is wonderful.

But of course, it is never that simple.

Big hands find your sides, sliding under your nightdress and scraping your bare thighs underneath. Gregor lifts you just slightly, enough so that when he bends his legs, you sit directly upon his lap. You make some sort of noise, some demonstration of complaint, but he has never listened, and he will not start now. 

The first kiss you receive, after months of doing without, goes softly to the plumped skin of your cheek. Warm, and smooth and uncharacteristically delicate, like something you would dream of. Part of you wonders if this is, truly, a dream, as Gregor rocks you back and forth, hands seeking grip on the flat surface of the meat of your thighs. And he does not stop there, he hasn’t stopped a day in his life. 

He grazes you, cool, rugged hands taking their place against soft, fattened skin. You wonder how many nights he has spent alone with his hands in the past months, just as you have. He would never take a whore, he tells you, he can’t be bothered with the effort. But you are no whore, you are soft, and delicate, and willing. 

It doesn’t much matter if the noise you make is of protest or of enjoyment. You are tired, and growing increasingly wet, and this seems to spur him even more. 

“Missed this…”

He murmurs against your skin, pinching fingers pulling up the skirts of your nightdress, so your bare arse rests upon those heavy, muscled thighs, sharp with a thousand tiny, black hairs. It shocks you, just enough for you to register it, but not so that you are fully awake.

You feel his cock immediately, of course you do. Its length, its width. He is a big man, and he has no lack of knowledge towards its usage. Even from within the confines of his nightshirt its outline is visible, and you are almost ashamed of the sudden desire which washes over you. At any other point you would feign shame, you would blush and whimper. But here, and now, there is only so much longing you can hold back. 

Gregor’s great hands come up to caress your face, and he almost laughs,

“You’re drooling, love,” His thumb swipes at your bottom lip, and you resist the urge to bite, to show him you are in no mood for teasing, but you are certain your reward will come soon.

And it does, as always. In his usual fashion, the hands come first. Pinches become long, deliberate waves of touch, and there is the understanding that all of his play, his teasing, has ceased. He wants what he wants, and he wants your cunt.

In your sleep-addled state, and probably in his fully lucid reality, it is gentle and sweeter than usual. Perhaps he is being deliberately gentle to aid your fragile mind, or, more likely, he knows you have forgotten just how big he truly is, and a broken wife is just about as good as no wife at all.

One hand keeps itself firmly upon your hip, in case you slip and slide away from him, as the other caresses your inner thighs, and, when he is satisfied you can handle it, to the true purpose of his invasions. 

He has never let you enjoy his hands solely for long, and this shall be no different. For such a big man, Gregor is shockingly agile in this regard, fumbling steps and harsh palms becoming light touches against your clit. At this time, in this situation, he doesn’t dare venture any further than the surface. From his grunts and, dare you say it, his whines, you can tell he may not last particularly long, the consequence of months away from you, you suppose. 

“Hey, hey- Sleepy girl,”

Gregor’s hands leave your body, and you find yourself pressed once again to the soft, inviting flesh of the mattress, still warm. The semi-shock you experience as your arse touches the cool air is dulled, instantly, as the big man pats it gently. Your hips are lifted, and he puts his own pillow beneath you, warm.

“Have you just the way you like, yeah?”

You affirm, face pushed into your own cushion. You can hardly breathe, but with the delicious tension, it doesn’t really matter. 

And it comes, just as you expected it, perhaps more than you expected it. You see only darkness, but you feel so much more. He moves with poorly veiled desire, a necessity to touch you as only he can. You are his and, more importantly, he is yours, all yours. After all, who else is he taking with such delicate fervour?

You are kissed, you are held, and you are loved. Gregor’s cock finds its way, with simple instinct, to your cunt, and you wince and whine. He had expected it, of course, and gets no more than the tip into you before he has to stop. Not the desired reaction, but the realistic one.

“Shh, shh…” It seems a foreign sound for such a harsh creature. To hush, to comfort, “That’s my girl…”

You keen, your hips shift upwards and you let him in further, despite the uncomfortable stretching. You have always loved his praise, always loved to be his sweet, good, wife. 

Gregor’s movements are gentle. When he takes you like this, after months apart, he allows himself to be gentle. He is your returned knight, your handsome, precious husband, and there is a time and a place for him to be the Mountain. Now, here, is not that place.

When he is certain you are comfortable, that it is not too much, he helps you sit yourself between his cock and your hand. Big fingers return to your clit, and he almost laughs as you squeal, the sudden stimulation, apparently, a shock to the system.

And, naturally, it does not take particularly long for him to reap the rewards of this uncharacteristic gentleness, as you let out your long, low moans, muffled by your face pressed into the cushions, and he feels you clench around him. It is something he has longed for, there is nothing quite like it, and it always brings forth his own finish.

So he does. Thick and hot, everything you might expect from a man of that stature, with such a glorious cock. The world does not give you many pleasures, nor does it anyone, but to be here, warm and filled, is certainly a pleasure worth noting. 

Gregor stays in you, he likes to stay in you. In his brooding moments he likes to say it helps a child come forth, but you aren’t quite sure of the legitimacy to that claim. Not that it matters. You see the sunlight again, staring out your bedroom window with a wall of flesh at your back. And it is beautiful. 

He has killed men, you know that, he will have rampaged through the Vale, or wherever it was he had been sent, destroying everything in his path and laughing as he did it. You see his great breastplate stained with blood, and the image turns you in some, not entirely unpleasant way. But you say nothing, you are too tired for a second round, and your Mountain seems to have spent his energy.

Later, once you are suitably cleaned of all remnants of your adventures, and Gregor is both awake and dressed, you sit around the table, the boys clinging to their father and desperate for tales of their father’s quests around Westeros. Not much of it is suitable for children, you gather.

They spend all day play-fighting, with their swords, and insist that you must watch, to referee, and you must give your favours to both of them, because every knight has their favours. They, as little knights-to-be, are satisfied by leaves you pick from the ground.

Finny wins, to everyone’s amazement, and as his reward is given first pick of pudding. Not substantial by any means, but enough to satisfy a small boy with a love of blackberries. Everyone is happy, all is content, and Gregor fits back into the family with no trouble, making your boys cringe as he kisses you before supper is served. You deserve your rewards too, after all.