#that is peak mother figure behavior i wanna see more of her

[aethergalaxias]

even though the pilot episode is no longer canon, it has me thinking that we as a fandom do not have nearly enough appreciation for the dynamics it presents bc mostly im seeing stuff revolving around mean steve and fizzy milk. mayor pigface and red's dynamic is hilarious and there is not nearly enough of it. punk!yellow has my entire heart. don't even get me started on arnold g

[peechbea]

@yukiteruakari said: Ooooh I wanna know more about your headcanons :>>

idk if you meant abt the fic or Leon in general but i’m using this opportunity to ramble anyway, rip-

right off the bat, i hc that Leon’s mother died during childbirth and his father was devastated about it, but in order to support himself and Leon, he moved in with his brother and sister-in-law. since Leon grew up in the same house as Kanon, that's why he views her as more of a sister than a cousin

this is one i’ve already talked about here BUT, i hc Leon’s real name to be Kazuo Kuwata, but that’s also his father’s name, so before he changed his name, people called his father by his name and then they called Leon “Kazzy” or “Kaz”

( hearing people call Kazuichi “Kaz” still throws him for a loop )

he doesn’t like violence actually!! he’s temperamental and snarky sometimes, but he’ll avoid violence whenever he can, unless he has to, yknow,,,defend himself, just in case that would ever happen lol-

to add onto the above, i also like to think he stays far away from violence because he didn’t as a kid and it landed him in juvie ( which i also like to think is where he met Mondo briefly, but neither of them really remember each other )

and to add onto THAT, while he will avoid throwing a punch if he can, he will absolutely intervene if other people are getting hurt. even at the risk of his own safety, he’ll be the diversion so the original victim can escape bc, unlike the victim, he actually CAN defend himself if he needs to

in the game, it’s quickly brushed over but they mention breakfast meetings and after Toko says she’s never had breakfast with anyone before, Leon also joins in and says that it’s “been a while for him too”, so i like to think he USED to have breakfast with his family a lot as a kid, but then when tensions grew between him and his dad, he eventually stopped showing up altogether

the hair stylist he talks about in his FTE is actually an ultimate and a good friend of his and her name is Kaori, but they only really talked in the time Leon attended Hope’s Peak so he forgot her name by the time the KG rolled around

his hair is actually brown and surprisingly wavy, he just slathers it in hair gel to keep it upright

to add onto the above, Kazuo has blonde hair and green eyes while Leon has brown hair and blue eyes, which are both traits of his mother. the fact that he looks so much like her yet keeps changing his appearance is another thing that pisses his dad off, mans never coped with her death properly

this one may get a little long, but bear with me: when he and Kanon were kids, his dad was incredibly closed off emotionally, his uncle was VERY busy, and his aunt always felt like she was trying to be his mom and he didn’t really like that, i like to believe there wasn’t really anyone for he or Kanon to go to if there was a problem. so, in order to be the big brother figure he believed Kanon wanted him to be, he shoved his own emotions and problems way down and focused on helping her instead. since he was really the only person who ever cared for her or tried to support her, that’s why she got way too attached to him. he just didn’t realize how bad it was until they got older, and he feels bad about possibly cutting her off because there’s no one else for her to go to.

thanks to how he grew up, he is INCREDIBLY closed off and doesn’t like showing his emotions to anyone because helping people is HIS job, he can’t have people help him if they see him break, that’s not how it works 

AND ANOTHER THING, since he often felt alone as a kid, he sought out attention from other people, so he thrived on the approval that baseball gave him. eventually, he kind of got addicted to that attention and would seek it out in any way he could. he quickly found out that bad attention often kept people talking about him more often than good attention did, so he built up a reputation as a player even though he was never really interested in girls to begin with

( speaking of, i do think he is homoromantic/pansexual, if that clears up any confusion there might’ve been rip )

he's also just, really good at masking how he feels?? like, i could look at his behavior in chapter 1 as just something to make the game run smoothly, but i wanna look at it like this: Leon is panicking, he's stressed because he committed a murder that he JUST found out he's going to have to try and get away with, and yet his behavior doesn't even change. he wears his usual mask, makes his usual comments, still has the balls to be kind of an ass to Toko, and all this while he's probably crumbling inside. he has had so long to cover his feelings, man-

also?? he will always introduce himself as “Leon Kuwata”, but when he’s alone and talks to himself out loud, he still refers to himself as Kazuo

despite being an extrovert, he's still incredibly anxious, and that extends to public outings!! because of this, he's developed a kind of code for his friends so they know what he needs since words don't always work. a tug to someone's sleeve means "i need a second to calm down", two tugs means "i'm uncomfortable" or "i don't like this conversation/what's happening", and three means "my social battery is out" or "i need to leave ASAP"

the clip on his jacket and all those rings + his necklace??? they're there for show, mans has ADHD he needs stuff to fidget with

sometimes his brain is on autopilot and his thoughts mix with that autopilot, which sucks when he has to sign autographs. there’s been times where he’s signed things as “Kazuo Kuwata” and just prayed no one mentioned it

he doesn't trust easily!! not because he doubts people's intentions, but because he can't be sure they won't try to 1) use his fame to propel themselves upwards or 2) help him with his problems, which circles back to an earlier point. he loves to be seen but god forbid anyone understand him

his wikipedia page? nearly empty. it has his feats and public information on it, but stuff like his birthday or his real name aren't correct. the part where it would mention his life story & background is completely blank. he's also edited his height to say 6'0" ( ~182 cm ), this is not true, his shoes just give him a little extra height

 this one is just self indulgent but i like to think he’s drawn to Byakuya because he has his entire life planned out for him and has for a long time, meanwhile Leon has no idea what he wants to settle on for sure and is anxious/stressed but Byakuya never seems to be like that. he always seems cool and collected, and as Leon’s polar opposite, it’s only natural that he’s drawn to him

[rigginsstreet]

gladys/alice + 53

53. Take off your shirt. (apologies in advance to any hal fans reading this lmfao i feel like i did him kinda dirty my bad. but hal haters are not allowed to clown on this post. also this did not turn out sexy just sad lmfao sorry)

read on ao3

She knew tonight would be a shit show. Didn’t matter that she had spent two weeks saving up money to actually buy a respectable enough outfit for dinner with the Coopers when she could have just stolen one. Because she wanted to fit in. Wanted them to like her. Didn’t want to feel like even more of an outcast in clothes she swiped from the local department store. 

Turns out, you can take the girl out of the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side out of the girl. Not according to Prudence Cooper and the giant stick he has lodged up her ass, anyway. 

Alice had been on her best behavior from the second she stepped foot on Elm Street. Had smiled and said all the right things. Had gone so far as to make Hal teach her proper dinner etiquette because she wanted to get everything perfectly right. And none of it mattered. Because all Prudence Cooper had done the whole night was look down her nose at her. Did that shit that all those bored, stuffy, suburban housewives do where they make these cryptic little jabs at you with a smile on their face so you have to think twice about if you’ve just been insulted. Because God forbid they say what they really feel. That’s too tacky, apparently. But playing mind games with a teenager is acceptable. 

By the time dinner was over Alice’s palms were bleeding from her nails digging into them so hard. Because, for as much as she wanted to jump over the table and deck Prudence Cooper in her little Puritan face, she knew better. Because, in spite of his nutjob mother, Alice still loved Hal. Even though she was questioning that allegiance now. 

Not once during that dinner from hell did he pipe his big mouth up to say anything in her defense. He’s her boyfriend. That’s supposed to mean something. All the shit she gets from everyone for dating a North Sider, a Cooper, no less, and she always defends him. And he can’t say one thing to his mother.

So now here she was, at some house party drowning her sorrows, her anger. She’d come here with Hal, she remembers that much. But the minute she stepped inside she made it her mission to stay away from him the rest of the night. She wanted to wipe all memory of Hal and the Coopers from her mind, and she was doing a pretty damn good job of it, if she said so herself. 

There was some blue concoction in a giant bowl in the kitchen that kind of tasted like ass, if she was honest. But, fortunately, it had lost all flavor by her third cup, so she kept going back for more.

She’s lost count by now of how many times she’s sent some freshman to fetch her a refill while she hides out in any other corner of the house that isn’t the kitchen because Hal gave up trying to chase her only for her to dodge him. Thought he was being smart parking it in the kitchen to wait for her to come back for another drink. Like she wouldn’t figure out a way around that one.

But apparently Hal’s wizened up to that plan, too. She can see him moving through the crowd of partygoers, obviously looking for her. She’s got the advantage, though, crouched down on the floor out of view. Time to move, though. Can’t risk Hal finding her and turning this night into an even worse fiasco.

Getting up proves to be a little more difficult than anticipated. The room immediately starts spinning, and she has to reach her hand out to the nearest wall to steady herself. Stands still, takes a couple of deep breaths, then she’s good to go. 

Except she’s not. Barely a step forward and she’s falling sideways into the wall. 

“Fuck,” she says on impact before falling into a fit of giggles. The wall suddenly feels like exactly where she needs to be. It’s nice. Soft. Safe...

“Jesus, Al, how much have you had tonight?”

There’s arms around her suddenly. Strong, but skinny. Not Hal’s. And that voice... definitely not Hal’s. Too feminine, even with the grit it possesses. Something oddly familiar she can’t quite place.

“‘m fine,” she says, trying to push out of whoever’s hold she’s in. The room’s so dark around her. Can’t see shit in front her, but that doesn’t matter. She’s just gotta move forward.

“Like hell you are. C’mon, where’s that boytoy of yours?”

Alice’s eyes flutter open at that. Suddenly the room’s not so dark anymore. Gladys Cohen is the one holding her up, she sees now. Because this night just had to get worse for her.

“Don’t wanna see him.” The words slur coming out of her mouth. 

Gladys huffs beside her. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m cutting you off.”

She reaches for the cup just as Alice is bringing it to her lips. The reaction is slow, but once Alice is keyed in to what Gladys is doing, she jerks her hand away out of reach. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a brat.” 

Gladys reaches over again for the cup, this time successfully getting ahold of it. Only serves to make Alice pull back, an anger flaring up inside her. 

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you get alcohol poisoning over a fight with your boyfriend, that’s so fucking cliche, Al!”

“It’s none of your business!”

Alice swings her arm back towards her in full force, and she feels it instantly. The warm liquid spilling down her shirt, pressing it to her skin. She looks down and sees nothing but a big purple splotch, the blue drink mixing in with the soft pink of her satin blouse. 

The blouse she spent weeks saving for. The blouse that was supposed to solve all her problems. The blouse that couldn’t save her from making a bad impression on Hal’s mother. 

A dam breaks. Tears free flow down her face and there’s a whine coming from the back of her throat, high and shrill and she doesn’t even care.

“Aw, shit. Al-”

“Everything’s ruined!” She yells with everything she has in her. Pounds both her fists into Gladys’ chest, hard enough that she stumbles back a step, before running off to the nearest bathroom.

She slams the door shut as soon as she gets inside. Grabs the nearest hand towel and places under the water and furiously starts scrubbing away at the stain. Some color rubs off onto the towel but it’s doing nothing to remove it from her shirt. 

Vision blurry with tears, Alice gives up, throwing the towel down with a growl before gripping the countertop in front of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears, but it does nothing. She should’ve known better. Playing dress-up for one night doesn’t change anything. She’ll always be South Side trash, and the universe won’t let her forget it. 

There’s a soft tapping at the door. Alice rubs her sleeve under nose before answering. “Go away.” But it’s half-hearted.

The door slowly opens. Gladys peaks her head through, like she’s making sure it won’t get bitten off. When she deems it safe enough she lets herself fully in, closing the door behind her. “You okay?”

Alice sniffles. “Do I look okay?”

“Maybe not your finest hour, but I’ve got no complaints.”

Alice rolls her eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” Gladys commands, jutting her chin out at her.

“I’m not in the mood, G-”

Gladys laughs. “And I’m not trying to fuck the drunk girl. Take off your shirt.” She sets a jug of detergent she must’ve gotten from the laundry room down onto the counter before sliding her jacket off. 

Alice gets the hint, then, and starts unbuttoning her blouse. Gladys is removing her own shirt - some old and hand-me-down Runaways tee - and handing it over. Stands there in nothing but her bra and ripped jeans.

With a tentative hand, Alice takes it, tries her best to avoid looking. Their fingers brushing for the briefest second before Gladys is reaching for the stained blouse. Gets to work on making it look new again.

Alice slips the old shirt on. Can smell the brand of cigarettes Gladys smokes on it. The ones they used to share under the bleachers between periods and behind the Wyrm before Alice decided to quite. There’s an undercurrent of something pleasant there, too. Cinnamon and cloves. A mix that is so distantly Gladys. It makes her head spin, but she’ll blame that on her drunken state.

It makes the tears start falling again.

“Woah, hey.” Gladys abandons the shirt in the sink and turns to pull Alice into her arms. “What’s got you all worked up, blondie?”

Sometimes Alice feels like she made a mistake. That she chose wrong. And she hates to admit because, because she loves Hal. But. She misses her old life, too. And right now... everything feels too familiar. In Gladys’ shirt, in Gladys’ arms. The way Gladys is petting her hair and making her feel okay when everything’s not okay. 

She pulls back enough to look Gladys in the eyes. Gladys traces a fingertip softly at her temple, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and in that split second Alice makes the decision to lean forward, press their lips together.

It’s wrong. She knows. Hal’s outside looking for her, worried about her. And here she is hiding away, kissing her ex girlfriend. 

Gladys’ mouth opens in a gasp, and Alice takes it as an invitation. Except. 

Gladys presses the palm of her hand to Alice’s chest, pushing her back gently. “I’m not doing this, Al,” she says. There’s no anger in her voice. No hostility, surprisingly. Just... a rational calm that Alice feels so far away from.

“Why not?” Alice pouts.

Gladys smiles, but it seems sad. “Because your boyfriend’s outside.”

“You don’t even like Hal.” She goes in for another kiss, but is stopped short with Gladys’ hand to her chest again.

“But you do. You’re drunk, and upset, and I’m not interested in taking advantage.”

“Gladys-”

Gladys slips her leather back on. Zips it up to just her navel before turning to open the door. She pauses, turns to nod at the shirt in the sink. “Be gentle with that but keep scrubbing. Should come out just fine. Then go make up with your boyfriend.”

She turns to leave for good this time, but the moment doesn’t feel finished. Things never really feel finished when it comes to them.

“Gladys?”

She’s chewing on her bottom lip when she turns to face Alice again. Eyebrows raised in expectancy. 

But there’s no words coming to Alice. Nothing feels significant enough to encapsulate the moment, everything she’s feeling. Hell if she even knows what she’s feeling. Longing? Regret? Apologetic? All of it all at once.

The silence hangs heavy between them, but Gladys must feel it, too. She gives Alice a final nod before leaving, shutting the door behind her. And Alice is left alone, wiping a tear from her eye.

[eratobard]

Saved by the Bell: Chapter 6

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geraskier, Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: G

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

~~~

Jaskier seemed more focused after he had eaten a few of the apple slices. Geralt found it cute how Jaskier stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating. Jaskier caught Geralt staring at him and winked, “You almost got your three done?”

Geralt averted his gaze and nodded, “Uh yes.” He had been done with the worksheet for a while.

“Great, me too!” Jaskier quickly filled out another question. “Done!” He jumped off the bed and skipped to his bedroom door, “Wanna do some cartwheels outside?”

Geralt nodded as he followed him outside. He watched as Jaskier bent forward, standing on his hands. His legs wobbled a bit as he walked around in the grass. Jaskier beamed, his face turning a bit red from the blood rushing to it, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to join?”

“I don’t… know how to cartwheel, or do a handstand,” Geralt mumbled.

“Oh!” Jaskier flipped back to his feet. “I can show you if you want.” Some of his hair was still stuck up in places. He pulled his shirt back down over his stomach.

“Okay…”

Jaskier held up his hands as he stood in front of Geralt, “First thing, put up your hands, and make a pose.” He stuck his right leg out and cocked his hip. He glanced over his shoulder, “The pose is important for confidence. You try.”

Geralt felt silly, but he listened anyway, putting his hands up, and attempting to mimic Jaskier’s pose. Jaskier watched him, hands on his hips, “Good, but the pose should be something you are comfortable with. You look scared.”

Geralt blushed, “I feel nervous.”

Jaskier placed his hand on his shoulders, “Don’t be. Here. Loosen up, like this.” He jumped slightly while shaking his arms and legs, rolling his neck.

Geralt exhaled while following Jaskier’s lead. He did feel a bit better. “I think I’m ready now…” He held up his hands and struck a pose. He looked more like a giant ‘X’ but it was a pose he was comfortable with. “What now?”

“Now you cartwheel!” Jaskier stood in front of Geralt again. He got into stance then rotated his body into a cartwheel. He made it look so easy. Jaskier twirled around to face him. “Ta-dah! Easy!”

Geralt frowned in concentration. He twisted to the side, but fumbled, only completing half of the cartwheel. He grunted as he tried to right himself.

Jaskier clapped in excitement, “That was a great first try! If you want to try again, I could spot you.”

“Spot me?” Geralt moved his long hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I can hold your legs, or stand by for support so you don’t fall.”

Geralt’s face grew warm at the thought of Jaskier holding onto his ankles. “Um, okay.” He moved into position again, with Jaskier facing him.

Jaskier winked, “Ready?” Geralt nodded and performed the cartwheel again. Jaskier steadied his legs and helped lead him through the cartwheel. He cheered when Geralt successfully completed it. “That was awesome! You did great.”

Geralt chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jaskier grinned, slinging his arm around Geralt, “That doesn’t take away your accomplishment. Sometimes people need help. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Julian, your break time is up. Time to get back to your homework,” Jaskier’s dad called from a window.

“Dad!” Jaskier whined, “I told you to call me Jaskier.”

“Sorry, I slipped. I’ll be more careful. Come inside. I made some lemonade.”

“Lemonade!” Jaskier cheered as he ran inside. He waved back at Geralt, “Come on, Dad’s lemonade is the best.”

The two sat at the kitchen bar as they gulped down the lemonade. Geralt hummed in contentment, “This is really good. Thank you Mr. Pankratz.”

Jaskier’s dad nodded, “No problem, glad you like it.”

Jaskier hopped down from the stool when he finished his lemonade off. “Alright! Back to work!”

“You need to finish 8 questions this time.”

“Noo~,” Jaskier flopped his head against the counter, covering his face with his arms, “That’s too many…”

Jaskier’s dad gently patted his back, “Do your best. If you need to break it up that’s fine, but try for eight.” He smiled at Geralt, “Thank you for helping Jaskier with his homework.”

Jaskier huffed and lifted his head, “I’m helping him too.”

Geralt nodded, “Yes, he is.”

Mr. Pankratz chuckled and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, “I’m glad. Try to finish up your homework. Your mother will be home soon.”

Jaskier grumbled as he adjusted his hair, “Fiiiine.” He smiled as he wrapped an arm around Geralt’s, “Let’s go finish our homework. Then we can play a game or something.”

Geralt’s skin tingled where Jaskier was touching his arm. With how affectionate Jaskier was, he thought he would have gotten used to his touch by now. It still gave him butterflies in his stomach. 

They had been working for a bit when he informed Jaskier he had to go to the bathroom. Jaskier pointed in the direction of the bathroom, “Off the right of the kitchen. You can’t miss it, but if you do, dad can point you in the right direction.”

Geralt nodded and followed where he had indicated. He was right, it hadn’t been hard to find. As he entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him he heard a high screeching noise.

“Darling~! I’m home!”

‘It must be Jaskier’s mom,’ Geralt thought as he tried to complete his business in the bathroom.

Jaskier’s dad grunted in response. Geralt pictured Mrs. Pankratz leaning on her husband dramatically as she spoke, “Oh you brute! Is that how you greet your wife after not seeing her for so long?” Geralt imagined Jaskier’s mother was where he got most of his dramatic behavior from.

“I saw you this morning.”

Mrs. Pankratz gasped, “How cruel… where is my son? Surely he will give me the love and attention I deserve.”

“He’s in his room doing homework. He has a friend over, so try not to embarrass him.”

“Me? Embarrass him?” she sounded offended. “I would never!”

Jaskier’s dad chuckled, “I’m serious. Jaskier really seems to like this one.”

Geralt’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He shouldn’t be listening to this, but he needed to use the restroom and his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Oh? Is that so? They’re in his room? I should go take a peak.”

Mr. Pankratz seemed to have stopped her from his displeased whine. “Jaskier is being good and concentrating on the work. I haven’t seen him so focused in a while.”

The knowledge made Geralt want to laugh. He had never seen Jaskier so unfocused…

Mrs. Pankratz huffed, “Fine… what’s he like? Is he tall? Cute? What’s his name? How long has Jaskier known him? Is it a homework date or are they hanging out as friends? Has he confessed his feelings yet?”

Her husband stopped the barrage of questions, “His name is Geralt. I’m not going to judge a growing boy’s appearance. I’m not sure about the other questions.”

“You are terrible at gathering information.” If she was anything like Jaskier, and Geralt figured she was, she was pouting right now.

“I’m not going to be your spy.”

“Traitor,” she grumbled.

“Mom! You’re home!”

Geralt groaned internally. He must have taken so long Jaskier came to check on him. His stomach gurgled from his anxiety.

Jaskier’s voice sounded muffled as his mom fawned over him, “You’re suffocating me.”

“Sorry sugar cube, I just missed you so much!”

“Dad, have you seen Geralt? He went to the bathroom a bit ago and I was checking to make sure he was okay.”

Geralt shook his head and decided to give up. He could try later. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. Geralt exited the bathroom to see a female twin of Jaskier. Her long brunette hair curled at the ends, and framed her face nicely. Her blue eyes widened when she saw Geralt walk into the kitchen.

“You must be Geralt!” she beamed with a smile almost identical to Jaskier’s. She rushed forward and hugged him. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Mom!” Jaskier huffed, “Geralt doesn’t like being touched.”

She gasped and pulled away, “I’m sorry dear. I forget myself sometimes.”

Geralt blushed and shook his head, “It’s fine.”

She clicked her tongue as she shook her head, “It’s not fine. I need to work better on my boundaries. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”

Jaskier leaned on Geralt, hanging over him like a backpack, “He’s fine! Dad, is dinner almost ready? Can Geralt join us?”

Mrs. Pankratz clapped her hands excitedly, “Yes! He should join us! Geralt would you like to have dinner with us?”

“Lilia,” Mr. Pankratz’s tone was firm. “I’ve already talked to his mother. He’s having dinner with us and then we’ll take him home.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lilia placed a hand on her hip. She smiled at Geralt, “That’s wonderful. Alfred is a good cook.”

Geralt’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. He was excited to spend more time with Jaskier. Jaskier poked his cheek as he continued to lean against him, “Is that cool?”

Geralt nodded, smiling, “Yes, thank you.”

~~~

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~~~

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[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Kill Me Hardly (Ch. 1)

Summary: You weren’t dead, but you weren’t fully alive. After a whole year of solitude, seeing your family mourn for your comatose state, and seeing the disembodied figures of other but silent spirits, you were hoping that your suffering would end. What’s this? Somebody could finally see you? Oh, he’s looming over a battered officer, bloodied wallet held tightly within his hand, staring straight at you with malice.  

 Thank You, once again, @youtubequeens, or Rita, for brainstorming the plot with me on this fic~! She helped me with the plot, ideas, and thirst for angst and fluff, yet the written gore and grim stuff is on me, folks, my friend is innocent, and her blog doesn’t have any violent nor terrible things like the stuff that’s in the fic.  

This fic has a lot of angst and it just fills our need for suffering. Heed the warnings, please. Reader’s a lil’ shit to the only one who can see her, and Tai’s a tsundere villain who kinda (a lot) wants to kill her, but doesn’t know where she is. Mainly angst and horror.

Warnings not in order and can be triggering: Angst! Villain! Fatgum (he does not so nice things in this one, sorry folks), too much cussing, mentions of murder, attempted murder, murder, seeing dead people, descriptions of gore, dark thoughts, loneliness, accepting the thoughts of death (reader’s a ghost), hopelessness, and a lot of things that is possibly triggering to some audiences. If you want straight up fluff, I have other fics, Thank You.

………..

  It’s always been the same since last year. You would float near your body, waving your hand in front of the thin, grisly, sad excuse of a human being that your soul had once fully inhabited. Now you were literally a ghost of your old self, your heart tearing into pieces at the sight of stricken faces of grief from those who had visited you. You could speak to them, but they could never hear, nor see you.

  At first, crying would be an understatement. You clutched your chest, sobbing with heart that felt shattered as your form wracked with grief. You repeated the same words in a mantra as your mother looked upon your body with her own expression of pain and loss, clutching your father’s hands as he mimicked the atmosphere. Your brother was nowhere to be found, you clenched your teeth, feeling very angry as the heartbeat on the monitor remained the same, slow beat.

In limbo. Not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, it was your state of existing. At first, you were terrified of the others, seeing broken, bloody bones peek from underneath torn skin, white, ashen eyes stared into nothing as they drolled along the hallways of the hospital, forever in a time that they only knew existed as they paid nobody nor anything else any mind as the ones who couldn’t see them, walked through them. Every time one would loll past you, you hid, not daring to let one of those things touch your own ghostly appearance.

 Your body was slowly but surely healing, the wound that had been violently afflicted from your neck to your clavicle, was bandaged up neatly, healing at it’s own pace, while you had to endure the nasty, raw and bloodied version on your ghostly appearance. It didn’t hurt physically like you thought it would, but it was a constant reminder of betrayal, mixed with shock and disbelief.

Day by day, you’ve gotten more acquainted with the raw, hurtful loneliness. Nobody could see you, other ghosts couldn’t talk to you, and you had to bear witness to not only the grief of your family slowly losing hope, but as well other families watching their loved ones on death beds. It was sickening, sad, and you wished that you were finally dead. It didn’t matter, whether it be heaven or hell, you wanted everything to stop.

You could travel outside, you discovered. There was no limit from how much your soul could travel without your body, you tried. Although you didn’t mind the distance, you didn’t want to be too far gone from your main hot spot. Of course, nobody else from the outside could see you, either. Animals could sense you, you thought with a final thought of relief as you decided to make your way to the zoo. They could not see you, but they knew that you were there, and unfortunately, it caused them to be in a state of unrest at the supernatural entity that in which was you, lingered.

……..

A year has passed. Your parent’s and other family member’s visits had dwindled down to a dead stop, as the police kept looking for your ever elusive traitor of a brother. It took a while for you to get use to the nightmares. Even as a spirit, you could still sleep, apparently. You didn’t like to, though.

Images kept flashing through your head of the knife glinting in the moonlight, the cold, passive stare of your blood-relative as he raised the weapon of choice down onto your throat. You let out a scream, jolting awake, shaking with tears dripping down, you hiccuped, wanting to vomit as you felt cold and empty, frantically gripping your throat as you laid next to your body. You wanted to grasp it’s throat, and squeeze, you couldn’t help but think as your hand faded through the pulse point of it’s neck.        

 It never gotten better. There was no hero for you to call, and you were seemingly forever at a stalemate in between the fate of life and death. It wasn’t fair, you thought bitterly as you could almost feel the insanity crawling inside your thoughts like crickets.

 It was a beautiful October night, with the full moon looming overhead, illuminating the darkened alley ways of the concrete jungle. You usually stayed by your body, at night, not really interested in the nightly crimes that you just so happened across, regularly. You always felt exhausted and terrified because you couldn’t do anything. The violent actions and behaviors triggered your own memories, you shivered in disgust.

Tonight, it was different. You had an odd feeling. A gurgled groan echoed from one of the alleys, snapping your attention to the sound. It never helped when you investigated, not being able to alert the police, who also couldn’t notice you, and you would usually stare with helplessness as the scenes unfurled.

“I’ll teach ya, ya greedy fuckin’ bastard!” An angry huff followed suit minutes after, and you felt your curiosity peak as you floated on towards the darkened area. Was it a gangster this time? The gruff voice had an unusual American twang to the normal Japanese accent, and despite your better judgment, you felt oddly comforted by it. Maybe you were losing your sanity, after all, you thought with mirth.  

Your eyes widened with surprise as you finally neared the situation. It wasn’t surprising that the man was holding a bloody wallet to his hand, sneering down at the unconscious police officer, no. It was the man himself who surprised you. Dark orange hoodie, black mask, darkened jeans, and black leather gloves covered the giant of the bara-like villain of the man. Fatgum, the large, yet elusively most-wanted villain in Osaka.

Although the murderous gang he was acquainted with had disappeared, he was more of a notorious violent thief who preyed upon well-known targets, now. He couldn’t see you, you thought, but it still sent chills down your spine at the thought that he was a ruthless, violent murderer.  

Yet, you were a ghost. Time seemed to stop as  his attention in what seemed to be a millisecond, snapped towards you, and the two of your eyes widened with surprise. It couldn’t be, could it? After a whole year of nothing glancing your way, finally, you felt the intense stare of a person noticing you. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because yes, somebody finally noticed you and could see you, but it was a notorious villain with a violent streak.

If there was a god or spiritual deity who ruled over humans, they appeared to feed on your suffering.

“What’s this? The fuck ya doin’ outta the hospital, lil’ woman? The fuck’s up with yer wound, eh? And why the fuck are ya out in dark alleys, creepin’ up on criminals?” His eyes glinted within the moonlight, bright orange staring you down with a look mixed with disbelief, amazement, and pure confusion as he took in your gown clad form and bloody scar.

“You can see me?” Blurted out of your mouth, and his expression stilled, before letting out a sleazy grin followed by a bellow of laughter.  

“A lil’ too early to dress up for Halloween, ain’t it, Sugar? Heh, fuck. I really didn’t want any witnesses.”

He stepped towards you, and you instinctively stepped back as he closed the distance between the two of you. He couldn’t hurt you, you knew better, but it was the way how he was doing it. Images of your brother flashed through your mind, the cold, slinking feel of the knife jutting into your skin had made your eyes squeeze shut.

“Now, now, Princess,” He cooed mockingly as he stood directly in front of you, letting you take your time to really look at him. He was a few inches away from your face, leaning down to make sure that he was eye-level with you as he offered a false smile.

“How ‘bout you go back to whatever party that yer from, an’ pretend that this is all a lil’ nightmare in the mornin’, hm? Don’t wanna live a real one, don’tcha?” He grinned.

A nightmare? This was a nightmare! Yet, however, a thought clicked in your mind. It was a quick, fleeting thought, but it struck a cord within you.

“It’s a shame that the only one who can see me, is a villain.” You huffed, and his eye twitched.

“Pardon? I’m basically givin’ you an out, an’ yer gonna continue with yer dumb costume charade? Ya ingrate!” He growled out, slamming one of his hands against the brick wall next to your head. You couldn’t help but flinch, but you felt momentarily reckless and stupid, and really wanted to finally talk to somebody.

“I’ve been living my own nightmare for a year, Fat-chan. If you could find a way to send me away, please do. Until then,” You felt an uncharacteristic grin take over your features as you boldly reached up, letting your hand fade through his face. His eyes widened comically in sheer disbelief, a look that trumped his earlier look of shock, and you felt triumphant. “I’m going to haunt you.”

“The fuck you are! Who are ya! How!? I am gonna kill ya, again, ya demonic gremlin!” He growled out, punching the wall that was behind you, and you looked at his arm fazing through your abdomen. Good choices weren’t really in your state category of mind, right now, but you honestly couldn’t care, less.

“I’m a ghost, not a gremlin. I need to find my brother, and I think you know who and where.”

“I’m not helpin’ the ghost of Christmas Ass, less an actual fuckin’ ghost! What the fuck?” He was panicking, staring straight down at you with a disbelieving frown marring his features, chest rising and falling quickly as he further took your form in. You frowned, before thinking.

Sure you’d thought he’d panic, but not like this.

“Calm down. I was panicking at first when I found out that my own body was lying beside me. If I can handle it, surely you can, Mr. Villain Murderer.” You shrugged as you gave him that name. He stared at you and your wound, letting your words sink in as he didn’t budge.

“I’m talkin’ to a fuckin’ ghost.”

“Rather loudly, too. Hope your friend doesn’t wake up.” You admitted, pointing to the stirring cop.

“Shit!” He let out, and bolted. You followed him effortlessly, cutting through walls as you floated behind his racing form.

“Stop fuckin’ following me!” He hissed, panting as he leered at you from the side of a dumpster.

“I told you, I’m going to haunt you.” You pointed out.

“Annoyin’ as shit. The fuck’s up with ya? Follow somebody else!” He whispered.

“You’re the only one who can see me, though. So, no. I’m going to do whatever I want to do, anyway, so all you’re doing right now, is wasting time beside smelly garbage.” You quipped, earning you an ugly, seething scowl.

        “This isn’t happening.” He muttered underneath his breath, staring at you with the same wide-eyed shock mixed in with a common annoyance.

“You’ll get use to it. Think of it as penance for your crimes, or something. I’m feeling elated that I finally get to talk to somebody.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He threw up his hands, trying to ignore you as you basically followed his grumbling, muttering form. You didn’t need to say anything, feeling your own shock and surprise that you did that. To a known villain, who couldn’t lay a finger on you.

Your thoughts lingered on the possibility of him killing you. Nobody truly wanted to die, but you felt that he’d be doing you a service. It was a gruesome thought, but you were already sort of dead, anyway.

“Twenty percent chance of waking up.” The doctor’s words echoed within your head as you looked back on the memory. The grief inflicted on their faces, haunted you more than any efforts that you could make. You had plenty of time to think, after all. A year in thoughts, nightmares, and ideas filtered through you as you realized things that you’ve once missed.

Your brother’s cold exterior worsening as you made it towards college, you paying little to no attention to his behavior as your grades skyrocketed, and your parents began to obviously favor you more. It wasn’t your fault that he acquainted himself with the wrong crowds of people. The known drug addicts, street fights, and illegal dealings had made himself an outcast from your family.

You half minded the tree of the man who you had decided to pin yourself to. Maybe being alone wasn’t the best choice, but it was the smartest choice. If you did wake up after surviving such a feat, this villain could easily take your life away from you. Yet. You were hungry to just talk to somebody, feel their stare as they listened to you, and actually talking back. A starved dog was a desperate dog, you thought with ill humor. He could entertain you for a while, until fate had gripped it’s claws back into you.

“This is the place. Listen here, ya lil’ wench, I’m not hostin’ Casper an’ all of yer other friends, Capiche?” He seemed to calm down as he all but accepted his fate as he stopped in front of a seemingly nice apartment complex. You were surprised that it wasn’t worn down, but it made sense, since that he was a thief.

“Fine by me. I’ll sleep on the couch.” You said, and he gave you a look.

“Ghosts can fuckin’ sleep?”

“Surprised me, too.”

“What the fuck. Ya better not do other shit, such as be inside of my body, ye fuckin’ parasite.” He growled, and you let out a grin.

“Not without your consent, first.” Slipped out of your mouth without hesitation.

At this, he choked on his own spit with surprise, giving you an incredulous look.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“A gho-

“Don’t be a smart-ass. Shit, the only company I have had in over a decade, an’ it’s a fuckin’ dead person.” He growled, unlocking the door, slipping inside before slamming it closed on your surprised face. His outburst didn’t matter to you, but the fact that he let an important part of himself slip so easily, did. You couldn’t help the thoughts swirl into your head.

Was he lonely as you were?

You entered without knocking, noticing that the place was rather neat, yet it smelled awful. Like cigarettes. He sat down at the kitchen table, huffing the white stick as the embers glowed a bright red, glaring up at you, as if challenging you to say something. You floated to the seat in front of him, focusing on your spiritual energy to seat yourself.

“You’re lonely.”

He blew the smoke in your face. Although you had no lungs to cough, you wafted the nasty smell away from you.

“Yer a busy-body stalker who should mind her own fuckin’ business.”

“I have no other business to mind, really. I’m just waiting for fate, I guess.” You shrugged. He eyed you, taking you in silence as you could see the wheels basically turning in his head.

“So, if I help ya pass into the light, or whatever, you’ll forever leave me the fuck alone?” The question caught you off guard as you stared at him. That’s right, he didn’t know that you weren’t fully dead.

“I’m in limbo.”

“Limbo?”

“In between life and death. I have to wake up, or die.” You finished. He set his cigarette down, eyeing you with a blank look as he finally took time to take your wound in.

“Somebody did that to ya, huh? Yer in comatose.”

He was keen, you admitted. You decided that you liked that of your “host”.

“You’re correct.”

“Ya...mentioned a brother, earlier?”

“Correct.”

You jumped as he then slammed his fist harshly against the table, the violent action harshly contradicting his curious behavior. Wide-eyed, you stared at him as a dangerous, churning glint lit up his eyes as he grit his teeth in a snarl. It was unlike his previous expressions, and it worried you.

“Look, I might not like ya, an’ I’m toyin’ with the chance of killin’ ya myself, but...fuck! That’s dirty an’ shitty. Yer own family comin’ at ya like that? Bastard couldn’t do the job properly?” He hissed out, and you felt a bit of tears well in your eyes. Quickly, you wiped them away as he continued to be in his own little spell of pure anger. It was the first time that somebody was angry for you after the incident, you thought. After everything, all you could see was your parent’s grief and sadness, the pitying looks from strangers as your face appeared on the news. Then it dwindled to a winter-like still. Life moved on without you.

“Tch. It’s not my business, though. I gotta long lists of hits, this week, an’ I don’t need a sad ass ghost story to chase after.” He huffed in irony, yet it was as if you could see through him. He was hurting, too, but not from your pain. Something like your story had rubbed him the wrong way, and it was as if the information had dawned on you.

“Then this sad little ghost story will follow you. I have a feeling that in both of our cases, misery likes company.” You admitted, and his eyes turned towards you with realization that you were still there.

“Yer smarter than I thought. I can probably have use of you, yet. Tell ya what, you help me, an’ I’ll help you. Ya want’im murdered?” He asked, hinting at your brother. The way he was pinning you down with a look, gave away something that he wasn’t saying, yet you had a feeling that he was daring you to tell him yes.

“No.” You opted instead, and to your surprise, he blinked at you, trying to hide a look of oddly placed relief. So he was laying a trap for you, and you deflected it.  

“I want him found, and dealt with the authorities. I...he’s still my brother. It’s shitty what he did, I know, and it’s tough to acknowledge the obvious truth, but...I want him to get help. See what he’s done, regret it. Move on.” Your words spilled out as Fatgum’s attention was pinned onto your mournful expression.

“Ya’re weak. Too fuckin’ forgiving. He’s not gonna get help, he’s gonna resent those around ‘im, an’ stay a childish brat.” He spat out, and your eyes widened.

“How do you know?” You all but snapped, and he grinned, but there was no light nor humor to it.

“’Cause I’ve seen and dealt with the same fuckin’ thing for years. I’m one of ‘em.” He admitted it so casually, yet there was an edge to it at the last part of the sentence, something that you couldn’t exactly place.

“I don’t think it’s never too late. I wonder if he regrets it. If he’s grieving.” You let out softly, hands on your cheeks as your thoughts focused solely on your brother. Fatgum’s huff made you snap your attention back towards him.

“I’m going to bed. Can’t believe I’m talkin’ to a fuckin’ ghost as if it’s a frickin’ therapy session.” He changed the subject.

“I mean, you and I both could probably use a few classes.” A grin found it’s way to your face, and he rolled his eyes.

“Go to sleep. See ya in the mornin’, I guess.” He stood up, squishing the cigarette deep in the ashtray as he scowled.

“Night, Fat-chan.” You hummed, and he looked at you.

“No sense in that shit. Ya can call me Taishiro. Don’t make a fucki-”

“Night, Tai-chan!” You beamed.

“-ng nickname- oh what the hell ever. Night-”

You gave him your first name, interrupting him, once again.

“-shitty ghost. Ugh.” He opted instead, walking into the direction of his bedroom. You didn’t follow him. Instead, you respected his privacy, just this once as you floated onto the clean couch. This was happening, the thoughts had whirled inside your head as you still felt a little in shock. It was as if it was a fever dream in which you couldn’t escape, and instead, you dragged somebody else with you.

Granted he was a villain with a bad choice of habits and words, yet, you couldn’t really fully hate him. He intrigued you, you thought. Rough around the edges, yet oddly merciful and open to a complete stranger. Well, it wasn’t as if you could tell anybody, and if you did, what was he going to do about it? He didn’t know your body’s location. He knew this, and decided to perhaps play along to your little game, you thought.

It didn’t matter. You were going to get to the bottom of this, and hopefully, just maybe, fate can finally make a decision on your fading life.

………

Notes: This will be more than one chapter, I’ll add more when I can!  

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Her Lullaby

i said i’d post it today without a time, so here it is! you actually get to meet some of my favorite super-side-characters in this haha–

remember this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments are reception are always appreciated.

-

Oliver was off at school, leaving Ayu to his own wits at the house. Though, the assignment for finishing a section of the textbook deemed itself… ill-tasting for Ayu’s attention. 

He doodled instead, most definitely, cursing his own drawings in the meantime. Thoughts of the events days prior already passed by his mind as almost nothing out of the ordinary. To be fair, however, Eilwen’s tests did pop up from time to time. 

Despite the scenes he drew, those crosses and his own blood seeped an abnormality into himself while tapping his fresher skin. It ticked him. The thoughts of his relations to Akeldama poisoning him beckoned as another one of his mistakes. But I should’ve expected that, shouldn’t I? 

Then there was Eilwen herself: follower in Akeldama’s society being punished by such simple items. The idea of her hands holding still from the burning cross stuck to him, leading him to wonder his own curiosities. Is everyone else the same, he asked. Certainly, they must have had pain tolerances similar to Eilwen’s words. 

But, then again, he always had somebody to ask. 

“Vittorino?” 

“What is it, now,” he asked. His form appeared out by his and Oliver’s bed, sitting with an irked face. 

“You… know Eilwen right?”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m taking you to see her later today.”

“I am?”

“It was a last-minute call,” he replied. “But why are you asking about her?” 

Ayu adjusted himself before answering the question. “I just want to know what you know about her.”

The question brought Vittorino to a side-eye of thought, but he shrugged nonetheless. “There’s not much I know about her, or any first eras other than Alice –but everyone knows about her really–. All she really does is hate on Akeldama and stick herself inside her own room, but most of ‘em keep to themselves like us too.”

He fidgeted. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” He then asked, “What, did she do something weird?” 

“I guess she did…” He brought an explanation to the table. “I guess she was wondering about what’s happened to my body after dealing with Akeldama, which that was weird but… She tested me with a cross and her hands looked like they were burning…”

Vittorino’s calm face dropped just the slightest. 

“She said it happens to everyone because of contracts, but she didn’t even bat an eye at it. I figure she’s just strong about it. She seems strong. But I just want to know how it is with other members in the society since– since it burned me immediately yet she took it like a champ.” 

“Wait it burned you?” He nodded. “Huh, I didn’t expect that… I figured Oliver would but–. Anyways, you really wanna know about that stuff, don’t you?” Within a whim, Vittorino brought himself down to Ayu’s sitting level. 

“It’s just been stuck in my mind for a while.”  

“And that’s a bad thing to get stuck behind.” Digging through, he buried his hands into his pocket, viewing downwards whilst doing so. Soon, steam appeared out of the pocket as he paused, only to bring himself at a sigh when he brought it out. 

There laid a wooden cross against his skin, burning up in a red yet he too held no response. “It’s a simple thing: it burns whatever is associated with a demon like Akeldama.”

“He’s a demon?” 

“Probably,” he answered, “We figured once Alice told us some stuff.”

“So, he’s that bad…”

“Well, people take him for granted,” Vittorino commented. “Anyhow, this stuff is painful, yeah, but it’s just that some of us are used to the feeling by now.” 

Ayu asked, “Why?”

“Because…” Vittorino shook his head, storing the cross back in his pocket and standing back up. “Because some of us like holding it sometimes… to think about things.”

“… Vittorino–”

The tallest chuckled to himself, turning back to Ayu with a cheeky smile. “I think I’m one of the only second eras who even do it, but it’s just because it’s funny. Like, we aren’t even allowed to hold it, how idiotic is that? It just shows how ridiculous all that stuff is.”

The lie radiated to Ayu’s discomfort, a good one for sure considering his character, but a detection in lies were somewhat of a tendency. “Vittorino, are you sure this isn’t about…”

He pushed the idea aside, “No, they were all idiotic. That’s why I left the whole place.” His foot tapped impatiently. “Do you want to go to Eilwen’s early or something?” 

Ayu blinked at him, then back at the textbook. “… I mean, if it gets me out of language arts.” 

Opening a door already, Vittorino rolled his eyes. “He really wants you learning all that?” 

He followed him over to the forest entrance. “It’ll be important for when I’m older, and I really need to catch up anyways.” 

“Yeah, like learning phonetics can help you fight stuff or whatever.”

“Ollie said that shouldn’t be my priority anymore–”

“That’s what Oliver said,” he argued, “but not what you decided.”

He ventured himself into the darker woods that steeped itself by its depths of a hillside. The conversation obligated Ayu to follow. 

“I’ve been watching both of you ever since you guys had to be relevant in my life, and all you do is care about and follow others. But what about yourself?” The steps he trudged formed a beat to themselves, as if of a slow march. “Oliver’s was easy to notice since him caring causes him to start dying, and he stopped following people a while ago, but you’re less noticeable. For everyone, you’re less noticeable, since you aren’t dying from it. However, you keep caring and giving yourself away for other people. You’ll kill yourself eventually from just doing that.”  

The speech brought fear to Ayu’s throat, as he gulped at those last words. 

“’Everyone is manipulated by everything, but it’s in everyone’s power to take their own control.’” he glared down at Ayu. “That’s what I’ve been taught, and by now I think you should learn it for once.”

“… You were taught that by Akeldama, weren’t you?” 

He answered, “Obviously. Like I said, he’s taken for granted with some things he says.” 

Ayu had to argue then. “Vittorino, he’s a terrible person.” 

“So, what if he’s a bad person? For me, he made me the great and living person I am today and got rid of so many lost causes from making more chaos.” 

The excused seemed invalid with many counterarguments. “He caused the deaths of a bunch of lives because he felt like it.” 

“And that’s where it is: he does what he feels. He has nothing holding him back and we can’t even imagine all the events he’s had in his life. He doesn’t follow anyone and that’s what makes him great!” 

His excitement over the conversation peaked the slightest with his voice and giddy hands, to Ayu’s dismay. 

“Oliver’s right, you’re a weird fuck.” 

“If those guys are the ones that are free from all those rules,” he chuckled. 

As they walked, Ayu tripped on a root again. “Why are we even walking here? Didn’t you want to drop me off at Eilwen’s?” 

He shrugged. “I just like walking here, and I don’t actually have access to her room. She locked me out of it.”

“I…” Somehow, Ayu yelled in anger, “Vittorino! –”

*** 

Eilwen was found in the wild an hour later conversing with Alice. Though she hesitantly brought him back to the black-box. 

As they sat together in their separate chairs, Ayu questioned her silence. “Why did you bring me here now?” 

At the question, she bit her thin lip, her eyes piercing at him with an unknown feeling. Then sighed, “I asked Alice about your body’s behavior, and why you even have such odd relations with Akeldama… And I’m afraid I’ve now been tasked to prepare you for that answer yourself.”

Ayu blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“I cannot explain any details. I’m sorry. However, you are not here for that; you’re here to learn of other matters.” Standing up, she grabbed her candle to light up others from behind her back, illuminating a distinct chart connected to her watch by a string. “That being the current members of the society today.” 

Admittedly, Ayu groaned in the inside. “Can’t you take me on flashbacks again for this?” 

She shook her head. “No, that’s rather unnecessary. I’ll only be explaining each briefly.” A face mirroring a sigh planted on herself. “Then you’ll meet some yourself.”

The last section peaked his interest at an instant, as his eyes beamed at attention once said. “You mean I have to meet them?” 

“As annoying as it is yes. However, considering your importance, they won’t harm you now especially after the Margaret incident.”  She shook her head, adjusting her hat while setting up her watch. “Now then, let’s begin with the second eras.” 

*

After many psychopaths and silly characters in such a presentation, the watch clicked onto the final member. In his seat, Ayu sat intrigued but rather tired, with his arm barely lifting his head up. All the faces he only met on the board deemed themselves a weighing amount to handle by sight from their demeanors and smiles or frowns. 

At least some members seemed human. 

“Finally, we have the accursed, Bluebell.”

Ayu tilted his head. “Accursed?”

The picture brightened up with a woman in the forefront. Her body still like a portrait, she hung against a wreath of giant flowers delicately with her gown and hair flowing. Her hair welcomed itself like long roots of strawberry blonde that breezed down up until her waist. The gown glowed in a gentle white, small patterns of flowers speckled across its edges and rims, and sleeves cuffed under her wrists leaving an airy puff to her arms. But within it all, crowned with flowers colored vibrant and beautiful upon her freckled skin, she smiled, wide and calm. 

The beauty and serene nature of her image calmed Ayu as that of a young, mystical mother. However, previous members already brought him to a distrust. Plus, ‘accursed’ was finally explainable with her appearance. 

“Don’t trust her.” Eilwen explained, “While Bluebell is objectively the most gorgeous of the first eras, she is most definitely the least liked.”

“And why her specifically?”

“She’s just a sinister addle pate,” she grumbled. “She has not talked much of her origins but she either lied to many or she held multiple jobs as a caretaker, nursemaid, and florist whilst as a young mother. The happenings to what happened to her child are unknown, though she joined Akeldama without them.”

The image, in Ayu’s mind, continued to stare down into his soul somehow. While doing so, Eilwen explained her abilities and methods of extermination.

The concepts blended with Ayu rather poorly along with all the other new faces. “I get she hunts down kids but aren’t I safe?”

She replied, “It’s difficult to consider… and to explain. She likes to fool around with everybody in general. Although, I’m not sure if you’d even be affected by her.”

Through some thinking, Ayu shrugged. “I’ll be fine; Oliver’s singing is probably better anyways.”

Eilwen’s expression downed itself, proceeding to blow out the candles near the board and summoning a door. “I’m sure you will.” The door opened up her hands, which signaled Ayu to jumped out of his chair. “Follow me, please.”

And so, he stepped on out along her side, yet through the door was not the average forest of Fowls. Glass-ridden, a topless hallway was formed, large and wide in its endless interior. On each side of its walls placed multiple doors all of which caked against each other in their designs, along with small silver plaques beside them all. 

“Woah…” Ayu breathed out into a smile. “This is cool!” 

“This is where you have access to the houses and fields of every member in history.” The coat that blanketed her shuffled whilst she returned back to the door behind them. “Many will be empty, I warn you. And I won’t be accompanying you due to all their annoyances.”

As the door closed, he asked her. “Wait- Wait! How am I supposed to get back here? Or back to you?” 

“Elementary, now that you’re here, just think of this hall and the door will appear. Don’t hassle over it.” Then the door finally faced him flat, its carvings of bells and old clocks mocking him. 

The situation brought Ayu to a grumble, not so much any fear in his bones more so irritation of mentors. Perhaps the day was a bad mood, we will never know. Though after a huff and sigh, Ayu trudged forward to the first door in sight.

The new entrance glossed itself in comparison to all the other wood-like structures, shining along carvings of fancy men. 

One of Ayu’s eyes lifted up at the design, its properness making itself more of an oddity. And already his guesses as to who it was appeared in his mind. He took a breath, motivating himself to enter in, and with his sight closed, he opened the door. 

Barging in, Ayu stopped himself before his speed kicked in. Opening his blind view, he was met with velvets and greens, as well as stairs to his questioning. Stepping over, he greeted himself to what seemed to be a rich brat’s lair. 

Yep, it’s him. 

At the edge of the floor, a table sat furnished in cards and coins, as well two party members sitting on each side. 

“… I draw three.”

“What do you mean you draw three? I had just went all in.” 

“Well, you always cheat so you’ll be disqualified in two seconds once King comes back.” 

“But don’t we always cheat?” 

“Yeah, but the two of us can’t manipulate the card order.” 

“Then that’s just too bad to be you.” 

The two conversed at the singular turn. Their bickering brought Ayu to a slight familiarity. Soon, he spoke out, “You’re… Eden and Cosmina, right?” 

They turned at him instantly, the girl holding a card by her two fingers without hesitation. The appearances began to clear up for Ayu, however their clothing and accessories contradicted that of past sights. The man, Eden, seemed to have lengthy brunette hair tied to the back, edges still rolling off from the knot and blocking up some of his face, though a piercing still appeared by the edge of his lip. His top comfortably laying against his torso and thighs as a well-knit turtleneck, yet the sleeves ripped themselves off. Then Cosmina’s hair changed to that of a slim cut down to her chin, with her uniform only consisting of a tank-top, shorts, and thin coat. 

Eden questioned, “Are you the kid Alice mentioned earlier?” 

“I thought he’d look more off-putting,” Cosmina commented. “Not that I’ll complain. Were you expecting King?” 

Hesitantly, Ayu nodded. 

She stared down into his soul. “Timid, I see. Well, there’s not much to be weary of here. We won’t bite, if that’s what you’re thinking. And King’ll be here soon, he’s only getting essentials.” 

Ayu’s words stumbled within themselves, ultimately bring nothing of a reply. 

“You’re calling booze an essential?” 

“What else are we supposed to do waiting here? Might as well get a little tipsy.”

“I…”

“Jesus fucking Christ you couldn’t believe the number of parents at the liquor store today!” The door behind them all slammed closed. Ayu and the others whipped their heads to find the last member of the party. His figure lean and confidant with his boxes hung around his arms; his tailcoat flowed as he paced up the stairs. In Ayu’s eyes, the man’s eyepatch glistened in its dark cloth, his short haircut to match. “Oh, it’s the kid.” 

“It’s Ayu…”

“King, perfect timing, he just got here.” Cosmina walked on over to the new figure. They greeted each other by King’s kiss on her cheek whilst he placed the boxes down for her to grab. He kissed down Eden’s cheek as well, to Ayu’s slight confusion. “He’s a little shy, so we’ll save the drinks for later in case you two do something stupid.” 

“Oh, who are you kidding? We all go stupid with bourbon,” King laughed as he tidied the small mess on Eden’s shirt. 

Ayu scurried in his spot. “You’re King?”

“In the flesh, hopefully.” 

The answer forced Ayu to gesture at the whole room. “Aren’t you supposed to be the fancy one?” 

He muttered, “Damn, I really do wanna drink. Mina, get the OJ.” 

“On it.” 

“Anyways,” the focus laid back on Ayu. “I suppose that’s how I’m seen in the society.” 

“Yeah,” Ayu eventually brought himself to a seat. “You’re the fancy-ass ruler with the throne…” he then pointed at the other two. “And you guys were the servants?” 

Eden cackled. “Oh god, that takes me back.” 

The king chuckled a little with him. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it was.” 

“You all had old fancy clothes and stuff… what happened?” 

“That shit was hot, that’s what,” Eden answered. 

The girl returned with cups of orange juice by a hand and placed it on the table for the others to grab. “There were too many layers back then, I’ll admit.” 

“Thank you very much,” King snatched a cup. However, he offered to Ayu, “You want some? It isn’t spiked,” as he eyed the alcohol in the corner. 

That in itself raised Ayu’s hands against it. “I prefer apple juice…” 

“Huh, we haven’t had apple juice in a while. I’ll get that later.” 

Ayu still grabbed the cup from him, taking a sip to a surprise of the nice taste. And no pulp. “– Still why’re you guys like this now?”

King handed himself his own cup while answering. “Well, I will admit that back then, we did act like snobs.”

“It was you who was the snob,” Cosmina retorted. 

“And it was you all who went along with it,” he added. “But what am I joking, almost everyone in the first era has some kind of act going on, especially if we’re talking about back then.” 

Ayu questioned with his cup, “What are you talking about?” 

“Everyone here exaggerated themselves back then, whether it be by fashion or action. We were just the types who did both,” King explained. “And while we did like the roleplay and the clothes, being immortal for four hundred years made that a little boring.” 

“Oh yeah,” the idea of immortality seemed so normal for Ayu by then. “How is even being immortal.” 

“Oh, my god, it’s terrible!” Eden raised an arm. 

Cosmina said, “Remember you’re supposed to live a life for less than one hundred years and imagine doing the same thing four times.” 

“What she said,” King sipped. “We followed the trend of the society for a while which was ‘stay in your rooms to do whatever bullshit for eternity’. But we realized that, in itself, was bullshit.”

The swearing still threw Ayu off. 

“Usually people would off themselves after being tired of immortality, but we knew that was a stupid idea considering our society deals. So, instead of killing ourselves or moping like the rest of the ‘woe is me’ first eras–”

“And the even more ridiculous seconds.”

“– them too,” King continued. “We just decided to go and have a life outside of killing.” 

“By… drinking and living off of orange juice?” 

Eden drank his own cup of orange juice when he spoke, “Nah, the bourbon’s only for when we’re stuck here.” 

“… You’re gonna throw that out later, right?” 

“No, why would we,” Cosmina asked. 

And Ayu replied, “Because my dad always told me and my sister to throw that stuff out for Mom so…” 

“Psh,” Eden chuckled, “Then that’s just a bad parent.”

“They were pretty nice,” he defended. 

“I’m sure your parents managed to fix that up, or at least will do soon,” King pushed aside to Ayu’s own bitterness. “But, no we aren’t alcoholics. We go travel and find whatever’s fun in the new world.” 

“What?”

“We visit all different kinds of places in the world and do whatever festival or party’s going on there. Because, why stick here for a hundred more years when you can do whatever you want?”

“Whatever’s fun or whatever sounds funny enough,” Eden added, pointing at his own piercing with brows together. 

“It looks lovely on you, dear.” 

The compliments gave Ayu another topic to look upon. “… And all you three are?” 

“A couple.” Cosmina stayed in the background during all of the answers. “Is there anything of it?”

“No, not really,” Ayu looked down at his cup. “I just, don’t know anything about that stuff and I’ve never seen three people before so I was wondering why.”

“Fuck monogamy, that’s why,” King replied. 

“I drink to that.” With the raise of a cup, Eden drank more of the juice. 

“…?”

“We do as we feel, and we all like each other’s company. That’s all the necessary explaining,” yet even Cosmina casually sipped the orange juice. “You’re only a child but once you really understand, good for you.”

“Wait… do people like each other just because they like their company?” 

King interjected, “Well, there’s more to it but…– hold on we aren’t here to give romance advice!” 

“I wasn’t asking for any! I was just curious!” 

“What, are you having a school crush or something,” Eden raised a brow at him. 

“What?” Ayu scoffed at the idea, blushing in the midst, “No!”

“Alright then. That’s that.” He finally set his empty cup down after playing with it. “Are you going to ask us anything else or are you done with your orange juice?”

“I…” He set down the cup. “I think I’m done.” 

***

The other doors Ayu entered were abandoned by their owners long ago, as Eilwen told. Some brought worn down activities for Ayu to venture into, though others laid barren. Those barren lands packed themselves up, from the owner ready to leave as he learned. The ghosted lands still hung around with bright colors, but the dim atmosphere brought him to leave early to every single one. 

King’s trio seemed like the biggest treat of the day, alongside their flavorful beverage, but he tried to ignore that. Their modernist attitudes stuck to him, as well as their farewells to his visit. 

“If you end up joining us, come over here because everyone else sucks!”

Not the kindest gesture, he admitted, but the message still stood. He questioned the message, Am I joining the society soon? Is that what Eilwen’s worried about? 

The idea pleased itself easily, considering his associates and history. Besides, with everybody’s growing concerns to his own apparent growing importance, the aspect of him joining them seemed of a satisfying end to finish his mess, in some way of the matter. Perhaps he would receive more power than he could ever imagine or be granted his wish to undo everything in his life. That concept pleased himself the most. 

However, the price still stood ahead of him. That price of taking another’s life for his own lingered in the concept. And to that, he availed from the chances quickly enough, his heart too strong to break by himself.

There ahead of him, was yet another door to enter. This time, the wooden décor carved itself into flowers and leaves growing into one another in intricate detail. The petals fell and the stems kissed the grass carved below. In such detail in design, Ayu gulped knowing who it may be. And yet again, he brought his arm to open up the door. 

Stepping into new grounds, the soles of his old sneakers brushed up against long grass. It tickled his knees as his first views of the land were made. Despite the nature field, her land posed itself as disproportional. Flowers grew wild and of various shapes and sizes which many were larger than likely possible of a normal plant. They all swayed rhythmically to nothing, dancing to their own hearts content at the silence, but also the humming of another person in the garden. 

He faced doubt in the eye, and ventured more inside, ignoring his own inner-warnings. Quickly after drowning of the leaves in front of his path, he discovered the source of the hummer. Her long, angelical hair swayed down like a river, covering her face alongside her crown of wild flowers. She mumbled a tune as she watered a bustle of flowers, but the identity was clear nonetheless. 

Bluebell, his eyes darted down the nearest bush and hid in its rustling leaves. Even with his mouth of courage to Eilwen, her own words left a mark of warning once seeing her in person. He managed to not flinch, to itch a muscle, or to form a single peep of gripe. After moments in time, and some flashing of black and white, Ayu sighed. Soon, he rung his arms to start crawling away and making it out of the door–

“And who might you be?” As soon as he stepped towards the outside, the lady grabbed him by the hood. She yanked him back to his startled fear. 

“Fuck–” He pulled the hood in front to resist choking, and struggled with his own feet to muster up. “Let me go!” 

With his light weight, she lifted him up with ease, her copper eyes squinting at his appearance. Yet eventually, she smiled. “No, no, come with me,” she pulled him, “You look tired; you can sleep here if you need rest.”

“Let me out,” he yelled, but to no avail. 

“Oh, don’t be fussy, Ayu,” she giggled, “This will make Akeldama fuming. Just listen to me.” 

While the pleasure of Akeldama’s misfortune would have convinced Ayu another day, the risk of her ability still lied as a great possibility for him. “No– Stop! –” However, he was too late to make a hit. 

“My dear, in sickness, sadness, and red, can sleep from a song with sigh…”

Her voice echoed and rang into his ears, slowly softening every inch of this tension and mind merely from those lines.

“Your life, your soul, your ending night will rejoice with us in light.”

The lullaby wrapped him around, stopping his struggles and whines and instead relaxing and numbing the pain. 

“Despite these somber eyes, I can see, there is time to close them away…” 

Such a clear, siren-like voice called to him. It chilled the bones that wanted end so recently and brought along a warmth that coddled him endlessly. Soothing him, his own eyes began to calm into a slumber. 

“In hope, my love, without life in sight, your days will say–”

“BLUEBELL!” Alice screamed at her, interrupting her beautiful song. From the erupt end, Ayu snapped back awake with the lingering melody as he turned to the distressed woman ahead of them. She ran and snatched him away from the siren, to his dismay. 

“Oh, Alice, you ruined his fun,” she said. 

The head of the society glared at her. “You impudent–” yet she turned back to the young boy with closing lids, “Are you alright?” 

Ayu remained silent, processing the event that just unfolded. 

Another slowly walked into the scene, somehow shying away with her scarf. 

“Eilwen, I told you to keep watch on him,” she stomped towards the mentor. 

“I–” she stammered. “I thought he would be alright considering he’s of–”

“He hasn’t developed at all yet! He’s only a mere child at this stage!” Alice shrieked in her stop. “God, didn’t you think of how Akeldama could be upset by this? – Ugh, that’s beyond the point now. At least I managed to catch him before Akeldama arrived… How are you feeling Z– Ayu?” 

The argument rather unsettled Ayu’s mood. The lullaby from before seemed as something to return to once more already… In all honesty, the song was not as horrifying as he imagined. “… I’m doing fine.”

“Be honest.” 

More so, it lifted him up the slightest. “No, I really mean it,” he told her. “Kind of, uh, refreshed actually.” He forced a smile upon the odd feeling. That sense of wanting more began to kick in. 

Alice nipped her lip and turned to Eilwen. “Do you believe it’d be alright to bring him back home? It doesn’t seem all that bad…” The head turned again to the wonderful lady. “We’ll only need to console you later,” she spat at her, who only continued to water her plants once more. 

She scoffed, “You never tell us anything, Alice. How would I know of the consequences?” 

“Well, your fun may have caused you your own death grave.” 

Instead of anything else, Bluebell shrugged with a giggle, “Do you really think that matters anymore, Cecily?”

Alice huffed, patting Ayu towards the exit. “Let’s go; you need the rest.” 

***

The apartment entrance shut as Alice led the way. Ayu scurried behind her, unsure of her silent aggression. 

Oliver sat by the couch, legs crisscrossed and Ayu’s textbook on his lap. He poked a pencil by his hand, jotting down on whatever pages Ayu bothered to commit to the day prior. Corrections most likely covered the pages considering previous marks on his answers. 

He turned around at them, his pale eyes peering at Alice. “Oh, hi… Alice, why are you here?” 

Originally, Ayu would have pondered as to why Oliver never asked why he was gone; however, that failed to bring him down that day. Alice instead pushed him gently more towards the inside as she explained. “Ayu simply ran into a… mishap, while in Eilwen’s care. But don’t worry, she and I will take care of it.” 

He dropped the book down onto the couch, standing up. “Alice, what happened?” 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. The most Ayu will experience is some improper thinking and a state of intemperance.”

“But I can’t ask why?” 

“No,” she stated, her voice reaching a new low. “You aren’t to be involved with anymore things that can harm you.”

“So, he’s been hurt.” Oliver’s brows furrowed together at Alice, as he walked down to Ayu’s side. “Are you okay?” 

He told him, “Yeah… I’m great, Ollie.” A smiled crept up the slightest in his dazed fate. 

His face raised into that of confusion. Only for him to sigh, “Just go, Alice. You aren’t going to help me with this.”

She nodded in silence, and exited through the doorway and magic. 

In the unknown, Oliver hummed and stared up until he faced Ayu again. “Okay, Ayu, what happened?” 

Unsure of how to reply, the serious tone gawking him, he only answered back, “Nothing really… But, something really nice happened if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“… What?” 

He figured Oliver would like his story. “I met this lady, who sang a nice song and I got to hear it… Too bad Alice stopped it though. Oliver, you should have heard it, she sounded amazing.” His mind bubbled at the thoughts of it. “I think I’ll go try and visit her again. You should come with me.” 

“Oh.” His face softened the slightest. “Okay…?”

In the comforts of his thoughts, Ayu held up Oliver’s hand and gripped it in his smile. “Trust me, the song makes you forget about everything.” 

At those very words, Oliver’s mouth sided downwards. “Sure,” his words slurred as he reached back in a smile. 

Ayu let go of the hand, bringing himself to an arm stretch. “Well anyways, I’m gonna take a nap.” Drifting off, he told his final words to Oliver, “I’ll talk more about it later.”

In the room, instead of sleeping, Ayu actually giggled at himself and his own formulating thoughts. Not even sure himself as of why, he laid there, smiling and basking himself in the growing euphoria inside of him. However, his sense remained ever so prevalent, and his ways of listening peered from outside the room. 

“You have a clue, don’t you, Vittorino?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve only heard of Bluebell, but I know kids are her main targets… He must’ve been affected by her ability.”

“… What does she do?” 

He quickly jabbered, “It’s a more subdued but strong version of my ability. She sings people to sleep to kill them. But if she doesn’t finish her song…”

“Ah,” Oliver said once connecting the dots. “And it’s going to get worse, I assume?” 

“Most likely.”

He sighed from the outside. “Goddamn it…”

But Ayu listened to it all, and all he could reply from it was to shrug. Oh well. 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters | Sleepover | First Meal | Dearest 

[honeylikewords]

Anon Asked: Ok so i’m curious: if you can, could you rank your favorite Oscar boys from least to most boyfriend material? they all seem very charming and sweet but i can’t figure out who the cream of the crop is!

First of all, THANK YOU, I  L O V E  making lists of my favorite things. You guys know that. Listicle formats are, like, my lifeblood. Thank you for enabling me.

Second, I’m going to rate these on MY personal scale. Now, I also should point out that “husband” and “boyfriend” mean two different things to me, and that I instinctively value “husband” material more than “boyfriend” material. The “husbands” are going to be the winners of this list, because I can see them having long-term, fulfilling, happy and mutually beneficial relationships with their partners. So, without further ado, here is my list, from LEASTboyfriend-able to MOST husband-able.

1. The Unmentionables Category.

These boys don’t even get to be part of the discussion because in their roles they are either misogynistic, evil, assaulters, or something else to prevent them from entering the race. A little villain apologism here and there is okay sometimes, but only to certain degrees, and these boys exceed it. Blue Jones, Nathan Bateman, En Sabah Nur/Apocalypse, and John, King of England all exceed my limitations. Begone, thots. You’re disqualified for the Boyfriend Campaign Race. (I do still like them as characters, though, or for Sexy Oscar Gifs, but they’re just… un-boyfriend-able!)

2. The Low Tier Boyfriends.

These boys are boyfriend-able, but come with some problems. Can we sort them out on here and make them into better boys on this blog with careful re-writes? Maybe! Are we doing that in this list? No! We’re just taking objective looks at these Oscar-boys as they stand. So, here are the low tier boyfriends.

Laurent LeClaire: He’s sexy, but he’s also, like, a murderer. And a bit of a playboy. Could we make him better on this blog? Absolutely! But, as before, we’re just looking at them as they are. So, sexy French boy or no, he’s a pretty low-ranking Oscar for the murders and the philandering.

John “Jack” Johnson: Kinda dirty, kinda rude, also a murderer, but nice to dogs and pretty darn intelligent. He’s sure somethin’. Only slightly higher on the list than Laurent simply because I liked him and he made me laugh, and he was good to a dog, so I suppose that’s a tick for him!

Bud Cooper: A bit of a sneaky boy! I like him a lot, but his trickery and sneakery place him lower on the list. Still, points for looking good in a weird mustache, and points for being clever!

3. The Middle Tier Boyfriends.

These boys are much more boyfriend-able, but still have baggage. Could you work around it? Hypothetically, sure! But we’re still just discussing canon behavior, so let’s rock and roll.

Llewyn Davis: Llewyn is shockingly low despite how much I like him, but he has a LOT of issues. Besides his inability to hold a stable job and the couch surfing, Llewyn struggles with attitude problems and relationship issues, apparently having to deal with the issue of terminated pregnancies with two women. We could certainly gloss over that for a more romanticized Llewyn on this blog, but I think it’s important to address that while he holds a place in my heart, he’s a difficult person and a little hard to love, maybe because he doesn’t know how to love others or himself yet. So, he’s higher on the list because at least he isn’t a criminal, but he’s low-ranker because of his life issues. Maybe if he sorted himself out more…

Basil Stitt: Basil’s got problems. I mean, just… a lot of problems. But I like him, and I like his scars, so I think we can work with him. Having a paranoid breakdown after sustaining an injury isn’t the worst thing that a person could do, right? We’ve all been there; scared, alone, afraid. I think, with time, Basil could really make steps in the right direction and be quite a cute boyfriend.

Shiv: Shiv’s a sweetheart. He’s doing his best in a world not inclined to allow him the freedom to do so. Sure, he’s a criminal, but he has a heart of gold and wants to make his son happy. He wants to do better. He’s kind, if misled, and a little dumb, but, hey, morosexuals stand up, ya know? He’s a cutie, even though he’s involved in some shady business. With a cleanup and a fresh start somewhere else, who knows? Maybe he could be a much better boy and end up in the husband range!

4. The High Tier Boyfriends.

Oh, now, these are some boys. These are some cute boys. Oof. Yeah. Let’s see these boys!

Rydal Keener: Poet, dancer, thinker, and sometime scam-artist, Rydal is a Grecian romance just waiting to happen. He’s not perfect, but he’s passionate, he’s sweet, and he’s doing his level best to try and get himself out of a sticky situation. He’s young; let’s find him some young love!

Standard Gabriel: Oh, Standard, how my heart beats for thee. I love Standard, and the only reason he’s lower on the list is because he’s got a lot going on in his life that makes it hard for him. Cheating wife, creepy people following him around, prison sentence sitting on his shoulders from the past; things are hard for our baby. But he’s resilient, he’s loving, and he’s loyal. And if given a new chance in a new place, I fully believe that Standard would be a great boyfriend, and, someday, a great husband.

Reeves: Sentimental, sweet, and a sumptuous songwriter, Reeves rings of a great boyfriend. He’s soft and tender, but firm when necessary, funny, relaxed, and witty. This guy has it all, and when he finds love, he hangs on tight. Ten plus years, tight, apparently; he’s still chasing the girl he had a crush on in high school! How sweet is he?! A beautiful boyfriend, no doubt.

5. Husband Tier.

These boys are the peak performance. These boys bring it. These boys aren’t just boyfriends, they’re partners, fiancés, and, one day, husbands. These are not just boys… they’re Men.

Kane: Loyal husband and dutiful soldier, Kane’s endured a lot, but still did his best to come home to his wife, even if it wasn’t “him”. Kane deserves to be a husband with a woman who will love and appreciate him as he loves and appreciates her (which I assert is NOT Lena. Lena did NOT appreciate that man). The only reason he’s lower on this list is because of the unfortunate nature of his storyline, and because he’s part-alien now. Actually, that last one isn’t that bad. He’s a cute alien. We stan.

Santiago Garcia: This man has been through so much, and I want him to be happy. He’s kind, great with kids, funny, generous, protective, and strong. I would rant and rave about him, but then this post would be a mile long. I love you, Santi. Brave boy. Husband.

Orestes: Orestes was in love with the same woman since he was a young man and advocated for her freedom and equal status in society, trusting her as his sole counsel consistently through his years as a public servant. The dude took a stone to the head for defending her. He went on stage to declare his love and play her a beautiful two-flute solo, for God’s sake! This man is husband material.

Mikael Boghosian: Actual angel. Has endured the depths of hell. Deserves all the love in the universe. My words are not enough for his goodness. Please, someone, fill this man’s life with joy and light. I am begging. This is a husband.

Abel Morales: I would fucking die for Abel Morales but he’s so good a man that he would never let me. My love for him is as boundless as the stars and twice as bright. May God’s light shine forever on his perfectly coiffed hair. Holy angel of the heating oil industry.

Miguel O’Hara: SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN, DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN! FILLS MY HEART, UP WITH LOVE, AT OUR WEDDING RELEASE SOME DOVES! LOOK OUT, I LOVE YOU, SPIDER-MAN! But in all seriousness, the guy’s great. A goober, yes, but nevertheless, his fangs have pierced my heart and I am paralyzed with love for him and also venom.

Poe Dameron: I betcha all knew he’d be at the top of this list. I betcha knew. He’s… Poe Dameron, you know? What can I say that hasn’t already been said? We know he’s wonderful. He just is. He carries his mother’s ring, searching for his future spouse. This man is a husband. I love him. I will not change my mind.

6. Honorable Mention Husband.

Peter Malkin: Since Peter Malkin is based on a real person, I feel hesitant to talk about him. However, since the movie was juuuuust enough divorced from reality and his character changed juuuuustenough to call it fictionalized, I’ll include him. I love Peter Malkin. He’s a good good Jewish boy who visits his Mama for Shabbat and wears his kippah and that man is a primo husband. N*zi hunter, loving son, honorable soldier. We have chosen to stan forever. And wed, when the time is right. Mazel tov!

There are some other boys who didn’t make the list simply because I didn’t wanna go too overboard and make a too overwhelming post, but here’s my general take on the order from least to most boyfriend-able, and then husband-able. This list also shifts around depending on my mood, and the order in which some of the husbands are categorized can change from day to day. I love them all! I will not be silenced!

I hope that helps, and if anyone is curious about where a non-mentioned boy falls on the scale, lemme know and I’ll either add him or explain his spot in a separate post!

[kumkaniudaku]

In The Act

Chadwick Boseman x CoCo (Black!Reader)

Warnings: Smut, Language

Micah Noelle Boseman was the light of Chadwick and Tasha’s life and the most beautiful thing to emerge from their marriage. Tasha’s earliest memories start at the day she found out that her baby girl existed. She and Chadwick were visiting his parents in South Carolina when the first bout of morning nausea attacked. Standing in his parents’ kitchen, Tasha was helping his mother prepare mac & cheese for the weekly Sunday dinner when she felt her body rise to a temperature that surpassed the sweltering Southern heat. Without notice, her breakfast flew upwards, only stopping when her hands flew to cover her mouth. Tasha had been nauseous before but never without cause. She hadn’t been drinking and there was no way she had food poisoning when everyone had the same breakfast and seemed to be just fine.

Chadwick’s mom was the first to suspect pregnancy.

“Have you had your cycle?” She questioned knowingly from the other side of the bathroom door. Though Tasha immediately pushed the thought from her mind, a quiet check of her period tracker revealed that she wasn’t just a few days late. No, it had been six weeks with no evidence of nature taking its course.

An immediate trip to her doctor once Tasha returned to Los Angeles confirmed her suspicion: she was nearly two months pregnant and scared out of her mind. She couldn’t be someone’s mom. She had just figured out how to be a wife and, sometimes, she didn’t even know if you was succeeding in that department. 

Chadwick felt differently.

“Is this true, CoCo?” He asked, staring wide-eyed at the results in his hand.

Tasha could only offer a small nod in response. She expected him to be wary of the possibility of having children. The tears in his eyes added to her anxiety. They had recently finished couples therapy and were actively trying to repair the 20 years of damage that preceded the current relationship. 

“Chadwick if this isn’t what you want we can find another solution.” Tasha’s words were hurried as if she was trying to make her point before he made an angry exit. “I’m sorry. We should’ve discussed contraception or something.”

“You’re sorry? Baby, this amazing. I’m gonna be a daddy!”

Seven months and 11 hours of labor later, Tasha lay in a hospital bed holding a baby girl to her chest trying not let tears fall all over Micah’s delicate skin. And, though she had expressed her hatred toward Chadwick for putting her in a situation to bear the pain of childbirth hours prior to delivery, she couldn’t help but to love the man that had shared half of him to make such a beautiful manifestation of the love that lived within their home.

Tasha felt her heart swell as she listened to their daughter squeal and giggle in the other room with her father, despite it being her bedtime and the first scheduled mommy-daddy time all week. Individual work schedules, household duties made scheduling alone time difficult for the young couple. Chad’s need to have her sleep in your shared bed almost every night slowly dried up any opportunity for physical contact. Tasha tried to explain that she would never get used to sleeping alone if he didn’t stop, but he’d excuse the behavior, passing the intrusion off as a good bonding experience. He hated seeing Micah in tears at the end of the night when it was time to put the toys away and crawl into bed.

Finally, the laughter stopped and the soft click of Micah’s bedroom door was heard before heavy footsteps started up the hallway.

“Do I get to see my husband or are you going back to your other wife in a moment?” Tasha joked from behind the kitchen counter while she carefully emptied fresh popcorn into a bowl.

Chadwick chuckled at his wife’s attempt to hide her need for attention. He found it endearing, knowing that she still wanted to be the center of his attention, if only for a night while watching television.  

“Ooh, someone’s jealous.” He teased before Tasha could protest his arms wrapping around her torso for a hug. He made a point to press himself against her back and squeeze her tight, demonstrating his desires for having her close. “Don’t be, Mama. Daddy’s all yours now.”

A slow kiss to her bare collar bone was nearly enough to make Tasha pull her husband to the cold tile floor and neglect the Game of Thrones marathon cued in the living room.

Shaking the urge, she shook her head. “Then Daddy needs to grab the popcorn and get to the couch. Battle of the Bastards is next and you know that’s my favorite episode.”

Tasha slowly and reluctantly pried Chadwick’s arms away from her body in an attempt to calm down the heartbeat between her legs. Tonight was solely about husband and wife spending time together. They could always squeeze in a quickie during nap time or in the shower before Tasha was due to work, but true, uninterrupted quality time was rare.

Rolling his eyes at Tasha’s attitude, Chad grabbed the large plastic bowl from the counter to fulfill her request. They crowded onto the corner of the living room sectional, contorting their bodies until they reached a compromise. Tasha lay propped against a pillow with outstretched arm to welcomed Chadwick into her personal space. He accepted the invitation without pause and carefully lowered himself, stomach first, onto her body. 

While Tasha devoted her attention to the medieval drama on screen, Chadwick focused on trailing his fingers up, down and around the various valleys and peaks in his view. On the way up her sides, he noticed the thin camisole that covered CoCo’s breast, and felt his body heat at the vision of her nipples straining against the fabric. 

Just as the opening theme could give way to the beginning of the show, Chadwick began absentmindedly running his hand along the swell of Tasha’s breasts. 

“We’re supposed to be relaxing.” She warned as she halfheartedly pushed his hand away.

“I am relaxing. You relax your way and I’ll relax mine.”  

Deciding that his fondling was harmless, she continued to focus on the episode. As the action intensified, so did Chadwick’s antics. The hands that were once on the outside of CoCo’s tank top had made their way underneath, cupping and squeezing while alternating sides. He wasn’t searching for her attention, but he’d captured it nonetheless.

“It’s good to know that murder and devastation excite you,” she quipped, a slight smirk on her lips as she cast her gaze down to get a better look at Chadwick’s face.

“That’s a weird name for your titties, baby. But, yes, they do excite me.”

His joke made her howl with laughter that was quickly quieted by the knowledge that Micah was sleeping within earshot. 

As the show ramped up intensity before the main battle commenced, Chadwick transitioned to using both hands to push Tasha’s breast together and place sloppy french kisses in the valley they made. He was slowly, but surely, chipping away at her resolve with each lingering glance in his direction she tried to hide.

Soon, CoCo gave him her full attention, running her fingers through his coils while his kisses turned into gentle suckling. An unexpected tug at the top of the cami exposed both of her breast to the cool indoor air. Tasha’s back arched at the sensation.

“Murder and devastation must excite you, too.” Chadwick commented with a sly smile. He knew what he was doing and wanted Tasha to admit that he’d won the battle. Understanding the game, Tasha chose to play by her own rules.

“Shut up and put one in your mouth.”

Humming his approval, Chadwick granted her wish, using his mouth to bring his wife pleasure. The routine continued on the other side because Chadwick was a fair man. Each one of Tasha’s breast would eagerly receive equal attention.

“Can we continue or are you still trying to watch this? Let me know.” His hands continued to grope and massage while waiting for any sign that he had approval to continue. A breathy moan escaped her lips, earning a satisfied smile from Chadwick. “Was that a yes, baby?”

“I don’t know. Do that again.” If he was going to play games then so would she.

“Hmm,” He hummed. His hands began a slow descent into her shorts, gingerly brushing against her lower bits repeatedly. “Now?”

Chadwick was secretly competitive. Any mention of a challenge that he thought could produce a winner and a loser was a challenge he took seriously. Sex was no different. He aimed to satisfy each time. 

Tasha’s body squirmed restlessly underneath the weight of his body as her husband expertly worked magic with his fingers. Taking her melodic moans as confirmation to continue, he slid his body to the end of the couch before removing the clothing below her waist.

Lowering his head, he skipped her center altogether, preferring to lick and suck on her inner thighs.

She whined as an appeal for more intensity. “Stop playing!”

“There’s that pretty voice. Ask me again. Nicely this time and I’ll consider.”

“Please, babe. Please?”

Tasha’s hands frantically pushed at the back of his head to convince him to perform his favorite task. Chadwick laughed as he repositioned himself to hover over her body.

“Not yet. I’m gonna put a baby in you real quick. You wanna try for a son?”

She didn’t but, the thought of him inside of her never mixed with rational decisions. Instead, Tasha lazily mumbled a response and prepared for the consequences. Pulling his member from its confinement, he used the slickness of her juices to coat the tip and drive her crazy. When he decided that she had been teased enough, he pulled one of Tasha’s legs to rest on his shoulder and the other to bend so that her foot was flat on the couch.

“You can’t be too loud, CoCo. If she wakes up, you’re on Bedtime Duty this time.” Chadwick warned. 

Tasha whimpered impatiently, resigning to saying anything to speed up the process. She didn’t understand why he even made the statement until he was putting his weight on her leg as he pushed into her in one smooth motion.

“Ooooh FUCK!” Tasha shouted, unable to contain herself. Despite her outburst, Chadwick was proud of himself. That was exactly the reaction he wanted.

His motions started off slow, rolling his hips in deliberate motions to get his wife used to the stretch. Once he was sure she could handle the next level, he started a steady rhythm. Relying on his weight to keep her leg in the proper position, he took the opportunity to lean down and roughly press his lips against Tasha’s.

“Talk to me, beautiful. You know I like that.”

Words were hard to come by when all she could see were stars and two passenger baby strollers in her daze. “Shit, baby. I can’t take it.” You admitted.

“Nah, you gone take it.”

In a fleeting moment of bravery, she emerged from her haze on a mission to make Chadwick eat his words. Using your muscles, you clenched around him to get a reaction.

“Shit!” He whisper yelled through gritted teeth. “You really want another baby in this house, huh?”

“Maybe.” Again, Tasha didn’t but, being dangled on the edge of euphoria made her say things she didn’t mean.

The sound of obscene phrases and skin slapping drowned out all other noises around them, including the sound of a door opening down the hallway and little feet rushing toward the open space.

“Daddy?” A timid voice called from the living room’s entryway.

Chadwick stilled and clamped his eyes shut, attempting to disappear into thin air. Micah stood with her stuffed cat in tow, innocently rocking back and forth on her heels while she waited to be acknowledged.

“Yes, Princess?” Chadwick had managed to remove Tasha’s leg from his shoulder to spare his innocent baby the trauma that can come with catching her parents in the act.

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s uh, um..right here. What’s wrong, baby?”

Tasha silently thanked God for the placement of the couch which allowed for her body to be completely blocked from Micah’s view.

“My scarf came off and I need Mommy to fix it, please.”

“I’m coming, Mikey,” Tasha blurted, throwing her hand in the hair to prove that she was in the room. “Just-just go back in your room. I’ll be right there!”

Micah replied with gentle ‘okay’ as Tasha scrambled to wiggle free from the weight of Chadwick’s body. While she retrieved her discarded clothing, Chadwick acted as a lookout to make sure their daughter was gone before turning to her with a toothy grin.

“I told you not to get too loud.”

“Fuck you, Aaron,” she spat as she slid on her shorts. “The leg? I thought we agreed that stays in the bedroom.”

“I got excited, CoCo. You must’ve put something in the popcorn so, really, this is your fault.”

“Shut up!” She grumbled, pushing the back of his head as she hurried toward Micah’s bedroom.

“Baby?” He called, causing Tasha to look back and acknowledge him. “Can we finish when you get back?”

“SHUT UP!” 

Chadwick accepted the answer with his hand raised in surrender and turned to commandeer the remote. He would take what he was able to receive and make plans for the next secret hookup.

Tasha was almost to Micha’s beroom before she turned back to hurry down the stairs and answer Chadwick’s question with a more realistic verdict. 

“Meet me upstairs in ten.”

[edsbrak]

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 Coming Soon

Read on Ao3 | New Kid AU

It's senior year and Eddie is determined to get through it with ease while also scared about what awaits him on the other side. But then a new kid arrives in town and turns Eddie's life completely upside down, in ways he never would have expected.

Tags: Modern Setting, Strangers To Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Coming Of Age

Chapter 3: Hazy On My Mind (6.7k)

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Sonia Kaspbrak doesn’t allow Eddie to return to school for the remainder of the week.

Eddie was used to being bedridden. He usually spent his time listening to music or watching appropriated shows along with his mother downstairs, and he always took advantage of any opportunity to convince his mother to buy him various things so as to get her out of the house for some peace to his state of mind.

Over the years Stan and Bill had often tried to stop by and visit him, and most times Eddie’s mother would let them in on account of how she could trust them to be clean. But she would keep them on the clock and usher them back out when she saw fit, worried that too much interference from outside might contaminate Eddie further.

Most of this was fine, he guesses. It was a routine Eddie was used to and after a handful of carefully monitored days had passed he would return to his daily life and be with his friends once again.

Only now, as the remaining school days slowly passed by, all Eddie could think about was Richie Tozier and how different things were already becoming.

So instead of trying to pass the time by staring at a screen all day, Eddie spent most of his time upstairs in his room, hidden under his blankets and listening to the mixtape Richie made him over and over again, all the while chewing his bottom lip and wondering what the other boy could be doing in that moment in time.

He pictured Richie biking to school by himself. He could imagine Richie chatting with Stan in English class since Eddie wasn’t there for him to annoy. Had Stan and Bill continued to invite Richie to sit with them at lunch even when Eddie wasn’t there? How much did Stan and Bill actually enjoy having Richie around? Or was Richie hanging out with them just to be polite?

Eddie tries to fight away the trembling of his lower lip and instead exhales long and slow.

He knew better than that, of course.

What Eddie just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around was how much the thought still continues to scare him. Mere weeks ago he always caught himself wanting to invite Richie along with whatever he and his friends were doing, then felt relieved when things just continued on as they regularly do. He felt like he was getting whiplash from every conflicting feeling that would manifest whenever Richie was around him.

But something that had surprised him greatly was reading the essay topics Richie had given him that first night he was sick. He read over it once to check his research, then read it again, and after the fifth time Eddie had finally lowered the paper and frowned down at the ground, because…

Richie was really, incredibly smart.

For most of his life, Eddie always tried to never judge a book by its cover. But as far as first assumptions go, Eddie was usually on the money. But with Richie, so far every new piece of information Eddie learned about him just added to the intrigue. He was far from that bad boy stereotype Eddie had met on that first day, and by just simply reading Richie’s essay Eddie couldn’t fathom why the other boy didn’t just simply put in the effort and pass his classes with flying colours.

Still, Richie hadn’t tried to stop by again since Wednesday, and Eddie tries to tell himself he was fine with that. But then he’ll listen to the tape again and find himself wishing Richie was here so he could ask him the million questions that still continue to float around his head.

By the time Sunday rolls around, Eddie is itching to leave the house and do absolutely anything else other than use an entire bottle of vapour rub on his chest every day. And as if hearing his pleas from across town, a miracle presents itself in the form of ol’ Big Bill.

“Eddie? Eddie are you there? Over.”

It was faint, thanks to his walkie still being inside the box under his bed, but nothing could stop Eddie from listening out for any signs of his friends. He pulls it back out quickly so as not to miss his chance.

“Bill, it’s me. What are you guys doing? I need rescue, over.”

His reply is immediate. “We’re heading to the Aladdin. Want me to call your house? Over.”

Eddie is already putting on his shoes before Bill is finished. “Yes, please. Call in five minutes. Over.”

“Roger that, over.”

Eddie hides the walkie again and loads up his fannypack in preparation for his mother. Once he’s ready, he heads downstairs as casually as he can, passing the time by looking in the fridge and soon taking a seat next to his mother in the lounge room. She doesn’t appear to pick up on a change in behavior, so Eddie counts it as a win. Finally, the phone rings, and as not to arouse suspicion he stays sitting and allows his mother to answer it instead.

“Yes, who is it?” answers Sonia.

Eddie can’t hear Bill on the other end, but he knows his friend is playing up the most innocent voice to influence Sonia’s reigns. Eddie is also pretty sure she pity’s him slightly for his stutter.

“I’m not too happy about Eddie leaving the house yet, Bill,” says Sonia, and Eddie fakes his surprise and bounds over to her.

“That’s Bill? Ma, please, please can I see my friends? I feel so much better, honest,” he insists, plastering on a smile.

She eyes him momentarily as Bill, presumably, pleas into her ear as well. Eddie holds her gaze when she finally answers them. “Alright. He will meet you there. Goodbye.”

Eddie screams internally, hardly believing it worked. “Thank you, ma. I have all of my meds, and I won’t be home late, I promise—”

“Hold on,” she interrupts with that sickly sweet voice. “I’ll only allow you out if I drive you there and pick you up afterward. Okay?”

Eddie pauses, swallowing his frustrations and instead nods, figuring it’s the best he can do for now. “Okay.”

“Good,” she says, and reaches for her keys. “Your friends better have picked a tasteful movie to see.”

As soon as she drops him off, she’s already going on about taking his meds exactly on time, so he needs to listen out for his wristwatch during the film. Eddie humour’s her in an effort to see her off faster, and as she drives away he practically runs inside and searches around frantically for Bill and Stan. He doesn’t see them, so he ambles around while he huffs on his inhaler few times. He spies the arcade and then pulls out the money his mother gave him. He has some extra, so playing a game or two wouldn’t hurt.

When he steps inside the adjacent room, he finds it’s quite packed. But even amongst all of the chatter and noise of the machines, one particular voice happens to stand out.

“Richie?”

Said boy looks over to him quickly before snapping back to the game he’s still playing.

“Eds! What a pleasure, glad to see you’re up and about!” he crows, stabbing at the buttons hard and fast. Eddie walks over until he’s at Richie’s side and peaks at his score.

“Holy shit, you’re good,” says Eddie, not even hiding his surprise.

“Oh, no—” says Richie, and makes the final blow. The screen instantly flashes ‘New High Score’ as Richie turns to him with a grin. “—I’m the best.”

Eddie scoffs a laugh. “Nice to hear you’re still as humble as ever.”

Richie shrugs cheekily before cracking his knuckles. He’s wearing another Hawaiian shirt today, although the colours are more faded than his last shirt. There are also several band-aids plastered over his hands, and Eddie can’t help but notice they need changing. But before he can bring them up, his name is being called from the arcade’s entrance.

“Hey, Eddie!”

That’s Bill, and next to him is Stan looking slightly out of breath. Eddie figures they got caught up somehow and biked over here in a hurry. They both spot Richie next as they amble closer.

“Hey, Richie,” greets Stan with a wave.

“Sup you guys,” says Richie, and throws them both a wink. Eddie frowns and wonders if they arranged for Richie to meet here too.

“Nice to s-se-ee you enjoying what Derry has to offer,” says Bill, gesturing to their surroundings. “W-we didn’t know you l-luh-liked arcade games.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Richie, leaning back on a machine. “Street Fighter’s my pride and joy. I was surprised to find it all the way out here. So, you guys seeing a movie or something?”

So they hadn’t planned anything together, thinks Eddie. But then guilt strikes him and suddenly it feels strangely weird to not at least invite Richie to join them.

“Yeah, Jurassic Park’s still showing, so we’re going to see it again,” says Stan with a shrug.

“You wanna join us?” asks Eddie before anyone else can. He turns to face Richie head on, offering a soft smile as he rubs nervously along his arms. Richie’s posture seems to perk up a little bit, almost surprised, and then he’s slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s starting to find he likes the closeness.

“Sure, Eds. That’s cool with you guys?” he asks Stan and Bill, and they both smile and nod in answer.

They all leave the arcade and make their way over to the ticket booth. Old Lady Bertha sits behind the glass partition as per usual, her beehive comically large with a cigarette perched on her left ear. Bill pays for Stan’s ticket as well, since Stan had paid for them both last time. Eddie purchases his ticket and is glad he still has enough to buy some Milk Duds at the candy bar. There’s a tug at his arm and Eddie looks over to Richie questioningly.

“Hey, uh,” says Richie, and then clears his throat as he looks around. “Listen, I’m… kind of a pain when it comes to watching movies. I mean, I have trouble with focusing and tend to narrate throughout most of it. So I figure I can just… sit away from you guys, I guess.”

It’s impossible to miss the lilt of embarrassment in Richie’s confession. He thinks of Richie sitting next to him in English class. He thinks of the effort he put into helping Eddie with their assignment. Mind made up, Eddie is having none of this.

“No way,” insists Eddie, trying to catch Richie’s gaze. “And besides, we’ve seen it already, remember? I’d love to hear what you have to say about Dr. Hammond’s ridiculous park scheme and if Newman’s death was really necessary.”

Richie appears taken aback by Eddie’s answer, and there’s a long moment where neither of them say anything, with only the popping of popcorn to fill the silence of the foyer. Then that familiar grin stretches its way across Richie’s face, and Eddie feels proud to know that he did that.

“So you’re a Seinfeld fan, huh?” says Richie and proceeds to rub his hands together gleefully while wagging his eyebrows. “Alright, get ready Eds, for your mind is about to be blown. Away.”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes, but its effect is thrown off by the smile he can’t seem to wipe off his own face. They follow Stan and Bill into the theatre and find some decent seats up the back. Eddie’s glad they haven’t missed any of the previews for upcoming films.

“I fucking love the ads before a movie,” whispers Richie, and his breath is warm near Eddie’s ear. Eddie shivers involuntarily.

“The ads? Why?” asks Eddie, and feels Richie’s leg bounce against his occasionally.  

“For the jingles, obviously,” says Richie, and immediately begins to sing along with an ad for poptarts.

As it turns out, Richie was right; he manages to find something to comment on every few minutes during the film, and honestly, Eddie was mildly impressed, quite enjoying the voices Richie put on during certain scenes. And for almost the entire length of the film, Eddie catches himself looking at Richie almost more than the screen. He tries desperately to ignore the reasons behind it.

*

Eddie’s mother had meant every word about curfews and had picked Eddie up after the movie, right on the dot, and Eddie waved goodbye to his friends and said he’d see them tomorrow. They had all waved back with sad smiles, and Richie in particular had looked disappointed in a way Eddie thinks he must have imagined.

The drive home had been quiet again, aside from a question his mother asked.

(“That other boy, the one who dropped off that assignment last week – who is he?” she presses, always suspicious about any new people Eddie hangs out with.

“He’s—” Eddie stops, trying to stay on her good side. “He’s Mr. Chernik’s nephew. He’s a nice guy, ma. Honest.”

She hums lowly in reply, and Eddie tries to not read into it. But even if she were to try and forbid him from hanging out with Richie, Eddie is certain he wouldn’t let that stop him.)

Come Monday morning, Eddie is out the front door and practically skipping down the streets, simply just eager to be out of the house and away from his overbearing mother. He was glad that had only been the first time this year he’d gotten sick. Of course, he still had pills to take throughout the week, but it was a small price to pay if it meant freedom again. As soon as he spots Richie biking down one of the streets to meet him, Eddie is struck by the feeling of how completely normal this all feels, as if he’s been doing it his entire life and not just the past couple of months.

Richie slows to a stop beside him, and Eddie’s gaze is immediately drawn to the curls poking out underneath the maroon beanie Richie is wearing.

“Mornin’ Eds,” says Richie, but Eddie is hardly listening, too distracted by how his heart is suddenly beating faster. “Fuck, it’s been boring without having someone to talk to this past week. Stan and Bill are great, I mean, don’t get me wrong. But there’s something about you Eds that seems to be just right.”

“Huh?” says Eddie. Why the hell can’t I look away? he thinks, eyes still on Richie’s hair.

“Earth to Eds,” says Richie, frowning slightly. He sees Eddie still focusing on him and subconsciously reaches up to his face. “What? Do I… look bad or something?”

Eddie blinks his way back to reality. “Since when do you care about what people think of your fashion choices?”

Richie looks out to the road for a while, almost quizzically. “Uh, never mind, then.”

Eddie feels his mouth pull down at Richie’s dismissive tone. What had he said that was so bad? He thought he was just telling the truth. In quick effort to lighten the mood, Eddie brings up their assignment for English, since they had a class today.

“You’re really smart, Richie,” says Eddie after they’d finished going over the topics again. “Why, um… I mean, I guess I just didn’t expect – it’s only because you doodle a lot, so it surprised me when you finished the paper so easily.”

Richie laughs, but it’s mostly humourless. “Thanks. It’s… people like to assume the worst in me when they meet me. It pisses me off, and I just…”

When he trails off, Eddie finishes for him. “Sorry, I know it’s probably none of my business.” Eddie hates it when people expect more of him – his mother, namely.

“It’s fine,” says Richie, and he sounds more genuine this time.

They continue on, and with a bout of confidence, Eddie finally admits, “Your hat. It looks good.”

Eddie is sure Richie goes to look at him in surprise, but Eddie’s not sure he wants to know what expression he’s sporting.

And then, finally: “Eds, you smooth talking son of a bitch.”

Eddie learns then that he doesn’t need to see Richie’s face – that proud grin is displayed clearly in his voice.

*

Come Friday, and everything feels as if it’s fallen back into place. Eddie’s not entirely sure when it fell out of place, but things felt good. Great, even.

Even better, Bill was telling them all at lunch that his parents were out of town for the weekend, and that always meant a sleepover at Big Bill’s. He would be looking after Georgie as well though, but that had never stopped them from watching movies well into the night or sneaking some of Bill’s dad’s liquor.

“Well I’m always in,” says Stan, elbowing Bill’s side. Bill smiles back softly. “You too, Eddie?”

“Definitely, for as long as I can,” groans Eddie, already imagining how great it’ll be to leave his house for a day or two.

“Richie, h-h-how about you?” asks Bill.

“Fuck, I wish I could. I promised my uncle I’d help him at the shop tonight,” he sighs, poking idly at his wholeweat sandwich. Eddie feels a wave of disappointment wash over him.

“But, hey, we’ll be there all weekend. There’s always tomorrow, right?” says Stan.

Richie grins after a moment passes. “Yeah, Stan The Man. You guys can’t keep the Trashmouth away too long. Ain’t that right, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Where are you getting these nicknames, oh my god,” whispers Eddie, mostly to himself.

Eddie almost counts down the minutes until the end of school. He’ll have to go home first before heading over to Bill’s place. He can only hope his mother will let him go without putting up much of a fuss.

Like clockwork the bell rings exactly on time and Eddie packs up his homework for the weekend and waits for Richie by the school’s entrance. A few people bump into him roughly as if he weren’t standing there, knocking his books to the ground, and before Eddie can snap at them Richie appears at his feet.

He gathers up Eddie’s stuff and hands it to him, eyeing off the other students as they walk away.

“They’re jerks.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie absentmindedly, not understanding why he feels unexpectedly shy from Richie’s actions.

Richie grins at him, like they’d just shared a secret. He jerks his head as he says: “I can’t ride home with you, Eds, sorry. Uncle needs my help already.”  

“Oh,” says Eddie, shuffling his books around in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Whatever, that’s fine. You go do you. Go… help. Um… bake stuff. Yeah.”

Richie frowns, but he’s still smiling. “Good pep-talk, nothing can stop me now,” he teases.

“Shut up,” says Eddie, hoping his flush isn’t noticeable.

“You’re unbelievably cute, Eds,” laughs Richie, and Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to react before Richie is riding off down the street.

Sneaky bastard, thinks Eddie, face even redder. He’ll definitely be breaking into some liquor tonight.

*

Luckily, against all odds, Eddie manages to leave his mother to herself for the night as he heads out the door. As far as she knows, it’s just going to be him, Stan and Bill. While technically true, perhaps she doesn’t need to know about Richie possibly joining them. He could save that for another day.

He leaves his bike in Bill’s shed once he gets there, and he walks into the house through the back door.

He can already hear his friends talking heatedly in the lounge room, but before he can make it in there a smaller body crashes into his side and nearly knocks him right over.

“Eddie!”

Eddie laughs, bringing his arms up to pat at Georgie’s back. “Hey Georgie. How’s my favourite Denbrough brother?”

Georgie laughs cheekily, stepping back so he can look up at Eddie. “I’m great! Are you staying over tonight because our parents are out?”

“You bet,” says Eddie, following the sounds of increasing grunts to find Bill and Stan wrestling it out on the floor, a video tape being held out of reach. Georgie sighs dramatically next to him as they watch on.

“So immature,” he drawls out, and Eddie snorts.

Eventually they manage to stop the play-fighting when Eddie gives Georgie the tape and tells him to go and hide it somewhere. No matter how many times Stan insists on it, Eddie refuses to watch Firewalker more than once in his lifetime. They all settle down, with Eddie on the recliner as Bill and Stan take up the couch. Georgie comes back and they decide on watching E.T. just to keep things family friendly for Georgie.

Georgie acts out a lot of the scenes throughout the film, mainly for Eddie, and when it comes to the infamous goodbye scene Eddie takes charge and acts out E.T.’s lines for Georgie’s benefit.

“I’ll be right–” Eddie drops his finger slowly down to Georgie’s heart. “–here.”

Georgie giggles, a small whistling sound escaping through the gap in his front teeth. Eddie smiles, and looks over to see Stan and Bill both eyeing him without shame. Bill is laughing into Stan’s shoulder, while Stan gives him a knowing look practically dripping with tease. Eddie pulls a face that perfectly equals flipping them off and returns his attention to the movie.

It’s now nearing dinner and Eddie feels his stomach grumble, obviously not satisfied with the few potato chips he had shoved in his mouth an hour earlier.

Bill’s parents always had leftovers in their fridge, only nothing was really reaching out to Eddie’s interest, and apparently not for his friends either.

“Hey,” says Bill, eyes lighting up. “I forgot – my p-parents gave me some money. We could use some to order in, m-m-maybe?”

“There aren’t that many places that order in, though,” says Stan, popping open a Coke from the fridge.

Eddie has a thought, and he tries his best to act casual. “What about the pizzeria?”

“Oh, yes please, pizza!” yells Georgie, jumping about excitedly. Eddie knew he could get the kid on board.

“Sounds good to me,” shrugs Stan.

Bill goes to pick up the phone, ordering their usual pizzas plus garlic bread, because duh. He thanks them and hangs up, saying it’ll be no more than half an hour. To appease Georgie, they all let him pick another movie, and Eddie tries not to count down the minutes until their pizza was supposedly meant to arrive. Georgie ends up sitting with Eddie in the recliner, too, and Eddie becomes distracted by the time the doorbell rings and Bill gets up to pay.

When there’s another voice at the front door Eddie settles Georgie down to listen in, and soon learns his predictions were correct. He gets up and makes his way over to Bill – to help him carry the food, of course, because he’s an amazing friend like that.

“Hey, Eds!”

Richie’s voice sends an odd shiver along Eddie’s arms, and he finds himself smiling back almost instantly.

“I totally f-fuh-forgot you were the delivery boy,” Bill was saying.

“Well I didn’t even realise this was your house,” says Richie.

Eddie laughs nervously. “What a coincidence, huh?”

Bill eyes him knowingly, because nothing gets past him. “Yeah. Total coincidence.” He hands Richie the payment, plus a tip, and before Richie can hand over the pizza Georgie comes running over to inspect the hold up.

“Eddie, one of the best parts is coming up, you gotta watch it with me!” he says, tugging insistently on Eddie’s hand.

Eddie tells him he’ll be right back and watches as Georgie disappears, the kid not even caring about the presence of his dinner.

“Cute,” teases Richie, and Eddie tries to avoid his eyes. “That your brother?”

Bill nods. “He’s got a m-massive crush on Eddie. It’s adorable, really.”

“I don’t blame him,” winks Richie cheekily, and Eddie nearly has a heart attack, his body thrumming with unrelenting heat.

“Hey, when do you finish work? We’ll be going all night here, p-p-probably,” says Bill.

“Tempting offer,” nods Richie sagely. He looks back out into the street before turning back. “Maybe my uncle’ll let me off early, I’ll ask.”

“It’s fine if you can’t,” blurts Eddie, feeling the need to suddenly say something. “But, yeah… you’re more than welcome.”

Richie bites his lip through a smile, definitely holding back on a laugh. “Thanks. Well, I might see you guys later then. Enjoy those pizzas, I made them with love.”

Richie saunters away and slides back into – presumably – his uncle’s car, and throws them the peace sign as he drives off. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s staring until Bill clears his throat to indicate he’s shutting the front door. Eddie steps back quickly and hurries back to the lounge room to avoid whatever Bill was undoubtedly going to say.  

There’s a vegetarian pizza for Stan, and Eddie helps himself to the Italiano and watches as a spider-web of cheese satisfyingly follows the slice.

When the second movie finishes so does the last piece of pizza as they all offer it up to an elated Georgie. All needing a break from the screen, they head upstairs to Bill’s room and set up some music to play from his portable stereo. Eddie ends up dancing around the room with Georgie, figuring it would be the fastest way to tire the boy out and send him off to bed soon. They settle down on Bill’s bed and pull out Operation, and they all play the roles of announcers as Georgie takes his turn, hyping it up until the final piece is removed.

“I’m the bestest!” yells Georgie as he jumps in victory. “I’m gonna be a doctor when I grow up!”

“If only it were that easy,” says Stan as he packs the game away.

“Hey, Georgie, I t-think it’s time for bed, yeah?” says Bill, smiling kindly. Georgie deflates, predictably, but he’s always listened to Bill from a very young age. So they leave the room to go through the bedtime routine, and Eddie flops back on the bed with a sigh.

“Must be tough, having as many admirers as you do,” says Stan as he lies down next to him.

“Admirers?” asks Eddie, squinting over at Stan.

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he says, and Eddie frowns harder. “Man, I definitely need a drink, though. Reckon Bill’s dad got anything good?”

“Probably,” says Eddie. “If only we lived in, like, Australia or something – we could almost legally drink already.”

“Europe as well.” Stan turns to face him, looking thoughtful. “Imagine moving there. Anywhere.”

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” agrees Eddie. They fall into silence, but it’s comfortable, and together they wait for Bill to come back to give them the a-okay to finally break into the drink stash.

Bill and Stan go hard and both down a shot of Jameson each, while Eddie mixes his vodka with some pineapple juice. He nurses that while his friends move on to some cans of beer that Bill assures them he can replace before his parents come back. Eddie feels himself begin to loosen up, the burn of alcohol always feeling like the first time again. When he and Bill become momentarily distracted Stan manages to put in Firewalker and claiming they have no choice. Eddie just wonders how he found the tape.

His mind starts to become pleasantly numb as his body sinks lower into the couch, and it can’t be any later than 10 o’clock when the front door rattles again.

Eddie snaps upright, irrationally worried it’s his mother coming to scold him into his next life. Stan goes to open it, and cheers loudly when it’s merely Richie on the other side.

“Hey, guys, Trashmouth made it!” he yells out.

“Stan The Man, what’s up?” greets Richie, accepting the arm that Stan throws around his shoulders.

“The sky,” says Stan, laughing at his own joke proudly.

“Man, I’ve sure missed a lot of the fun already,” says Richie, finally coming into full view.

Bill gets up and pats his chest as he walks by. “I’ll get you a drink, buddy.”

“Actually, can I just have some water?” asks Richie, and Bill shrugs a ‘sure’.

Eddie sips at his drink again, eyeing Richie over the rim of his cup. Stan leans over to whisper something in Richie’s ear, and Eddie stares unabashedly even after Richie catches his gaze. Richie says something back and nods, gratefully taking the drink Bill hands him when he returns.

“Cheers, everyone,” says Richie, and everyone follows suit.

They switched the television back on and found themselves watching some re-runs of The Simpsons, and Richie tries his best to imitate some of the voices. As the night went on Bill becomes increasingly drunker as he drapes himself over any available surface in the lounge room. Eddie laughs a lot when he drinks, while Stan becomes more talkative. Richie plays off them all with ease, joking around and appearing content to simply observe their rowdiness. Eddie sits himself next to Richie on the couch at one point, their sides touching from shoulders to toes.

“What were you talking to Stan about?” whispers Eddie, not knowing if he was allowed to ask.

“Before?” asks Richie. “Oh, I uh… brought some pot, actually.”

Eddie feels his face morph into shock. “You guys have talked about doing marijuana?”

“Yeah, the week you were sick,” explains Richie. He pulls out a small, clear bag from his pocket with two rolled joints inside. “You ever tried it?”

Eddie shakes his head dramatically, subconsciously wrinkling his nose. Eddie wonders where Richie even found marijuana in Derry. Richie grins at him.

“Man, it’d be amazing to see you high, Eds,” he says. Eddie frowns as if to disagree.

“Me? Why?”

Richie stares at him hard, maybe about to answer, but then a body crashes into them after Bill rolls over the back of the couch. They all groan from the impact, but then it’s followed by Bill’s laughter and Stan gesturing to Richie’s stash.

“Can we try it now?”

“Wait, wait,” slurs Bill, and sits up so he’s sprawled across Eddie and Richie’s legs. “Can’t h-have the smell be inside. Stinks. L-let’s go to the roof.”

“No roof sitting while you’re drunk,” says Richie. “C’mon, we’ll go lie on the lawn.”

“But it’s f-freezing.”

“I’ll bring a blanket,” says Stan, and Bill cheers as if Stan had just invented the idea of layering up. They all step outside and it is, in fact, pretty fucking cold. Eddie had grabbed some more blankets to lie down on the grass, because even if it was cold, he was in the mood for looking up at the stars tonight.

Stan and Bill cuddle up together on Richie’s right and Eddie takes his left. Richie sits up while he pulls out a joint and his lighter, holding it close for a moment before taking the first, long drag. There’s very little breeze so the exhaled smoke lingers around them for a moment, and Eddie makes a small noise at the smell.

“Eds, you wanna try it?”

Eddie squints at Richie, contemplating. His hesitation causes Richie to add on: “It’s cool if you don’t.”

“Eddie’s asthma might act up,” tuts Stan, obviously just looking out for him. He too sits up before Richie passes along the joint.

“When have you done this before?” Eddie asks Stan, feeling out of the loop.

Stan draws in a puff, coughing once after he’s done. Bill takes it next, leaning onto Stan for support. “My cousin had some last year when he came to visit – thought it’d be cool to try it with you guys.”

Bill gives off vibes of a pro in the making, seemingly indifferent when he’s finished.

“Shit, you guys are gonna be feeling this tomorrow, what with all of the drinks you’ve had as well,” says Richie, wincing a bit. Eddie tries not to freak out too much, watching his friends closely out of concern.

“It’s cool,” Stan waves him off. “We’ve got a whole day to recover.”

Richie laughs, sounding impressed. Eddie watches everyone for a while longer, simply letting their presence relax him back down onto the blanket, and as they chatter away he busies himself by closing his eyes, letting any and all thoughts drift him away into a world of possibilities. It’s nice, comforting in a way Eddie doesn’t get to experience that often these days. He feels lucky in that moment.

Perhaps a decent amount of time had passed, because there’s a nudge at his shoulder and a worried voice near his ear.

“Eddie? Eds? You still alive down there?”

It’s Richie, and he nods back without opening his eyes. “Course I’m alive, stupid.”

“Was so worried,” says Richie, and now there’s a hand on Eddie’s cheek. “What would I do without you? Eds, c’mon, open your eyes, need to be absolutely sure you’re not dead.”

By now most of the alcohol in Eddie’s system had died down, so now it was harder to relate to another person’s illogical rambling. He complied to Richie’s request anyway, looking up at Richie with a pointed stare. Richie’s hand was really warm, though, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he wanted it gone or to stay there forever.

“Guys, guys,” calls Richie over his shoulder. “Eddie’s alive, we’re good.”

There’s a grunt and a ‘Thank God’ from Bill. Richie looks back at him, and Eddie isn’t sure what to say. Eventually, he puts on his brave pants and says: “Maybe I will try it…”

Richie blinks owlishly. “Hmm? Oh, the pot, yeah? Nice, that’s my brave Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Don’t talk about food right now, man,” groans Stan. “I’m so hungry.”

“Bill? Can I use your shower tomorrow? I don’t want my mum smelling it on me,” says Eddie, chewing his lip and wondering if this is a good idea or not.

“Sure Eddie,” says Bill.

Richie tries to help Eddie up but just ends up laughing at his own clumsiness. He pulls Eddie close, guiding him through it slowly, and Eddie instead becomes distracted by the freckles across Richie’s nose.  

“Okay, you got this,” says Richie, holding it near Eddie’s mouth. Eddie ends up placing his hand over Richie’s to keep it steady. “Take a long drag, slowly, and then hold it in for as long as you can before releasing.”

Eddie tries, not sucking in enough the first time, but managing more on the next. The sensation of it was completely lost on Eddie, and he can feel the effect of the drug warm up his lungs and chest. He becomes distracted by Richie again and holds it in too long, coughing up puffs of smoke through a scratchy throat and feeling his eyes water. Richie curses and rubs his back, and Eddie fumbles for his inhaler and takes several hits.

When he calms down he can sense multiple concerned eyes on him, and Eddie reassures his friends he’s okay.

“It’ll take a while before it really hits you,” says Richie, still very close. Eddie nods, and then shivers involuntarily.

“Ah, you cold?” asks Richie, already lying back down and opening his arms wide. “C’mere.”

“What?” asks Eddie incredulously.

“Cuddle with me,” Richie says in an exhale.

“C’mon, Eds,” Stan pipes up. Eddie looks over to see Bill already tucked comfortably into Stan’s side, like it’s no big deal. Eddie blinks rapidly, wondering when his friends became so shockingly cavalier about this kind of behavior. It makes his heart beat faster, seeing that kind of affection play out so casually between other boys, even when they’re his friends. “It’s nice. Join us.”

Richie makes another gesture with his hands, and finally Eddie lowers himself down and into Richie’s awaiting arms, telling himself it’s only because he really despises the cold.  

“Damn, you’re freezing, Eds.”

“And you’re… warm,” says Eddie, but his hazy mind poses it like a question. With his ear now pressed to Richie’s chest, Eddie can hear his own heartbeat even clearer now, and he scrunches his eyes shut and prays desperately for it to calm down. It doesn’t, especially when Richie goes to rest a hand over Eddie’s waist as his fingers rub in soothing motions. What would ma think if she saw me? Eddie panics.

“You do this a lot back in your old town, Rich?” asks Stan.

Eddie feels Richie nod. “Yeah. My friends and I used to hang out behind this bowling alley and smoke a lot. The owner sometimes gave us fries in exchange for a few hits. S’cool.”

“Bet you miss ‘em,” Stan continues and reaches over to pat Richie’s chest clumsily. Bill appears to have fallen asleep, but Eddie isn’t sure.

“Yeah, I do,” says Richie, and it’s almost strange to hear Richie sound sad.

“Tell us about them,” he offers, angling his head up to give Richie an encouraging smile. Richie smiles back tentatively as his grip tightens.

“Well, let’s see…” starts Richie, “There’s Mike, who’s probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever known, and he always carries around food so he can feed any stray animal he finds in the city. I swear he’s like an angel with no wings.”

“Nice,” slurs Stan.

“And then there’s Bev, probably my favourite person ever. I’ve known her since I was three, and she’s someone I can tell everything too, and she never holds back when she thinks you deserve a scolding. I’m positive we’re soulmates.”

Eddie tenses, a question lodged in his throat he’s not even sure he wants answered. His mouth feels incredibly dry, too, which irks him.

“Soulmate? You dating her?” asks Stan, sounding scandalized. Eddie’s not sure why Stan would be upset about that.

“Hm? Haha, what? No, not dating, no,” says Richie. “She’s got a childhood sweetheart, Ben – sometimes you look at them and feel blessed that love like that can still exist, y’know? Ben’s so smart, and so good with her, I’d hurt anyone who hurts them.”

Eddie relaxes again. “They sound nice.”

“You guys can meet ‘em,” says Richie excitedly. “They’re coming up to visit in a couple weeks.”

“I almost feel unworthy,” jokes Eddie.

Richie makes a strangled sound, and using both arms he hauls Eddie up his body further, so their faces are almost in line with each other. Eddie tries to keep his calm again, gripping helplessly at the front of Richie’s shirt. Then fingers are brushing across his forehead repeatedly as Richie attempts without success to curl Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Eddie feels paralyzed as heat consumes his body once again.

“Eds, Eddie Bear,” Richie is saying, giggling uncontrollably. “They’re gonna love you. All of you guys. I couldn’t’ve asked for better friends.”

Eddie’s not sure who he’s talking about. He hopes it’s everyone.

Friends, thinks Eddie. Us.

“Hey, hey,” says Richie. “Stan The Man’s asleep now too. Aw, aren’t they cute?”

Eddie looks over to see Stan and Bill both passed out, limbs still tangled together. It almost looks like a private moment not meant for others to see. Richie is still laughing quietly, and Eddie shakes along with Richie’s bouncing chest. And then Richie stops, almost abruptly and looks suddenly serious.

“Eds,” he’s whispering now. “I never asked – the mixtape, did you like it? You never said…”

Eddie licks his lips, trying to find his voice. Richie sounds like a kicked puppy waiting for his owners loving reassurance.

“I… liked it. It… you really picked all of those songs because you thought I’d like them?”

Richie settles back, clearly pleased with this answer. “Oh, yeah, Eddie Bear. I like to think I got that in-intro-intolu-…”

“Intuition?” supplies Eddie.

“Yeah. That,” says Richie on a sigh. “You sure get me, Eds.”

Eddie wants to argue back, but Richie looks so peaceful now. Instead, he follows suit and relaxes back into Richie’s warmth, and can’t help but realise…

No. It’s you who gets me.

*

*

*

the next chapter will be up much sooner, and I mean it this time ahah! 

let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! xxx

@just-an-akward-fangirl @trashmouth-smashmouth @jas6236 @klancelets @emptygreyspaces @kikyomibu @kkfra808 @ageorgymi @allycatlovesoakleshineplusphan

[allhailthe-demonking]

Here In My Room - 5

Wherein Finn sort of fucks up a little, Merritt freaks out, and the day is saved with a little bit of explicitly consensual, discussed d/s behavior. 

It’s a struggle for Merritt to pull herself away from Finn’s grasp that keeps her pressed against his warm skin; even in sleep, he’s possessive and strong. She does it slowly and carefully, each gained inch between them making his face scrunch further with dismay. When she’s finally extricated herself, she leans forward to smooth a kiss over his forehead to soothe the lines there.

He doesn’t wake, but his subconsciousness makes it plain enough that he’s displeased with the change, frowning and pulling the blankets tighter to himself.

She smiles softly, watching him fondly as he finally settles himself back amongst the pillows. She pads softly across the hotel room to their bathroom, the opulent shower calling her name. She knows he’ll probably wake before long, neither of them very good at sleeping in, and with any luck, he’ll be joining her under the rainfall shower heads.

It doesn’t take Finn long at all to wake, the buzzing of his silenced phone near his ear pulling him from the last vestiges of sleep. He groans quietly, hand blindly searching and swiping across the screen. “‘lo?” he yawns, pulling the blanket up over his head with the hand not cradling the phone to his ear.

There’s a brief silence on the other end, broken by a woman’s laughter. “Goot mornin’,” comes her greeting, and Finn frowns in confusion. “Might I ask where my Eleanor may be?”

Finn can feel his world tilting, and he knows his morning is about to get complicated. Her name is Eleanor… “She emm…she’s in da shower,” he responds slowly. “I’m sorry, I should’na answered widout lookin’…” he swears under his breath. “She emm…how’s about I have her call ya back?”

The woman, Merritt’s mother he assumes, only laughs louder. “So long as she doesn’t wait another month. Her sisters are missing her, too…”

He can hear more laughter in the background, and he wishes the bed would just swallow him up. Her name is Eleanor. “I promise ya she’ll call soon. She’s just been a bit caught up lately.” He cringes, wanting to swear again and much louder but terrified of doing so in front of Merritt’s mother. He hears the shower stop in the bathroom, and his heart is pounding. “I should probably let ya go before she kills me fer sayin’ too much,” he says, laying on all the charm he can. “I promise she’ll call soon.”

He hears chattering in the background, but the words are accented and foreign, and he knows he’s fucked up, god he’s fucked up. “I’ll hold you to it,” her mother finally agrees. “I’ll put in a good word for you if you’ll tell me your name,” she offers, and he’s so screwed.

“Fergal,” he answers, because he can’t be dishonest, never to Merritt and certainly not to her family, not when he’s already gone and dug his own grave before the sun’s even come up. He slips from the bed, phone still held to his ear, hoping to meet Merritt, not wanting her to think the worst.

The door opens, though, and Merritt’s smile falters at the sight of her phone to his ear. There’s a dip in her stomach, like a rollercoaster she didn’t want to get on, and she doesn’t quite understand why Finn would be on her phone, but it’s all swallowed up by the fall and the overwhelming hurt. “What are you doing?” she asks, trying to keep her voice quiet and calm, and failing miserable.

They both hear laughter through the phone, a chorus of what Finn thinks sounds suspiciously like “Shit” before it's disconnecting, and Finn is holding out her phone, thrusting is towards her, not wanting to be touching it anymore, like that will absolve him of her anger.

“It was ringin’,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t really awake, and I di’n’t look. I di’n’t mean-“

Merritt growls, shoving Finn hard in the chest, pushing him out of her space and deeper into the room. She scowls at him, brows drawn, holding her phone to her chest. “What gives you the fucking right?” she hisses. Her body is coiled tight, completely tense, ready for a fight.

Finn holds his hands up, like he’s showing her that he meant no harm. He doesn’t speak, still trying to piece together the last ten minutes, trying to figure out how they went from a perfect night, looking forward to a perfect morning with just the two of them, to Merritt looking like she’s ready to bolt.

“Answer me!” she shouts, taking a bold step forward. All she can see is red; furious that Finn could be thoughtless enough to take a peak into her world outside of their agreement. She snarls, hackles raising all over again, unable to get it out of her head; anger is easier than hurt and broken trust.

“I di’n’t mean to upset you,” he says, words quiet and fast. “I t’ought it was mine, at first. By the time I realized, I just di’n’t want to scare her.” Merritt lets out an angry huff of breath, takes another step forward so they’re chest to chest and she’s staring up at him so fierce that she hopes he bursts into flame. “I just meant to tell her that ya’d call her back in a minute. She started askin’ who I was, Merritt, I di’n’t want her to think ya were in trouble.”

She shakes the phone in her hand, like she can erase what he did like it’s unwanted text; a mistake. “I don’t care what you wanted, Finn,” she spits. “My life, outside of this, is none of your business. My family is none of your business.” She pokes him hard in the sternum, like she isn’t a fraction of his size. “Eleanor is none of your business.”

He flinches at that. Logically, he’d known her name wasn’t actually Merritt, that she used a pseudonym for her work, just like he did. But knowing and finding out are completely different, and when he’d heard the raspy, accented voice ask for her daughter, he’d gone blank. He’d paused. “How do I fix dis?” he asks, voice soft. He doesn’t pass the blame or deny it, accepting he’d hurt her and only wanting to earn back the trust he’d lost.

Merritt swallows, biting hard on the inside of her lip. She wants to be furious. She wants to scream and kick and cry because he’s not supposed to see her, the woman behind the carefully sculpted image. He’s not supposed to see who lies behind and underneath. Part of her hates that Finn is being so quiet and accepting of his mistake. “Stop it,” she breathes, taking a step back.

Finn automatically reaches a hand out, wrapping it around her wrist. “Merritt-“

“Stop!” she repeats, yanking away from his touch. “You don’t get to be upset right now.” She takes a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. “What did she say?”

“She said your sisters miss ya,” he answers, quiet, not wanting to push her even farther. “I said ya’d just been caught up lately,” he swallows, hands motioning between them, “I di’n’t tell her anything about us. I just di’n’t want her to tink someting was wrong.”

Merritt eyes him carefully; she knows Finn well enough that she knows he isn’t the type to try to hurt her, and certainly not the type to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. The anger rises up in a flash of heat at that, reminding her that that’s why this hurts so badly, to have given him trust and see it used against her. “Did you say anything else?” she asks, lips pursing.

He shakes his head. “I swear it. I was comin’ to bring it to ya.” He reaches out slowly, wrapping his arm around her waist, palming her lower back. “I’m not asking’ for ya to not be mad, but please keep trustin’ me.” He wants to breath out a deep sigh of relief that she isn’t pulling away, but he knows that whatever is between them, be it the contract or the more that he’s been feeling ever since he came back, is on fragile ground.

She presses her face to Finn’s chest, shuddering when his other arm wraps around her. She doesn’t say anything, not sure that she trusts herself to at this point. She reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck, knowing deep down that she does still trust him, but just needing to let her fear and uncertainty go. “I’m sorry, too.”

He kisses the top of her head, her hair still wet from her shower, smelling of his shampoo. “Don’t be. Ya’ve every right to me mad.” His hand rubs gently at her back, hoping that they’re truly back on solid ground. “An’ I wanna make it up to ya. I wanna show ya that ya can trust me.”

Merritt swallows, looking up at Finn with a sad little smile. “I know that I can, Finn.” When he looks ready to argue, she pulls back just a step, reaching down to take one of his hands in hers, gently playing with his fingers. “You’ve never done anything to hurt me intentionally, and I don’t think you will. But I do have an idea?”

He leans down and kisses her forehead, fingers clasping with hers. “Anyt’ing.”

She gives him a little smirk, fingers teasing down to his wrist, bringing his hand up and guiding it to her throat. She presses his fingers to either side, just a hint of pressure, his huge palm spanning the whole way across and she’s already dizzy with it, and there isn’t even enough pressure to cut off any air.

Finn swears, fingers gently twitching where she’s holding them to her skin. “Ya sure?” he asks quietly, thumb pressing to the hollow of her throat, making her body go rigid as she tries to gasp. She can only nod, her eyes fluttering shut, hand around his wrist holding onto him tightly. “How does dis feel?”

She taps once on his forearm, gentle, forcing her eyes open. She’d gasp again if she could, watching the way Finn’s eyes seem to have gone all black, swallowing up the brilliant blue with his arousal. She taps once more, more sure, giving him the go ahead.

He purrs sweetly, dropping a kiss to her parted lips. “Very good, Kitten. What about if it’s too much?” Merritt taps twice, eyes unfocused as she slowly slips into that place, eager to be good for Finn, to show him just how much she truly does trust him. His fingers press a little tighter, truly starting to limit her breathing. “And if ya need me to stop?”

Her fingers tap three times, rapid and firm. Finn lets go immediately, and she’s trembling against him, whining sadly, wanting his hand back on her, taking her breath away.

He shushes her quietly, kissing over the apples of her cheeks. “Perfect, Kitten. I’m gonna give ya what ya want, what ya need. But when ya tap out, for any reason, we stop. No questions.” It’s heady, the way she presses needfully against him, begging him, and it makes his head spin how much trust for him she truly has. “Sit on the end of da bed for me, Kitten.”

Merritt complies quickly, feet slightly stumbling as she moves. She settles on the bed, ankles crossed demurely, her hands in her lap patiently. She wants whatever he’s going to give her, and the promise of whatever that may be sends electric shocks up her spine.

Finn stalks close to her, watching her vigilantly, checking for any sign that tells him she doesn’t want this. But all signs are pointing to yes, and he counts himself as blessed that she wants this with him. He towers over her, leaning in to kiss her, deep and wanting palm cupping her neck firmly as he licks into her mouth. He swallows her mewls and sighs, and that might be the only part he doesn’t like, is knowing that when he deprives her of oxygen, he’ll also be depriving himself of her sweet little noises.

She kisses him back lazily, pressing into his touch greedily. Her hands come up to his hips, still wonderfully bare, and her thumbs find the indentations between muscles, rubbing there gently, nails scratching along his thick thighs. She mewls softly when she feels his grip tighten minutely, shuddering helplessly before him.

He breaks from her lips with a wet sound, watching the way her jaw falls slack when he presses a little tighter yet, just enough to make it an effort for her to breathe, and her lips quirk up just slightly at the corners. He murmurs nonsense words, praising her, telling her how good she is for him, how perfect she is like this as he carefully drops to his knees and presses himself between her thighs. He forces her head to tip back, opening up her airway just a fraction more, hearing her reedy little moans as he leans forward to trace his pointed tongue along the small circle of her nipple before he’s pulling it into his mouth, worrying it gently between sharp and clever teeth.

Merritt can hardly stand it, her hands on Finn’s shoulders digging into his muscles as he draws pleasure from her like she’s an instrument to be played. He suckles at her softly, a stark contrast to the points of his canines. He pulls back slowly, cheeks hollowed as he teases and bites at her nipple before it lets go with a rumbling moan, only to give the same devout care to her other breast.

He peeks up at her from below his eyelashes, watches how perfectly still she stays for him, letting his hand ebb and slow, slowly tightening around her throat before his palm opens again, letting air rush back into her lungs. “Tell me how ya’re, Kitten,” he groans softly, grinning against the side of her breast as she taps once, immediate and sure, against his shoulder. “Good, Kitten, I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, tongue flicking and teasing at her straining nipple. He laves at her once more before he’s mouthing lower, teeth nipping just hard enough at the underside of her breasts before continuing down down down.

Her gasp when he first licks long and teasing and slow up her slit barely even starts before his hand is clenching tight around her throat, cutting off any hope of making any sounds or taking in a much needed breath. Her hands scrabble at his forearm and wrist, nails digging into his skin, but she doesn’t tap more than once, needing him to know she’s okay if as she loses her mind. Her back arches when his tongue finds her clit, flicking little licks against the nub. She squeezes at his wrist, begging, so close and just needing that tiny push. She gets it with two long fingers pressing inside, curling against her walls, and she can’t breath, everything crystalline and shining as she shudders apart.

Finn slowly eases the pressure of his hand around her throat as he licks around and between his fingers, tongue curling as he swallows her arousal as greedily as she does his. He moans against her, always so sweet and heady, looking up at her as she comes back down. He smiles up at her when she finally opens her eyes, tongue pointed and wriggling against her sensitive clit, forcing her to moan and try to press forward for a taste of her own. His hand stops her, though, giving a warning little press, reminding her that he’s in charge. “Ask me nicely, Kitten,” he purrs, fingers rubbing at the spot inside, making her clench and quake for him.

“Please, please Finn,” she whispers, her voice weak and wrecked. “Let me, please.” She can barely think, certainly can’t focus, and she just wants.

Finn slowly pulls his fingers out and away, teeth gentle on her clit, distracting her as she clenches around the emptiness. She’s still soaking wet, though, and he’s more than happy to feast on her arousal, licking her clean. His fingers press between her lips, stifling another moan, and he’s cupping her jaw and pressing them deep. His other hand tightens and clenches, and she takes him perfectly, suckling her wetness from his fingers, tongue teasing at his fingertips until they’re pressed too deep, while he slowly slowly cuts off her breathing yet again. She hums softly, as best she can, around his digits, just taking everything he gives her.

Merritt is boneless before him, only held up by Finn’s hands and her own sheer force of will. She swallows around his fingers, letting them tease her deeper, tapping once against his wrist, not needing him to ask for her to reassure him of just how good she feels.

He growls, slowly pulling his fingers back. He loosens his grip on her neck, his touch nothing more than a firm reminder before he’s pressing his hips against hers, cock rubbing between her wet folds. The head of his cock nudges her clit, once, twice before he just grinds against her, their arousal mixing and pooling between them. He moans loudly, claiming her lips for his own. His teeth tug at her bottom lip, worrying it until its red and swollen, and when she takes in a deep and full breath, he’s slamming home, pressing inside, taking it right back from her.

Her soft cries are pitiful and desperate, his thrusts shaking her whole body, making her breasts heave with each press. Her head tips back, both in pleasure and invitation, and she can feel herself climbing higher and higher, feeling like she’s clenching around him as tight as he’s clenching her.

Finn watches the way she writhes under him, perfect and wanting, and leans more of his weight into her throat, knowing they’re both close. His thrusts get choppy, deep as they are, and the hand that hand been supporting his weight on the bed slips down to circle and toy with her clit. He holds most of his weight easily, but lets her feel it, feel him, as he pushes her closer and closer to the edge. “Come fer me, Kitten. Come now, Kitten, do it,” he encourages, his voice thick and deep, commanding her to come apart.

She isn’t surprised when her body obeys his commands, orgasm ripping from her soundlessly as his fingers tighten once more, drawing out and hyperextending her pleasure. Her back arches, fingers gripping tighter and tighter to his wrist and forearm, feet curling and toes pointing as she’s lost to it.

It only takes a few more thrusts before he’s following her over the edge, into oblivion. Only then does his hand fall away, instead curling his fingers with Merritt’s as he collapses over top of her. Her arms cradle him close, lips finding his, the two of them finding their breath together. He breaks from her lips to trail wet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, teeth gently scraping at the hollow of her throat. “Merritt,” he whispers, more of a quiet little moan, lips finding their way back to hers.

Her arms, wrapped lazily around the back of his neck, squeeze once, and she’s tapping once against his shoulder blade. She kisses him once, a little grin on her lips as she does. “Finn,” she purrs, her voice a little broken.

He laughs softly, rolling to his back and pulling her with him so she’s resting against his chest. “Rest now, Kitten. Ya’ve got a phone call to return once ya wake up.”

[backtomylakearearootsstory]

S1E16

FRIDAY

QJ has served his two days worth of afternoon detention along with a Friday morning detention. After a long lecture from his mother and a requirement to see the guidance counselor twice a week for the next two weeks he is ready to get his Friday started and is on his best behavior. While he is serving his detention, Deja gets a phone call from Yvonne.

 QJ is right now in class, getting ready to go outside for the science lesson of the day.

“Mom was pissed” Ezra said with a slight laugh

QJ admitted that his mom was not thrilled either. He then asked, “Was she more upset about the fight or the fact that you didn’t win?”

“At this point, I can’t even say”.

“You two? Pay attention” the teacher sternly said as she glared their way.

“Yes ma’am”

Later that day, he was packing his bag for the sleepover. He couldn’t have been more excited, this was the first sleepover he’d be at that wasn’t at his cousin’s house. He was in the middle of packing when Quincy called all three of them into the kitchen.

 “Me and your mom are going to Vegas for the weekend. Your Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Phil invited us to go along with them. Junior is going to be at a sleepover and the two of you will be spending the night with your aunt Clarissa. Zach is gonna be there so Malachi, you won’t be the only boy”

“Thank God” Malachi said with a relief

Quincy then continues, “QJ, your aunt will be picking up you tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already given her the address so you’ll be meeting Aundrea and Malachi tomorrow. The two of you need to start packing, also she says to bring some swimming clothes, or something to get wet in”

Deja then begin going over some ground rules. “QJ, don’t wonder off, be sure to listen to parents of the house. In addition, I want you to stay on site, unless stated otherwise. I do not want to hear a story about you wondering off. Also don’t forget ‘yes ma’am, sir’ unless stated otherwise”

“The two of you, be good. Listen to your aunt, and do not argue. I’ve also given each of you a house key in case you need to go by the house and grab something or you aunt needs something”

“Awww mom” Aundrea moaned before they all headed to pack.

Junior finished packing and jumped in the truck.

While in the truck, Quincy said, “You know, when I was your age, my mom never allowed us to spend the night at anyone other than our family members and not even all family members. I want you to have fun, but don’t abuse this privilege.”

After meeting the party host’s mother, he told QJ “goodnight” and that he would see him Thursday evening.

Noticing that Ezra had not arrived yet, he began to get a tad concerned. Justin and the rest of the boys were watching a movie and snacking on chips and dip when the doorbell rang. It was Ezra.

“Your mom let you out!”

“Yeah, after I convinced her that dad would be picking me out early in the morning”

“Hey Ez” Justin said as he proceeded with a handshake “This is my cousin Cain”

“What’s up man?”

“Good”

They finished the movie off followed by some games, then a pillow fight. Ezra having a mild stomach cramp went to the bathroom in the back.

 Meanwhile at Carissa’s, Malachi and Zach were chatting away on the mattress. They while the girls painted each other’s nails. Clarissa peaked in for a minute and had a flashback to her, Deja, and Azalea painting nails and stealing their mother’s makeup.

“Dee you know you aren’t supposed to be messing with mama’s makeup”

“Whatever”

She pondered for a moment before going to the kitchen to make snacks for the kids. She decided to try out some chocolate marshmallow squares. She also did a pot of taco dip. While she was preparing snacks, the kids were talking about last weekend. Amina being the first one to break the ice asked “So what do you think of our people?”

“I like ‘em” Aundrea chimed in. As much as I like hanging w/ the guys, it’s nice to have girl talk from time to time”

“Girl talk?” Malachi asked. “Boys and makeup”

“I like being able to do both, I’m the kind of gal that can get down and dirty and then get dolled up when I want. Plus, it was dope to be able to find my female equivalent. Alexis is a lot like me”

“I thought it was kind of cool to find out that we don’t stand alone and that we had other kinfolk that’ve been out here in Cali for generations.”

“Yeah it was neat, we’ve also got people out in Chicago, New York, and I found out through mom, some even migrated to Colorado of all places”

They later began playing truth or dare-they played for about an hour before going grab some food.

In Las Vegas, Deja and Yvonne headed straight for the machines while Quincy and Phil headed for one of the casino bars.

While conversing over alcohol, Justin asked QJ about the fight. “I heard you kicked his ass”

“Hey he got a few licks in, but I was the last man standing”

Justin laughed and then proceeded while grabbing a hand full of popcorn “Ezra, that guy’s a dick”

“I said the same thing; you know they tried to suggest anger management? Dad was PO’d”

Swiftly changing the conversation, QJ inquired about Justin’s large video game collection.

“Well, I got the latest madden, some race games, I figured we could play multiple. “They boys played games for the rest of the night before tiring themselves around 3AM. Justin being the first one to wake up around 9:00 am for a cup of juice sat down. QJ woke up 15 minutes exactly.

“Hey I hope I didn’t wake you”

“Nah” QJ said as he shrugged. “But Ez is knocked out”

“Wanna go outside?”

“Sure”

Concurrently in Vegas, Deja is knocked cold even though it’s going on 9:30

“Dee, how much did you have to drink?”

She had the drinks at the bar and bottle of Liquor that she and Yvonne split. She only did this when her kids were not have. Plus it’s not every day that she got to drink on someone else’s dime.

“Girl, next time we go down to LC, we’ll have to ride out to Lacassine and get some of that Bayou Rum”

“That stuff was quite good. Love that Satsuma Orange with sprite and a lime,” Deja agreed.

Deja also disclosed the fact that she managed to win $500 and would be treating them all the dinner later that night. She stepped away for a moment to phone Clarissa reminding her to pick up QJ around noon. After breakfast, she went down to the pool and then she hit up the spa. She spent the first have of her day there while the husbands went to play golf.

Around 2:00 pm, Clarissa picked up QJ. After leaving Justin’s house and thanking his parents, he joined, Clarissa and his siblings for a day at the waterpark.  “SWEET!” Malachi exclaimed. Faye and her children joined them on the outing. After finding a shady area, the kids split. Malachi teamed up w/ Ian. Darius and QJ partnered up and Aundrea tagged along with Alexis and Ramona. Brandi stayed with Amina and they spent much of their time in the lazy river.

“Y’all know the rules”

“We know” Darius said. We will. Plus, remember, we took lessons.

“Uh huh, I’ve seen you. Almost caught a heart attack”

“Shade much?”

They laughed it off before heading to a tall slide.  

“Girl, looks like we’ll be following them most of the day”  Faye said as they watch them go.

“yeah man, lets go before the line gets too long, mom you gonna watch?”

[20 MINUTES LATER]

Darius is exiting the pool that the slide lead too. “Did you see it?”

“yes, I saw you. I wish I had it in me, look at QJ, he flipped backwards coming off”

“you alright?”

“I’m straight” QJ said.

Azalea gets a text.

“Cool..”

“Dominic, get your swim trunks”

They remained at the waterpark for the rest of the afternoon while Deja found a restaurant along the main strip to go eat at.

[Deja calls Clarissa]

“How are the kids?”

“Worn out! They had fun”

“I got your message. You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know but I wanted to. Did y’all have a good time in Vegas?”

“Yes, we’ll be home in the afternoon. Check out is at 12 pm.”

“Okay, tell everybody I said hi, and y’all don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Goodnight”.

TO BE CONTINUED WITH EPISODE 17.