#save me new fic chapter drop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starkeygirls · 2 months ago

Text

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 1

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: really bad at these!

wc: 2.5k

warning: none! i haven't written in a while, this is a rewrite of a story that i started in 2020, so please bare with me as i get back in the groove of writing.

a/n: guess who's back, back again. determined to finish this series. rafe and sofia in s4 really inspired me to get back into this fic, hope you all like it ◡̈ pls reblog/comment/etc.. would love to hear your thoughts ◡̈

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes you really fit into Figure 8. Sometimes you all did. Like when John B was off with Sarah and he was wearing the clothes that she had bought him to go out golfing or go to brunch at the yacht club. Or when Kie was dragged to a kook event by her parents at the country club. Pope wore his suit when he had different scholarship and college interviews- and he really gave the kook boys a run for their money with how good he looked in his steamed suit. JJ was the least likely to really look like he would ever fit in on Figure 8, and that was because he never wanted to. He reserved his ‘money suit’, as he called it, for when he had to work as a busboy, and occasionally picked up other gigs. You, however, were fitting in more often than you would have liked.

You tucked your white cashmere sweater into your long, green pleated skirt. Letting out a small huff as you sprayed your perfectly curled hair one more time. Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you trudged down your hallway, your sneakers cost more than $400. You could still remember how your jaw dropped when you saw the pricetag, and apparently the kooks ate these shoes up. They needed them in every color, every new style that came out. It was madness, if you were being honest. It was like they were just giving away money.

That’s what it seemed like, at least. You had been working at a retail store in the main strip of Figure 8 for over a year now. It was the only way you could afford the clothes you were wearing. You got a steep discount off the price, and you knew how to shop sales better than anyone.

Your kook masquerade was always squished the moment you walked out to your car. The old beat up Honda that was always parked out front was nothing like what a kook would drive. It was too old. A 2005? The kooks didn’t know what anything from that year was- maybe only their participation trophies from little league that had the year engraved, that was about it.

Unlocking the car, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling up your seatbelt.

“Please start, Hilda..” You mumbled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand turned the key in the ignition. She did, as usual- but you would never forget the time that she broke down. You cried for the ten minutes it took John B and JJ to rescue you. They were like your own little mechanics. Pope had called you in the car for the ten minutes while you sobbed and tried to calm you down- it didn’t work. Nothing worked until you saw your car fixed. You still owed them for saving your ass that day, regardless of how many times they assured you it was really nothing.

Crossing over the bridge from The Cut to Figure 8, you sighed: traffic. You knew by now the traffic was always bad as you headed into the main strip of town. It was the most popular place. Coffee shops, restaurants, stores.. Who wouldn’t be there if they had the money and time? Yeah, the coffee was overpriced and no one knew how to drive in their expensive cars, but it was still nice. Nicer than The Cut where people revved their engines when you scurried across the street.

–

It took you a half hour to finally pull into the parking lot behind your store. Saturdays were always the worst traffic wise, but boy, was it a good sales day. Checking the time, you bit your lip as you contemplated running to the cafe a few shops down to get a coffee. Technically you had time- you were always early. You had a fear of being late if you were being honest. You knew it looked bad, and it wasn’t hard for you to just leave a little early for wherever you were going. It took you two minutes to walk to the cafe, and you would give yourself ten minutes to be in the cafe, another two minutes to walk back, and you had twenty minutes until you had to clock in. What if the cafe was busy? What if it took you fifteen minutes in there?

You slammed the car door and walked towards the Cove Cafe. The bell dinged as you walked in, a smile pressed to your lips as you pushed your sunglasses to your head. It wasn’t busy. What a relief. You smiled at the barista as you walked up to the counter. You and Gabriella had become good friends from your constant stops to the overpriced coffee shop.

“The usual?” She asked with a grin, scribbling onto the cup as you nodded your head. You still had ten minutes to get back to the shop before you had to clock in. You smiled and waved back to Gabriella as you left the shop, sipping on the drink that had become a staple to your routine.

–

This Saturday was not a good day for sales. The weather must’ve been too nice, or everyone had gone to the mainland. The traffic you had fought through died down, and the small shop was deserted. Main Street in general was deserted. You and your co-worker, Abigail were basically staring at each other for four hours. It was painful at this point. You both had resorted to hiding off to the side hall to watch Netflix shows, peering your heads out when you heard the door open.

Most of the time it was one or two people wandering in- usually tourons who just looked around and pulled you away from the show. It was your turn to walk out there when the door dinged, watching as two people walked in. Your eyes squinted as you looked to the security camera before heading out from behind the curtain.

You tried to hide your surprise- and disgust- as your eyes glanced over to see Topper Thorton and Rafe Cameron in the small store. What did they want? Were they making rounds because Sarah was complaining about something John B had said? You knew it wasn’t a good idea John B was hanging around her. Were they threatening your group?

Was it too late to shove Abigail out here? Was it too late to lock the doors and pretend you never opened? Were you allowed to not greet them? Spit in their faces?

“Do you have this in a large?” Rafe’s question knocked you from your thoughts, blinking a few times before you furrowed your brows.

“Let me go check for you.” You smiled at the two boys before heading behind the curtain where Abigail was. “How did I get so unlucky to have to deal with Topper and Rafe? How come you got a Hollywood directors cousin and I get two assholes who aren’t going to spend any money?” A groan escaped your lips before you brought yourself down the stairs to the stockroom.

–

“So you’re going to take the three shirts, the sweater and the two pants and then we’re going to order you the polo in the salmon color, and the sneakers, right?” You ran by him one more time.

“Yeah, and ship it to the store if you can.” Rafe nodded, tapping his American Express Platinum card against the wooden counter. You nodded, typing away on the ipad register. It was a relief to finally be getting them out of the store, though they were a lot less of a pain then you had originally thought they would be. In fact, they were really respectful a complete 180 from what you were used to experiencing. They had hung back up everything they had tried on, and made sure to get a full glance of everything they could want in a different size or color before making you run to the stockroom once they were aware it was in a basement.

The only awkward part of the whole interaction was when you had absentmindedly walked back to the fitting rooms and saw Rafe shirtless as he spoke to Topper about the shirt he had on.

“Pants fit well.” You awkwardly smiled, diverting your eyes from Rafe’s toned chest. You didn’t hate having them in the store, and he was about to drop a lot of money which was only going to be more money in your pocket.

“You’re all set. Everything should be here by Wednesday the latest. I’ll give you a call when they get here.” You smiled, watching him tap the heavy card against the card reader. His blue eyes glanced up to meet your own eyes.

“Could you text me, actually? The number on file is my cell.” Your eyes glanced to Topper as he smirked, eyes glancing your way. To be honest, you were surprised. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to text customers for outreach or order updates- but it was the look Rafe was giving you, it was the smirk Topper had plastered to his face, it was the way Rafe was leaning on the counter.

–

“And then as if spending an hour with them wasn’t bad enough, he asked me to text him when his order got to the store!” You were pacing in the living room of the chateau. You had driven straight there after work, it was a bit of a usual for all of you. After work on Saturdays, everyone would meet at the chateau and unwind, usually a beer or two, and pizza.

“Why are you dressed like you’re from the 60’s?” JJ asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes you had been ranting.

“That isn’t the point, idiot.” Kiara chimed in, shaking her head at JJ’s comment. “Love the sweater by the way.” She smiled.

“Dude, it retails for like three hundred, I almost threw up when a woman asked me where it was in the store the last time I wore it and then she bought it in the three colors we have.” You smiled back, finally plopping onto the couch next to JJ. His eyes were wide as he looked to your sweater, before petting it.

“Fuck, it’s soft.”

“It’s cashmere and get your grubby hands off of it. You probably have oil or beer on your hands, and it’s dry clean only.” Your hand smacked at his.

“So when’s your first date with Rafe.” JJ teased, a groan leaving your lips as your head fell back.

“Where the hell did a date even come into this? If he gets my number that’s just another way to threaten us.”

“I wish John B and Sarah were here to hear all this.. Sarah would lose it.” Kie laughed. “But, we would probably get to the bottom of it. She would just text him and see what was up. Either we’re overthinking it, or we’re perfectly on track for whatever his twisted mind is thinking.”

“So are you going to wear cashmere on your date with him? Do you think he’ll pay?” JJ continued, a grin planted to his face. He wasn’t going to let it die down, which you should have expected. Jeez, where was Pope, John B and Sarah when you needed them?

–

Your fingers hovered over your phone after you had texted Rafe, the chat bubble signaling he was responding - and fast. There was no need to be nervous about whatever he was saying, it was your job, after all. Texting him as he requested for the order he placed - you hadn’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary.

You jumped a bit feeling your phone vibrate in your hand, eyes scanning the text saying he would probably show up right before you closed because he was busy. Your lips pulled into a tight line, preparing yourself to have to stay past close. You hearted the message without even thinking, all sense of professionalism threw itself out the window. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, too late now to undo what had been done.

–

The store was in nearly perfect condition, you had told Abigail to head home, that you would wait out Rafe’s arrival on your own, assuring her he would surely only be about 5-10 minutes. You finger spaced the racks twice, re-folded your tables and even dusted off the mannequins as you waited for his arrival. It was now thirty minutes past close, the doors had been locked, your fingers tapped along the desk as a sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling. Pulling your phone out of pocket, your fingers fired off a message to Rafe.

hey! i’ve gotta close up, we’re open from 9-7 tomorrow, just tell the associate you’re picking up :)

Grabbing your things from the back, your keys twirled around your fingers, jumping as a figure was looking into the glass doors of the store. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes looked to Rafe’s, a smile pressed to his lips as he caught the panic course through your body. A small debate ran through your brain, should you even let him have his things? He should and could wait until the following day. Teach him a lesson on being punctual.

His hand knocked on the door, smile still pressed tight to his lips. It was almost cocky, like he knew that you would let him in. Before even making a conscious decision, your feet were carrying you to the door and unlocking it.

“Maybe we should add a watch to your order, seems like you could use it.” Your tone was a bit harsher than you intended, but at this point, he was wasting your time. Holding the door open, you quickly locked it after he entered.

“I’m only thirty minutes late.”

“You knew when we closed, you’re abusing my kindness.”

“Is that what you call the attitude?” Your eyes were glaring at this point, feet carrying you quickly to the back where Rafe’s items were packaged neatly, a bow around the handle of the bag and all. Grabbing it, you gasped yet again as he had been closer to the curtain to the back than anticipated. A chuckle escaping his lips. “You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Can you just take your things and go? I’ve spent enough time in this store.” A huff escaped your lips as you shoved the bag to Rafe, already walking towards the front door to escort him out. “And don’t worry, I’ll send you watches during my next shift so you can work on being on time.”

“So you want to see me again?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, smirk pressing to his lips. He clearly was in no rush to leave, or leave without frustrating you any bit he could.

“Right now I would love nothing more than to watch you leave, Rafe.” Unlocking the door, and opening it you motion for him to leave, your patience growing thin as he took his time walking from the store. “Thanks for shopping with us today.” You mutter before closing the door behind him and locking it.

–

Scrolling through your phone, a text pulled your brows together.

so, how’d i look walking away?

557 notes · View notes

formulauno98 · 3 months ago

Text

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Twelve / Chalet Girl Winter - Saturday - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 🌶 Some mild spice but 18+ only.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this. Sorry for the huge delay in posting, life has been hectic! Hope you still enjoy my fic.

SATURDAY MORNING

You were blissfully happy waking up in Toto’s warm embrace, exactly where you had drifted off to sleep following your passionate night. Light was creeping in through the curtains that you didn’t even remember closing last night and you smiled as it dawned on you that Toto must have closed them once you were asleep. Thankfully the storm had passed, leaving a stillness save for Toto’s soft breathing as he slept soundly beside you.

Trying your best not to disturb him, you shifted as you moved over to check the alarm clock on the bedside table to see how early it was. Eight thirty, fuck.

Toto had told everyone to be down for breakfast at nine, ready to hit the ski slopes shortly after. Amid the power cut you’d both forgotten to put your phones on charge so your alarms hadn’t woken you up.

A little nervous about waking the man sleeping next to you, you gently shook his arm. “Morning.”

He still did not stir so you tried again, this time more forcefully. “Hey, wake up…”

“Huh?” came a groan, as he opened his eyes sleepily, his hand drifting to your waist, “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” you said, “I’m sorry to wake you but our alarms didn’t go off.”

“No no don’t be silly.” he said, clutching you closer, his lips ghosting the back of your ear, “Sorry, I should have put our phones on charge when the power came back on.”

”Didn’t it come back on in the middle of the night?” you asked, snuggling back into his arms, content with staying in bed for a while longer.

”Yes, not long after you dropped off.” he said, kissing your shoulder, “I got up to close the curtains.”

“Well, aren’t you slick?” you replied lazily, “Drawing the curtains so we have an excuse to never get out of bed.”

“Hmm,” said Toto, his hands roaming absentmindedly over your body as he spooned you, “I suppose we do need to get dressed. But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” you said, pulling his arm back over you.

“You’re a bad influence,” he said, lightly squeezing your thigh before letting go entirely and slipping out of bed.

Pouting, you made a face as he wandered over to the curtains, offering you a prime view of his gym

honed ass.

“Stop looking at my ass,” he said, chuckling as he drew back the curtains, revealing the spectacular morning view of the valley below. The sky was bright and the snow was sparkling, it was the perfect day.

“I actually don’t know which view I prefer,” you said, sitting up in bed, smirking.

“Nice save.” said Toto before coming back over to you, “Now, we don’t have so much time. Do you want to use the bathroom first or do you want to share?”

Showering together was a new level of intimacy that you’d been yet to explore but you figured there was no time like the present to try it, “Let’s share.” you said with a smile.

– – –

Thanks to Toto lathering you up in the shower thoroughly, you’d taken longer to get ready than you’d anticipated. By the time you made yourselves present in the dining room for breakfast, your guests had almost finished eating.

“Good morning,” said Toto, brazen in his tardiness.

“Morning boss.” replied James with a wink, “I see your game, tell us to wake up early and give yourself a lie in.”

“I’m sure he was otherwise occupied,” John added with a knowing smirk, one of the few people who would dare try and tease Toto.

Toto chuckled, sitting down beside you, pouring you both a coffee and grabbing some pastries. “Work-life balance, James. Some of us have mastered it.”

James, not missing a beat, grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure you were busy working hard this morning.”

Toto raised his coffee cup with a mock-serious nod, “As always.”

As the table laughed, you clocked Sam and Darren looking at each other, surprised to see their boss so relaxed. Less amused was George, whose eyes flickered to you more than once and although he tried to mask it, there was no mistaking the way his jaw tightened when his eyes found Toto. To his left, Elisa simply looked a little bored. You still could not figure her out.

“So, we were just talking about today’s plan” John started as the laughter died down, “What were you thinking Toto? Looks like the perfect powder day.”

“Well, I have promised some ski lessons, so we will be taking to the blue runs this morning.” he said, slipping his arm around you, “But I know some of you already ski well and George is keen to try the black runs so I suggest we split and reconvene at lunchtime. What do you all think?”

Murmurs echoed around the table as the group found Toto’s plan agreeable. You were slightly nervous as you were not confident with skiing but Toto had assured you he’d be patient.

“Sounds good to me boss.” said George, “Who’s up for the blacks?”

“Count me in,” Sam said, a competitive glint in his eye.

Darren nodded eagerly. “Me too. Just try to keep up, George.”

Elisa let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you boys, so you don’t do anything stupid.”

George shot her a glance, clearly not thrilled with her sarcasm. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” she replied curtly.

Clocking their awkward interaction, Cara caught your eye, raising an arched brow. It was certainly a strange dynamic and not one you expected for a new couple. Even when your relationship was fraught you wouldn’t have said something like that to George.

Breaking the tension, John countered, “I’ll come too, Elisa. These boys are troublemakers eh?”

Smiling slightly Elisa nodded, “Great.” She was hard work for sure.

“Anybody else?” asked George, looking around the table, brushing off Elisa’s frostiness.

“No way.” said Marion, “I’ll be on the blues, I’m on holiday, not at boot camp.”

James laughed in agreement, “Same, plus with my dodgy knee, blues are probably for the best. I’m getting old!”

“That’s more than fair.” said George, “How about you Cara?”

“I’ll keep an eye on James.” she said, “Last year he took a tumble and he can’t be trusted.”

‘Oh yes, the infamous tumble.” said John, trying to stifle a laugh, “Sponsored by the air ambulance.”

“Don’t remind me.” said James, “Humiliating.”

“What happened?” you asked Toto quietly.

“You know these guys, always competitive.” he said, gesturing at them, “They decided to go off-piste on an adventure and long story short, James cracked his ankle and had to be airlifted to hospital.”

“Oh shit, I never heard about this!” you said, “Well hopefully that won’t happen on this trip.”

“You and me both,” said James smiling dryly.

“Indeed. Well, I think we have a plan, shall we get ready and reconvene in ten minutes?” Toto said, glancing at the clock. “We don’t want to miss the best of the morning powder.”

As everyone finished their coffees, you could feel George’s eyes lingering on you again. It made you slightly uneasy but Toto seemed oblivious, content to finish his croissant and hit the slopes as quickly as possible.

– – –

Having suited and booted with some help from a bemused Greta, you’d made it outside. Out on the slopes, the day was stunning, crisp air, clear skies and the perfect layer of powdered snow. As discussed the group had split with George leading half of the group to the black runs, whilst you stayed on the blue runs, eager to improve your technique with Toto’s help.

You should have been confident, but as you started your descent on your first run, nerves took hold and no amount of encouragement from Toto could keep you from feeling slightly out of your depth. Although it was just a blue, the least challenging colour for Austrian slopes, it felt steeper than you had expected.

“Just take it slow,” Toto called out from beside you, his voice reassuring. “You’re doing great.”

“I feel like Bambi,” you muttered, your legs trembling as you tried to stay upright.

He laughed, skiing effortlessly alongside you. “You look a lot better than Bambi.”

Despite his best efforts, your nerves got the better of you and in the middle of a particularly sharp turn, you lost your balance. Before you could stop yourself, you toppled sideways, falling into the soft snow with a thud. You let out a groan, wiping snow off your face as you lay sprawled on the ground.

Toto immediately skidded to a stop and instead of helping you up, lowered himself down beside you, laughing, “Well, that was elegant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, “You’re supposed to help me, not join me!”

“I couldn’t leave you down here alone,” he said, grinning as he lay back on the snow, his head resting on his arms. “Besides, it’s nice down here. We should make snow angels.”

"You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. You unclipped yourself and lay back beside him.

“Tradition after a fall,” Toto teased, nudging your leg. “Come on, snow angels.”

You let out a playful sigh, moving your arms and legs to join in, both of you laughing like children.

When you finally sat up, catching your breath, Toto was having none of it and pulled you back down to lie on top of him, your helmets and goggles clashing slightly as he leaned up for a kiss.

“Thank you,” you said, resting your hand on his chest.

“What for?” he asked, squeezing you closer.

“For not making me feel like shit for falling over.” You glanced up the slope, where George and the others were likely tackling the black runs. Memories surfaced of your last ski trip with George and how he’d only offered a hand with an impatient shake of his head whenever you fell. There had been no lying in the snow laughing together.

Toto followed your gaze and reached out, brushing snow from your cheek. “Everybody falls.” he said, his eyes concerned, “It’s part of learning, you’re doing great.”

You gave a small nod and a smile, your heart pounding, not from the fall, but from the man sprawled out on the snow beneath you.

“Let’s get back up,” he said, lifting you to your feet before pulling himself up too. “You’ve got this.”

As you both brushed off the snow, you felt a surge of determination. “Okay, okay, I’m going to try again. And this time I’m not going to fall.”

Toto chuckled, adjusting his goggles. “I’ll hold you to that. Just remember, confidence is key.”

With a nod, you pushed off again, heart racing. The snow felt softer beneath your skis this time, but as you approached another turn, the nerves crept back in. You focused on the rhythm, just like Toto had shown you, but just as you began to gain some speed, a small bump caught you off guard.

“Shit!” you shouted, your skis slipping out from under you as you tumbled sideways again, landing in a fluffy pile of snow.

“Not going to fall again huh?” Toto called out, amusement dancing in his eyes as he skied up next to you, extending a gloved hand to help you up, “You’re making this look like an Olympic sport.”

“Very funny,” you replied, “At this rate, I’ve won the Gold.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist as he handed your pole back to you, “There’s that winning mentality.”

As you regained your footing, you spotted George and the others zipping down a steep black run in the distance. George was flying along with Elisa alongside him and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate. Intrusive thoughts entered your mind but you tried your best to shake them off and turned your attention back to Toto.

“Ready to give it another go?” he asked, his tone encouraging.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you replied, buoyed by Toto’s kind smile. He really had the patience of a saint.

With a fresh focus, you tackled the slope again, taking Toto’s advice and making it a decent way down before the familiar wobbles crept in. Only this time, you kept your nerve and nailed the next turn.

“There you go,” Toto cheered, skiing alongside you. “That’s much better.”

“Thanks! I think I might be getting the hang of it,” you grinned, your confidence growing.

As you reached the bottom, you were greeted by the view of Cara, Marion and James waiting for you at the cafe at the bottom, bundled up in their jackets, sipping hot chocolates from steaming mugs. They had decided to take it easy, and they were clearly enjoying the show, clapping enthusiastically as you approached the terrace.

“You did it!” Cara called out, her face glowing with pride.

“Well, I had a very patient teacher,” you said, brushing snow from your goggles and turning towards Toto as he skied up next to you.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a fan club,” he said teasingly.

“Of course, we were all rooting for you!” Marion added, raising her mug in salute. “You’re getting there.”

You laughed, feeling a warm flush of accomplishment. “Progress, right?”

“Absolutely,” Cara said, giving you a playful nudge. “I’d say you’re officially a skier now. Just don’t go challenging anyone to a race just yet. I know what this lot are like!”

“Agreed,” Marion said, looking over at James. “Let’s not have another air ambulance situation on our hands.”

James raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I learned my lesson. I’m here for moral support, not for reliving that disaster.”

As the group finished up their hot chocolates, readying themselves to return to the slopes, you felt a lightness in the air. The atmosphere was infinitely more comfortable without George’s glowering, Sam and Darren’s jibes and Elisa’s stony-faced judging. You turned back to Toto, who was now watching you with an affectionate smile. “What’s next, coach?” you asked.

“Do you want to tackle that run again? I want to see you take those turns like a pro,” Toto replied.

“Okay, but you’re coming with me again, right?” you asked, feeling a flicker of nervousness again.

“Of course,” he assured you, “I like the view when I ski behind you.”

“Very funny,” you said, “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

“Remember, slow and steady,” Toto reminded you as you started to make your way to the lift.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. No more Olympic tumbles,” you joked, rolling your eyes as Toto led the group back to the queue for the lift.

Once he was out of earshot, James leaned over, smirking. “You know, I think you’ve officially stolen Toto’s heart. Just look at him.”

Cara nudged him, laughing. “Are you jealous my love?”

“Not at all,” he protested, feigning offence. “Just stating what I see. But seriously, it’s good to see him in such high spirits.”

Marion nodded. “For sure, I never dreamt we would see him lying down in the snow making snow angels.”

Your cheeks flushed at their compliments and you glanced towards Toto, who was busy chatting animatedly with the lift operator. He turned, catching your eye and winked. Perhaps the group was right? When you’d been with George and gone to watch him race, Toto had always seemed serious, somewhat dour at times. Now he was out here smiling, laughing and throwing himself down into the snow without a care in the world. Life could take some crazy turns sometimes.

– – –

On the lift, you found yourself squashed between Toto and Marion, nerves creeping back in as the anticipation of the next run grew. Ever observant, Toto reached for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as the lift approached the top.

Once you had disembarked, Toto turned to you with a smile. “Ready?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. “Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, but you’ve got this.”

With that, you both pushed off together, gliding down the slope. You focused on his advice, slow and steady, controlling each turn and this time, something clicked. Instead of feeling anxious, you allowed yourself to enjoy the speed and the rush of cold air against your face as you flew down.

“See? Told you you’d get the hang of it!” Cara shouted from the terrace, where she was already unclipping her skis.

Toto laughed, his eyes sparkling with pride as he made his way over to you. “Next stop, the red runs. But first, hot chocolate?”

“Now you’re talking!” you replied, heart bursting with happiness. You’d never managed a full run without falling and you knew it was unlikely you’d pull it off twice. Carefully unclipping your skis beside Toto and Cara, you were grateful to be back on solid ground as you stepped onto the cafe terrace.

As Toto and James disappeared to get a round of hot chocolates, you settled down at one of the wooden tables beside Cara and Marion, noticing George and the rest of your group coming down the black run, all looking a bit dishevelled but laughing.

George’s laughter rang out and you caught the eye of Elisa, who seemed less than pleased with the men’s antics. “Looks like they survived after all,” you remarked, nudging Cara playfully.

“Barely!” she laughed. “They’ll probably be banging on about doing the black runs all day.”

“Lord spare me,” Marion groaned, eyeing her husband with mock exasperation.

You watched as the group came closer, coming to join you for your very early après ski. John had a huge grin on his face, animatedly recounting a moment when he had nearly wiped out while trying to keep pace with George. Sam and Darren were both clapping him on the back, clearly enjoying the show.

“What did we miss?” George asked, clipping his helmet on the back of the chair opposite you, his cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

“Oh, just the usual, me falling over about four hundred times,” you said, gesturing to the snow around you.

“Hey, we all have our talents,” he replied, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “But seriously, you look like you’re getting better. I saw you on that last run.”

“Thanks,” you replied, surprised at how cordial George was being.

“I also saw you making snow angels,” George said, his expression shifting for a moment as he glanced at Toto who was now returning with a tray of hot chocolate, James by his side. You could sense an underlying tension, but you brushed it aside.

“It had to be done,” you laughed, trying to keep the mood light.

As Toto and James settled at the table, passing out drinks, the group’s laughter rose again, cutting through the cold breeze. You’d been cautious about showing too much affection with Toto around George but now the chill was biting and you couldn’t resist shifting closer to Toto for warmth.

You glanced at George, now deep in conversation with Elisa, though something in his demeanour made you uneasy. Was it jealousy or something else? You shook it off, turning your attention back to the breathtaking view of the mountains surrounding you.

Toto leaned in, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, nestling closer to him. “Just a little cold.”

Pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around you with ease, “Are you sure it’s just the cold?” he asked softly.

You nodded, knowing he could see right through you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just taking it all in.”

Toto’s gaze followed yours to George and Elisa. His jaw clenched briefly before he turned back to you, his expression softening. “If you need to get away, we can. No rush.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m having a great time,” you reassured him, lifting your hot chocolate with a smile. “And besides, I’m not missing out on this.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Fair enough. Just say the word.”

As the group's chatter continued around you, you felt a fleeting pang watching George and Elisa. But then Toto squeezed your shoulder, anchoring you to the present.

"Ready for another run after this?" he asked.

"Absolutely," you replied, smiling up at him.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

By the time you returned to the chalet, your muscles aching from a full morning of skiing followed by a boozy schnitzel-and-chips lunch, the heated pool had never appealed more. Toto had left you to change alone as he needed to wrap up some business with James and John, so you’d taken your time upstairs slipping into your swimsuit, savouring a few moments of solitude.

As you made your way down to the pool area, you could already hear the others' voices echoing around. Toto was perched on the edge, his legs dipping into the water as he was deep in conversation with James and John. Cara and Marion were leisurely swimming laps, their quiet chatter carrying over the gentle ripple of the water.

At the far end of the pool, Elisa lounged in a skimpy white bikini, her attention seemingly fixed on George, who hovered nearby, nodding along at whatever story she was spinning. She had been glued to his side all day, though George’s interest seemed half-hearted. Sam and Darren were sprawled on the lounge chairs behind them chatting away.

The instant you stepped into the warm pool, you sighed in relief. The tension in your body seemed to melt away as you found a quiet spot in the pool, closing your eyes to finally relax. Before long, though, Elisa’s voice drifted your way.

“Love your swimsuit,” she called over, her tone friendly enough, though something was off, “So classic.”

You returned her smile, choosing not to overthink it. Before you could respond, Cara, always quick to back you up, floated by. "Yes, a one-piece is always elegant. Sometimes bikinis can be a bit... much," Cara said, casting a sidelong glance at Elisa.

Marion gave a knowing laugh as she swam up beside Cara. "Especially when you’ve got a body like hers. No need to flaunt everything to look good."

Elisa’s mouth tightened for a fraction of a second, but the message was received. You exchanged a grateful glance with Cara and Marion, the two older women certainly had your back. Elisa’s smirk faltered, though the look she gave you made it clear she wasn’t backing down entirely.

Oblivious to yours and Elisa’s exchange, Toto, wrapping up his conversation with James, finally stood and wandered over to where you floated, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He crouched at the pool's edge, his eyes twinkling.

“How’s the water?” he asked, his gaze locked on you as if the rest of the world had momentarily disappeared.

“Perfect,” you said, letting the warmth relax you. “You should come in.”

He grinned, not needing to be asked twice. A second later, he jumped in, the splash hitting Elisa who squealed in annoyance. You couldn’t help but laugh and for a brief moment, you felt vindicated.

Elisa shot Toto an irritated look, but he seemed unbothered, floating over to you and discreetly wrapping an arm around your waist. “You’re not tired of me yet?” he teased softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Not even close,” you whispered back with a smile.

As you drifted together, your gaze wandered to the side of the pool where George sat beside Elisa, watching the two. Noticing his lingering looks, his companion leaned closer and whispered something in his ear, her eyes flicking to you before giving a self-satisfied smile.

Toto followed your gaze, catching George’s glare and his hold on you tightened slightly. His easygoing demeanour didn’t falter, but you could feel the subtle shift in his mood. “Come on,” he whispered, guiding you towards the far pool edge. “Let’s get some space, I’ll show you the sauna.”

Without drawing much attention, the two of you made your way out of the pool, changing out of your wet swimwear and wrapping yourselves in towels as you padded toward the sauna. The small wooden room was warm and inviting, the heat hitting you as soon as you stepped inside. Toto shut the door behind you and at long last, it was just the two of you.

You immediately sat down on the wooden bench, leaning back as the heat started to work its magic on your tired muscles. It was even better than the pool. You closed your eyes and sighed contently “This is heaven.”

“Are you not taking off your towel?” said Toto, sitting on the bench beside you with a creak, his hand resting on your thigh, the casual touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“Huh?” you said, opening your eyes to find a very naked Toto sitting beside you. “Is that a thing here? What if someone sees?”

That earned a deep laugh, “You’re concerned about someone seeing you naked… in a sauna?”

“Yes.” you said, “Why is that so funny?”

“It’s expected here. People will stare at you if you keep the towel on.” Toto teased, “But do what you want, it’s just me.”

Grateful that the dim light of the sauna concealed your creeping blush, you felt silly. “I never knew that, I thought that was a Scandinavian thing.”

Toto mused, stroking your thigh, “You make me laugh.”

“Glad I can keep you entertained,” you said dryly before standing up and whipping your towel off dramatically, baring all in front of him, “Happy now, Mr Wolff?”

“Very.” he said, gripping your hips and pulling you close to him, pressing a kiss to your bare stomach, “Come, sit down.”

Taking your seat once more, the heat enveloped you. This was exactly what you needed to cure your aching muscles. Noticing Toto grab his shoulder and wince, you leaned over and gently started massaging, your fingers gliding over his warm skin.

As your fingers worked their magic, you could feel the tension in Toto's shoulders begin to melt away beneath your touch. “Mmm, that’s good,” Toto said with a teasing grin, his voice low and smooth as he leaned back into your hands. “I might just make you my personal masseuse.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Is that how you plan to keep me around?” you quipped, continuing your gentle kneading. “By making me your travelling spa therapist?”

Toto chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet sauna. “Perhaps. I could get used to this.”

You laughed, your fingers gliding down to his upper back, where the muscles were knotted. “Be careful, I might start charging.”

“Oh really?” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “How much?”

You giggled, the sound mingling with the warmth of the room. “Some cuddling tonight, maybe a ski lesson, another snorkel rescue mission?”

“Deal,” he said, nodding seriously before breaking into a grin. “Although you may have to wait until Summer for any more snorkel action.”

You snorted, “How did you manage to make that sound dirty? You’re lowkey such a dirty old man.”

“Old?” he feigned, “You didn’t call me old last night.”

“Touché.,” you said, admitting, “Last night was… I don’t know what to say.”

Toto turned and quirked an eyebrow, “That bad?”

“Shut up,” you said, playfully batting him on the shoulder before returning to massaging his muscled upper back, “You’re good and you know it.”

“You did tell me the sex on the yacht was the best you’d ever had.” He grinned, clearly enjoying this.

“Did I really?” you said, cringing slightly. “Well, top ten, I guess.”

“Ten?” he replied, grabbing your hand and dragging it down his chest, getting dangerously lower.

“Okay, top five,” you said, your breath quickening as you sensed where this was heading.

“That’s more like it,” he said, turning his head slightly to catch your eye. “But seriously, you should know that I felt the same way.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth that had little to do with the sauna. “High praise coming from someone so… old,” you replied with a teasing lilt.

His eyes glinted with mischief as he replied, “Old enough to know a good thing when I see it.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you around into his lap, capturing your lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled back, you both took a moment to breathe, your foreheads resting against each other. “Wow,” he said, his voice husky. “I could get used to that.”

You giggled softly, pressing your bare chest against his, feeling his heart pounding as much as yours was, “Me too.”

As you dipped for another kiss, laughter echoed from outside the sauna. In the heat of the moment you’d forgotten that the sauna was open to all.

“Great,” Toto murmured, rolling his eyes.

“I told you we should’ve brought the drinks!” Sam’s voice rang out, followed by Darren’s cheerful agreement. “Gotta stay hydrated.”

As they approached the door, you could hear them debating whether to just walk in. “Hold up, where did Toto go?” Darren suggested, his voice growing louder.

“Maybe we should put the towels back on?” you whispered to Toto, glancing down at your bare skin, feeling a rush of shyness wash over you.

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, gripping your ass firmly, “but where’s the fun in that?” He looked at you with a glimmer of mischief, pulling you closer to him, covering your modesty with his hands, “I won’t let them see anything.”

Suddenly, the door swung open and Sam and Darren burst in, eyes wide with surprise. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed, “Sorry to interrupt!”

“Yeah,” Darren added, his face furiously red before he span around dramatically, “We’ll come back later.”

You quickly reached for your towel, as Toto shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We were just enjoying the heat. No big deal.”

“Right,” Sam said, desperately looking anywhere but in front of him. “We’ll just grab a drink and give you some space. Would you like anything?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up even more, glancing at Toto, who was doing his best to keep a straight face. “We’re okay for now,” you replied, still smiling but feeling the warmth of embarrassment.

“Suit yourselves,” Sam said, stumbling as he turned to head back outside. “Sorry again boss.”

As the door swung shut, Toto looked at you, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on his face. “Well, that was a great way to kill the mood.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, carefully lifting yourself off Toto’s lap and returning to your seat beside him, “I suppose we’ll have to pick up where we left off later?”

“Definitely,” he said, his eyes twinkling with promise.

You settled back onto the bench, rewrapped your towel and leaned your head on his shoulder, letting the gentle steam of the sauna envelop you both. So much for a moment alone, but you knew that you’d have time later that evening.

SATURDAY EVENING

Dinner that night was a lively affair, the long wooden table filled with laughter and the rich aroma of fondue. The fire crackled in the background, adding warmth to the room. Marion and John, ever the social butterflies, kept the conversation flowing smoothly, while Greta and Klaus flitted around the table, ensuring the wine glasses were constantly topped up.

Sam and Darren, who were usually more vocal, sat noticeably quieter across from you and Toto. You caught their occasional glances and exchanged a knowing look with Toto, both of you aware of what was on their minds.

Once dinner plates were cleared away, Marion stood up with a gleam in her eye. "Earlier, Toto suggested a games night!" she announced, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm. "And as you all know, I love a good wager. How about we start with charades?"

Excited murmurs spread through the group. Greta handed out pens and paper and soon the room filled with the sound of scribbling as everyone jotted down increasingly ridiculous charade suggestions. You glanced at Toto, wondering if he had something difficult planned for his picks. He caught your eye and winked, of course, he wouldn’t make this easy.

As the group settled in, Marion distributed a bowl for everyone to drop their slips of paper into. Just as you were about to dive into the game, Marion, her voice tinged with mischief, turned to the group, her eyes landing on George. “You know, this reminds me of that night on Toto’s yacht when we played Never Have I Ever,” she said with a grin.

John perked up immediately. “Ah yes, that was quite a night,” he said. You gulped as you recalled George taking things too far that night.

George immediately shifted in his seat, already knowing where this was headed. His cheeks flushed as Marion continued, unable to resist. “George, you were so embarrassed!” she teased, nudging him. “What was it you said during that game that had everyone in stitches?”

James chimed in, his grin widening. “Something about walking in on Toto in the garage in a, let’s say, compromising position.”

George’s face turned bright red as everyone started to chuckle, “I was tipsy, alright? I said more than I should’ve,” he muttered, clearly still embarrassed from that particular memory. “Sorry again Toto.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Toto reassured him, trying to stay stoic.

At that, Darren and Sam exchanged a look and Sam couldn’t resist joining in the teasing. “Speaking of compromising positions,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his face. “Darren and I had quite the walk-in moment earlier today.”

“Oh no,” you murmured under your breath, feeling the heat rise to your face as you realized where this was going. It was your turn to be embarrassed.

Sam leaned in, his voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Let’s just say we walked in on Toto… in a very compromising situation.”

Darren snickered. “Yeah, in the sauna of all places.”

All eyes turned toward you and Toto as a ripple of nervous laughter spread across the group. Sam and Darren were younger members of the team and it was rather bold of them to tease their boss in his own home.

Toto's face tightened and his jaw clenched slightly, “Sam...” he warned.

Sam, undeterred, kept going. “Oh, don’t worry, Toto wasn’t alone.” He winked at the group, his grin only growing wider.

“Oh?” John said, sparking up, clearly enjoying where this was headed.

Darren laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, turns out the sauna wasn’t just for relaxing, if you know what I mean.”

The group erupted into laughter, Marion gasped in mock shock, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Toto! And here I thought you were the gentleman of the group.”

Sam, encouraged by the reactions, waggled his eyebrows and added, “You should’ve seen his face. The man was living his best life.”

George glowered, throwing you an angry look before Elisa tapped him on the arm, whispering something in his ear that seemed to calm him down, as she did earlier.

Toto, his patience visibly thinning, folded his arms, his voice low and sharp. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Sam and Darren exchanged a glance, still amused but sensing they were treading on thin ice. “Okay, okay,” Darren said, holding his hands up, “But you can’t blame us, you did say we could use the sauna any time.”

“Yeah, next time maybe put a do not disturb sign?” Sam quipped, though his voice had softened, knowing they’d pushed Toto to his limit.

“Or a Mercedes-branded tie over the door handle,” said George, joining in with his friends, having stayed quiet until now. You shot him a look and he shrugged, not worried about angering Toto.

Toto shot the three younger men a hard look before leaning back in his chair, clearly done with their teasing. “I’ll remember that for next time,” he said flatly, his voice edged with annoyance.

Marion, sensing the tension, tried to keep the situation light-hearted. “Oh, you three,” she said, shaking her head at Sam, Darren and George. “Let them have their fun in peace.”

“Alright, alright, we’ll drop it,” Sam said, suitably chastised.

“Well then,” John jumped up, clapping his hands, “I think we’ve embarrassed enough people for one night. Shall we get on with charades?”

Everyone eagerly shifted their focus back to the impending game of charades, following John’s lead as he moved to the living room.

“We’ll split into two teams,” Marion announced, “Who’s ready to make a fool of themselves?”

The group quickly divided into teams and took their places on opposite sofas. It was men vs women, with you, Cara, Marion and Elisa teaming up against Toto, George, John, James, Sam and Darren.

“Hang on, I think the boys have an advantage!” said Marion, reaching out to grab her husband by the crook of his arm, “John joins us.”

John shrugged his shoulders before plopping himself down on the sofa beside his wife, “Sorry guys, I have no choice.”

“That’s okay, we’ll still win.” said James, “Cara is an automatic handicap.”

“You are awful, you’re sleeping on the balcony tonight” quipped Cara, throwing her husband a dirty look.

– – –

During a lull in the game, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of wine for the group, Greta and Klaus having gone to bed for the night. The soft sound of footsteps behind you made you turn and there was George, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said quietly, leaning against the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, suddenly feeling like you were back in the past, caught in a moment that didn’t quite fit the present. George had been giving you funny looks all evening but Elisa had been glued to him so you hadn’t spoken much.

There was an awkward pause before George finally spoke again. “So, I guess this is really happening, huh?”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

He glanced towards the doorway leading back to the others, then back at you. His voice lowered, more serious now. “You and Toto. It’s serious, isn’t it?”

The question landed heavily between you, far weightier than it should’ve been. The conversation felt loaded, fraught with things left unsaid. You thought you’d been clear when you last spoke in your flat, and you both had supposedly made peace with the past. Now, it seemed like old wounds were still festering beneath the surface.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “George… we’ve been through this.”

“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off with a sigh. He shoved his hands into his pockets as if bracing himself. “But seeing you two. I don’t know. Guess I thought I’d be more okay with it by now.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them pulling you both into an uncomfortable silence. This wasn’t fair, to you or to him. You’d thought that chapter was closed and he’d moved on with Elisa, even if their dynamic was a little strange at times.

Before you could respond, Toto appeared in the doorway, his expression sharp as he took in the scene. “Everything okay in here?”

The air between the three of you crackled with tension.

George straightened, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

Toto’s eyes didn’t leave George’s face. “Good,” he said coolly. “Look, I know this has not been easy for anyone but we are all adults and you have Elisa now, don’t forget. I invited you here because I want things to be easier going forward, for all of us. And for what it’s worth, I value your friendship, George. I know I’ve let you down.”

George didn’t back down, but after a tense beat, he gave a curt nod, not saying a word and walked past Toto, brushing his shoulder as he went. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Toto turned to you, his expression softening. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though the knot in your chest hadn’t fully loosened. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

He studied your face for a moment longer, as if searching for something unsaid before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for a beat longer than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You didn’t ask what he was apologising for, whether it was for inviting George, for the difficult position you were both in or for the emotions this trip had stirred up. Maybe it was all of it.

– – –

The night wound down with everyone in good spirits, but you couldn’t shake the weirdness of the conversation in the kitchen with George. After the games and the laughter, you found yourself in the bedroom with Toto, tucked up in bed while he got ready.

“Do you think that George still has feelings for me?” you asked as Toto made his way out of the bathroom.

He didn’t react at first, remaining silent as he pulled back the covers and slipped in beside you, his expression unreadable as he rested against the headboard. “I know he does,” he said quietly.

You looked at him, waiting for more, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Toto…” you began, the words coming out before you could stop them. “Does it bother you?”

He sighed, finally turning to face you, “It doesn’t bother me that he has feelings for you,” he said after a moment. “But it bothers me that you seem worried about it.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

“I trust you,” Toto added, his tone calm but firm. “But if George’s feelings are going to be an issue, we need to deal with it..”

You nodded, appreciating his straightforwardness. “You’re right. I just… I didn’t expect it to be this complicated.”

“Life’s always complicated,” he said, “But we’ll figure it out.”

You turned away from Toto, your back to him, lost in thought. It wasn’t long before you felt him wrap an arm around you, pulling you close, but the warmth that usually comforted you felt different tonight. There was an unspoken tension and as sleep slowly crept in, you wondered if this was just the beginning of something much more complicated.

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable�� @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld @formulaal

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #george russell x reader #George Russell x you #yachtgirlsummer

118 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 6 months ago

Text

Recently I delved into the depths of my docs to find the first fanfiction I wrote for ACOTAR that never saw the light of day.

Obviously it's horrible writing, but I like the premise and since I am addicted to piling more projects on top of my scheldule I rewrote the first chapter and redid the plot for it.

Originally these events take place a year or two after the war with Hybern, and everything is the exact same EXCEPT for somethin Tamlin is doing.

I changed it so that this is a fic of what would have happened if Tamlin didn't give over that drop of power to bring Rhysand back.

Anyway, here's there rewritten chapter. Tell me if you guys like it!

“Be happy Feyre.”

The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth. The carefully loving words that wrapped like ivy around his throat, choking him, those last cords of love that had twisted into something else. That had made him soft for her. He had offered his heart like ripe fruit on a silver platter for her to take and now look at where he stood.

Bloodied, gore and guts clinging to his armour like a second layer of skin, mud caked on his legs and arms. Hair a mess, dirty and disgusting. His people, his armies, whom he had gone to his knees to earn the trust of them back, after she twisted their minds, undid their memories, stared in every personal thought to create a new story for all of them. One that fit her narrative.

The damage she had caused, the things she had taken. What she had done, what she had cost not just them but all of Pryhtian. Destroying the Courts she had saved not even a year ago.

Now, on her knees, holding the man who had assaulted her night after night after night whilst she vomited, cried and danced and laughed, and been drugged. She screamed his name whilst she cling to his lifeless form.

The good for nothing bastard Lord was finally dead. Tamlin should have breathed a sigh of relief.

Instead every High Lord stood around awkwardly, as one after the other they had willingly handed over their magic despite what this man had done to them. Despite how much they all hated him. They did it for his grief-stricken mate who screamed for them to help. To bring him back the same way she had come back.

But he was dead for what he had done. Giving over power to remake the Cauldron, the mother had taken his very soul with the magic, the price paid to put the world back together.

Truly, who were they to defy her?

Tamlin stood up straight, when Feyre stared up at him, eyes filled with tears as she saw his stone-cold face.

“Please,” She screamed, “Please I’ll do anything!”

Green eyes cut from her to the other Lords. None made eye-contact with him. All looking elsewhere, anywhere, the grey-red clouds above, the torn battlefield layered with bodies on decaying bodies, the rivers running red with blood. Some of them, no doubt reminded of Amarantha’s reign of terror by the bloodshed, looked to the muddy ground.

But none dared look in his eye, all knew what she had done to him. Her reasons for doing so. They also all knew what he had done to her.

But staring down at her now, thinking back on all of it.

Thinking back on the slander of Court, the destruction of his people. The lying, the scheming, the pure hatred.

Then there was one final thought that struck true.

What would they have all done if it had been him dead on the floor and not Rhysand?

The image of his bloodied mother, his dead brothers, even as cruel as they were, flashed before his eyes.

“No.” He said. Standing tall and true, “I will not hand over my magic.”

“You fucking monster!” A girl with gold streaked blonde hair lunged at him from out of nowhere. Morrigan.

She didn’t get far, from where she was knees deep in the mud. A flash of gold and a short-sudden scream from her. She was pinned to the floor with golden threads. Not painful, but certainly startling, and no doubt humiliating.

Tamlin couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Feyre stared up at him. Her wet blue eyes boring into his own with a deep-cut grief that would have broken him just a few weeks ago.

Now.

Now all he felt was mild pity, and a distant sadness, for the girl who had been killed under the mountain and never brought back.

“Who's to say the real Rhysand would even return?” Tamlin said, voice mockingly kind, “When the first time we brought a human back, she was not the same at all?”

Feyre’s saddened eyes turned wrathful, her beautiful face twisting into a deadly scowl. All that hatred, focused solely on him.

“You were what led me to my death! And now you refuse to even help him!” She screamed, the pain and grief tearing through her, along with the emptiness of where her mating bond used to be no doubt fueling her rage.

“You led yourself to your death as did he.” Tamlin said, perfectly calm and stoic. She wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Not anymore.

Tamlin looked to the others, “Think about all that male has done to us. Think of what his mate has brought down upon our lands. And maybe rethink tossing your magic carelessly at whatever dead corpse lays before you.”

“He is not a corpse!” Feyre shrieked. Her cries and screams becoming distant. Vague. As weariness bore heavy on him. For the mortal, the living, unfortunately exhaustion was a natural occurrence.

Tamlin’s eyes went down to Rhysand. Least he’ll never be exhausted again.

The thought was cruel, and maybe he was a horrible man for feeling relief. Staring into that lifeless face, knowing he was dead forever. Gone. Bound to never bring him misfortune again.

“You are a heartless male.” A seething voice said somewhere near him. Tamlin looked towards where a limping Illyrian with blue siphons hissed, looking like he wanted to tear the High Lord to shreds but his own limitations and injuries prevented it.

A cold, humourless smile broke out on his face. The Spring Lord looked down upon Feyre.

“Give him your own magic.” He said, tilting his head, “Why don’t you hand over those drops of power you claim to make yourself so, so powerful?”

She was silent, as tears continued to stream down her face, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh right, you can’t.”

He would leave after this and never see her face again, he hoped, but he didn’t bite his tongue to prevent the final blow, “Our magic is the only thing holding you together. You claim yourself so powerful. Above the rest of us entirely. The self-proclaimed High Lady of the Night Court, equal to the most powerful in all the Earth. But you really aren’t. You need our magic to survive.”

Tamlin looked back at Rhysand, and didn’t hide the relief on his face, “You can’t bring him back without us.”

The Nightmare was gone. Now all that was left was the cleanup.

Feyre screamed, whether it was an insult, her hatred or simply incoherent, he didn’t know. He winnowed away. Back to Spring.

It was time for a cleanup.

And he had plans to make things right in his Court. In Prythian in its entirety.

***

I probably will not continue this fic since I have so much I need to write already, but I think its fun to go back and reflect on my old ideas and rewrite to compare to how my form was before and how it is now.

#acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #anti rhysand #anti ic #pro spring court #critical feyre archeron #acotar au #acotar headcanons #fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction writer

150 notes · View notes

jazziejax · 2 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Manny Rivera x Blakc!OC (can be read as reader though)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Manny and Naoya’s meet cute

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - swearing, grammar errors,

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬! - It’s been a while…a long while. Sorry for any mistakes or errors, as if said, it’s been a long while and I sort of forgot where I was going with this storyline without having to watch season 2 over. Plus, I also just took what you guys were saying and started at the beginning of the season where Manny shows up. I wanted to get there quickly as well. Most of my fics for characters do follow the show/movie they come from because I’m not that creative, so spare me please. I also have to come up with ideas for just some one one one time between him and the reader, if you guys want to see anything in particular let me know. Also, this is just a little some to hold you guys over for the time being. I plan on editing t this afternoon little before the other chapters come out. I wrote this sleep deprived.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭! - 5,895

“Yurrr!! What it do Camera Crew?” Ava beamed as she opened the doors for the infamous camera crew. “Welcome back to the house that Ava built. It’s been a while.” She grinned.

“It’s not like they’ve missed anything,” Naoya said in a monotone as she came out of the office with papers in her hands. She then flashed them a small, but genuine, smile. “Nice seeing you though.” She said softly.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Melisa said as she got into step with them. “What’s it’s been? Like, five months? How you doin'?” She grinned.

Gregory then came out of his classroom, seeing his fellow coworkers and the new and improved camera crew. “Oh, what’s up? We still doing this?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Naoya and Ava answered, although their tones varied.

The cameraman then turned around at the sound of excited giggles from afar, catching Jacob beam at the sight of them. “Oh, my God! You guys! Hey!” He cheesed as he jogged up to them, bumping into the cameras. “Oh! Sorry.” He said as he straighter the camera up. “Um, wow. You got new equipment. Look, I don’t wanna say I told you so, but—.”

“I will!” Naoya said, pushing her friend so she could be in view. “You should’ve listened to me and Jacob when we said to make a right on 30th street instead of a left that night.” She said, squinting at them with a point before walking away. Ava nodded in agreement.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“You want me to tell you what happened to you?” Ava asked the person behind the camera confused. “Oh, right. Tell the people.” She said before her usual grin spread across her face. “So, they got robbed.” She stated bluntly. “Because they thought it’d be cute to walk around West Philly at night with all this camera equipment. Hell, I’d have robbed you if I was there.” She told them. “Anyway, here we are, five months later because that’s how long it takes for three people with art degrees to save up for new cameras. Welcome back! It’s Career Day today.” She finished enthusiastically before it all dropped within a second. “Unfortunately.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Why would you not listen to someone from Philly when they say don’t do stupid shit in the city?” Naoya asked, looking at the people behind the camera. “We tried to tell you and look what happened. You’re lucky you weren’t held at gunpoint.” She said as she crossed her arms. She paused, looking at the face of the camera crew. “You were held at gunpoint? Oh…” She cringed. “Why the hell did you come back? Are you getting cut a check? Because it must be good.” She stated. “And if you are I want in, I don’t care how much money you think I have.” She said.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

The camera crew then caught the teachers walking into the library as they all waited for some meeting by the district. Naoya took her seat in front of Ava, flashing a confused look at the other when she saw the glasses on the woman’s face.

“Ava!” Barbra yelled, spooking the woman awake. “Not planning on being conscious for Career Day?”

“This is a district initiative. They can handle it.” She frowned, relaxing back into her seat with those glasses still on. “Anyone else feels like the people from the district have been more annoying than usual?”

“They’re not all bad.” Barbra waved her off.

“I think they’re cool.” Jacob chimed in from the other table. Naoya looked back at him, squinting. “Stay at your own table.” She told him, causing Jacob to frown at her in confusion, even though he didn’t take it to heart.

“I actually like them this year.” Gregory chimed in.

“You too,” Naoya said again.

“Shocking,” Melissa said, giving the man a knowing look that he tried to avoid.

“I don’t know, I feel like they’ve been unequivocally and universally worse than they’ve ever been. From unhelpful to unbearable.” Evan complained.

“Wow, what big words for you Ava.” Naoya jutted with an evil smile, turning away before she could see the woman lift her glasses to give her a dirty look. Naoya just continued to smile, looking into the camera even though she could feel the hard gaze on her back.

“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Janine grinned as she walked into the room with her district coworker behind her. Naoya smirked as she looked her up and down, slightly nodding her head at a chipper and well-dressed Janine. Her eyes then caught a familiar pair behind the short woman, the man smiling at the woman sitting before him. Noaya flashed him a quick smile, causing his to grow as they stared at one another. She tilted her head, looking up at him as he leaned against his weight against the table behind him.

“Hey.” He mouthed to her, not taking his eyes away from her.

“Hi.” Naoya cheesed, lighting biting her bottom lip as she looked into his warm gaze.

“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Ava mocked from behind her, then received a tap from Barb. Janine smiled, seeing the camera crew was back.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“So, yeah, I work for the school district now.” She beamed. “You guys missed a lot.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫…

Janine gave the camera a quick smile and wave as she walked into the auditorium, moving to find a spot in the chairs lined up. She chose to sit in one of the empty spots next to Gregory, who was behind Naoya, who was across from Jacob.

“Left for right?” The man asked.

“Uh, left.” She answered before taking the seat.

“Good choice.” Gregory grinned.

“Thank you,” Janine said. Naoya frowned, raising her eyes from the handbook in her lap and making eye contact with the cameras a few feet away. She didn’t move her head, not wanting to be obvious, but her face showed enough.

“Girl this development day has me developing a migraine.” Barbra groaned from her seat next to Melissa, who was popping a pill into her mouth before downing water in her cup. The pair sat in front of Jacob.

“Let me have one of those aspirins, please,” Barbra asked, holding out her hand.

“It’s a sleeping pill,” Melissa said. “Wake me if there’s a fire, a tornado, or a volcanic eruption.” She sighed. “I know that’s right,” Naoya mumbled to herself, not looking up from her papers.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“What?” She asked with a shrug. “I told you guys I hear and know everything. I’m nosy, okay? That’s isn’t a crime.” It was silent for a moment before the woman gave the person a confused look. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?” She asked as she lifted her hands to her face.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Good day to the fine teachers of Abbott Elementary,” Ava said into the microphone. The majority of the teachers in the room then turned to look at Gregory and Naoya, who was shocked by the odd attention she’s been getting as of late. The pair sat there awkwardly, Naoya more so trying to convince herself that they couldn’t be staring at her.

“What?” Ava asked them.

“No comment about Gregory being “F I O N, fine?” Melissa asked.

“Or whatever’s different about Noaya that’s making her more attractive this year.” Jacob chimed in, causing everyone to look his way, but he was too busy staring at his friend across from him. Naoya gave the man a confused and slightly disturbed look. “Aren’t you gay?” She asked him

“I’m starting to question it.” He said, making her eyes widen and look away from him.

“No, Mr.Hill and Ms.Schemmenti.” Ava chimed back in a little aggressively. “I was speaking to everyone. But since all eyes are on them, uh, Mr.Eddie would you mind reading from the first paragraph of your immaculately assembled binder?” She said a polite smile on her face. If Naoya wasn’t so disturbed, she’d frown her the woman’s behavior, but she couldn’t help but spiral inwardly due to the way everyone was acting.

“Sexily?” Gregory asked unsurely.

“Excuse me?” Ava asked. “That’s is not only suggestive but highly inappropriate in front of our company,” Ava said before gesturing over to the trio that stood at the other end of the stage. Naoya’s eyes jumped to them, eyeing the tall man in the sweater for a brief moment, who just so happened to already be glancing her way. At the newfound attention, the man called his throat before speaking, looking away from the woman. “Uh, hi. Hi, everybody.” He said as she made his way into the center of the over to the podium for the microphone. “We’re from the school district. Principe Colman invited us to come, observe, and collaborate with you all on this Development Day.” He said.

Naoya slightly tilted her head as she analyzed the man, admiring his obvious strive appearance.

“Yes!” Ava said in the mic. “The importance of collaboration is one of the many things I learned while I was matriculating at Cambridge.” She boasted. Naoya gave the camera a deadpanned look.

“We’re super excited to be here.” The man spoke again. “On behalf of the new superintendent, John Reynolds. I’m Manny. That’s my dream team over there.” He gestured to the pair from his original position. “That’s Emily. That’s Simon. And we don’t come empty-handed. We’ve come with some iPads and SMART boards for your classrooms, loaded with learning apps.” He explained, causing the teachers to clap. Naoya just sat there though, her hands clasped over her crossed legs with a disinterested look on her face.

“New and improved model,” Melissa stated as she leaned closer to Barbra.

“Same old engines.” The other woman said. “These people aren’t going to change a blessed thing, except how many bodies are in the room.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you around.” Manny finished with a grin, his eyes trailing back to Naoya. She sat there, face blank as she looked the man up and down. Manny smirked at that, before looking away as he made his way back to his team.

“Gregory, we still need you to read from section ‘A’., there in your binder,” Ava stated.

Gregory stood from his seat, binder in hand. “ ‘Section A. Welcome back.’ That’s concluded section ‘A’.” He said before closing the booklet.

“Thank you, Mr.Eddie. You may be seated.” There was light applause after that, most uninterested or highly confused.

Softly, as if she wasn’t away she was in front of a mic, Ava began to read from her notes. “As the teacher, if they have any ideas from over the summer they’d like to implement. Try to make it fun.” She said to herself. She sighed before moving away from the podium. She struggled for a bit before doing a small dance, asking the question over again. “Does anyone have any ideas from over the summer that they’d like to implement?”

Janine raised her hands.

“Janine!” Ava said. “One of our most…teachers at Abbott.”

“So I was thinking over the summer while I was spending time with myself and just thinking about, like, what really led me to this point in my life.” She began.

Melissa yawned. “Get to the point.” She groaned with her head back.

“Get to the point, Janine,” Barbra said.

“Yeah, okay. So, a Career Day?” Janine suggested. “We should do career day at the school because I checked and we haven’t had one since the only jobs for women were typists, moms, and wet nurses.” She explained. “I think it’s a great way for the kids to see all of the amazing jobs they can have. And that’s it. That’s my idea. I’m done. Career Day.” She quickly finished before taking her seat. Naoya nodded, turning in her seat to look at the girl.

“That was an amazing idea, Neen.” She said, causing the shorter woman to smile. Naoya nodded as she looked at her friend for a while longer. “How much time did you spend alone, exactly?” She asked, causing Janine's smile to slightly drop. Before she could answer, Naoya waved her off. “It doesn’t matter, I was alone too.” She said, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I’m gonna say my idea now.” She said before Janine or Gregory, who was listening, could comment on anything.

She raised her hand, catching Ava’s attention, as well as the people on the stage. “Yes, Miss Lovell.” She said. Naoya jerked her head back at Ava’s use of her professional name before she just shook her head at it. “I was thinking of a librarian.” She said. “A better library program, actually. New books, more books, better books. Just an improvement of that old wretched system that keeps losing the books I put in there.” She said through a strained smile at the thought of all the books she’d donated, only for them to end up missing. Manny looked the woman up and down from his place on the stage, watching the way the sun seemed to shine through the room only for her, dressed in fun colors and her quirky glasses.

“I could name a plethora of reasons those Ideas won’t work.” Ava began, barely listening to their suggestions. “Scheduling, previous failed attempts, that’s the fact that it’s was your ideas.” She said, gesturing between the two. Naoya jerked her head back at the woman’s audacity while Janine tried to save herself.

“Right, but there is a way—.”

“But I’m just gonna go ahead and say no and save yourself the embarrassment.” Ava cut in. Janine leaned back in her seat while Naoya raised her middle finger at the woman on stage, not caring for the guests who were visiting the school.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“I’m never suggesting anything again.” She hissed as she leaned against the lockers. “It’s one thing to try and embarrass me in front of my coworkers who already live pathetic lives and make less money than me. It’s another to do it in front of sexy company. She’s gonna pay one way or another.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Naoya was walking next to Janine, the shorter woman looking her friend up and down. “There is something different about you that I just can’t put my finger on.” She said skeptically, causing Naoya to slightly frown at her. “You are glowing though.” She shrugged.

Before Naoya could speak on the matter, they were intercepted by the voice. “Hey, Janine. Ms.Lovell.” They said, causing the girl to turn around. “I’m Manny, which I said up there.” He stumped as she held out his hand. Janie shook his first before he moved into Naoya. The man hiked as he looked her in the eye, Naoya’s face blank as she placed her hand into his, giving his large hand a firm shake.

“You can call me Naoya.” She said with a small smile. She couldn’t help it. She tried to stay stoic in front of the man but there was something about him that just made her all giddy and gooey inside, especially now that they were up close and she felt his skin on hers, even if it was a simple handshake.

“Naoya.” He tested the name on his tongue as he continued to look her in the eye, both parties loving the way it sounded. “I love that.” He said until he was aware of what he said. And also aware that his hand was still in hers. “Name. I love that name. It’s cool and different.” He said, before pulling his hand away. Noaya nodded, letting out a small huff of a laugh. “Thanks.” She said, placing her hand behind her back. Janine’s eyes snapped to the cameras near them, slightly shocked written onto her features.

“Uh, I just wanted to say, that, uh, Career Day and the Library Program sounded good.” He began. “They’re good ideas and I would love to hear more.”

“Thank you!” Janine said. “So you guys are new at the district?” She asked.

“Yep. Just started over the summer. Loving it so far.” He explained, looking between the two. “Feel like we’re going to make a lot of positive changes and do what the last administration didn’t. Nobody embezzling funds in my watch.” He joked, causing Naoya to giggle. Janie was taken aback, looking at her and the cameras at Naoya's unusual behavior. “Funny.” The taller woman simply stated before beginning to make her way out of the auditorium.

“Oh, hey.” Manny began again, stopping her while Janine stayed stationary. “Actually one of the things we wanted to do today was shadow some teachers. Are you two up for it?” He asked, looking between them. Naoya glanced at Janine, who shrugged, before looking back at Manny and doing the same. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna be setting up my classroom.” She said.

“Same,” Janine stated.

“Exciting!” Manny grinned.

Naoya nodded, a fond smile on her face. “It’s is exciting. I’m a pretty creative and free spirit.” She grinned. “Yeah? Well, I’m just gonna grab my coworkers.” He grinned. “They're talking to Principle Coleman over there. You guys are so lucky you have such a good principle.” He said. Janine awkwardly smiled while Naoya just pursed her lips.

“Yeah.” Janie agreed, nodding as the man walked away.

Noaya watched him with a small smirk before sighing and twirling around, her straightend hair flowing behind her. Janine squinted as she watched the woman practically skip away in glee, Manny not too far behind.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“That’s what it is!” Janine grinned primal at the cameras. “She’s not wearing her contacts.” She grinned proudly. It didn’t last long though, slightly dropping as she looked at the camera, thinking it over more.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“No,” Naoya said to the camera, an almost offended look on her face. “I wear my glasses almost all the time. Granted, these are new frames, but why the hell? These people know nothing about me.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“So, where’d you teach before picturing to the school district?” Noaya asked as She, Janine, Manny, and his crew walked to their classrooms.

“I didn’t, actually.” Manny averted sheepishly. Janine flashed a look to the camera while Naoya hummed in acknowledgment with a purse of her lips. “But I grew up here, though.” He quickly added. “My first-hand experience is more from when I was a student in the area.” He said as Janine led them into her room.

“Oh, alright.” The shorter woman nodded. “Well, you know, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to teach at Abbott.” She said. “Because I was a student in the area, as well, so…” She shrugged. “This is my room.” She said to them.

“What are you making here?” Emily asked, gesturing to the table where a tone of colored paper and glue was laid out.

“Oh, A ‘Welcome Back’ sign for the kids. Naoya was helping me paint.” She grinned, gesturing over to the woman next to her. “We’re gonna decorate it together so that everyone feels included. I try to implement a lot of color. I wanted to go with blue because that inspires focus.” She began to explain.

“And calm, which is so important for primary classes.” Manny chimed in. “I read about that in Chalkbeat.” He grinned. Naoya tilted her head at that, flashing the camera a Quick Look as she glanced between the two.

“You read Chalkbeat?” Janine asked, a smile starting to spread across her face.

“Mm-hmm.” Manny hummed.

“I basically live in the comment section, so…” She chortled.

“Oh, my God. Are you @JTeaguee215?” He asked as he stepped sideward a little, an excited grin on his face. “Yes!” Janine said enthusiastically. Naoya softly nodded her head, glancing at the camera when it tried to catch her tense facial expression at the exchange.

“And @JTeagues267 when I wanna spice up the discourse.” She continued.

“Ms.Teagues, I’m @MannyFromTheBlock. I’m always using this emoji.” He said before doing a salute. Janie gaped at him in shock. “That’s you!”

“That’s me.” He grinned.

“I love your comments,” Janine stated with a grin.

“I love your comments.” He smiled back.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Fuck!” She yelled in the hallway, turning away from the cameras as she her fist j to the lockers, making a loud sound.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Janine continued onto fine before glancing at Naoya, who had taken several steps back and looked to be on her way out of the room. When the other woman saw her looking, she flashed a tight smile before looking away. Janine eyes subtly squinted in confusion before she continued. “Anyways.” She began, brushing the interaction off. “Naoya wanted to paint the walls blue last year, but you guys—the district—didn’t like the idea of pinging walls, so…” She shrugged, explaining for the other woman.

“What!? Why not? That’s is so good.” Manny responded, his eyes sifting to the distant figure of the other woman. “I think that’s exactly an idea that we could and should implement.” He said softly, examining her awkward grin. The woman just nodded, rubbing the back of her neck while Janine glanced at the cameras at the tension hiking within the room.

“It’s a low-stakes, high-reward improvement,” Emily stated, glancing Naoya’s way.

“Yes. Let’s revise that.” Simone grinned. Janine pursed her lips, making a funny face as she looked away from them. The trio looked at the woman funny. “Are you okay?” Simone asked.

“Yeah,” Janine asked. “Just a lot of positive reinforcement. I usually only get that from Ms.Love back here.” She awkwardly chuckled, pointing to the woman next—behind—her. That caused all of their eyes to drift to the woman, who seemed dither than she was before. She stood by the other door, her hands stuffed in her pockets now that eyes were on her while she was almost away from them.

“Are you okay?” Janine asked, looking at the woman confused, her mood a complete flip from earlier.

“No,” Naoya said simply before twirling around and skipping to her room. Janine paused, glancing back at the trio as they all watched the woman leave, Manny with a small smile on his face. “She’s a wonderful woman.” She began, stealing out of the door. “A soft chocolate chunk cookie with crispy edges. Her words not mind, they’re in her Twitter bio.” She said, trying to fill the air with something. The trio nodded at that. Janine lightly cleared her throat before making her way to Naoya’s room. “Let’s follow her, shall we.” She said softly, the others trailing behind her.

They made it to her door, looking into the classroom as Naoya rearranged the comfy furniture she had the way she wanted it.

“Wow.” Manny sighed from the door before making his way into the room. Naoya turned at the voice to see the group, said the man looking around as he trailed in.

“This is really nice.” He said softly before letting his eyes fall on her.

Naoya’s face held a small grin as she nodded. “Thank you. I try.” She shrugged.

“It’s cozy in here.” Emily grinned as she made her way around the different sections.

Noaya's eyes snapped over to her as she pushed a small couch over to the rug she had laid out in between the bookshelves. “Yeah, I try to keep it that way.” She said, pairing the seat. “I hate—The kids hate fluorescent lighting.” She chuckled nervously, shooting them a quick look. “But some do come on when it’s instruction time.” She added to save her ass.

Manny grinned at her as he nodded his head. Janie looked between them with a small smile before glancing at the watching cameras, her expression dropping.

“That’s actually really important.” He began. “Such lightening for long hours does nothing for brain stimulation.” He said. Noaya glanced at him, lightly nodding. “Yeah, it actually has the opposite effect. Weakens memory retention causes migraines” She said. Manny hummed, looking at her. “It’s why they have them in prisons.” She added, quickly turning away from them and then moving over to a box that sat on a table. Manny’s eyes tricker after her, not wasting time before stepping closer as he watched her.

“What’s this section for?” Simone asked, watching as the woman set a box on the ground in front of an empty shelf, flanked by small bookshelves on either side. “Oh, this is my relaxation saltation.” Naoya grinned as she lifted the clear top of the record player, and then reached down to pull out a vinyl from the box. “Well, that’s what it is now.” She said as she placed the Minnie Riperton record onto the player. “It used to be where I taught the kids music. As best I could though. We didn’t have a music teacher here for a while.” She said sheepishly, glancing at them. “Now it’s called the relaxation station. The kids like coming over and picking out their songs. It’s a reward for good behavior.” She shrugged before pressing the machine on, the classroom then being filled with the soft sound of Les Fleurs by Minne Riperton.

“Wow,” Manny said softly, not taking his eye off the woman. “That’s amazing.” He said, this team nodding as they looked around the comfy section. “Naoya glanced at him, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you.” She said softly. They stayed each other in the eye for what felt like forever before the woman gulped and looked away from him, trying to find something to occupy herself. She looked down, her eyes going to the box of records she needed to put away. She squatted as she began unloading them into the section at the bottom of the shelf. She handled the old-school records with care, not wanting to damage the already torn covering and hurt the disc.

Manny couldn’t help but watch with a fond look in his eye, the colorful woman in her own world as she worked, her lips softly singing the song playing in the background.

“What’s this on the board?” Emily asked from the other side of the room, catching their attention. Naoya had just finished when she stood up, rubbing her hands against her jeans. She quickly glanced at Manny, who was already looking at her, before her eyes trailed to the questioning woman near the board, who pointed at the Kanji.

“Oh, those are just words I she a lot so I put Kanji next to them so the kids become familiar.” She said as she walked closer. “We also didn’t have a language teacher here for a while so…” She tried off with a shrug. “I was teaching them the Spanish I learned from the bodega guy growing up but he wasn’t saying anything children should be.” She grinned tensely at them. “Now I just inform them on Japanese when we have free time or if they’re curious, which they usually are.”

“Why Japanese?” Simon asked. Naoya glanced between all of them, a small smile on her face.

“I’m Japanese.” She said with a small smile. “It’s my first language. My mom was a nurse and an English teacher over there for a long time.” She sighed. The other hummed, surprised at the new revelation while Manny admired the woman.

“My mother was a teacher as well.” He said, causing the woman to look his way. “It’s part of the reason why I work at the district now.” He said softly. Noaya started at him, mother of the faces faltering from their soft expressions. She just nodded at what he said. Because she could speak, as if she was going to, Janine spoke up.

“What’s this one mean?” The woman asked, pointing at the unfamiliar Kanji on the board.

“Oh, it’s just love.” She shrugged. “I put it on the board at the beginning of each year because if I was a teacher in Japan, that would be my name.” She said. “Sensei Ai or Ai-aan.” She stated in Japanese, ignoring the impressed looks she gathered from the crew as she continued to explain. “Even though Ai is the general term of love and affection.” She shrugged.

“That is so amazing,” Simon said with a proud grin, looking at the woman. “There is such a diversity of cultures and learning in this classroom. What grade do you teach?” He asked. Naoya was slightly taken aback by his apparent enthusiasm, looking at the man with a small smile. “Fourth grade.” She said.

“Mhm, that’s when all the magic starts to happen.” He said, causing Naoya to nod. Manny glanced between the two, his smile slightly strained as he watched them interact.

“Yeah,” Naoya said. “There is a significant development in their cognitive abilities. The children become more logical and critical thinkers, alongside increased independence, stronger social connections with peers, and a growing awareness of social hierarchies, often navigating feelings like peer pressure and the desire to fit in. They also start thinking more about abstract ideas, and not just about things they can observe.” She explained. Everyone in the room looked at the woman in shock, taking in the information she just dumped on them.

“I majored in Psychology for Human Growth and Development. I was gonna be a children’s therapist but I realized my heart can’t really handle all that.” She said. Some hummed with the other nodded at the woman.

“Well, aren’t you the gift that just keeps on giving? Full of unexpected but pleasant surprises.” Simone said, grinning at the woman. Naoya laughed, waving him off before turning to find something else to do in her class. Manny’s eyes trailed after hard, glancing between her and his coworker.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Noaya was walking down the hall, talking to Gregory when Janine came out of her classroom, spotting the two. “Oh, hey! Fancy seeing you here.” She joked, speaking to Gregory. “Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing to the boxes the pair held.

“Just bringing the books in.” The man said. “Oh, there is a ten-for-ten sale at Nichols Schola Supplies, by the way.” He said while Noaya nodded.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Janine said, catching the two off guard.

“What the hell?” Noaya stated in shock.

“Trying out cursing. Still getting the hang of it.” Janine sighed, seeing their confused and shocked faces. “No was Baltimore?” She quickly tried to change the subject. Noaya sighed, sensing where the conversation was going, and moved to carry the box she held in Gregory’s classroom.

“It was so flat!” Was the first thing she heard from Gregory when she exited the class after luring the box down. She cried in confusion, looking at the cameras before making her way over to the pair.

“What’s you do over the break?” Gregory asked her before glancing over when Naoya came closer, squinting at her. “You too, now that I’m thinking about it.” He said.

“I just spent a lot of time with myself,” Janine answered. “And it was good for me. I feel, sure, centered, good.” She listed with a content smile. “Oh, Jacob, Noaya, Erika and I started going out to brunch together. We’re calling ourselves the Brunch Bunch.” She joked.

“Why not just the Brunch Bunch?” Gregory asked.

“I thought it was just the Brunch Bunch? That’s why I named the group chat.” Naoya said, her brows furrowed.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Janine said. Naoya pursed her lips while Gregory let out a tense exhale, Janine, looked between the two.

“It’s just not working for me, is it?” Janine asked.

“Not quite there,” Gregory said.

“Fuck, no.” Noaya scoffed. Janine snapped her fingers, pointing at the woman. “See, that sounds so much better.” She said. Noaya cocky shrugged before her eyes caught a finger coming up behind Janine.

“Hey,” Manny said. “Teacher of the Year. Gregory Eddie.” He said in his odd accent that she couldn’t help but find endearing. “I heard about that garden you made out front. Really cool, man.” He said.

“Oh! Thanks.” Gregory said. “I like to do it and it makes the school and the street look nice.” He explained with a small shrug.

“Sure does,” Manny said before looking between the two women. “Uh, Ms.Lovell, Ms.Teauges, could I speak to you two for a quick second? Sorry to interrupt.” He said to Gregory. Janine nodded. “Oh, yeah. All good. And you can call me Janine.” She said as she led the man into her room. Gregory and Noaya shared a look before they glanced at the cameras. They then went their separate ways, her into Janine’s class while he went into his own.

“Well, uh, Janine.” Manny begun. “I was talking with the other from the school district. And you two seem to have a ton of great ideas.” Manny complimented, looking between the pair. Janine smiled proudly at him while Noaya shrugged softly.

“There’s this fellowship—.”He started again. “The Robeson Fellowship at the district. We want somebody with in-field experience to come to enhance what the district can do to make schools as efficient as possible.” He explained.

“That sounds like a great opportunity,” Janine said. “I'm pretty sure I can help you find somebody for that.” She stated, glancing at the woman next to her.

“Well, no, I had one of you in mind for it,” Manny said, glancing between the two. Noaya’s eyes widened, immediately shook her head. “Oh! That’s amazing but.” She chicken’s nervously and in shock. “I can’t.” She sighed, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t.

“Yeah.” Janine echoed. “I’m flattered but, you know, the summer is when I get a little bit of a break away from school.” She said, causing Noaya to point over at her in agreement.

“This would be doing the school year,” Manny stated.

“But that’s when we’re doing the schooling,” Noaya stated, brows furrowed as she gestured to her class.

“Yes, well, a sub would take over your class. While you’re with us for your duration of the fellowship.” He said. Naoya’s brows raised as she nodded at his words, taking them in. Janine, on the other hand, scoffed out a chuckle. “Sorry, but no.” She said. “I can’t imagine being away from my students, so… I’m flattered but, no, thank you.” She said.

Manny grinned, letting out a small chuckle. “Okay, alright.” He said before he then turned to Naoya, who had her hand behind her back. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in what the man was saying. “Uh, I’ll think it over.” She said with a nervous smile. “I would have to plan so much and, you know, I only have so many ideas.” She shrugged.

“And I bet they’re all great,” Manny told her, his voice very sure of himself as he looked at the woman. Noaya nodded her head, offering him a small smile. “Okay.” She said. Manny nodded before moving his way out of the room. He was on his way out of the room before he turned around, looking between the two.

“Just give it some real thought, okay?” He said, his eyes mainly on Noaya. “You can help make some real change around here. Creative and culturally diverse ideas—.”His eye then trailed to Janine. “And painted walls are just the start.” He gave Noaya another smile, showing his there before making his way out of the room.

Once he was away Noaya sighed, throwing her head back. “I’m gonna go complain to Jacob.” She sighed before exiting the room to make her way upstairs.

#abbott elementary fic #josh segarra #mannyxblakcreader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary x reader #abbott elementary #janine teagues #gregory eddie #barbra howard #melissa schemmenti #mr. johnson #jacob hill #manny x reader #Abbott elementary manny #abbott elementary manny x reader

103 notes · View notes

sturniololuv08 · 2 days ago

Text

TreeHouse Chapter 3

"This is your first shower.... in how long?"

Summary: Chris gets the news that everything is going to change.

"Thousands have lived without love, not one without water."

⚠️This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.⚠️

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

Chris' POV:

"Say it again." They both were glaring down on me.

"I'm Christopher Sturniolo. I've been homeschooled for seven years -" My speech was interrupted with a smack to the mouth. I moved my tongue around in swirls. No blood.

"Eight. It has been Eight years. Say it again." My father balled his hand into a fist, waiting for me to screw up again. I took a hesitant breath before going again.

"My name is Christopher Sturniolo. I've been home-schooled for eight years."

"Why did you not start school with Matt and Nick?" My mother interrogated.

"I was sick. I have an auto-immune disease, Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. I wasn't allowed to be around germs." I winced, thinking I had messed up, but no contact was made with my face.

"Good. You start school tomorrow." Most kids feel a sense of anxiety or dread from their first time back in school after years of homeschooling, but I felt instant relief. It was a few hours out of the day when I could just be free from them. I still had Matt and Nick to deal with, but they couldn't do much in school without any repercussions of getting caught.

"You get three outfits, one bag, and one pair of shoes." I was handed the brand-new items one by one. I moved my fingers across the fabric and felt every little stitch carefully. It was tight-knit and soft—softer than anything I had ever felt before. The clothes I currently had to wear were old, stained, and so worn that they were thin.

"If you fuck up once, you'll regret it." My father stuck his finger in my face. I jumped, expecting some strike, but wasn't met with anything other than his finger dangling in my face. I knew once the beatings lessened, something was up. They never entirely stopped, but they were lighter and almost felt more strategic about where they aimed their aggression. Then they dropped the bomb on me that I had to go back to school. I didn't ask why because I wasn't about to question them or question the one thing that was saving me from them. "Go shower before your brothers get home."

I nodded and took my new items to my room. It was just a dusty mattress on the floor. There were several brown blood stains soaked deep into the uncovered fabric. I held up the clothes to see what I got. I had black baggy jeans, a black long-sleeve, a black tee shirt, a green hoodie with stars on the front, a pair of blue jeans that had some holes, and some camo-printed cargo pants. The shoes were off-white air forces and clearly hand-me-downs from Matt. I neatly folded the clothes and set them on the floor beside my bed. I remembered I needed to shower before Matt and Nick got home, so I quickly went into the bathroom and turned on the water. I took off my dirty clothes and stepped under the stream. The hot water was stinging my fresh burns, so I turned it to a cooler temperature. I was annoyed that I couldn't enjoy a piping hot shower like I so desperately wanted and needed but any shower at all was a blessing lately. I wondered if they were going to let me shower more often because of school. Going to school was going to change everything. I soaped up everywhere and loved smelling the palm oil steam from the warm water washing it away. I soaped up again. It felt so good to finally get the dirt, blood crust, and lingering feelings from their hands off my body.

"Fuck, yes." I groaned, leaning my head back into the water, realizing I finally got to wash my straw-like hair. I flopped my hair back and forth, listening to the water smack the shower curtain. I felt a lump in my throat build as I kept flicking my hair from side to side. I wanted to cry. I flicked my hair and didn't hear it hit the shower curtain, so I ran my hands over my face to squidgy the water off. I opened my eyes and saw Nick standing there holding the curtain.

"Bet it's nice, huh?" He had a shitty smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah." I covered my package as best as I could. I have been hurt in every which way possible, but not once has any pain been directed lower than my belly button, and I'm grateful for that.

"Why would you shower in cold water, huh?" Nick reached in and turned the knob to become hotter. My burns from the other night were starting to sting again. He knew what he was doing.

"That's, that's good." I winced.

"Come on, this is your first shower... in how long?" He taunted. He turned the knob. I closed my eyes, starting to feel the boils on my skin getting ready to burst.

"It's fine. That's fine." I lied. The hot water had tinted my pale skin pink.

"When you get done, Matt and I need to talk to you about tomorrow." He turned the knob to the hottest it would go. I so desperately wanted to reach out and turn it down; the apparent reaction. But I knew this was mild compared to what they usually do to me. I used my arms to cover the most surface area they could. The burns on my stomach were the worst, so I slightly leaned forward, trying to cover it. Nick aggressively closed the shower curtain when he was bored. As soon as I heard the door close, I turned the water all the way off. I felt a few tears welling up in my eyes from the pain. I leaned against the wall in the shower and tried to hyper-focus on anything other than the tingling all over my body. I looked down at my stomach to see the boils were gone, and the hot water melted away any access skin on the new holes. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing. The pain slowly subsided. I decided my once peaceful shower was ruined no matter what I did to try to recover it. I stepped out and dried off, gently patting the wounds on my stomach and legs. I looked around for the dirty old pajamas I had been wearing, but they were gone.

"Oh, no," I whispered, wrapping myself up in the towel. I slowly peeked out of the bathroom door. No one was in the hallway, so I quickly, but most importantly quietly, ran into my room. I closed the door silently behind me and rested my back against the door. I sighed heavily with relief.

"Avoiding someone?" My eyes shot open to see the very person I was trying to avoid.

"Matt." I croaked.

"We need to talk about tomorrow." He didn't seem angry, but Matt was the worst when he was furious. I noticed Nick only gave me special attention when he was bored. Mom and Dad were situational and punishment-driven. But Matt, Matt was the worst of them all. He treated me like another sport. I was his opponent, and he wanted to win badly. The catch to his game was that I could never win, even if I tried.

"May I get dressed first?" I didn't want to anger him, but I didn't feel safe being exposed underneath the towel.

"No. I won't be long." His tone was cold. "Tomorrow you are going to school with us. You are not to talk to us. Got it?" I nodded. "Say it out loud!" He yelled. I shuddered, scared. Yelling at me was frequent in this house, so I knew they were unbothered even if they heard him.

"I understand. I won't talk to you." I agreed.

"Good. You are taking the bus. I'm not driving you." I nodded. I was okay with spending less time with them. "If you slip up, we are gonna tell Mom and Dad." His threat held a lot of weight. I couldn't mess up—not with them watching me, not in school, and definitely not at home.

A/N How are we feeling about Chris' first POV chapter?

TreeHouse Taglist:

@trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols @chriss-slutt @middlepartmatt @blushsturns @shadowtheism @fratbrochrisgf @forgottxen

This fic is TAGLIST SPECIFIC, meaning in order to be tagged in this, you HAVE to be on the list. I'm doing this because of TRIGGERS.

REBLOG INSTRUCTIONS: I don't mind just please stress the trigger warnings so no backlash comes back to me!

Enjoy Chris getting beat up 😅

#victim!chris treehouse #victim!chris x nessie #victim!chris #nessie treehouse #treehouse #nessie #christopher owen #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo abuse #chris sturniolo smut #trigger warning ⚠️#juno characters ✨#juno masterlist

54 notes · View notes

kivino · 1 year ago

Text

OUT OF THE SHADOWS I || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X SHADOW!GN!READER

Word counter – ~6.9k words

Tags/Warnings – Gn!Reader, Shadow!Reader (it’s not for long lol, don’t get your hopes up), murder of civilians/corpses/blood mentioned, physical fights, reader likes to throw fists, Reader’s callsign is Bug to pay tribute to my original idea.

Summary – After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.

also available on my ao3!

a/n after the fic because they’re too long. but just know that this is the first chapter of the series, feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part. enjoy!

Everything was calm. The sound of rain covering up the murmur of trucks helped you wind down after the adrenaline rush, and a sense of accomplishment for a job well done swelled in your chest. You already anticipated a long sleep and maybe a night out with your friends when you’re back home from the job. Maybe you’d even get a bonus from Graves and buy something nice for yourself.

In all honesty, you didn’t even mind being crammed into the backseat along with those 141 guys. Working with them was a pleasure and they seemed like an interesting sort of crowd. Especially that man with the skull mask. Ghost, was it? He certainly attracted your attention the most, with his huge size, booming voice, and undeniable skill in what he did. You were willing to admit that the way he took out the enemies with ease and swiftness was mesmerizing. And…your train of thought that consisted of pure fascination was interrupted by the abrupt stop of the convoy in front of the base gate.

Everything was calm until you were surrounded by shouting and then eventual gunshots, along with muffled screams of your brothers in arms. You didn’t understand how it all escalated so fast. One moment you were sure about Shadow Company and Task Force 141 being on the same side, but now you didn’t know what to think of it all. And from Graves' words, it was apparent that Shepherd was behind this too. So naturally you, and many other shadows, the lower ranks, had no fucking clue what all of this was about. One would care to tell a mindless weapon where to shoot, but not why. Blood rushed through your veins and pulsed in your ears, turning the pleasant buzz in your body into strained sharpness. You hurriedly pulled up the rear sight to your eye level. Two bodies dropped to the wet asphalt with soft thuds right in front of you. You felt your heart sink right down to your feet. Instead of firing your shots, you hesitated, backing out to hide behind the bumper of the truck, while hearing agitated, aggressive shouts. You weren’t able to tell who was shouting. So, you leaned out and felt yourself freeze in place.

And there he is. Ghost, eyes locked right on you. He sure has a…strong presence. And instead of shooting you he just…looks. You don’t like the stupid flowery language, but in this split second, it really feels like he is staring right into your soul. Or like someone is sticking metal rods right through your chest, with how hard breathing becomes in an instant.

You knew that if you were to shoot him right now, you’d never forgive yourself, all because you were kept in the dark about the whole thing Graves had planned. And you were not willing to get blood on your hands because of some “mistake”. If you pull the trigger, there will be one less person who’s able to make a change. One less person who’ll be willing to get their hands dirty and save people.

So, you lower the muzzle of your rifle and nod to the side, urging him to start his getaway, before other Shadows and Graves decide to check the perimeter. You see his dark eyes blink, or at least you think you do before he disappears into the darkness. Like he was never there in the first place.

In the end, you didn’t get even a single scratch. Three other Shadows were K.I.A.

Your head buzzed with so many different questions you wanted to ask Graves, and more importantly, the guilt you felt from whatever happened in front of the threshold. You had no idea what happened with that Los Vaqueros base or what was up with your CO, while you were escorting him and those 141 guys along with several other Shadows for this mission. Why was he taking it? What was he even thinking? You wanted to pull out your hair and claw out your eyes just thinking about all of it. Which, you weren’t paid to do, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned with the moral side of things. Unlike the majority of the Shadows, as you came to find out.

Confusion bubbled up inside of your mind, eyes burned by the white synthetic light of the gate when you looked up at it just to feel something aside from sheer distress and bewilderment. You didn’t want to believe that your Commander was the type of person to sell himself out, and you didn’t expect him to be, from all the time spent working with him. The man was nothing short of likable and friendly, with his beaming smile, confident attitude, and outgoing way of communicating… a natural-born leader, that was the first thing that came to mind when you thought about your boss. And with how Graves treated you and all other Shadows like you were more than just his employees, the realization was even more painful. Of course, you didn’t want to think about how he could so easily turn his back on people who trusted him.

It raised many questions in your mind about the price of his word, as well as made your stomach churn with acidic, flesh-eating poison full of doubt and suspicion. If it was so easy for your CO to cut out the men someone he told you all to think of as your brothers, then how long will it be before he sells you and other shadows out for…whatever was offered to him?

“Find ‘em!” Graves barks and your chest swells with bitter disappointment. You thought you knew him before (as much as a subordinate can know their superior), but how can you even begin to understand him now?

You hear Shadows mutter a quiet “Yup-yup”, more to themselves than to your CO, and you could almost feel the doubt settle over them in a thick, transparent blanket. From the conversations you can pick up on while Graves is out of earshot, you guess that some of them don’t think betraying the 141 guys and trying to hunt the two of them down is the right thing to do. But it didn’t seem like they were going to do anything about it though. You, however, want to help. You know that it’s not right, so…screw it. You can always find another job, and if it comes down to it, 141 seem like an okay sort of people, the type that would have your back if you had theirs. At least, you have hope for it.

So maybe you could hold out until they come back for Los Vaqueros. And you were certain they’d do that, no way they’d abandon all these men. You haven’t seen how the things were on said base that was taken from them, but you were certain you could do more on the inside than if you were to leave right now. Maybe you could break Colonel out of there, or help the Task Force sneak in, you were sure they could use any help from you.

That was the plan before you saw what Shadow Company did to Las Almas.

The picture that Shadows were painting with innocent blood on the rainy landscape was horrifying, to say the least. The metallic smell hit your nose the moment you jumped out of the truck right onto the flooded pavement. That was the exact moment when you realized you couldn’t stay with Shadows any longer. You were supposed to help these people. It was your job. Instead, you felt filthier than the dirt on your boots. Traitor. Backstabber. You choked on your breath behind the mask each time you noticed the bodies of the victims in every dark corner of the city, nausea coming up your throat when you could see rivers of crimson streaming down the road and right into the sewers. Your Shadow Company patch felt like the mark of a killer, etched into your skin permanently, instead of just being part of your uniform.

Limp bodies that didn’t even have the time to grow cold yet, scattered around warm homes. Some of the killed were probably already in their beds sleeping, coming back from work, watching TV, or cooking dinner when they got dragged out under the rain and massacred…Everything felt like a blur, your thoughts were a jumbled mess of whys, while you were led further into the town, to continue the revolting, disgusting crimes of your brothers-in-arms. You couldn’t stand to spend another minute in here. You need to get out before you do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for. You were many things, but you were not willing to go that far. Not here, not anywhere.

“Hey. Where’s Graves?” You tap another Shadow, your “close colleague” with a callsign Kruk, on the shoulder. He turns to you, while you see several other soldiers passing by, yellow streetlights barely illuminating their swiftly moving figures. You knew why it was hard for you to even look in their direction. Kruk points towards the building to the left of you two and croaks something about “briefing the rookies”. You nod and thank him, stumbling in the general direction he pointed you to.

“Commander, with all due respect, I think it’s time for you to discharge me.” You only came to your senses when you stood in front of your CO in the cramped space of someone’s living room. Wallpaper, creamy in color, dulled lights, tons of decorative cushions on the couch… Your voice is quiet, but firm, not leaving any space for compromise when you speak up to the blond man, and your politeness is as fake as this copy of “Guernica” you could see hanging on the wall. Blood pulses in your ears. You want to leave, you want out. Out of here.

“Bug, now’s not the time for jokes, I need you on the field now. We’ve got our orders.” Graves barely raises his eyes from tapping something on the tablet, that usual scowl that you got used to present on his face. His actions are as ugly as he is. Him not taking you seriously sure does a number on your confidence. But that only reassures you in your decision. You need out.

“Do I look like I’m joking? I’m leaving, because I don’t think what we’re doing is right.” You try to stay calm, you really do. But how can you, when out of something so vile he makes a joke? Makes all these people a sick joke.

A crease lies between your brows, and shadows falling over your eyes make your face look similar to a carved statue. Before talking to Graves, you decided to take off the eyewear that obscures your face and pull down the thin mask, the signatures for Shadows who are lower in the chain of command. You’re the faceless sort, after all. “And I don’t think you know your place.” You’re instantly taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you don’t let it show. “I point and you shoot. I sign your paychecks, Bug, and you take them.” You feel something inside of you flinch at the way he mutters your callsign. “I’m in charge. You don’t have a say in what we do.” With each statement, his gloved finger points from him to you, making the rage and frustration boil inside of your chest. You trusted Graves and he led all of your colleagues, along with you to dragging out unarmed, innocent people in the dead of night out of their houses on their streets and executing them. Hell of a leader he is.

“Well, I’m stepping down. If that’s what we do, I don’t want to take part in it.” You wanted to tell him a lot more, give Graves a piece of your mind on war crimes and killing people in their own homes. On how drowning Las Almas in blood won’t fix whatever the fuck he was trying to fix right now. Instead, you kept it to yourself, tightening your fists just so you didn’t spit in his face or punch him.

“You’re putting a target on your back. Do you not understand how what you’re saying makes you look?” Graves leans in closer to you, the low volume of his voice making it even more threatening, similar to the hissing of a snake. Give him a minute and he will start spewing real venom right in your face.

“You know that whatever you’re thinking is not true.” To be completely honest, you didn’t care what he thought right now. Graves’ mind and morals were clearly in the wrong place if he considered all this bloodshed justified.

“Do I really? A moment ago I was sure that you were my subordinate, now I’m not even sure what to make of you.” You’re barely able to resist rolling your eyes at this. Your heart is picking up the pace with each minute. Getting more and more desperate to leave your body altogether, just so you don’t have to listen to his bullshit any longer. You wish it was that easy.

“I’m not taking orders from you. Not anymore.” Saying this took a lot more out of you than you expected, you felt your chest tremble when you met your CO’s eyes.

“Well, would you just look at that, you happen to be a fan of our local drug lord too?” If eyes could kill, Graves would’ve dropped dead right this moment. He smiles, his sharp canines peeking from under his top lip. He knows he’s making your skin crawl and your stomach flip from this interaction, which, if you’re lucky, would be the last for the two of you. “Helping the cartel and corrupt police won’t look too good on your resume”

“I see you’re just making it up as you go.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in your chest. Shaky. Uneven. Infuriated. Your eyes are drilling Graves’, a deep frown between them as proof of how much you despise him now, for the baseless assumption too. After a moment of silence, you add. “You know what my stance on this is. Whether I get your approval or not, I’m leaving.” Graves finally withdraws from your personal space, sliding the palm over his face with a heavy sigh, as his lips tighten into a thin line. You knew that this combination meant he was trying to calm down. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again.

“Look, Bug, you’re a smart kid and frankly, I like you.” he makes a short pause, sighing. “So, I’ll give you a fighting chance. Five minutes – if you’re not out of the city, then you’re a target.” He wasn’t that fucking courteous with the civilians that lay dead a few meters away. Shot on sight. Without any questions. You grit your teeth.

What are you supposed to do with that? Those five minutes didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, most likely, you’ll be rotting in the ditch somewhere shortly after your time runs out - too little to get out of the city or find the Task Force you so desperately wanted to help. Graves won’t leave any witnesses. And you are one. He knows it’s not going to be easy for you to just turn on the Shadows like that too, even though you despised what they were doing while following his orders. They still were your family. Dysfunctional and disproportionately big, but family, nonetheless. Even if they deserved it for their lack of action to prevent what was happening now, you don’t turn on your family like that. What he’s doing is forcing your hand.

Regardless, you have no choice but to take Graves up on his last “generous” offer.

“What are you waiting for, hm? Get out of here while you can.” You didn’t need to be told that twice. So, still balancing your rifle on your arm, your free hand reaches for that patch on your shoulder. Tearing it off in a quick motion makes the sound of Velcro strips snapping open almost echo from how quiet it is. It felt like a whole mountain dropped off of your shoulders when you threw the patch on the ground and stormed out of the building right into the pouring rain.

You felt goosebumps and tremors creeping up your spine as you ran through the dark streets, getting more and more soaked with each second. You didn’t feel much better though. The resentment for Graves grew each second, with all the steps that sent ripples on the surface of the deep puddles, and every raindrop that fell from the copper-colored clouds. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in your misery. Although you wanted to. It did feel like the loss of a person you used to know, of someone you looked up to. The only thing is, he was still living and breathing, and the only thing that died was that idealized image of him in your head.

There was a cold hollowness somewhere in your chest. Gaping with the darkness that, and you were sure of it, will eat you alive soon enough. Even though you backed out of the Shadow company, it won’t bring back all the people who are not here anymore. You won’t fix it, no matter how hard you try. That bitter guilt snaked its way into the back of your mind and it was there to help stay.

You managed to pull yourself out of this to make things right. But why do you feel so helpless still?

Your footsteps get faster and faster, as you maneuver through the narrow alleyways, staying out of the range your former colleagues were in. It was easy to hear them, gunshots and voices echoed throughout the city in a weird cacophony that your ears got used to after a long time working for the Shadow Company. They were not afraid, probably feeling like masters here. Somebody has to give them a scare, you thought. So they know better in the future. But it wasn’t your job at the moment. Right now, you needed to get out and do it as soon as possible.

Stopping and coming up with any sort of plan that would help you was not an option - hang in somewhere for too long and you’ll be found. And you were sure you wouldn’t be shown any mercy.

So instead of staying on the street, where you can be easily spotted with the help of the dim light of a flashlight, you decide to alternate between the corridors of empty homes, with doors wide open for anyone seeking shelter, and the maze of alleyways crawling with Shadows. It felt wrong, invading someone’s homes like this, but you knew if they were unlocked and lights beamed around them, giving out a warm glow the inhabitants were most likely not coming back.

You felt that tingle on the nape of your neck, ready to hide or flee in case you heard any sudden movement from any direction. It’s dead quiet, except for occasional radio talk from the shadows, which you tried to listen in on when you could. It didn’t give you much on where 141 could be. You would start losing hope if you had any left after Graves. But you continue your search nonetheless, reflexes instead of thinking, pure determination instead of hope, and fire in your veins, instead of blood.

That is until you quietly step inside another warm hallway, and you’re met with a wide-eyed stare from another Shadow that makes you freeze like a deer in the headlights. Something inside of you starts to churn with terror from the looming understanding – only one of you will walk out of here alive. Your eyes trail down to the raven patch on his tac vest. It’s Kruk. You want to ask what he is doing here, but you already feel his gaze studying you too. And as soon as he sees that the Shadow Company patch is missing from your uniform, the muzzle of his rifle points right at you. Fucking shit.

“Drop your gun, Kruk!” You warn the man, pointing the weapon in his direction too. He only shakes his head, refusing to stand down. With each second air is laced with tension more and more, you were sure that soon enough it’ll be so thick even a knife wouldn’t cut through it.

“You drop yours first.” His voice is shaky and unsure like he can’t believe what he’s doing right now either. “Commander gave us an order. You’re an enemy now too, Bug. Better get used to it.” Kruk started slowly approaching you, while pulling something out of the bag, strapped on his hip.

“Oh, fuck that!” You swing towards Kruk, trying to approach him in your momentary rage, but you’re immediately met with the warning “Don’t” from Kruk, who doesn’t stand down. “You know what they’re doing here. It doesn’t matter to you?” The man is silent. You don’t see his face behind his mask, so you’re left with even more questions instead of answers. Regardless of what he was thinking right now, you didn’t want to hurt him. So, you bend down and put your rifle on the ground with a quiet clack. If he needs a gesture of goodwill, he can have it. “Your turn.” Kruk only shakes his head.

“Turn around.” So, it was a mistake to trust him. Naturally. Your gullibility will be your downfall. You can almost feel the bitter taste spread inside of your mouth when you look at Kruk. Fucking asshole. But you comply, although reluctantly. He grabs you roughly by the wrists with one hand and by the neck with another, leading you toward what looks like a kitchen in the dim lights falling through the doorway. You get lowered on your knees and then pressed into the dirty floor. And it hits right then and there. He’s going to execute you. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

“You know that I don’t want to do this.” He says quietly so that any shadows passing by don’t hear him. You feel your heartbeat shake your whole body and nausea so intense like you are on the verge of throwing up all of your internal organs, but giving up is just not an option right now. So, you try to prevent him from tying your hands together with all the strength you have.

“Then don’t fucking do it!” He does not answer this as you continue squirming in his hold, trying to make it as hard as possible for him to restrain you. He only grunts but keeps a firm grip. Your head was a mess, you thought Shadows were a family. But all it took was one order from Graves, now they’re scouring the town like damn bloodhounds for you too.

“Get…off of me!” You grit through your teeth. You feel a zip tie slide over your hands and turn your head. The rifle he previously held in his hands was gone, probably so he could tie you up properly, so you take your chance and deliver a hard kick to Kruk’s stomach. He chokes out a pained gasp and finally lets go of your hands. You scurry to get up from the floor with wide smears of rainwater and dirt decorating it, but you get grabbed by the leg, which causes you to stumble and fall once again. You turn your head and kick Kruk with all your might, while attempting to take off the zip tie off your wrists, which, thankfully, he didn’t have the time to close.

You manage to shake the man off of you, as you scramble to your feet, knocking over a corner table with some decorations on it. Yet when you see Kruk fumbling with his hip holster you immediately tackle him to the ground, which causes him to drop the handgun. The whole fight is just a mess, nothing but blinding rage is pulsing in your temples, melting your bones and muscles into something no better than an animal. You get up again, while Kruk is on the floor, searching for the handgun in the darkness. You feel the heavy metal press against your boot and you kick it behind you. You hear it slide across the floor and here it is. Kruk’s eyes, are directed right at you. His hands claw at your leg, trying to drag you down to the floor. And then you black out completely. Kicking, punching, pained wheezes and screams are all you hear, a stuffy abyss with little to no specks of light surrounding you.

You come back to your senses when you don’t feel the familiar weight of your handgun pressing against your hip and then you see it again. Kruk managed to grab it while you were in your anger-induced frenzy. Everything around you slows down. His shaky fingers pull on the safety, but you reach out and grab his hands, pulling them up, not letting him aim at you. Kruk grunts and you see his eyes focused on you in fear, and desperation, as he tries to overpower you in the struggle. You see his weakened state, but the self-preservation is stronger than any compassion towards him at the moment. Kruk will take your life if you don’t take his. That’s just the gist of it. You can’t let him walk away.

Your hands tremble when he manages to overpower you momentarily, but it’s all in vain when you press the handgun harder and harder into his frame, feeling his hands start to yield more and more with each second, strength leaving him. The fear in his eyes is directed at you and only you, but you try not to look. The muzzle of your gun is pressed snugly under his chin. Your gaze trails to his eyes once again. They burn you with terror. Your fingers hook around the trigger guard. You hear a faint whisper.

“Please…”

Gunshot rings in your ears for another second, despite the earmuffs in your helmet.

“Fuck! Fuck…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.” It all came crashing down on you in one moment. You wouldn’t feel guilty if it was the enemy, you wouldn’t care. He was an enemy now, so why do you feel so guilty, why is it starting to corrode and eat you alive even more? Your palms cover the profusely bleeding gunshot wound, going through his neck and cranium, hot blood pouring out with impossible speed, staining your hands, gear, and skin. Staining your whole being. How could you do something like this? Shadows are family. Killing an unarmed man who’s pleading for his life?

You’re no better than Graves.

The gunshot alerts the Shadows and they start scurrying around on the street. You have no time to mourn Kruk or search for your rifle in the dark, so you yank your handgun out of his hands which only started succumbing to rigor mortis, and sprint out the backdoor, desperately attempting to get away. You can feel your heartbeat booming in your ears, wet hair sticking to the nape of your neck, as you hear distant commotion and a chase stirring behind you, as you dart inside another building and run through the hallways, searching for a way out.

Back on the street, rain droplets are so cold that it feels like they’re splitting your skin open, you can barely feel the pain in your ankle from adrenaline pumping through your blood flow. You start slipping on the slick pavement, but you still refuse to stop, diving inside another doorway. Your head hurts, your lungs feel like they are about to explode, and you think you stepped into a puddle of someone’s blood. No time to ram through the locked door, so you jumped out of the second-story window and landed on your foot, twisting it in the process and swallowing the sob that welled up in your throat. You needed to move.

That bought you some time to get up and dip into the dark alleyway before you heard the loud footsteps approaching the window that you used to escape. You let out a heavy exhale, propping your back against the cold stone. You’re not completely safe, but…that’s better than nothing. The commotion of shadows quiets down and you hear it become more and more distant with each second.

After a moment of silence, you continue moving, albeit slowly, trying to get used to the hot pulsing in your leg, that shot up right through your nerves with each step you tried to take. You wince and whine in pain, dragging your leg behind, grabbing at the moist stone walls, clinging to them for any sort of support. However, it’s not much of a help.

Your escape is cut short when your legs finally give out, causing you to stumble and fall while crossing the church garden. Although it probably looked magical in the daylight, right now it was far from it, the smell of metal and smoke still lacing the darkness. You already feel your ankle swelling and some bruises forming under all your gear. You see the lights on the exterior of the church blend into the ribbon of lights and shadows and the thought crosses your mind. You can hide there.

You almost fly up the stairs despite the hurting leg, fumbling with the door for a second, before it creaks open. You shuffle inside with light steps and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. Your knees tremble as you slide down the cold wall and crawl further inside the building, barely feeling any strength left in you. God, you are so drained. Strained gasps are ripped out of your throat every second. You want nothing more than to lie down right there in this church and just let the darkness overtake you in a peaceful slumber. That would be so easy.

Your calm moment is interrupted by someone yanking you up on your feet, to which you let out a surprised yelp. You can’t see the person, but you can feel their hands tugging on your gear roughly and dragging you somewhere. It takes you a second to weigh your pretty limited options given the fact it’s so dark that you are barely able to make out your surroundings. So, you decide to take this fight head on and your heavy boot comes down right on their foot, which prompts the person to grunt, revealing a pretty low male voice, and let go of you.

You tear out from his grasp and almost tumble down to the church floor, bunching up dust with your loud, uneven footsteps. Your back is hunched as you look up at the dark figure from under your eyebrows, ready to deflect any blows if he decides to attack first. You stay silent, feeling like a cornered animal in his presence, small, feeble. Weak. Of course, you were at a disadvantage here, taking a beating, running from Shadows, twisting your ankle, and losing your rifle certainly didn’t help your chances to win, but you were ready to claw your way out of here with your bare hands, breaking your nails and skinning your hands if you had to.

But any punches or kicks you try to land the man easily deflects or blocks, not trying to attack or overpower you however, opting to just take up the defensive position in the fight. Which is, admittedly, a lot easier than taking the offensive one. Maybe he was aiming to exhaust you and then, when you are at your lowest point, he would attack. That seemed like a solid tactic, but you don’t want to let that happen. However, before you can think of anything you end up rolling with the man on the floor. You can hear him huff in frustration and exertion, the wood pressing harshly against your ribs and all the bruises on your lower body pulsing with pain.

After some struggle, however, you managed to tackle the man to the ground, pressing him down to the floor with your weight. Your hands snaked their way onto his neck as you glared at him, resisting the urge to bare your teeth akin to a stray, abused, and betrayed dog, crawling with fleas and parasites. Choking him out obviously wasn’t a nice thing to do, but you were trying to send a message here, that if you continue being followed, you will use your strength. If violence was the only language Shadows understood (and that’s who you believe the man was) then you were ready to become fluent.

“I swear, I’ll fucking kill you!” You press him into the floor harder, hands squeezing the man’s throat, your vision going blurry. You feel his hands grasp at your wrists, but he does not resist. Why is he not trying to shake you off? Why is he letting you choke him like this? Why is he not fighting back?

“Let go, Bug.” The man’s voice is strained, but familiar, he whispers through his closed jaw. You can hear the way his throat tenses up, or his Adam’s apple bobs under your thick gloves, the warmth of his skin, and the moisture that seeped into the mask. Mask. More light falls through the window thanks to the momentary flicker of the streetlight. Skull. Eight lines on his chin, two on the forehead. Dark brown eyes.

Your hands shoot up like his neck is on fire. Guilt settles in your gut and your throat, pulling you in like you’re some puppet with no free will. You try to get up from the man’s midsection but tumble down on your side from trying to do it too quickly. It’s Ghost. How the hell did you not recognize Ghost?

“I’m sorry. I’m not…myself right now.” You were now sitting on the floor, palms resting on your face, wet from the rain, skin burning up, either trying to regulate the temperature or from all the exertion. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.

“Yeah, you made it pretty obvious.” Ghost coughs, trying to shake off your attempt to cut off his air circulation just seconds ago, as he gets up from his lying position. “At least now I know you’ve got a good grip.” He lets out a deep chuckle which only earns him an eyebrow raise from you. He was joking at a time like this? Must’ve hit his head pretty hard too.

“I could’ve choked you. Why did you not fight back more?” You were royally confused about that. He could’ve stopped the fight before it even began and avoided some bruises along with the sore neck if he just told you who he was or fought back. But he didn’t.

Ghost wants to say something, but stops himself right after opening his mouth. You see it in the way he looks at you. The pause stretches for an endless amount of time and you feel your skin crawling with anxiety while his eyes study your face.

“I was going easy on ya.” Ghost says in a rather blunt manner, which didn’t answer that many of your questions. Well, if he was going easy, he should’ve been at least going at you, which wasn’t true – you saw him only defending himself and blocking some of your blows. Did he?.. Was he trying not to hurt you? Okay, the more you thought about it, the wilder it sounded. Maybe you should just drop it. “I don’t suppose you came here to wash your sins away.” You want to scoff from the bad taste. “Lil’ birdie told me you ditched the Shadows. Any particular reason why?” The man inquires, turning to you. Sitting like this on the floor with him felt unusual, like some sort of weird church sleepover. Give Ghost a minute and he’ll bring you some ice cream so you two can watch some wacky TV shows together.

“Did your little birdie also tell you that Graves is hunting me down too?” You ask while pulling your drenched mask over your face. It brought some comfort and familiarity that were gone the moment you spoke to your CO in that living room. And, well, it would be awkward if Ghost was the only one in the mask.

“I guessed by the gunshots, some racket, and a horde of Shadows taking a night run through the neighborhood close by.” The man chuckles and you feel your face burn up in embarrassment under your mask. You try not to let it show, however. You knew that it wasn’t a very sleek move that you pulled with Kruk, but you were desperate and you didn’t need motherfucking Ghost telling you it was stupid.

“You’re just hilarious. Is that how you became a lieutenant, by cracking jokes left and right?” You roll your eyes and hope he won’t notice it in the darkness. This banter was pointless, you knew it but…you needed it. It was not easy losing something familiar, so you desperately wanted to feel that camaraderie you experienced in the Shadows.

“You’ll find out once you’re a lieutenant yourself.” And Ghost indulges you. Which, you are thankful for. Isn’t such a scary guy after all, huh?

“Yeah, if I’m alive long enough.” You scoff at his concealed attempt to comfort and reassure you, but you can’t help that warm feeling in your chest. Weird.

“Well, you’ve already surpassed my expectations by staying alive until now.” The man stands up from the floor with a low grunt, pressing an arm around his midsection, right around where you might’ve pinned him to the floor with your body. “Let’s make sure it lasts, eh?” He extends a gloved hand toward you in an open, inviting gesture. Your eyes trail over his huge figure and land on specks of light in his eyes.

His eye black is all smudged and messy.

You have to shake off the sudden thought, observation too close and intimate for your liking, as you grab him by the forearm, trying to ignore the way your skin burns up when you feel his warmth through his gear. Ghost pulls you up to your feet, but doesn’t let go of your arm once you’re up. You don’t let go either. The silence rings in your ears. God, he’s so warm.

“Are you like a human furnace or something?” You joke to fill the excruciating silence. Which you immediately regret. You wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see just how his face stretched the fabric of a skull mask, which you clearly heard happen by a small shuffle very close to you. Who knows, maybe he cracked a smile?

“Why? Need someone to warm you up at night?” Okay, this is terrible and stupid, and so damn corny, and why do you feel your cheeks grow hot and breath get stuck in your chest? Maybe that’s just how awful his jokes are. Ghost clears his throat and reluctantly lets go of your forearm, fingers still clinging to your sleeve as he pulls himself away too quickly for it to be something nonchalant or casual.

“So, are you answering my question, or do I have to use torture?” Fucking hell, his jokes are morbid. You almost forgot in those several hours you haven’t interacted with him. Although that would be quite hard, he leaves quite an impression, after all.

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen the…the civilians?” You can’t call them anything besides that. To call them corpses is to take away from their whole being. To call them dead would just be a lie. They were still alive in the walls of their homes, in the memories of their breathing relatives and friends, and in the pictures, their traces are everywhere. Ghost silently nods to your question, prompting you to continue. “Then here’s your reason.” You didn’t want to explain your feelings in great detail. And you didn’t feel the need to; you saw the compassion in his eyes. “Plus, the whole thing with the Los Vaqueros base.” If you saw Ghost’s face now you’d note how the expression darkened in a single moment. However, you do feel the temperature in the room fall several degrees lower, so you decide to joke again. “Pay wasn’t that good anyway, so…”

“Fair enough.” The man chuckles while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll keep an eye on you though. Don’t think you can just waltz in here like this and be completely trusted.” Well, that’s understandable. If you were him you wouldn’t trust yourself either. Although you did hope that the mercy you’ve shown him earlier would influence his decision making. At least a little bit. “And you better toss that thing. Or else.” He points to the radio, still strapped to your tactical vest. You unclasp the device, detaching the small microphone that was holding on by a thread, and hand it to Ghost.

“You’re welcome to get rid of it for me.” And he doesn’t waste any time, dropping the radio on the ground, stomping on it so hard that the sound of it breaking echoes through the church. You assess the scraps of wires and plastic on the floor with a pitiful gaze, coming to a conclusion that you wouldn’t want to end up under Ghost’s boot. Or maybe you would, but under different circumstances. “Well, that’s…effective.”

“You good with the sniper rifle?” The man ignores your previous remark, immediately firing back with the question.

“Decent.” You were a lot better in close quarters and preferred a more hands-on approach. But a sniper rifle wasn’t that bad. As long as he doesn’t ask you to use it without a scope.

“You’re on the lookout with me then. Don’t screw it up.”

Oh, you’re absolutely not going to.

check out my masterlist or send me a request!

a/n – first of all, thank you for reading this fic, and if you enjoyed it, consider dropping me a comment, i’ll really appreciate it! SECOND OF ALL. I’M NOT A GRAVES HATER, DON’T COME @ ME. segment with him also was written before the campaign release, so in case there are some inaccuracies with the plot/his character – let me know, so I can fix it. all of this is a huge rework of the series that I started but never posted. Originally, it was supposed to be Graves x Reader, but for multiple reasons, moral mostly, it didn’t quite sit right with me. So instead of letting 6k words first part that I’ve written and abandoned go to waste, I decided to remake it into something else here, based on the idea of @mockerycrow (ily you have such a big brain)! so yeah, that’s it for now!

381 notes · View notes

lokorum · 6 months ago

Note

what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good.

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it.

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong.

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!!

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty.

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read.

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all.

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe.

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did. i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

#jonmichael #jondistortion #tma michael #tma jon #tma #fic rec #optical illusion

102 notes · View notes

hellfirenacht · 1 year ago

Text

Wing Man Part 3

A/N: This fic is all vibes, no plot so it's hard to write lol. I have a few ideas now thanks to the wonderful @crocwork-clockodile and @hellfiredarling 💜

As usual, typos are fixed live and in post lol

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You really should be trying to flirt, but somehow you and Eddie can only ever talk about Chris Morrison.

5k words

Part 1 Part 2

Steve did not show back up for at least a half hour after he ‘went to the bathroom’. Had you not been in your current situation, you would have made fun of him for being ‘backed up’ or something along those lines.

But in all honesty, you hardly even noticed that he was gone. When Eddie dropped the puck the world had faded into a whirlwind of clacking, yelling, and pitting children against each other. With the sudden death match, Dustin had won. You had taken Mike's place, giving him a condescending pat on the head. He hadn’t been pleased about the situation, but at least it kept him from saying whatever rule-grudge that he held against Eddie.

To your surprise, Eddie had stuck around to watch the match between you and Dustin. You tried not to be too nervous as the match went on, but your freshman friend was your saving grace even as he kicked your ass.

“Eddie’s been the leader of Hellfire for years now.” Dustin said, dropping the puck down and hitting it. “He’s always been the DM.”

“Except for Chris Morrison.” you said.

“Yeah except that guy.” Dustin nodded.

“He started the club, but I made it the merry band of bandits and misfits that it is today.” Eddie said, his hands resting against the side of the table, leaning forward. You’d only been chatting with him and Dustin for a few minutes, but you had quickly learned that Eddie was not the type to stay still for very long.

“You’re gonna get your finger smashed if you keep your hand there.” you said, glancing at how close his fingers were to the smooth surface of the rink. “You’re putting a lot of trust in geometry that this puck isn’t going to crush your hand. It’s already tried to kill me once.” You doubted that the heavy silver rings on his fingers would help at all.

Eddie looked down at his hands and pulled back, just in time for the puck to nearly hit where his fingers had been. “Shit, I didn’t even notice.”

“I notice everything.” You said, not noticing as Dustin smacked the puck at an angle that went directly into your goal. “I notice some things.”

Dustin laughed, and Eddie even grinned at the joke. With that point it was game set and match, or something like that.

“Alright, I’m going to go win some tickets now.” Dustin said, putting the clacker? Paddle? Not-Hockey Stick? Down. You still didn’t know what it was called, but luckily air hockey probably wouldn’t come up again later.

You expected Eddie to leave again, but instead he leaned back against the table, now free to let his fingers dangle without fear of being crushed.

“So you really were interested in Hellfire when you were still in school?” he asked, tilting his head over at you. That same distant and unreadable expression on his face. You really wished that you knew what he was thinking right now.

“Yeah, I saw you guys always having fun so I thought I wanted to try.” you said. “But, you know. Chris Morrison.”

“Forget about Chris Morrison.” Eddie turned towards you, standing upright and looking down at you. How did he feel so tall all of the sudden? How did he keep doing that? What magic switch was he able to turn on and off in his brain to make him go from ‘just a guy’ to ‘hey, I’m in charge here.’? “What made you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“The dragons first, and then the dungeons.” It was the first thing that popped into your head, and you immediately realized it was maybe a little stupid and sarcastic. To be fair, you also were a little stupid and sarcastic, but with the way he was looking at you, Eddie wanted a real answer. The look on his face was actually a little funny, the way his whole face fell in annoyance.

Right, he didn’t know you. You didn’t know him. He was still trying to decide if you were some sort of friend or foe. You suspected that if Dustin hadn’t chatted with you so easily through your match with him Eddie wouldn’t have bothered talking to you more.

Maybe you should fire Steve and make Dustin your wing man instead.

He didn’t immediately leave though, which made you assume that you were being given a second chance to give him a real answer.

“Alright, I played a lot of make-believe as a kid.” you said. “Then as I got older, people stopped playing, but I wasn’t ready to be done. Then when I heard about this club where you could play make-believe again, I thought it would let me have that feeling again. I thought it’d be cool to, I don’t know, have people to play with again.”

It was a childish answer, but it was a real one. Everything in your life after middle school had been a steady monotonous stream of ‘work, home, work, school, home, school function, work, home’.

“Hellfire Club isn’t Make-Believe Club.” Eddie said, still staring you down. “Yeah, it’s a fantasy game but we take it seriously. It’s not all princesses and fairy tales.”

Actually, this guy might be getting on your nerves now.

“You’re taking my answer awful personally.” you said, straightening up under his gaze. You didn’t care how intimidating he was trying to be right now, he had pissed you off. “You asked why I wanted to play, I gave you my answer. You don’t have to like it, but there it is.”

He seemed taken aback by your bluntness. He blinked, his round eyes shifting to something else. “You’re right.” he said finally with a subtle laugh. “That was a dick thing to say. I really sounded like Chris Morrison for a second.”

“Yeah, you did.” you agreed. “You always this cynical about people?”

“Well, when you’re the town freak it comes with the title.” he shrugged.

“Does it come with a sash too? Or perhaps a crown?”

“No, unfortunately Hawkins High didn’t have that in the budget this year.”

“You should take that up with the student council.”

“Or City Hall.”

He was smiling at you now, and you hated how that smile was brighter than any of the flashing lights of the arcade. The longer you looked at him, the more attractive he got. God, you were going to kill Steve for delivering something you couldn’t have.

Eddie’s demeanor changed as you two bantered, no longer on edge now. Now that he seemed sure that you weren’t here to cause problems or were just looking to laugh at the freaks, his stance was much more relaxed. You looked him over again, taking advantage of his gaze drifting to where two other members were hunched over an arcade cabinet.

He had long wavy brown hair, and you tried to place how you could have missed that in school. Surely you would have remembered someone like him, right? It felt so much like you were missing something, but you couldn’t place where you knew him. It was going to drive you insane.

“So it looks like I’m done here.” You jumped as Steve appeared behind you. You looked over at him, your face reading with panic at the idea of him ditching out on you now. Yeah, things were going a lot better without him here, and he had not been very helpful-

Okay, maybe he didn’t need to be here to help with your attempt to flirt but you still weren’t exactly eager to be left alone.

Eddie looked between the two of you and you turned to Eddie. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna see him off.” You said.

“Right, yeah.” Eddie nodded. He was on his guard again and you felt bad that Steve’s presence caused that.

Eddie and Steve looked at each other, a tension between the two of them. For five full seconds they just stared at each other with you in the middle, wondering what the actual fuck was going on.

That’s when Eddie threw up his hands over his hand in an imitation of horns and sputtered at Steve who was immediately taken aback. It was so out of left field, and you let out a laugh before covering your mouth and grabbing Steve and dragging him away towards the entrance.

“What was that about?” you asked as you two stepped outside. “And where the hell were you for the past half hour?”

“I was giving you space because you weren’t going to get anywhere with me around.” Steve said, looking back over his shoulder. Eddie had disappeared into the arcade with his club. “He really does live up to his nickname.”

“Nickname? You’re trying to set me up with a high schooler with a nickname?” You sighed.

“Yeah, and you were basically drooling over him the whole time you were talking so, you know, you’re welcome about that.” Steve said. “Everyone called him a freak in school so, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about being the town freak.” you said. “Why’s he a freak exactly?”

Steve tilted his head, as if he couldn’t tell if you were joking or serious. “He runs a club called Hellfire, plays that weird game you and Dustin keep talking about, and just- look at him! With the long hair and the chains and metal patches.”

“According to you, I was looking at him.” you snorted. “So he plays games and dresses differently and has taste in music. Doesn’t make him a freak.”

“Right, I forgot you’re a total weirdo who’d be into that.”

“He was your idea!”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. All the things that he would have found off putting to him in high school now seemed to parallel and fit with someone who he now considered a close friend. He’d been wrong about a lot in the past year, maybe he’d been wrong about Eddie too.

“So are you gonna actually flirt with him when I leave or are you just gonna stand there and make small talk?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I introduced you two, at least tell me you’re going to put in the effort.”

You winced and glanced back to the arcade, you couldn’t see Eddie but you knew he was still in there.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve gawked at you. “This whole thing was your idea and you’re not even going to try?”

“Listen, Steve, I like him. I do. That’s the problem. You actually hit the nail on the head, and he is absolutely my type.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not his type.” you admitted. “See, I know guys like Eddie. I’ve fallen for guys like Eddie. Funny thing about a lot of male weirdos, freaks, and outcasts, is that they still loooove themselves some popular girls. Girls like that love them because they’re trying to either fix them or piss off their parents. Freak guys don’t like weirdo girls.”

“You’re being the biggest dingus in the world and I think you’re full of shit.” Steve said bluntly. “Nice try, but you’re gonna go in there and flirt with him. Did he actually say that he was into that type?”

“Well, no but-”

“But nothing!” Steve sighed. “Listen, you’re cute, okay? I’ve seen what you look like when you’re not at work.” He gestured to your outfit. “If I took you to a party or a bar I’d be able to help you get at least six numbers by the end of the night.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “So why are you so bent out of shape about Eddie?”

“Because you’re picky, and you’re my friend.” It was a surprisingly nice sentiment. “I’m fine dating around while I figure out what I want, but you’re not the same. You need someone who is going to understand what you’re talking about, and he is the only person in Hawkins who would also bite a head off a bat.”

“You know, everyone wants to talk about how Ozzy bit the head off a bat but no one wants to talk about how that whole thing actually happened-” you started.

“Nope. Not me. Don’t tell me, tell him.” Steve cut you off. “I should be telling you that talking about biting animal heads is not the best way to flirt but he might be into it. Just promise me you’ll at least try okay?”

Steve gave you a pleading look, and you couldn’t say no. You didn’t have the heart to. He was right, you’d given up before you’d even tried. Steve went out of his way to hand pick a potential date for you, someone he never would have even bothered talking to before. You had to try.

You breathed in the cool night air deeply, holding it before exhaling slowly. “Alright, I’ll try.” you promised.

“I expect you to tell me everything tomorrow!” Steve said as he started walking towards the parking lot you found yourself following him, your body reacting to all the times you two had parked next to each other at work.

“Yeah, yeah, you get first dibs on any kiss and tell!” you shot back. “After the details you gave me from your dates, I promise I’ll be worse.”

Steve pulled you in and gave you a hug, and you squeezed him tightly in return. You never would have thought that Steve Harrington of all people would end up such a good friend, but you were glad he was there. You two said your goodbyes before he got into his car. You waited until he’d pulled safely out of the parking lot before turning back into the arcade.

Just go in there, crash the Hellfire Club meeting again, and shamelessly flirt with Eddie Munson. Three things, that’s all you needed to do.

You pushed the doors of the arcade open and walked back inside.

You wander around the arcade.

You’re alone.

Shit.

There was no sign of Eddie or any of the Hellfire Club. You were completely alone in the arcade now and there was a pang in your stomach. You had told Eddie you’d be right back, but he was gone. Maybe your comment about still wanting to play had totally fucked over your chance to talk to him more after all.

You made your way back outside, just in time to see a van peel out of the parking lot. Your eyes widened when you saw Dusting looking out the window with an apologetic look and mouthing what you assumed to be the word “Sorry”.

Eddie must have gathered up the club to go somewhere else. You wanted to be fine, you wanted to shrug it off as you had every other time you’d failed to impress a guy, but you felt disappointed. Really disappointed. Sure you’d only talked to the guy for a half hour, most of which was spent talking trash as you all played air hockey, but you’d had fun. More fun than you’d had in a while with a guy, Steve notwithstanding.

It felt like Chris Morrison all over again.

You sighed to yourself and made your way to the car. Of course the second you wanted to try you ended up alone again.

Well, that killed it for tonight. You pushed the rejection out of your mind and made your way back to your own car, thinking about how you were going to tell Steve that you’d blown your chance.

Eddie Munson didn’t know what to make of the fact that Steve Harrington of all people was at the arcade. Popular? Played sports? Someone like him didn’t hang around at the arcade, not under any normal circumstances. The only thing that made sense about him being there was that he was with a girl, one that didn’t match up with the normal type that someone like Steve should be dating.

He had planned on avoiding Steve, choosing to focus on his club rather than antagonize the former king of Hawkins high. Really, he did. But then that shrimp Henderson had made his way over to Steve and his date. The kid already talked about Steve too much as it was, always going on about how cool he was while also dodging questions about how the two had met and become friends. Eddie had long since given up on asking about it, not that he cared. Not that he was jealous that the kid he was growing to see like a little brother already had another older male friend in his life.

That wasn’t Eddie’s style.

But this was Hellfire Club, and Eddie wasn’t about to lose another member to the dark side. Dustin had been looking forward to this rare gathering of the club outside of school, more than usual actually. He’d been wearing that same shit eating grin he always did when he was about to pull some bullshit at the table. Now Eddie knew why.

This little shit was trying to introduce him to Steve. Dustin talked Steve up so much, and now he just happened to be here on a date the same time as Sidequest Day? That was too convenient. Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised that Dustin was trying to bridge his friends together, but he was.

So, when Eddie saw Dustin watching Steve and his date chatting and playing Q*bert, he could have ignored the bait. He should have ignored the bait. But then Chris Morrison’s name was mentioned, and curiosity got the best of him.

Plus how could he ever resist talking shit about Chris Morrison.

So he walked up to the group, fully prepared to make agonzing small talk with Steve for thirty seconds before dragging Henderson away to focus on the real reason he was there. It wasn’t often that everyone had the time or money to come to the arcade like this, and Eddie had been lucky enough to make a special sale that day to some senior from the art department. He didn’t often have spending money for something like the arcade. He’d prefer to go to the movies or get his supply from Rick or buy anything to maintain his guitars, or upkeep of his van. Arcade time with Hellfire was something that happened once a semester at best, with the promise of him giving out advantages during the campaign he was running.

“Henderson is right. Morrison was the biggest asshole that Hellfire has ever seen. Worst DM too.” Eddie said, glancing between Dustin with a warning glare and Steve with a weary look.

He didn’t expect you, the girl playing the cabinet, to be the one to speak up. You knew Chris? This night kept getting weirder. When Eddie turned to Steve, to ask about what he was doing at the arcade, just to appease Dustin, Steve directed his attention back to you.

That made more sense, Steve Harrington wouldn’t be at an arcade on a Saturday night unless there was a girl involved.

When you turned around to face him, he noticed the way your eyes looked him down and up quickly. That was something he was used to with most people in Hawkins. They’d size him up just so that they could try and tear down the freak. There was a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite catch before it turned into one of... disappointment? Discomfort? Shit, it was all the same to him.

Dustin made quick introductions of everyone, and Eddie was surprised when you offered your hand so easily despite the look in your eyes. Well, at least you were polite. It hadn’t even been two minutes and Eddie was already itching to get back to spending time with his club rather than crashing whatever meeting Dustin had clearly planned here.

But he’d be polite, humor the kid for just a second. If Dustin wanted him to meet Steve, then Eddie would be the contrarian and make small talk with his date instead.

You two would have graduated the same year, had Eddie not been held back. Yeah, it was starting to come back to him. He remembered you.

And that was enough of socializing with the upper class for the night. Eddie started directing Dustin back to club activities before Steve spoke up again.

“So, my friend here actually had an interest in Hellfire Club back in the day.”

It could have been left at that, but Eddie was getting more and more irritated over this situation. He looked at you, who looked like a deer in the headlights. Of course, Dustin might have seen something in Steve but he was no different now than he was back then.

“Really?” Eddie said. “And what about our little club was so interesting to you?”

He shot a glare to Steve, but looked down at you with a frown. You’d always seemed nice at school, but he’d made that mistake before. Eddie always liked the groups that kept to themselves and didn’t whisper behind his back or cause trouble for his friends. It was a shame he had been wrong about you.

But when you answered awkwardly about asking Chris to join, there was something in the way you spoke that was genuine. Either you were a really good actress, or you were being serious about it. Eddie might have been the biggest cynic in Hawkins, but he always did have a weakness to cute girls.

The conversation fizzled out quickly, and as much as Eddie didn’t mind talking to you he still wasn’t interested in crashing your date or getting to know Steve at this time. Not when his club started going wild across the room as Lucas was scoring big at a game.

So he turned around and left the two of you alone, running off to see what the jackpot prize was that Lucas had claimed.

For about ten minutes everything went back to normal. He was in the middle of an intense racing game against Jeff, when suddenly he heard Dustin screaming for him, causing his car to spin out and lose spectacularly.

Tonight was not going well at all for Eddie Munson.

Pushing down his irritation, he could hear it in Henderson’s voice that he was about to start trouble again. Of course as he made his way over to the hockey table, there you and Steve were again. Great. Eddie was so excited to be the third wheel during his club’s meet up.

But then Steve disappeared to take a shit. Well, he didn’t say that exactly but it made Eddie feel better to think of Steve having a miserable time in the bathroom. Jealous? No. Not at all.

Maybe a little.

You didn’t seem to like that Steve had left you, and Eddie figured you were uncomfortable without your date around. Dustin only ever talked Steve up, but had never mentioned you to his knowledge.

When the puck went flying towards your face a moment later, Eddie’s eyes widened with shock as you caught it with a laugh. The way you spoke to Wheeler and Henderson was familiar, as if you’d met them before. How did they know you? You were cuter when you were laughing with his friends.

As Eddie watched the chaos of you bantering with his freshmen, his mind wandered to what you would have looked like in the darkness of the prop department wearing the Hellfire shirt. With how easily you got along with Henderson and Wheeler he was sure you would have fit in.

Damn Chris Morrison and damn Steve Harrington.

He snapped out of his thoughts when you spoke up, a glint in your eyes as you handed over the puck.

“What say you, Eddie of Hellfire?” The way you spoke to him, a hint of a laugh in your voice but not in the normal mocking way he’d hear from others at school, made him break out into an unabashed grin as he took the puck.

“Sudden death it is.”

Making small talk with you was easy, and it wasn’t long until Eddie had forgotten about Steve completely as Dustin decided to bridge the gap between the two of you. You were the assistant manager at Family Video, had helped Dustin and Mike with homework on occasion, and were a regular at the Rocky Horror Picture Show that played at the seedy theater on the outskirts of town.

Eddie was starting to like you more the more the three of you chatted. When the topic od D&D came back up, your answer had struck a chord with him.

“I wasn’t done playing.”

Those words would tumble around in the back of his mind for the rest of the evening. They had been honest, raw words. There was a weight to them that he’d carried himself for a long time. Growing up with Al Munson didn’t exactly give him the idyllic childhood that one would see in movies or tv. Play time wasn’t exactly a priority when you were just trying to fucking survive.

He’d challenged your answer, when he knew in his cynical heart that he was the same. Between Hellfire and his band, there wasn’t much else he had going for personal enjoyment. Of course there was time to hang out with his friends and the occasional odd night where he crashed at Rick’s place when his home with Wayne felt too small or cramped.

Eddie wanted to ask you what you’d play, if you ever did have a chance to join a campaign. He wondered if you enjoyed fantasy the same way he did, if you were a fighter, a spell caster, or a healer.

Then Steve showed back up.

Right, you were here with Steve on a date. A date that had way too much fiber and had probably exploded the toilet while he left you hanging for going on forty minutes now. And now Harrington decided that the date was over? Jesus, this guy didn’t know what he was missing out on. Eddie felt for you, he’d been on his share of bad dates in the past too, and bad nights that he wished were dates.

He shook the image of Paige out of his head.

You gave him a smile as you said goodbye. Well, you said you’d be back in a moment but Eddie knew that the night was over. You walked out of the Arcade with Steve, and that would be that.

Sidequest day was always short, with limited spending money between members and the machines eating quarters like candy. Soon his little sheepies were gathered around him again, talking about their winnings and who deserved to get some sort of perk for the game. It was almost unanimously decided that it would go to Lucas, after he’d nearly broken the basketball machine from how fast he had been throwing balls.

Eddie still had a bill burning a hole in his pocket, having spent more time talking to you than playing games. He had to get this weird night out of his mind, and turned towards the group, knowing that he was going to regret this.

“Whoever has any money left, pool it in I’ll take us to get pizza.” He said. This was followed by cheers and a scrambling of pulling out loose quarters, dimes, and even a five that Gareth forgot he had in his wallet. Eddie lead them all towards the parking lot, his eyes scanning the parking lot for you.

You and Steve were chatting by his car and laughing the same way that you had laughed with him before Steve pulled you into a tight hug. Maybe your date wasn’t a bust after all. Eddie didn’t know why he cared, this was only the third time you’d met. You didn’t know him.

Dustin nudged Eddie, that same smug grin on his face.

“Pretty fun night, huh, Eddie?” he said.

“Your plan didn’t work, shrimp.” Eddie said. “I know you were trying to set something up and I’m not interested.”

Dustin looked surprised, and looked like he was going to argue but a sharp glare from Eddie shut him up. Eddie never had an interest in meeting Steve, and it was clear Steve felt the same way, going so far as to ditch his date to hide in the bathroom the whole time. Eddie didn’t know what the kid saw in Harrington but Eddie was less than impressed.

“Geeze, sorry.” Dustin sighed. “I thought you two would get along.”

“You know, a little humility wouldn’t hurt you.” Eddie said before grabbing his shoulder. “Next time you decide I have to meet someone, don’t make it during Hellfire, mk?”

Dustin looked disappointed but nodded as everyone piled illegally in the back of Eddie’s van. As long as Eddie didn’t drive like a madman (a difficult feat) it would be safe enough. He’d put the seats down to haul equipment years ago, and never could get them to come back up. He could fix it if he wanted, but there was never a real reason to.

As everyone got settled, Dustin looked over at Mike with a shrug. The two of them had thought that things were going well between the two of you, but the look in Eddie’s eyes had said otherwise now.

“Maybe she just wasn’t his type?” Mike said, as the rest of the club chatted. “Eddie doesn’t really talk about those things anyway. Maybe he doesn’t even want a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see the way they were talking. Even if he wasn’t into her like that, they were still getting along.” Dustin sighed and shifted to look out the window as Eddie started up the van. Everyone in the back held on for dear life as Eddie started out of the parking lot.

As they passed your car, Dustin caught your eye just as you stepped out looking dejected.

“Sorry” Dustin mouthed to you.

It had been a bust tonight, but something felt off. Why would Eddie have such a clearly good time talking to you, just to turn around and say he wasn’t interested?

Dustin made a mental note to drop into Family Video tomorrow to talk to you and Steve.

Part 4

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated

Comments and reblogs help me know that y'all read and enjoy it, which feeds my excitement to write!

#wing man #eddie munson x reader #nacht fic

343 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 11 months ago

Text

"𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆" 𝑬𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

A/N: This is part two of the Anti-Love Ettore one-shot.

Summary: Ettore mistakes a suggestion of yours as a sign that you're distancing yourself. It only gets worse when he spots you with some guy he's never seen before.

TW: Smut, Oral Sex (f receiving), fingering, tiddy sucking, lactation kink (with no lactation) p in v, creampie, bondage, vibrator play, violence

Word Count: 3k (I think this is the longest fic I've ever done lol)

← Previous Part • Next Chapter →

I can't remember who made the X Banner. If you know please tell me.

Your head was lying on his chest as you lazily drew shapes on his forearm over his tattoo. His hands gently rubbed your lower back as you both just lay there not needing to say any words. Just enjoying the moment.

Ettore had become fond of these moments. How calm they were. It was a big difference to how chaotic his life had always been. With you, there was only peace.

"Ettore?" As your voice reaches his ears he blinks back to reality and looks down at you. "Did you hear what I said?" He shakes his head while still rubbing your lower back.

"You should try BDSM. I think it would suit you. It would also keep you out of trouble." Ettore had heard of BDSM before but the costs alone to build a playroom was more than he had.

But that wasn't what was running through his mind right now. Why were you telling him this? He has no use for some random submissive girl when he has you. Were you getting tired of him? Did you find someone else?

You babbled on for a while about how you could help him start. Ettore didn't say a word the entire time. His brain bounced between different theories as to why you were all of a sudden interested in finding him a new fuck buddy.

Only when you moved to sit on top of him, straddling him, did he snap out of his thoughts. He looked up at you and held on to your waist.

"You ok?" He nodded. You knew he was a man of few words and expressed how he felt in other ways. His hips bucked upwards as he felt the heat radiating from your body just above his cock. It slowly hardened as Ettore thought of fucking any ideas you had of leaving him out of you.

Before he could initiate anything you kissed his cheek and got off of him saying you had to go.

To you, he was just being his normal self. You never would have imagined the turmoil going on in his head, the plans that were brewing. If only he had been honest from then about his feelings.

It could have saved you both some pain.

A day had gone by since you introduced the BDSM idea to Ettore. You had gone off to do God knows what. He assumed you were stealing stuff as you typically did in your spare time. He had calmed down slightly but his brain was still racked with thoughts of why you had brought it all up in the first place.

He managed to tell himself there was no cause for worry. That was until he tried to call you to hook up and you didn't answer. It only got worse when he texted you telling you to come over and you replied with "Can't. Im busy.".

Busy? Busy doing what? With who?

He paced around his apartment. Wondering if he should call you again. He chewed on his nails till they were too short to chew anymore. No matter how many deep breaths he took he couldn't calm himself. He had to know what you were doing.

In a matter of minutes Ettore was dressed and at the mall in a grey sweat suit with a black jacket. He had his hood up as he stalked around the local mall looking for you. He was there for about 30 minutes before he spotted you quickly walking out of a store.

A smile rose on his face when he saw you pull something out of your pocket with a smile.

See Ettore? She's just doing her typical shit.

The smile only dropped when he watched you turn around and wait for a boy to run out of the store after you. He was being chased by a security guard. You took his hand and began running as you both were in a fit of giggles.

The sight made his blood boil. He felt hot in his own skin and just wanted to crawl out. The guard gave up on chasing you both and returned to the store. Ettore began walking in the direction you both went. He needed answers. Who was this guy? Why were you holding his hand? Is he who you decided to spend your time with instead of being fucked by him?

He picked up the pace until he caught sight of the two of you heading towards one of the exits. it led towards the loading dock and was pretty much an abandoned side of the mall that barely anyone shopped in. He did his best to stay out of sight but with every step he just wanted to finally reach the two of you.

And when he finally does it changes your relationship forever. You barely have time to react as the man you are next to gets grabbed backwards by his hoodie and face-slammed into a brick wall. You scream as you see Ettore get on top of him and punch him repeatedly.

The man your with weakly tries to protect his head as Ettore continues to hit him in the head.

"Ettore stop! Get off of him!" You try to pull him off but that only redirects his anger. He stands up and shoves you. You stumble back and fall to the ground your hands scraping against the tough concrete. Ettore, driven by anger, pulls back his fist as if he is about to punch you.

And thats when he sees it.

The terror in your eyes. The tears that fall down your cheek.

The same look he saw in the eyes of the women he killed.

Seeing that look in your eyes. Your eyes... hurt him. Without knowing it you were the air he breathed. To know he had made you fear him, terrified him. He lowered his arm and ran off saying nothing else.

He doesn't remember much about what happened that night. He wakes up to his apartment trashed and can only assume his emotions got the better of him. He had sent you more messages than he could count and called you countless times. You ignored every call and message.

He didn't know where you lived considering you only ever hooked up at his place.

He had to get you to forgive him. He couldn't continue without you. He couldn't breathe without you.

He told himself that this wasn't love. That this was just fear of losing what you offered. Your wonderful pussy. The amazing sex. Thats all he's scared of losing, not you. He could care less about you.

It took him almost a week before he found out where you lived. He knew what bars you liked to hang out and started asking around. You were smart not to go out knowing he would be looking for you but eventually, you needed groceries. You stepped out to do some shopping wearing a more discreet outfit than you would usually wear.

Ettore watched from across the street as you pulled up your hood and walked towards the bus stop. He knew you would be gone a while and would give him time to do what he needed to.

You returned from shopping and carried in your grocery bags struggling a bit as the plastics pinched your fingers.

It's only when you step inside your apartment and place them on the table do you feel how the tense air. Your apartment feels different than before. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slowly walked towards your bedroom.

As you pushed open the door everything looked the same. You relaxed and took a deep breath.

Im just on edge. I need to relax.

"Drop it." You immediately tense as you hear his voice. You do as he says and drop the knife to the ground. "Turn around." Your heart beats in your chest, you're not scared of him, you never are, but you're scared of the confrontation. You turn around and face him.

"Ettore." He simply stares at you. When you first lay your eyes on him you notice his appearance. He doesn't look...well. His skin was pale and had dark bags under his eyes.

"You've ignored all of my calls and all my messages." He slowly takes a step forward and you respond with a step back.

"What was I supposed to say-"

"Hello, good morning, how are you? Fuck baby I don't know just talk to me-" He takes another step closer and you raise your hand.

"You beat my friend for no reason. Then you pushed-" He closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you against him.

"I didn't mean to...I...Im sorry." Ettore was not one to say im sorry. "Im sorry that I hurt you." He leaned down and kissed up your next stopping at your ear. "But im not sorry for beating that fucker up. He was touching you." He resumed kissing you while backing you up against the wall.

"He was just a friend." You want to be mad at him for what he did. You want to yell at him for being so violent but you can't.

"You ditched fucking me to hang out with him. You kept talking about this BDSM shit. You were planning on leaving me for him. I won't let you. I can't let you."

It all falls into place in your mind. He thought you were abandoning him. The realization made you smile and effectively softened your resolve. He was just scared to lose you, and this was his fucked up way of saying it.

You push him back slightly so you can see his face. Your hand runs over his cheek and he nuzzles into your hand.

"I wasn't leaving. I just thought maybe you'd like it more if...if you weren't just fucking me all the time..."

Deep down you had started to worry that over time Ettore could eventually become bored of you and even deeper down you slowly developed feelings for him. You knew he would never want a real relationship, and even if he did it wouldn't resemble the ones you see in movies. The ones you yearned for as a girl.

"I don't want no one else but you." He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to say something but pauses every time. He leans down and kisses you cradling your face. It's softer than any kiss has ever given you. "And I don't want you to be anyone else's but mine."

You knew this was his way of saying it without saying it. He wants you to be his and he wants to be yours. Ettore watches as a smile creeps on your face and he knows you understood what he meant. He pulls you back into the kiss while walking you backwards into your room.

You end up falling on the bed and he crawls on top of you already pulling at your clothes. He undresses you while kissing every bit of newly exposed skin until you're fully naked in front of him.

He's still fully undressed and the idea makes you feel vulnerable. He has seen your body hundreds of times but you still press your legs together while your arms cover your tits.

He gently pushes a knee in between your legs opening them back up as his hands uncross your arms.

"You're beautiful." He rolls one of your nipples in his fingers while he suckles the other imagining again what it would feel like for milk to flow into his throat. The thought made him painfully hard.

He stands up for a moment and walks away before coming back. You sit up and watch as he undresses slowly before walking over to your dresser.

"I was doing some snooping earlier..." He looks over at you and smirks as his hands rest on the first drawer. You already know what it is he found and can't help but smile. He opens the drawer and pulls out your vibrator and a pair of handcuffs. He looks at you with one eyebrow raised. "Care to share why you have these."

You can't shake the smirk off of your face as he walks over.

"Move up." You do as he says and move up higher on the bed. Ettore returns above you and grabs your wrists positioning them above your head. He threads the handcuffs through one of the gaps of your headboard then locks each wrist. "You gonna be a good girl for me yeah?"

You nod as he kisses his way down in between your legs. He places a soft kiss on your clit before sucking on it gently. He looks up and watches as your mouth hangs open and your head is thrown back.

He moves on to fucking you with his tongue holding you tight as you try to squirm away. Ettore adds pushes in a finger and pumps it in and out of you at a relentless pace. His finger easily brushes that sweet spot and has your back arching off the bed.

You want to touch him and try to pull your hands but are only reminded that you're bound by the tightness of the cuffs.

He can feel you clenching around his finger and all he could do is smile against your pussy. As you cum Ettore praises you saying you did so well but he doesn't stop he asks you to cum again around his fingers and brings the vibrator to your clit as he adds another inside of you.

He doesn't stop fucking you with his fingers and the vibrator as he comes up and takes one of your nipples in his mouth while watching you. Your legs shake as you give him another orgasm, shivers running up your spine. He removes the vibrator and his fingers kiss your jaw.

"You did so good." He slides himself through your folds gathering your wetness on his tip. Instinctively you try to move away from being overstimulated but he holds you in one place. His eyebrows are knit together and his mouth hangs open as he finally pushes himself inside. "Relax for me, baby." Although it's only been a week since you've last fucked you're back to being tight from the lack of his cock keeping you stretched.

You both groan when he finally bottoms out. The hairs on the base of his cock brush against your clit only making you whimper more from the contact.

Ettore sits up and grabs onto your waist holding on as leverage so he can fuck you. He watches as a white ring forms around the base of his cock and how easily he slides into you now that you soaked. the only sounds heard are your whimpers and the wet smack of his hips against your ass.

"Fuck- please Ettore." He doesn't know what your begging for but stares at your face in pride as it's screwed with pleasure. He knows no one else could make you feel this way and it only inflates his ego more.

"Does it feel good baby?" He reaches back for the vibrator and brings it down onto your clit again. At this point, tears have formed in your eyes from how fucking good this all feels.

"It's always so good." You whimper arching your hips so he slides in deeper. He can feel your pussy spazzing around him. "Fuck fuck fuck." You draw in a short breath as another orgasm washes over you. You feel heavy and spent as Ettore removes the vibrator and comes up and kisses your neck and chest.

"One more. You can give me one more." He reaches over on your nightstand and grabs the key for the handcuffs. He unlocks the cuffs and turns you over so you're lying on top of him. "Please. Please ride me." Despite how tired your body feels from the three orgasms he has drawn out from you, you sit up and look down at him.

You lift your hips slightly and reach in between you two grabbing his cock. Ettore moans as your hands wrap around him while you line yourself up. His moan only gets louder as you sink down fully on his length.

He holds on to your tits as you bounce up and down his cock rolling both nipples in between his fingers. You do your best to set a pace you know will have him cumming in a minute but you're still so tired. Ettore notices and places both hands on your hips lifting you up and down and helping you to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck!" He throws his head back as he feels the tip of his cock hit your cervix. "I love you so much." The words were out of his mouth before he could control them. And though you're not sure if he means them or if they hold the same meaning for you as they do him but it only fuels you more.

You meet his thrusts and feel him throbbing inside of you. His face is screwed in what looks more like pain than pleasure as he begs you to make him cum.

"I can't cum if you don't. Please." He circles your clit once more and tells you how much he needs it. How much he needs to feel you cumming around him, how that will tell him you love him too.

You finally do cum and fall against his chest as he keeps holding on to your hips fucking up into you, his balls slapping against your ass and the vulgar noises of your bodies connecting filling your ears before he pushes you down as far as he can forcing you there. You feel him cum deep inside you moaning loudly as 'thank you' flows repeatedly from his lips like a prayer.

He eases up slightly as he rolls over and pins you down not taking himself out of you. Your breathing evens out as he kisses you gently. A drastic contrast to how ruthlessly he just fucked you.

"I meant it. Every word." Your heart flutters at his confession. He kisses you deeply.

He knows he can't let you go. But he also knows you won't stay without that confession. Even if it was hard for him to say it he was glad he did.

You both lay there wrapped in each other's embraces. Scared but excited to see where this will take you.

Nothing could go wrong now...

....Right?

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this! I still have an ideal 2 additional chapters planned out. The next one is shorter but still good!

Gen Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin

"Fuck Love" Taglist: @hi-eleonora @scarletbedlam @fan-goddess @qyburnsghost

#ewan mitchell verse #ettore x reader #ewan nation #ewanverse #ettore high life #ettore #ewan mitchell fanfic #ettore smut #best fanfic #ewan mitchell #ettore imagine #ewan girlies #god i love him

181 notes · View notes

whataperfectwasteoftime · 6 months ago

Text

The Rift - Prologue

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 420 (nice)

Warnings: questionable science, wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey nonsense

Summary: Marcus Moreno is so, so tired.

A/N: I'm chomping at the bit and scared of becoming irrelevant so I'm dropping this a few days earlier than planned. I know it's short, but really all we're doing here is setting up the fact that I'm about to smash three different character universes together. I'm hoping to release new chapters weekly; I've got quite a bit of this already written.

Masterlist | Next chapter>>

Marcus Moreno was having a bad day.

“Explain it to me again,” he grumbles, pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger, the remnants of caffeine from his half-drunk morning coffee long since depleted.

The veneer of patience plastered over the lab-coat-bedecked scientist–who had to be more than twenty years his junior, Jesus Christ–wavers for a split second as he’s asked to explain the phenomenon to the leader of the Heroics for the third time in ten minutes.

“Okay. So. Quantum Wraith detonated the black hole bomb in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue. With me so far?”

“It was contained,” Marcus protests, also for the third time, and also on the verge of his patience slipping.

“Right,” the lab tech nods vehemently. “The explosion was contained, there were no casualties, and the Heroics saved the day again.”

Marcus ignores the sarcasm in the other man’s tone. “So what, exactly, is the problem?”

“Well, energy has to go somewhere. It can’t just… dissipate. Law of thermodynamics, and all that.”

Right. Thermodynamics. Energy can’t be created or destroyed… or something like that. Marcus struggles to keep up. “So… where did it go?”

“It opened a time rift.”

“A time rift.”

“Mm-hmm. A rift. In time. And space.”

“And that means–” the Heroic begins confidently, before faltering again. “...What does that mean?”

“I mean, this has never happened before in the history of humanity,” the scientist says rapidly. “We don’t really know what the implications will be long term. This could teach us untold things about the universe as we know it. It could open us up to the idea of wormholes, long distance space travel, the ability to travel faster than the speed of light–” the younger man starts talking faster and faster, pacing the floor and gesturing excitedly.

“Okay, wait–” Marcus tries to interrupt. “What about… what about the short term? What is currently happening,” he says, over-pronouncing the words for emphasis, “at ground zero of this… thing?”

“It appears to have opened up a portal of some sort. A portal to another place. Another time.”

Marcus’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “A portal to where? Or… when?”

“Well, we have to consider the fact that there might be multiple parallel universes and that this rift may have opened into another planet, another eon, another universe…”

“So you don’t know, then,” the Heroic accuses.

“No, uh, actually, I think we do. I mean, there are degrees of certainty to every hypothesis, but we’re pretty sure we have identified both the time and the place."

“Which is…?”

“Ancient Rome.”

#marcus moreno #marcus pike #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #we can be heroes #the mentalist #pedro pascal

135 notes · View notes

zepskies · 16 days ago

Text

Outlander || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won?

AN: So this is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a lot of research for this whole series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for smut, Protective Dean, (and rogue/cowboy Dean), survival situations, hunting (in the more traditional sense), suggestiveness/implied smut and spice throughout, angst, blood and violence, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. (Plus other chapter-specific tags.)

Chapters:

Part 1 - Two Worlds

Part 2 - What is Home

Part 3 - A Warrior's Death - Read now on Patreon

Part 4 - One People

New chapters on Fridays!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Comment below if you'd like to be tagged in this series! 💜

Or follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter.

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19

@emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28

@adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka

@chevroletdean @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @kayleighwinchester

@ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley

@sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @mimaria420

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

117 notes · View notes

scary-grace · 4 months ago

Text

the new postmodern age (chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 3

Tenko doesn’t come to the café the next day. He doesn’t text you back, or answer your call, but you know he hasn’t blocked you because your messages get delivered. That’s a relief, but not much of one. He doesn’t have his laptop, so he can’t work. What’s he doing today? What happened to him? Is he all right?

It should disturb you that the latter question matters more to you than the others, mattered more than the fact that you slept with a customer and the fact that he’s apparently a supervillain in disguise. It’s the supervillain part that should overwhelm everything else – but you’ve spent the last five years living by the principle of judging people on who they are now, not what they were in the past. You can’t drop that principle now. Not with how you feel about Tenko. Not with what you saw him do.

You keep up a happy face at work, like always – there’s no such thing as a bad day for a reformed criminal, you should remember that you’re lucky to have gotten a second chance – but beneath the surface, you’re in turmoil. You save a babka for Tenko, but you know deep in your heart that he’s not coming in today. If you want to give him his stuff back, you’re going to have to go to him.

You don’t know where he lives, but you have enough information to figure it out. During the afternoon, as the steady stream of customers trails to a stop, you collect what you know – the exact time Tenko’s power went out, the list of outage alerts the town posted, naming the exact time and the affected neighborhood. When you match Tenko’s text to the outage alerts, you see that he lives in a lightly populated neighborhood on the edge of town, so far out that you’re surprised he didn’t lose power sooner. It’ll be a long walk from your café, but the weather is nice, and it’ll be a while before the sun sets. When five o’clock comes, you close up shop, package the babka to take with you, settle Tenko’s backpack on your shoulders, and set off.

You try to get your head in the game as you walk. Tenko probably thinks you’ve guessed who he is. That’s probably why he left. You’re not just dealing with a customer you slept with; you’re dealing with an undercover supervillain whose identity’s just been revealed. You need to be careful going in there. You don’t know what kind of mood he’s in. You don’t even know if he’ll want to see you. If your positions were switched, would you want to see him?

You would. You’d want to know you still mattered to him, and you’d want what you’ve always wanted – for someone to come find you, to make sure you’re okay. Even if it’s the last thing Tenko wants, you have to try.

Tenko’s neighborhood is sparsely populated, and of the houses there, you rule out most of them immediately – they were built three years ago, and you can’t imagine Tenko moving once he got here. One house is way too big, a fancy lodge used for weddings and corporate retreats. It leaves exactly one place. A house set back in the woods, away from the shore, serviced by a dirt road and barely visible through the trees.

It looks like the kind of place people go to get murdered. If you were a normal person, you’d think twice about going down that road. But you hung out in scarier places than this when you were a criminal, and unlike back then, you have at least some idea of what’s waiting for you in there. You pick your way down the dirt road, skirting the overgrown patches on your way up to the front door. Almost immediately you notice that something’s wrong. The doorknob’s completely gone, as if it’s just crumbled away.

You swallow hard and knock on the door. It sways slightly in place. “Tenko?” When there’s no response, you try again, without the knock. “You left your backpack and laptop at my house. Can I come in?”

“Leave it there.”

As fast as your heart leaped at hearing his voice, it sinks again at his words. But you did what you wanted to do. You checked on him, and you brought him his things, and you don’t want to stay where you’re not wanted. “Okay,” you say. You slide his backpack from your shoulders and set it down carefully on the steps. You put the babka next to it. “Um – you’ve got my number, if you want to talk. I want to talk to you, but I understand if you don’t. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You turn away and start down the path, your eyes stinging, blinking hard. You think you hear the door open, but you don’t look back – but when your phone buzzes, you yank it out of your pocket in record time. The text is from Tenko. come in if you want to

The relief that sweeps over you feels too strong. You turn around without texting back, gathering up the backpack and the babka before pushing open the door. Tenko’s house is dim, the curtains pulled shut. His TV is muted with a screen full of static. You can’t see him, but you can hear the dry sound of his fingernails against the side of his neck. His voice is flat. “Why are you here?”

“I was kind of shaken up after what happened yesterday. I thought you might be, too.” You take a few cautious steps forward. “I was worried.”

“Don’t lie.” The kitchen is empty. So is the bathroom, and the bedroom when you peer through the door. “You saw. You know.”

His breathing rattles ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you say. “I like you.”

“You sure about that?” Tenko’s voice takes on a mocking note. “I think you’re just here to see if it really was a villain you fucked.”

“I don’t –”

“Don’t say you don’t care about it. You do.” Tenko won’t even let you finish the sentence. “It’s all you care about now, so take a look.”

He’s been sprawled out on the couch, but now he stands up. Hood down, mask off, and it’s perfectly clear who you’re looking at. Shigaraki Tomura turned to dust on the battlefield, but he’s here right now, in the living room of a house that’s falling apart. He stares at you, and you remember a thousand still photos, a thousand news broadcasts, all capturing the same light of madness glowing in his eyes. There’s no such thing there now. Whatever drove Shigaraki Tomura onwards, fighting to destroy until his last breath, isn’t there anymore. It’s easy for you to hold his gaze.

He’s the first to look away, his jaw clenched. “What were you expecting me to do?” you ask. “Scream and run away?”

“Call the cops. Or the heroes.” His shoulders lift, the fall. “Maybe the press. You can tell them all about your one crazy night with the villain who came back from the dead.”

“I didn’t want it to be just one night,” you say. He looks at you, then looks away. “I still don’t.”

“Yeah. I guess your tell-all with the press will be more exciting if we fuck a few more times.”

“Hey,” you snap. “If you’re waiting for me to freak out, stop waiting. It’s not going to happen.”

“You’re out of your mind.” He’s turned most of the way away from you now. One hand is clawing at his neck. The other’s up over his face. “Were you under a rock during the war? Did you see what I did?”

“I saw,” you say carefully. “I know what you did. I know that’s the person you were. I know that’s not who you are now. I make decisions based on the person I see in front of me, not by who they were before – as long as they’re trying to be someone different.”

“You think I’m different?” He laughs. At least, you think it’s laughter. You need it to be laughter, because if it isn’t, it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. “You must be high.”

“I’m not.” You keep watching him. “You could have let that kid drown yesterday. My quirk couldn’t have saved him, and my plan was even worse. No one would have known the truth except you, and maybe you could have lived with that. I don’t know.”

You’re half expecting him to interrupt and tell you that he can, that it’s easy. He stays quiet. “You decided to save him, though. Even though it could mess things up for you. Even if it meant people might find out who you used to be. I know what you did before. I like who you are.”

It’s silent. He scratches one more time at his neck, a hard, sharp dig that draws blood. Then his hand falls away. “What did you tell the cops?”

“It wasn’t a cop thing. Just EMS and the fire department,” you say. You wonder if that will make him feel better. “The kid was unconscious by the time you got rid of the log. He didn’t see anything. I told them a wave came up and moved the log enough for me and him to get free.”

“And they believed you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?” You’re a criminal who used to lie on the regular. You know when someone’s bought your story. “When the kid woke up, he remembered I was there, but not you. You’re safe.”

He doesn’t say anything. You figure he’ll kick you out if he wants you gone and stay put. Some part of you is desperate to find out what happened, how he came back from the dead, how he ended up here instead of in prison forever. The rest of you doesn’t care very much. The ideals you’ve lived by for the past five years won’t let you care, and even if they did, you wouldn’t want to. In some ways, it reminds you of how you feel about the Day of Peace. Not forgetting the awful things that happened. Being thankful for what’s there now.

You’re hoping he’ll break the silence, and you get lucky, sort of. “My couch is disgusting,” he says. “You can sit down if you want.”

You wait for him to sit down, then join him, setting the backpack down at his feet and passing the babka his way. He stares down at it blankly, like he’s never seen it before. “You like me.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he pulls off a piece and eats it. “Should I keep calling you Tenko? Or do you want –”

“Tenko.” He peels off another strip of pastry. “Sensei gave me the other name. It died with him. And me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You look down at your hands in your lap and remember Tenko’s gloved fingers laced with yours, your fingers closed around his wrist as you rode him. “You’ve got questions, right?” Tenko says. You nod. “Ask.”

“I do want to know what happened,” you admit. “I mean, you died.”

“Wasn’t the first time.” Tenko shreds another piece from the babka and eats it. “The heroes had this kid who could Rewind people. Turn back the clocks on their bodies. I guess there was enough dust left for it to work on me.”

Tenko tells you that the heroes Rewound him as far as possible, but they couldn’t go back all the way – just to the point before All For One’s quirk was transplanted into him. After that, they used quirk-canceling bullets to erase his quirks one at a time. Tenko was kept in a secret facility for four months, almost dead to the world but not quite, while the world he meant to destroy began to rebuild itself. The heroes ran out of bullets before Tenko ran out of quirks. When they were finish, he only had one left – Decay. Tenko tells you between bites of babka, then leans back against the couch. “They woke me up after that.”

“They?”

“It was All Might’s idea,” Tenko says. His eyes are closed. “He couldn’t give up on saving me, and he dragged Midoriya in on it, too. They told me about the new laws that were being passed and their plans to help my friends, and then they said it would only work if I stayed dead.”

Todoroki Touya’s words cross your mind: Deku made him a martyr. “Everybody else was redeemable,” Tenko says, “but not me. After what I did, nobody cared about how I got there. I’d rot in prison for the rest of my life, and knowing I was still out there would remind everybody that evil really exists. Me being alive was going to undermine their push to get villains recognized as people, and it was going to screw my friends over. What I did – it was never just for me. It was always for them.”

You think about the first six months after the war. The question of what to do with the surviving members of the League loomed over everyone, and Deku was right in the middle of it, insisting that they deserved a second chance. That everyone deserved a second chance. He swore up and down that villains aren’t born evil, that it’s about choices, and more than that, about chances. And everyone was in a softer mood knowing that the greatest threat to Japan, to the world, was gone. Shigaraki’s death made people feel safer. Knowing he was still alive would have put a bullet through any chance of reform. “So you agreed?”

“They weren’t asking,” Tenko says. “Their plan was for me to live. No rehab, no charges, nothing. They gave me a new identity and a job and money so I could pay rent somewhere. I can’t be found out or it’ll ruin everything. I can’t let my friends know I’m alive or it’ll ruin everything. I dye my hair and wear that stupid mask and hide in plain sight, and I’m supposed to do that forever. And live a happy life.”

His voice takes on a flat, bitter note. “Half the time I wish they’d let me stay dead for real.”

You’ve never found yourself in anything like Tenko’s situation. You never will. But you know that feeling – of waking up every morning and wishing you hadn’t, of dragging yourself through each day with no purpose and nothing to look forward to, no hope that anything would change. Nobody ever made you feel better by telling you how much you had to live for. You touch Tenko’s shoulder lightly to warn him, then wrap your arms around him in a tight but awkward hug from the side, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. Tenko’s hand comes up to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he’ll pull you away, or worse. But his hands are still gloved. All he does is hold on.

“This is your fault,” he mumbles after a while. “You and your stupid free WiFi.”

You manage something like a laugh. “What did my WiFi ever do to you?”

“It’s better than mine,” Tenko says. “I had a reason to go somewhere. And somewhere to go.”

Your throat closes off in an instant. That was what you wanted this whole time. Even if it was what you had in mind when you opened the café, when you added the internet, you never expected it to work on the person who used to be Shigaraki Tomura. So many things happened because he stopped by that day, and not all of them were because of you – he’s the one who kept coming in, the one who kept talking to you, the one who asked if he could come over two nights ago. You remember what Tenko said after the power went out, about wanting to find out if living differently would work. You wonder what he thinks the answer is.

“Do you like me?” Tenko asks, and you nod. “Do you still like me?”

“Yes.” You’ll probably get tired of that question at some point, but maybe you can get Tenko to a point where he doesn’t need to ask before that happens. “It’s getting late, though. And I’ve got an early morning.”

“So you need to go.” Tenko’s voice is dull.

“Probably,” you say. “You can come too, if you want.”

“You really want a supervillain in your house?”

“You let a convicted felon into your house,” you point out. “We’re sort of even.”

Tenko shakes his head. “Not even close to even.”

“I’ve done more time than you have,” you point out, and Tenko snorts. “Come on. Grab what you need and let’s get out of here.”

You let go of Tenko to get to your feet, then hold out your hands to help him up. He doesn’t let go once he’s standing. “I like you, too,” he says. “You know, right?”

You nod. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have let me in.”

Tenko studies you, and you look back at him. You have the whole picture now, or close enough to it. Even knowing what you know, you like what you see. You lean forward, rising on your toes to kiss him, and when he kisses you back, you taste chocolate and cinnamon on his lips. You’re still tasting it as the two of you walk back to your apartment, hand in hand.

You haven’t worn a dress in a while, and you’ve worn a formal dress maybe never. It’s really uncomfortable. So are your shoes – low heels, but heels nonetheless, and even the scant makeup you’ve put on feels like a mistake. You really don’t want anybody to see you like this, but you promised you’d show at least one person. You snap a selfie and send it to Tenko. I hate this outfit.

i’ll decay it for you if you’re still wearing it when you get back. Tenko texts back right away. He usually does. when are you coming back?

You got a hotel room, but only so you could have somewhere to change clothes. You’re not planning on sleeping over. Tonight, on the last train.

good. The typing bubble hovers for long seconds. you look hot. don’t hook up with any heroes.

As if. You roll your eyes. Don’t worry. I only date people who’ve done time.

What you and Tenko are doing isn’t dating. To you, dating means something casual, and it isn’t casual – not when you basically live together, not when he calls you his girlfriend, not when he pays for half the groceries and inexpertly folds the laundry and spends every night wrapped around you whether you’ve had sex or not. It’s serious to him, and it’s serious to you. The kind of serious where if you got invited to an important event, you’d ask for a plus-one if you didn’t have one already.

You got a plus-one for this event, but it’s not one you can take Tenko to. For a gala celebrating the reauthorization of every criminal justice reform bill passed at the end of the war, it’s safest for you to go alone.

You gave testimony this afternoon before the vote – you, aided and abetted by your probation officer, who was able to show hard data on what you’ve accomplished, as well as share five years of survey responses from the people in your town, which displayed a marked positive trend in their perception of former criminals. You got to hear other program participants and their probation officers testify, too, and their results were similar to yours. The NCRA is working as intended. It’s working well enough that the government decided to expand it. During the next cycle, accomplices to violent crimes will be eligible, too.

Present Mic’s nomination of you for early release from the program was accepted. They’re going to clear your record gradually, starting with your earliest convictions, which means that although you’ll be hanging onto your felony conviction for another five years, your record will be clear before you’re thirty-five. The bigger deal to you is the forgiveness of the interest on your startup loan. Now all you have left to do is pay off the original balance, and you can do that by the end of the year. And you get to take down the sign in your window informing everybody that you’re part of the NCRA.

You don’t plan to do that. You plan to leave it up, and to keep answering people who ask questions, as long as it takes for offering second chances to become the norm rather than the exception. If you can change even one person’s mind, give even one person a shred of hope, it’ll be worth it. It already is.

Tenko texts you back, after laugh-reacting to your message. are any of them going to be there?

Spinner and Toga were at the hearing. You send a thumbs-up, and Tenko responds. if you can talk to them without getting in trouble, find out how they are.

Definitely. A thought crosses your mind. Is there anything you want me to tell them?

i can’t talk to them

Could they talk to you, you ask. If they knew you were alive?

i guess. but they don’t so it doesn’t matter

Huh. You need to think about this, but you’ve got to go. You’re going to be late. You text Tenko a quick heart emoji, then stuff your phone in your purse and hurry out the door.

You’re the only person in formal wear on the Shinkansen, and you make yourself even more conspicuous when you start changing the color of your dress, trying to make it look even slightly better. By the time you get off the train, you’ve created some kind of nightmarish watercolor effect that will draw more attention to your dress than your face. You decide that’s as good as it’s going to get and meet up with your probation officer just inside the venue.

Present Mic greets you with a grin. “Hey, now that’s a look!” he pronounces. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you say. “It’s kind of unreal.”

“You earned it,” Mic says. “Congratulations, listener. How would you feel about not being a listener anymore?”

That’s right – now that you’re off probation, you won’t need a probation officer. You won’t see Mic again. The thought makes you sad, even if it’ll decrease Tenko’s stress levels by a factor of twelve. “Because I was thinking,” Mic continues, “you’ve got a pretty good story here. Why not guest-star on my show and tell it?”

You cough. Mic snags a drink off a passing tray and hands it to you, all while making his sales pitch at full volume. “I mean, they just made a whole new group of people eligible for the NCRA. Who better to spread the word than one of the originals?”

One of the originals. That’s you, isn’t it? You were on mental health watch in an overcrowded jail when you first heard the news, and you showed your first signs of life in days in your efforts to find out more. You swallow some of your drink – it’s alcoholic, but only lightly – and Mic keeps talking. “You’ve been a good example for the civilians. Why not be a role model for other criminals, too?”

“I don’t think I’m a role model,” you say hastily. “But, um – if you wanted me to come on and talk about how the whole thing works, then I will.”

“Nice. My people will call your people and set something up!” Mic cackles at his own joke. “Finish that and let’s go. I’ve got some people I want you to meet!”

You have no idea who he could be talking about, but you get two nasty shocks one after the other – first, that Mic is married to Eraserhead, and second, that he brought Eraserhead as his plus-one. You probably should have been better prepared for the possibility of running into someone who captured you, because every hero you run into is someone who captured you. Or who didn’t capture you, given that you also meet Endeavor, and he pretends the two of you have never met. Almost every hero you’re introduced to is someone who faced Shigaraki Tomura in battle, who was injured at his hands. People who observe the Day of Peace the other way.

Mic finally runs out of people to introduce you to and you earn a temporary reprieve, which you use to sit down. You spend all day at work on your feet, but at work you’re not wearing heels. You lift your feet partway out of your shoes, hoping you’re subtle about it, and dig your phone out of your purse. Tenko’s been texting you. The first text is a photo of the biggest, ugliest spider you’ve ever seen – on the floor, in your kitchen. The next is a picture of the kitchen floor, empty. don’t worry I took it outside

You and Tenko have talked about this. You try to take them outside, but you aren’t mad at him if he kills them. His next text makes less sense: I changed my mind.

About what? The typing bubble is up, promising another message and probably a clarification, but you hear a familiar voice nearby, and you’re pretty sure it’s someone Tenko wanted you to check on. You look up, and sure enough, it’s Spinner. The woman he’s talking to has a familiar voice, too. Neither of them sound very happy.

“I had to rent this thing,” Spinner is saying despairingly. “When it comes back looking like this –”

“Maybe it’ll fade?” the woman pipes up. “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t tripped –”

“It’s not you. And it’s not gonna fade.” Spinner sounds even mopier than before. “They’re going to call my probation officer and I’m going to get busted –”

“Over a stain?”

You know an in when you hear it. You slide your feet reluctantly back into your shoes, get to your feet, and make your way over. There’s Spinner, a big red-wine stain blooming on his white shirt. The woman next to him is tiny, maroon-haired, and holding an empty glass. She looks familiar, but you’re not sure from where. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you start, “but if the stain is the problem, maybe I can help. My quirk –”

“You’re the color girl!” The short woman’s eyes brighten. “Oh, I was hoping we’d run into you! We –”

“If you fix it, will it stay that way?” Spinner asks. “If it goes back later, they’ll think I lied to them.”

“It’ll stay,” you promise. You extend one hand to touch the shirt and change it back to white, setting the color to stay from now until the heat death of the universe. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks,” Spinner says, embarrassed. He takes a second look at you. “I saw you at the vigil this year.”

“I go every year,” you say. “I would have said something, but you and the others never look like you want to talk.”

If you go next year, you’ll be in the same boat as Deku – wanting to tell them that their friend’s alive, unable to say a word about it. “Yeah, we really don’t,” Spinner says. “Nobody gets it. They can’t, since they never knew him like we did.”

You nod. Your phone buzzes in your purse and you ignore it. You really should have silenced it before you got to the party. “I’m so glad you could fix Shuichi’s shirt,” the short woman says. “He was so stressed. But I wanted to talk to you, too! I’m Aiba Manami.”

That’s where you know her from. “La Brava?”

“That was me.” She smiles slightly, sadly. “I don’t remember your villain name –”

“I didn’t have one,” you say. “And if we met in lockup or something, I’m sorry I don’t remember. I was kind of – out of it.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet! Don’t worry,” Aiba rushes to reassure you. “It’s more just that I – um –”

She breaks off. “She’s not gonna laugh at you,” Spinner says to Aiba. “Just tell her.”

“So, um –” Aiba looks down at her shoes, which match her dress. And her earrings. Her whole look is way more on point than anything you’ve ever worn in your life. “I’m eligible for the NCRA now.”

“Congratulations,” you say at once. You could have sworn you heard that La Brava and Gentle Criminal were pardoned after the war, but they must have pulled something else. “Job training?”

“She’s got that. She’s great with computers,” Spinner says, almost proudly. Something dawns on you. “She’s got a better idea.”

“I want to open up an internet café,” Aiba says. You try to hide the goofy grin that crosses your face and probably fail. “I could set up the network in an afternoon. But I don’t know anything about running a restaurant.”

“Neither did I when I got started,” you say. Looking back, you’re amazed you had the guts to throw yourself into a business where the margins are so tight. “If you get a space that’s already up to code it’ll be even easier. I had to do a ton of renovation before I could even think about buying equipment.”

“Did your loan cover all of that?”

You nod. You know you’re getting way too hyped, but it’s hard not to talk about something that saved your life with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. “Part of the deal is justifying all your expenses. Your probation officer will review them to make sure you’re staying focused, and if they see a reason to give a little extra, they will – or at least mine did. That becomes more to pay back, though, so it helps to be careful. Do you know what kind of food you want to have? Or are you just planning to do coffee? Coffee keeps costs down but it’s also faster, so if you’re charging by the hour for internet access –”

“I kind of don’t want to do that,” Aiba says. You blink. “You said yours is free.”

“It is,” you admit, “but I didn’t add it until five years in, when I already had a customer base. Adding it when I did just picked up some people who hadn’t stopped by yet.”

Like Tenko. Every so often he makes a joke about being lured in by the free WiFi and winding up with a coffee addiction, a pastry addiction, and a girlfriend. Aiba looks a little disappointed, and you feel a surge of guilt. “The thing is, I was starting out under different conditions than you’ll be. You had name recognition as a villain, and an iconic look – I mean, you still do. People will come in just to see what you’ve got going on. So you’ve already got some customers there. The trick will be getting them to stick around.”

Aiba nods. She also grabs Spinner’s hand, and you blurt out the question before you can think about whether it’s a good idea. “Are you two together? I thought you and Gentle Criminal were a thing.”

“Me and Gentle love each other a lot,” Aiba says. Spinner looks like he’s doing okay with someone who you’re pretty sure is his girlfriend talking about how much she loves some other guy. “We just don’t love each other like that anymore.”

“They still talk all the time,” Spinner says. “He came along on our first date to supervise.”

“Poor Shuichi,” Aiba giggles. “He thought we were trying to make him our third.”

So Spinner’s dating. And unlike Todoroki Touya, he hasn’t broken his probation. You know Tenko will want to know more. “How are you doing? I don’t know what your terms are like, but I’m guessing they’re strict.”

“Pretty strict, but my PO is pretty fair,” Spinner says. His PO is Ryukyu, if you remember right. “Since I don’t screw around like Dabi does, I get to travel in-country and stuff. As long as I clear it far enough in advance.”

“We’ve been meaning to take a trip,” Aiba says, and you get a hit of inspiration. “We just can’t decide where to go.”

This time you’ve made a decision to speak, so it doesn’t count as blurting out. Or so you tell yourself. “My café is on the coast. Why don’t you come out there? It’s really nice this time of year, and if you wanted to stop by the café, I could show you the setup and bookkeeping and everything.”

Aiba’s eyes brighten. Spinner looks less sure. “How do they feel about heteromorphs around there?”

“I think it’s on the safe list. A customer told me that one time.” You watch as Spinner pulls out his phone to check for himself. “I definitely don’t want to boss you guys around. But if you’re serious –”

“I am!”

“Then I want to help as much as I can,” you say. “You’re welcome to swing by.”

Spinner looks up from his phone. “It’s on the safe list,” he reports, and Aiba beams. “When do you want to go?”

They decide on two weeks out, and you suggest that they show up on your last open day of the week, so you can show Aiba what a full week’s expenses, documentation, and income look like. You give them both your number so they can text for recommendations about where to stay, a weird anticipatory feeling humming with in you. This could work. You know Tenko misses his friends, but he can’t contact them himself. But if they just happen to run into each other –

It could work. You want it to work. Your phone buzzes with texts as Aiba and Spinner tuck theirs away. You can make this work for Tenko.

“Spinner!” someone calls out. You look up and see Deku waving from across the room. “Hi!”

“Shit, not him,” Spinner mumbles. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“I could pretend to faint,” Aiba suggests.

“No, he won’t buy that. I just –”

You remember the conversation you overheard at the vigil. Spinner has a lot of good reasons not to want to talk to Deku. “Pretend you’re getting sick. I’ll run interference and you can make a break for it.”

“Thanks,” Spinner says. Aiba’s already acting woozy. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” You set off across the room and intercept Deku before he’s halfway there. “Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but we talked at –”

“The vigil! Of course I remember!” Deku smiles. “I was wondering if you’d be here. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you say. You feel a little weird being congratulated for being a civilian again when you’ve just been engaging in some lowkey villain behavior. “I wanted to come thank you in person. If you hadn’t been advocating for this stuff, I don’t think there’s any way it would have passed.”

Deku’s smile softens, saddens. “I can’t be a hero anymore. This is the next best thing, right?”

“You could look at it like that,” you say. “Or maybe you it’s that you can save more people this way than you ever could have working as a regular hero.”

“People say that to me a lot,” Deku says, and you cringe. “But it’s not usually people like you saying it.”

People like you. People whose lives changed because of the initiative Deku spearheaded, which he only took on because he failed to save Shigaraki Tomura. “It’s easier to believe from you,” Deku concludes. “I just wish I knew what he thinks of it all.”

You know exactly what Tenko thinks about it. He thinks you have to do too much stupid paperwork. He doesn’t like that the hero who monitors you is someone whose quirk is way outsized for your power set. He thinks it’s dumb that the only reason you stopped going to therapy even though, to quote, “you still have issues”, is because you knew the heroes were reading all the notes on what you said. And at the same time, you know he’s glad you opened the café. You know he’s glad he met you. And it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let Deku and All Might fake his death, and if Deku hadn’t made it count.

Deku sighs. “I know I can’t,” he says. You really have to admire the coverup here – anybody who hears Deku express his feelings about Shigaraki will think he’s just really fixated on how Shigaraki’s doing in the afterlife. They’ll never guess that he’s really talking about Tenko, who’s alive and well and living in your apartment. “So I’ll think about it your way.”

“Okay,” you say. “Works for me.”

The two of you smile awkwardly at one another. Then Deku changes the subject. “Have you seen Spinner? I thought he was over there, and I wanted to –”

“I think he just went to get some air,” you say. “It’s a lot in here. I bet he’ll be back.”

Deku nods and hurries off, and you take a second to catch your breath. Tonight’s been a lot, but all in all you think it was a success. You didn’t look stupid in your dress, or if you did, no one said anything about it. You’re going to get to help out somebody who wants to join the NCRA. You got at least a little bit of the point across to Deku about what he’s done since the end of the war. And you set up a chance for Tenko to see his best friend again.

Tenko was texting you, wasn’t he? He was saying he’d changed his mind about something. You unearth your phone and swipe past the texts from unfamiliar numbers identifying themselves as Aiba Manami and Spinner to reach Tenko’s text thread. Spider, no spider, didn’t kill it, changed his mind – but now there’s follow-up. Follow-up you really should have taken the time to read before going to talk to Spinner.

don’t try to talk to him. Tenko’s serious enough to use punctuation, which means it’s as serious as he ever gets. i don’t want to fuck him up and i don’t want to find out i faked my own death for nothing.

You cringe in horror. You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when you get home.

“This is crazy,” Tenko says. “You know it’s crazy, right?”

“You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to be there,” you say. You’re amazed Tenko is awake this early – usually he sleeps in when you go to work – but he’s here, leaning against the counter while you go through your opening checklist and yawning behind his mask. “It’s up to you if you want to talk to him or not.”

“He’s gonna be pissed at me.” Tenko slouches. “This fake-my-death shit – we were friends. I’d be pissed in his spot.”

“He and Toga both said they missed you,” you counter. You remember their sadness at the vigil and feel a distant ache in your heart. “Maybe he’ll be pissed at first, but then I bet he’ll be happy.”

“I can’t believe he has a girlfriend,” Tenko says. “One time he got his ass kicked because the hero he was fighting told him he was her type.”

You wonder what Spinner’s going to say when he finds out Tenko has a girlfriend. If he finds out. If Tenko decides to reveal himself. It’s the day Spinner and Aiba are supposed to get here, and you still have no idea what he’s going to choose.

Tenko wasn’t happy when you got home from the gala and came clean about what happened. He wasn’t angry, either – not when you told him you talked to Spinner, not when he found out you invited Aiba to come check out the café. The word you’d use was confused. Confused as to why you’d set up a way for he and Spinner to meet again. It could mess everything up, you remember him saying. Why would you risk that?

It doesn’t have to mess everything up.

Tenko shook his head. Aren’t you worried I’ll go back to it?

To being a villain? No. You and Tenko were sprawled out on the couch together. He’d yanked you down into his lap the instant you came close enough. When I was still on the other side of the law, I didn’t have friends, or allies. Most common criminals don’t. But you did. We all knew about the League, and how close you were. I used to think about how nice that would be.

You were understating it a little bit. You were jealous of the League’s closeness, of how clearly and obviously they cared about one another. The crowd you ran with was more likely to stab each other in the back than help each other out. I want you to have that again, you continued. If you want it.

Tenko didn’t answer you then. He just kissed you, and then the two of you made out on the couch until you fell asleep. The two of you have talked about it almost every day since then, and Tenko still hasn’t made up his mind. And it’s okay. He’s got until Spinner walks out the door to decide.

Osono knocks on the door, towing the pastry cart, and you abandon the opening checklist to hold it open for her. “I’ve got some new seasonal items today,” she says. “Mostly fruit – strawberries, peaches, that kind of thing. And – huh. What’s he doing here?”

She’s pointing at Tenko, who was taste-testing your flavored syrups until a split second ago. He ducks down behind the counter and vanishes from view. Osono stares. “Was that Shimura?”

“Yes,” you say. Osono raises her eyebrows. “We’re seeing each other.”

Seeing him is kind of understating it. He basically lives in your apartment and you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Osono’s eyebrows lift even further. “Since when?”

“Since –” You count back in your head. “Two months ago. Are there any allergens in the new pastries? I’m assuming they aren’t vegan.”

One of them’s vegan. You make a special label for it, and Osono helps you arrange the new pastries in the case, while Tenko stays hidden behind the counter even though she’s already seen him. The one time she comments on his presence is when he steals a pastry off the tray before she can put it in the case. “So you’re the one who’s been eating all the babka.”

“Mmph.” Tenko’s mouth is too full to respond, and once he’s swallowed the monster bite he took, he looks at you. “I can pay for that.”

“Just buy milk the next time we go grocery shopping. That’ll cover it.”

It’s not until Osono’s left that Tenko emerges from behind the counter. He’s grimacing. “That was stupid.”

“Telling her?”

“Hiding from her. Now she’s going to tell everyone that you’re shacking up with a freak.”

“She just knows we’re dating,” you say. “I didn’t say anything about living together.”

“Yeah, not until you mentioned us buying groceries.” To his credit, Tenko doesn’t call you a moron over it. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me. It matters what they say about you. Do you really –”

“Yes.” You kiss Tenko’s cheek over the mask. “And I still like you.”

Tenko’s voice is muffled. “I like you, too.”

It’s a busy day at the café. Tourist season is in full swing and the weather is bright and warm, which means everybody wants a blended drink and nobody wants to stay inside the café to drink it. You have four or five blenders going at a time, loud enough to partially deafen you but with enough capacity to keep you from falling behind on orders. You barely have any time to talk to Tenko, but he’s keeping busy, too – in the same spot as always, looking over the decision tree for a computer game. You’re not sure, but you think it might be the game he wants to make.

Spinner and Aiba show up just before closing, when you’re still swamped. You can’t even see Aiba – she’s that short – and Spinner calls out to you instead. “We’re gonna check out the beach for half an hour and come back”

“Sounds good,” you holler back over the sound of the blenders. Half an hour. You can clear the customers out, get your paperwork in order, and give Tenko some warning of what’s to come.

The nice weather’s worked in your favor all day, and it keeps working in your favor – you don’t have any trouble shooing out the customers once they’ve got their drinks. You flip the sign on the door to closed, drop all but two of the blenders in the dishwasher, and go to check on Tenko. He’s working hard at something, and you don’t want to interrupt. You sit down across from him and tap his foot under the table to let him know you’re there.

He looks up. “Did they leave?”

“For a little bit. They’ll be back soon.” You watch as Tenko pulls down his mask, unhooks it from over one ear. “How are you feeling?”

“If it happens, it happens,” Tenko says. “I’m not going to talk to him. But I’m not going to hide, either.”

“Okay,” you say. “I won’t mess around with it, either.”

“Any more than you already messed around with it.” Tenko kicks you lightly under the table, but he’s half-smiling at the same time. “I like having the choice. Didn’t get a lot of those before.”

“I know.” You hold out your hands for his, and Tenko gives them to you so you can raise them to your lips. He’s wearing his gloves, like almost always. “I –”

The bell rings, and both of you jump. It’s probably a good thing it cuts you off, because you have no idea what you were going to say next. Tenko’s grip on your hands tightens, and you kiss his knuckles again before standing up and hurrying to the door. Spinner and Aiba are out there, looking windswept but happy. “Come on in,” you say. “Do either of you want a drink?”

“Something cold,” Aiba says, and Spinner nods in agreement. “Do you have blended drinks?”

“Definitely.” You left two blenders out for precisely that reason. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tenko’s arm pop up, giving you a thumbs-up. He wants one, too.

Since you know which one he wants, you start with his first, while your guests study the menu. Aiba’s eyeing the fruit flavors, but Spinner’s watching you. “Who’s that for?”

You could lie. But you’re keeping up appearances as usual, not making anything happen that shouldn’t, and if anyone else was asking, you’d answer honestly. “I have one person still hanging out back there. It’s for him.”

“I thought you were closed,” Aiba says. “Do you usually let people stay past closing time?”

“No. But he’s my boyfriend,” you say, “so it’s different.”

“Do you give him free stuff?”

“If he behaves,” you say. Tenko leans out from the booth to glare at you, and you struggle to keep a straight face. “Which he does.”

“If I gave you free stuff, would you stick around my café?” Aiba asks Spinner.

“No, I’d pay for stuff,” Spinner argues. “I don’t want to, like – grift, or something. Or take stuff away from people who will pay.”

Aiba frowns. “What if I want to give you free stuff?”

“I have a little room in my budget for stuff like that,” you say. “I’ll show it to you when we go over the expenses and stuff. Have you decided what you want yet?”

Aiba opts for white chocolate and strawberry. Spinner points at the drink you’re pouring into a cup for Tenko. “Can I get whatever that is?”

“Sure. And you can sit down wherever,” you say. “There’s no password on the WiFi, so knock yourself out. I’m just going to bring this one to my boyfriend, and then I’ll be right back to start yours.”

“I can take it to him,” Spinner says. Your heart lurches, and you shake your head, but Spinner’s already holding out his hand. “Seriously. If he won’t come up to get it himself –”

“Are you modeling good behavior? That’s so cute!” Aiba actually has to jump up to plant a kiss on Spinner’s cheek. She looks at you, grinning. “He’s so helpful. He never pours tea on me by accident.”

You don’t even want to know, and right now you’re in a bind. If you refuse, it’ll look weird. If you don’t, you’ll be setting Tenko up for a face-to-face meeting with a friend who’s spent the last five years thinking he was dead. What would be the normal, not-suspicious thing to do? Accept help when it’s offered. “Thanks,” you say, and pass the drink over to Spinner.

Then you turn away, back to the blenders. You can’t watch.

Aiba watches you make the drinks, asking how you know the proportions without measuring, asking how you came up with the recipes. You answer over the sound of the blenders, and all the while, you watch Spinner over the top of her head. Spinner dropped off the drink without incident, but he’s stopped to look at your latest mural – another sunrise, this one in the east over the ocean. Tenko kept suggesting weird things for you to paint, like the low-tide line or a slimy knot of kelp and seaweed, but when you started working on this, he sat and watched you the entire time.

You should do more like this one, he said when you were done. I like the horizons.

Spinner apparently likes them, too. He’s saying something to Tenko, who’s not responding and who’s probably face-first in his laptop. Spinner’s a nice guy, but you can sense him getting annoyed, and as you turn off the blenders, you hear him lose patience. “Did I do something to you? Why are you acting like –”

He breaks off suddenly. You see him take a step back, then another, until he collides with a table and chair and almost falls over. Aiba turns, concerns, as Spinner rights himself, stumbling over his words. “It can’t – you were – I thought you were – we all thought –”

“You were wrong,” Tenko says. “Get over it.”

You cringe. At the back of the café, Spinner explodes. “Fuck you!” he snaps. “That’s all you’re going to say? Get over it? Do you even have a clue, you bastard? We all thought – if you say get over it one more time –”

“Get over it.”

“You son of a bitch,” Spinner snarls, and he drags Tenko out of the booth. Tenko lets him do it, lets Spinner grab him by the front of his hoodie and shake him until the hood falls down. “You asshole, Shigaraki!”

“Shigaraki?” Aiba stares in horror, then goes for her phone. You reach across the counter and catch her wrist to stop her. “Let me go! If Shuichi talks to him – if anybody finds out –”

“Wait,” you say. Your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath. “Give it a second, okay? Just wait.”

Tenko finally gets tired of the shaking and plants his feet. “Are you gonna beat me up?”

“I should!” Spinner’s fury falters for a second, wavering into confusion. “You let us think you were dead, and all this time –”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tenko says. “Do you want to keep shouting at me or do you want me to explain?”

“I don’t understand,” Spinner says. “I thought –”

“Yeah,” Tenko says. “I know.”

Spinner’s eyes well up, and you let Aiba go so she can race to his side. Tenko, meanwhile, snags his drink from the table and makes his way back to you, ducking behind the counter. “I was right,” he mumbles. “He’s pissed.”

“Give him a second,” you say. “It’s a lot to cope with.”

“You coped just fine.”

“I didn’t know you before,” you remind him. You set out two cups for Aiba and Spinner and pour their drinks before retrieving the whipped cream. “It wasn’t personal to me that you’d faked your death. It was personal to him.”

Tenko nods, but it’s clear that he’s dissatisfied. “I shouldn’t have come in today.”

“Give it a second,” you say again. You drop half a strawberry into the whipped cream on Aiba’s drink, then feed Tenko the other half, because his mask is down and his mouth is open. “If it went the other way, you’d need a second, too.”

Aiba’s still trying to comfort Spinner when you bring the drinks. Tenko trials after you. You set the drinks down on the table Spinner ran into, trying to ignore the way Aiba’s glaring at you. “You set this up,” she accuses. “You made Shuichi cry!”

“That was me,” Tenko says. He sits back down in the booth. “It was my choice to be here. If I hadn’t you’d never have known.”

“Why?” Spinner demands. His voice is watery. “It’s been five years. Why now?”

“I didn’t have a way to get in contact with you before,” Tenko says. “They made it pretty clear that I’d fuck up everything if I reached out on my own.”

Aiba hands Spinner a lacy handkerchief. Spinner wipes his nose. “Who’s they?”

“Maybe we should all sit down,” you suggest. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Um, okay.” Aiba still looks wary, but you’re pretty sure the two of you are on the same side – you both want your boyfriends to quit fighting. “Come on, Shuichi –”

She manages to get Spinner into the other side of the booth, then slides in after him. You nudge Tenko until he scoots over and sit down, too. It’s quiet while Aiba tries her drink, Spinner tries his, and Tenko realizes you don’t have one and slides his over to share with you. Something about that breaks whatever’s keeping Spinner quiet. “How’d you get a girlfriend?”

“How’d you get a girlfriend?” Tenko retaliates. “Toga has more game than you.”

“More than you, too,” Spinner says. He’s glaring again. “What are you doing out here? What do you even do all day?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tenko takes his drink back from you and takes another sip. “One of us has to talk first. You’ve been doing more stuff than me, so it should be you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t come back from the dead,” Spinner says. “You first. This is really good, by the way.”

He’s looking at you. “Oh,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Everything she makes is good,” Tenko says, which isn’t true by any stretch of the imagination. “You want me to talk first? Fine. As long as you don’t start trying to beat me up again.”

“I wasn’t trying to beat you up.”

“Or bite me –”

“I never bit you!” Spinner protests. “Stop lying about shit!”

“You totally bit him,” Aiba says, patting Spinner’s arm. “It was on TV.”

You remember seeing that, and experiencing a moment of pure bemusement before going straight back to running for your life. “You were supposed to be unconscious,” Spinner mutters. “I’m not boing to bite you and I’m not going to beat you up. Start talking.”

You remember how Tenko explained it to you. You let him tell it at his own pace, and you were quiet, not asking questions unless you really needed to know. Spinner asks questions every two seconds, fixating on tiny details, lingering on parts of the story that Tenko clearly doesn’t want to talk about. When Deku’s name comes up, you see Spinner’s jaw clench. “That little shit. I don’t care if Stain called him a true hero. I’m going to kill him!”

“It’s a waste of time,” Tenko says. He looks a little curious. “What did he do?”

“Lied. He’s been lying to me and Toga and everybody for five years! He told me there was nothing left of Shigaraki Tomura when he knew damn well –”

“That it’s not my name anymore,” Tenko says. Spinner blinks. “Sensei gave it to me. Even if I could use it again, I wouldn’t want to. Midoriya didn’t lie to you. Technically.”

Spinner scowls. “But even if he wanted to tell you, he couldn’t,” Tenko says. “That was the deal.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as you let me finish a sentence,” Tenko says. Someone kicks you under the table. “They used that kid Overhaul tortured to bring me back as far as they could – to right before I got Sensei’s quirk – and then –”

You get another kick. It’s Aiba. You’ve got no idea how she’s able to reach you from her side of the table, but you look up, and when you do, you see she’s holding up her phone. You take yours out, but she shakes her head sharply, then slides hers across the table to you. There’s an open Note. We have to talk like this. The government intercepts texts.

That’s not a surprise. You type a response and pass the phone. What do you want to talk about?

Aiba types really fast. Spinner, meanwhile, is trying to argue with Tenko about why he should have contacted the League anyway, consequences be damned. Aiba’s response slides back across the table. Shuichi’s tried really hard to change things. Harder than anybody else in the League, and people treat him terribly even when he’s doing nothing wrong just because he has a mutant-type quirk. I won’t let Shigaraki ruin it for him.

“He’s not going to ruin –”

She kicks you under the table, and you go back to reading. How do you know he’s not just biding his time and waiting for the right moment to come back?

You don’t. You aren’t naive, and you know that there’s no way to tell for sure what’s going on in someone else’s heart. Anyone can play any part, as convincingly as they’d like, until the moment they can’t take it any longer. You would know. That person used to be you.

And at the same time, you judge by action. You judge by Tenko not lashing out at Spinner even though Spinner’s provoked him. You judge by him keeping his hands covered, even though you know he can control his quirk. You judge by him keeping his head down, staying out of trouble, not seeking the spotlight or railing against the system. You judge by how he let you into his world, how he’s let you make yourself at home just as he’s made himself at home in yours. You judge by how he saved someone’s life.

I worry about him going back as much as I worry about me going back, you finally type. I can’t say never. I can say that things are better now than they were before. We could go back. I just don’t think we’d want to.

Aiba takes her time reading over your answer, and when she responds, she changes the subject. I think we should let them talk now. Will you still tell me about how you run your cafe?

“Of course,” you say out loud. You slide out of the booth, only for Tenko to catch your hand. “I’m just going to walk her through the business stuff. Send up a distress signal if you need me to come save you from Spinner.”

Spinner snorts. “Bring it over here instead,” Tenko says. His grip on your hand shifts, and you realize all at once that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay while this happens. “I’ll move my shit off the table.”

He clears away his laptop, and you bring over the binder where you keep your expense reports, inventory sheets, income tracking, tax forms, and all the extra forms you have to fill out as part of the NCRA requirements. Aiba doesn’t look worried about it, although Spinner visibly blanches at the sight of so much paperwork. “Manami, I know I said I’d help you with the stuff, but –”

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” you say. You turn your attention to Aiba. “Where do you want to start?”

“I made a list,” she says. “Tell me about the loan application first.”

While you and Aiba go over the finer points of the initial stages of the NCRA, Tenko explains to Spinner. You listen with half an ear as he goes over everything, speaking quickly and with more assurance than he did when he told you, and you’d think he was comfortable with the story if not for how tightly he’s holding your hand under the table. It triggers a strange mix of feelings within you. You’re proud of him for trying to explain, for reaching back out to his friend. You’re a little worried that it’s stressing him out this much. And you feel – lucky, almost. Lucky that you’re the person he turns to. Lucky to find him. Or lucky, maybe, that he found you.

Aiba’s smartwatch beeps as you’re looking over the expense reports, and she sits up. “Shuichi, the sunset! We have to go.”

“Right.” Spinner looks kind of drained. So does Tenko. “It’s supposed to be really good here. We were gonna go down to the beach to watch.”

“You know the sun goes down on the other side of the country, right?” Tenko snarks. You elbow him. “Go check it out. I’ve never seen it, so don’t take my word for it.”

Then you should come with us, too,” Aiba says. Tenko startles. “And you!”

She’s looking at you now. “I don’t know if I can. I have to finish closing down –”

“We’ll come back and help you after,” Spinner says. He looks like he’s warming to the idea, even though a sunset beach walk is the kind of thing you’re supposed to do with just your girlfriend, not your best friend you’re mad at and his girlfriend who set the whole thing up. “Come on.”

You close up shop in a hurry, and the four of you set off for the beach. The crowds on the main beach are big, like always, so you lead the way to Fourth Beach, just like you did the day you found out who Tenko was before. Spinner and Aiba walk a little ways behind you, hand in hand, Aiba taking two steps for every one of Spinner’s. You match Tenko’s pace, like always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. “How do you feel?”

“Weird.” Tenko sidles closer, leaning against you for a moment. “I’m not like he remembers me. I am, but I’m not. The last time we talked we were about to destroy the world, and now we’re just – normal.”

“You don’t think he wants to be friends with normal you?”

“I don’t think he thinks normal me is me,” Tenko says. His grip on your hand tightens for a moment. His hand shakes. “If there’s nobody down there – if it’s just us four – can you change my hair?”

A jolt runs through you. “Just for a little while,” Tenko says. “So he quits looking at me like I’m an imposter. Change it back when we leave.”

He looks miserable. You want to tell him that he’s not giving Spinner enough credit, that Spinner just found out today, that it’s probably still going to take time for Spinner to get used to the former Symbol of Fear slurping blended drinks in an internet cafe in a seaside town – but none of that is going to help. And he’s just told you what he thinks will fix it. You tighten your grip on his hand. “I’ve been meaning to offer to help with your hair,” you say. “I know you’ve been dyeing it yourself –”

“And I suck at it,” Tenko says. You didn’t want to say it. “You have better things to do with your quirk than fix my shitty dye job.”

“I can do a lot of things with my quirk at once,” you say. “What color do you want it today?”

Tenko’s quiet for a while, long enough for you to make the turn onto the path down to the beach, long enough for you to slow down and let Spinner and Aiba pass you. He doesn’t speak until you’ve both looked up and down the beach, confirming that the only people there are the ones who came with you. “Turn it white.”

“Okay,” you say. You let go of Tenko’s hands and beckon him closer. “Come here.”

When he’s close enough, you cradle his face in your hands, wait for permission to unhook his mask so you can kiss him. As he kisses you back, you run your fingers slowly through his hair.

He didn’t even own a hairbrush when he first started staying over at your apartment. You didn’t realize he was using yours until you started finding strands of matte-black hair caught in its bristles, and you didn’t realize how he was doing it until you caught him yanking the brush hard through the knots in his hair. It took a while for Tenko to grasp why you were offering to do it for him, but then he let you, and it’s become yet another small ritual in your lives. You don’t use a brush anymore. After the first few times, the knots are so small that you can draw them apart with your fingers.

If you were at home, you’d take your time changing Tenko’s color, a few strands at a time – but right now, you can’t. You run your fingers through Tenko’s hair, eyes closed, and when the two of you separate reluctantly, you open your eyes to check your work.

Even knowing what you know, knowing almost everything, there’s still a single moment of shock when you look at him. Maskless, white-haired, it’s impossible to see him as anyone but Shigaraki Tomura, Symbol of Fear, would-be destroyer of worlds – but only for a moment. Then he covers the back of his neck, glances awkwardly away and back again. “Does it look right?”

“Yeah,” you say. You take his hand again and start the walk down to the beach. “Let me know if you want to change it back.”

The sunset hasn’t quite started yet, but the sky is already beginning to change colors. The tide’s low, too, and you suppress the urge to tell your guests not to climb on the few beached logs with an effort. Tenko must be thinking of it, too, because he calls out to Spinner. “If you get stuck under one of those things, I’m not saving you.”

“You wouldn’t need to. I’ve still got my strength quirk. Unlike you, so –” Spinner looks back up the beach towards you and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of Tenko’s new hair color. “Fuck, don’t do that!”

“Do what? Look like me?” Tenko challenges. You wince. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I wanted you not to die,” Spinner says, and then it’s quiet, other than the crash of the waves and the distant cries of gulls. Tenko’s grip on your hand is tight and shaky. “Maybe it’s better this way. I couldn’t kick your ass in League if you were locked up in Tartarus.”

“You couldn’t kick my ass at League if I had on handcuffs and a straitjacket,” Tenko shoots back. “GTA, maybe –”

“Street Fighter, absolutely. Hand to hand combat isn’t your strong suit.”

“And sense of humor isn’t yours, if that’s the best hand joke you’ve got –”

They sound like they’re arguing, still. They sound like they’re arguing, but they aren’t. Tenko’s grip on your hand relaxes just enough that you can pull away, so you do. You leave them to talk and continue up the beach alone. Aiba’s taking photos of the sky as it goes pink and purple and gold, high over the hills. You leave her to it as well, but you commit the colors to memory, so you can use them later if you need to paint another horizon one day. You might. You probably will.

You believe in second chances, but this doesn’t feel like a second chance. It feels more like a miracle than anything else, the small kind, the kind you don’t notice until everything’s already fallen into place. The kind you would never have imagined when you moved here, six months after the war, hoping against hope that you could start over.

You stare up at the sky until you get a crick in your neck, then turn away to face the sea. The moon will be up soon. You haven’t painted a moonrise yet. Maybe this next time you will.

“Hey.” Tenko’s snuck up on you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back against him. “How’d you end up over here?”

“How did you end up over here? I thought you all were watching the sunset.”

“They wanted to kiss or something,” Tenko says. “Not my thing. So I cam to find you –”

“So we could kiss or something?” you ask, and Tenko snorts. “Or just to make sure I didn’t get stuck under a log?”

“You wouldn’t be that dumb.” Tenko hugs you a little closer. A few strands of his now-pale hair brush against your cheek. “Thanks. For getting Spinner to come out here.”

“Did you guys patch things up?”

“Not much to patch up. He just had to get it out of his system,” Tenko says. “He’s already trying to figure out how to get Toga down here.”

Another member of the former League of Villains hanging out at your cafe. It makes you nervous until you remember that you’re not on probation any longer. You wouldn’t have been in trouble for that even before. “Is that something you’d like?”

“It would be good to see her again,” Tenko says. “To see all of them. But I don’t think that’s what you signed up for.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not like with those two.” Tenko doesn’t have to tell you who he means. “There’s no rehabbing this. I didn’t talk to anybody in five years because anybody who got close enough could get close enough to guess. If you stick with me, you’re going to be hiding something your whole life.”

It always puts you a little on edge when Tenko starts talking about the future. You’re never sure how seriously he’s talking about it, if he really means it when he brings up staying together your whole lives. “I know that’s not what you wanted,” Tenko says. “You spent five years here tying yourself in a knot trying to be normal –”

“And look how many friends I made.” You kept to yourself, too. Being friendly to your customers isn’t the same thing as having friends. “Maybe it’s a good thing, if your friends are around more. We won’t have to hide anything from them.”

“You aren’t listening,” Tenko says. “Do you really –”

“What’s the alternative?” you ask. “Not for me, for you. That you never talk to anybody and never try anything new and never find things that make you happy? That’s not living.”

The thought of Tenko shutting himself away again – not just from you, but from everything – hurts more than anything nonphysical has a right to. “The world exists the way it is because of you. You should get to live in it.”

“Me?” Tenko scoffs. “Good try.”

“Yeah, you.” Spinner’s voice rings out from behind you. You peer out around Tenko to see he and Aiba approaching. “Deku feels so guilty for fake-killing you that he guilt-tripped everybody else into fixing things.”

“Not everything.”

“No, but some stuff,” you say. “If the laws hadn’t changed, I’d still be in prison.”

“Me and Gentle would have been, too,” Aiba adds. “And Shuichi.”

“I’d have been in Tartarus on a double life sentence. Toga’s and Dabi’s charges were even worse,” Spinner says. “You promised me and the others that you’d show us the most beautiful horizon we’d ever seen. This one looks pretty good to me.”

He gestures out over the ocean. The stars are already out, and the moon is just beginning to clear the horizon, a thin, bright crescent that casts a slender blaze of light across the water. You think he’s right. It does look pretty good, but there could be prettier ones, too. Maybe. You won’t know for sure unless you’re out here tomorrow.

So you will be. You’ll bring Tenko with you, as many times as you can, as many times as it’ll take, and maybe you’ll never make him see the world the way you do. But you can remind him that you like him when he asks, and switch in the other word sometime soon. You can find ways to bring his friends back to him, and maybe make friends with them yourself. He might think of it as hiding, but that’s not how you see it. It’s just part of living in the new world. You like living in it with him.

It’s quiet for a long time, all four of you watching the waves. One of Tenko’s arms unwraps from around your waist, but only so he can grab your hand and pull it up to his mouth. His lips brush against your knuckles, so soft that you can’t quite call it a kiss, and he keeps your hand there. When he speaks at last, it’s through your fingers, never looking away from the place where the ocean meets the sky. “Yeah,” Tenko says quietly, and you feel a smile break across your face. “It’s not so bad.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #coffee shop rehab fic

76 notes · View notes

mischievouslittlecreature · 21 days ago

Text

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them.

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot.

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell.

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed.

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station.

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left.

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived.

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did.

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently.

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him.

“A little.”

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment.

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back.

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief.

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head.

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house.

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound.

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater.

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say.

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get.

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone.

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall.

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement.

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly.

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive.

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.”

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley.

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot.

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission.

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat.

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening.

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located.

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.”

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over.

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes.

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin.

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.”

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him.

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up.

∗ ∗ ∗

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk.

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.”

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor.

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy��s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away.

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities.

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office.

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes.

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.”

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous.

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer.

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her.

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her.

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet.

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful.

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit.

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy.

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps.

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat.

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust.

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh.

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke.

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips.

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb.

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her.

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her.

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head.

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance.

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look.

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book.

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes.

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply.

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.”

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer.

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door.

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged.

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #lucy winters #my ocs #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #love me where i'm most ruined #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders oc #do you love me #lily writes #my fanfiction

39 notes · View notes