#the town that time forgot chapter 1

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Motion Sick // Chapter 2

Themes: homoerotic friendship turmoil... (again iykyk)

A/N: Had a free day so spent it cooking up this next chapter! Felt inspired by all the love you guys gave for chapter 1. Not sure what this says about me, but I love writing character spirals so this chapter is basically just more of that! Enjoy!

WC: 4.9K

Warnings: cussing, angst

**** Chapter 2 ****

It’s been a week since the student center.

Seven days. Five practices. Three recovery lifts. Two film sessions.

Over the summer, it was easier to pretend. They were only on campus for a few weeks of summer session—light workouts, half-empty dorms, no one really paying attention. They could get away with small talk and long stretches of silence. Could convince themselves that the space between them was just timing. Just logistics. Just a break.

But now?

Now they’re back in it. Full team schedule. Practice every day. Group meals. Shared everything. Paige is everywhere again—on the sidelines, in the locker room, just close enough to make Azzi feel the distance even more.

This morning, it’s film.

Everyone’s packed into the team meeting room—sweats, messy buns, Gatorade bottles scattered across the floor. The room smells like sweat, menthol, and the kind of focus that doesn’t fade just because practice ended. Coach is already five minutes into a breakdown of last week’s scrimmage footage, laser pointer in hand, voice rising and falling like he’s narrating a crime scene.

Azzi’s in the third row with the other sophomores, directly behind the juniors, which means Paige is in front of her. Two seats to the right, to be exact. 

Her hoodie’s oversized, sleeves pulled over her hands, notebook balanced on her thigh. Her knee is propped on her backpack like it’s casual, but Azzi knows it’s not. She’s seen the way Paige grits her teeth when she shifts too fast. The way she barely lets the trainers touch it.

And even though she hasn’t said a word to her since that morning—hasn’t texted, hasn’t liked anything, hasn’t even made eye contact—Azzi can’t stop watching her.

Because something’s different.

Not just physically.

There’s a weight to her lately, like she’s constantly holding something in. Like if she let go for even a second, the whole thing would collapse.

And maybe Azzi’s imagining it, but… Paige doesn’t usually carry herself like this. She used to sit forward in these meetings, pen tapping against her knee, whispering dumb side commentary that made Azzi snort-laugh through her water bottle.

Now, she’s quiet. Still. Watching the screen like she’s somewhere else entirely.

And Azzi?

Azzi is fully distracted.

Coach pauses the film on a defensive breakdown from last season—one of their worst games. “This,” he says, circling the screen, “is what happens when you forget how to communicate.”

Azzi hears it. Loud and clear.

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks back at the screen, but her eyes flicker down to Paige again.

She’s not even looking. Just staring at the page in her lap like she forgot how to be here.

And Azzi hates how much it bothers her.

Because Paige isn’t being Paige. She isn’t some party girl. That’s never been her vibe. Sure, they’ve all had nights—team wins, off-season birthdays, someone’s cousin visiting from out of town—but still. Paige has always been the one to know when to call it. To rally the freshmen. To lead by example. To drink water in between rounds because she knows her body matters more than a buzz.

But last Friday? Paige looked wrecked. And not just tired-wrecked. Unraveled.

Azzi shifts in her seat again. Guilt crawling under her skin like something contagious.

Because she knows what she saw in Paige’s eyes that morning wasn’t just hangover haze. It was something heavier.

And she knows—deep down, even if she hasn’t said it out loud—that she’s a big part of why.

It’s not like she hasn’t tried.

To fix it. Mend it. Reset the dial and get back to just being best friends.

But the problem is—that’s not what they are anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.

Azzi sits in her seat, eyes on the film screen but mind drifting, the light flickering over Paige’s straight hair just one row down. A highlight reel from last season is playing. Everyone else is focused.

Azzi’s not.

Her thoughts circle a moment from almost a year ago. Just a few days after that night outside Ted’s.

*Three Days After Ted’s*

She knocked before she could change her mind.

Three quick taps, then silence. Her heart already hammering against her ribs.

It had been three days since Ted’s. Three days since Paige had looked at her like she’d torn something open and then watched her walk away.

Azzi had thought about texting—typed out at least four different versions of “can we talk?”—but nothing felt right. Nothing ever did when it came to Paige.

So here she was.

Standing outside Paige’s dorm room like a coward trying to be brave.

The door creaked open slowly.

Paige stood there in a hoodie Azzi had seen a hundred times—wrinkled, sleeves pushed to her elbows, hair pin-straight and tucked behind her ears like she hadn’t had the energy to care. Her eyes were unreadable. Guarded. Like she didn’t know whether to slam the door or let it all in.

Still, she stepped back.

Didn’t say anything. Just… made space.

Azzi walked in slowly, careful not to brush too close. The room felt dim and heavy—like it was still holding the echo of that night. There was music playing low from her laptop, some slow-burning acoustic song that was doing way too much. Paige didn’t bother turning it off.

They sat on the edge of the bed in silence, the way people do when they’ve already said the most important thing and still somehow left everything unsaid.

Azzi’s fingers twisted in the hem of her sleeve.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” she said. “But I do care. You know that, right?”

Paige didn’t look at her. Just nodded, once. No emotion.

Azzi took a breath. “I’m still figuring things out.”

Paige’s voice was flat. “Like what?”

She looked down. “Like… who I am. What I want. What this is.”

Paige’s gaze shifted to the window. Quiet. Not angry. Not cold. Just… tired. Like she was already exhausted from trying not to expect anything.

And Azzi hated herself for that.

Because she knew Paige deserved more than half-truths and safe answers. She deserved certainty. And Azzi—Azzi couldn’t give her that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Because she hadn’t come out. Not to her family. Not to her team.

Not even to herself.

And maybe her feelings for Paige were real. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were something so specific and sharp and only Paige that she didn’t know how to translate them into anything else.

But whatever they were, she wasn’t ready.

They agreed to try again. As friends. Clean. Platonic. Safe.

Azzi told herself it was better than nothing.

And for a little while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

*The Weeks Following Ted’s*

They tried. They really did.

After that night—after the conversation in Paige’s dorm, the hard truths and half-formed apologies—they both promised to make it work. To go back to something simpler. Just friends. Teammates. People who used to be something else but weren’t anymore.

And at first, it actually wasn’t awful.

They fell into a rhythm. Small talk. Inside jokes. Shared playlists again, but nothing too loaded. They lifted together. Texted about practice.

They were in check.

Until they weren’t.

Because old habits die hard. And Paige—Paige has never had much restraint when it comes to the people she loves.

It started with the little things. A hand on Azzi’s back when she passed behind her in the locker room. A pinky brushing hers on the bench during a timeout. Standing just a little too close in the weight room. All harmless. All manageable.

But Azzi felt every one of them.

And she didn’t stop them.

She let the small touches happen. Craved them more than she should have. Told herself it didn’t mean anything if it stayed small. Told herself it was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Because the looks started slipping in again—those long, unblinking glances across the gym. And the way Paige said her name started sounding too soft again. Like it did back when they were still tangled up in each other, late at night, when no one else knew.

They were close to blurring lines again. So close it made Azzi’s chest ache.

But she couldn’t forget what Paige said that night outside Ted’s.

You don’t get to be all over me in private and then play straight for the crowd. I’m not your secret. I’m not some backup plan you get to use when it’s easy.

Even if it was drunk. Even if it was messy. It had cracked something wide open.

And Azzi knew—knew in her gut—that she wasn’t helping. That every glance, every casual touch, every almost was a slow kind of cruelty.

So she drew a harder line.

Not all at once, but in those quiet, deliberate ways that people notice even when they pretend not to.

She stopped sitting next to Paige during team meals. Started saying “I’m gonna head out” before the end of post-practice hangouts. Kept her phone face-down. Gave shorter replies to the late-night texts that always came without a question but carried too much meaning.

She pulled back from the casual touches. The after-lift stretching sessions that used to end in tangled limbs and unspoken closeness. The jokes that skimmed too close to something intimate. The looks. God, the looks.

She didn’t say it out loud. Never made some grand announcement.

But Paige noticed.

Of course she did.

And Azzi could feel it in the shift—how Paige got quieter around her. How her smile didn’t reach all the way anymore. How she stopped reaching out entirely after a while, like she’d done the math and realized what they were wasn’t adding up.

And maybe that was the point.

Azzi thought she was doing the right thing—protecting them both from another slow disaster. Giving her space to breathe while Azzi sorted through her own shit. Making sure Paige didn’t get pulled back into something Azzi wasn’t ready to name.

But the boundaries brought distance.

And the distance brought silence.

And now, they barely speak.

*Present Day*

Paige

She shows up to film early. Of course she does.

Because no matter what her personal life looks like—and it looks like a goddamn train wreck right now—she’s still Paige Bueckers. She’s still a team leader. Still the one who sets the tone, even if her own feels cracked and paper-thin these days.

She shows up. Every time. Early to film. Loud on the sidelines. Quick with encouragement even when she can barely stomach being on the bench.

Because that’s who she’s supposed to be.

The one who doesn’t complain. The one who leads by example. The one who makes it look easy, even when it’s anything but.

And maybe part of her is afraid that if she stops—if she lets the cracks show—they’ll start to forget. Forget how much she gave. Forget how badly she still wants it. Forget that she was supposed to be the one leading them to a title this year before her ACL exploded and took the whole plan with it.

So yeah, her life’s a mess right now. But her role? Her image? That has to stay sharp.

Even if the sharpness is starting to cut back.

She slips into her usual seat—second row, third from the left—hood up, notebook balanced on her lap, pen already uncapped. Her brace is tight today. The trainers told her to ease up on the stairs but she didn’t listen. Again.

She nods along as Geno talks. Scribbles a few things. Watches the screen like she’s absorbing it. But truthfully, she’s only catching about sixty percent of it.

The rest of her brain? Completely useless.

Because Azzi is directly behind her.

And Paige can feel it—like gravity. Like heat. Like something she isn’t supposed to notice anymore but still does, always.

It’s not dramatic. Azzi’s not staring holes in the back of her head. It’s subtler than that. Flickers of attention. Glances that hover and then dart away like they never happened. Paige doesn’t need to turn around to know—they’ve done this dance too many times.

She can feel it in her spine. In her shoulders. In the way her skin prickles under the weight of not being touched.

Azzi’s attention isn’t loud, but it’s deliberate. Careful. Measured in that way it always is now—like she’s trying not to give anything away, like looking too long might make the space between them collapse.

Paige swallows hard and focuses on the screen. Pretends she doesn’t feel the echo of all the ways they used to reach for each other without saying a word.

Pretends she doesn’t miss it. Even though it’s still right there. Just one row behind her.

She’s good at this—keeping her expression neutral, her body language easy, like nothing’s ever off. She’s been doing it since middle school, since before anyone knew what to look for.

But today?

Today, it takes more effort than she wants to admit.

Her notes are messier than usual. Her focus drifts more often. Her stomach clenches every time Geno pauses the tape on an old play from last season—her feeding Azzi in the corner, Azzi draining the three. The two of them moving like muscle memory.

Like something that used to be.

She exhales quietly and writes something down that she probably won’t remember later.

****

After film, someone says, “Nika’s tonight?” and that’s that.

No group vote, no discussion. Just a general agreement that they all need a break and a bad movie. Team bonding, but make it low-key.

Paige almost bails.

She’s not in the mood for snacks and sarcasm and pretending everything’s normal. But she’s also not in the mood to be the only one who doesn’t show up—especially not when she’s already spending enough time on the outside looking in.

So she goes.

She’s late. Not dramatically. Just enough that by the time she walks into Nika’s apartment, the lights are dim, the popcorn’s halfway gone, and everyone’s already staked out their territory.

She scans the room, pretending not to look like she’s scanning. Ice and Aubrey are draped across the beanbags. KK and Caroline are posted up with blankets on the floor. Nika’s curled into her oversized chair like a queen on her throne.

Only one spot left.

And of course it’s next to Azzi.

Because why wouldn’t it be?

The end cushion on the main couch. There’s space—barely. Azzi’s legs are tucked under her, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, face turned toward the screen like she’s already locked in. But Paige knows her well enough to know she’s not.

She stops in the doorway, hovering just long enough to feel stupid about it. Her eyes flick across the room again, double-checking like maybe she missed a better option.

She didn’t.

She could sit on the floor, but that’d be weird. Or the counter stool near the kitchen, but that’s a straight-up exile move. Obvious. And most of the team is blissfully unaware of the behind-the-scenes melodrama that’s become her and Azzi’s lives.

So she bites the bullet.

Plasters on a neutral face.

And drops down next to her.

Azzi shifts just slightly to make room—knee brushing Paige’s for half a second before pulling away again. It’s barely anything. But Paige feels it everywhere.

She opens a bottle of water and stares at the screen like the movie’s going to save her.

It won’t.

But at least if she focuses hard enough, maybe she won’t notice how close Azzi’s arm is. Or the way her hair smells like something fruity. Or how Paige used to spend entire nights in that exact space on the couch—knees touching, shoulders warm, everything between them soft and quiet and real.

Now?

Now she’s just trying not to breathe too loud.

****

She’s pretty sure the room wasn’t this warm when she walked in.

Paige shifts slightly, peeling the edge of her hoodie away from her neck like it might help. It doesn’t. The apartment’s packed, sure—but it’s not that hot. At least no one else seems to be melting into the furniture.

Except maybe her.

Or maybe it’s just that she can feel Azzi next to her.

Not in some earth-shattering way. Just enough to make her skin buzz. Just in a too-aware-of-every-breath-she-takes kind of way. Her knee is curled toward Paige’s leg again, tucked under her like she’s trying to disappear into the couch. And Paige’s thigh is right there—barely touching, but definitely touching.

And God help her, it’s all she can think about.

Azzi shifts again and their knees bump. A soft, accidental press. Paige freezes.

Azzi doesn’t move.

Paige doesn’t either.

The movie is playing—some dumb rom-com Nika picked for the aesthetic more than the plot. Something with oversaturated lighting and too many slow-motion glances. Laughter bubbles up around the room at some punchline Paige barely registers.

She doesn’t hear it.

Not really.

Her pulse is louder than the dialogue now, steady and unrelenting in her ears. It drums under her skin like a warning: Too close. Too close.

The couch cushion shifts beside her as Azzi moves—slow, quiet, pulling at the sleeve of her sweatshirt like she’s fidgeting to keep her hands busy. Paige doesn’t look over, but she doesn’t have to. She can feel it.

That subtle give in the cushion. The warmth creeping into the narrow space between them.

Now their arms are close. Like, too close.

Not quite touching, but close enough that the fabric of Paige’s hoodie tugs slightly when she inhales. Close enough that she can feel the static tension gathering in the gap between them like something charged, alive, waiting.

She presses her knuckles into her thigh to ground herself. Keeps her eyes on the screen like the movie might anchor her.

But it doesn’t.

Because all she can think about is the fact that if she moved half an inch to the left, she’d be touching Azzi again.

And that half an inch feels impossible.

Paige inhales through her nose and stares at the screen like her life depends on it.

It’s fine. This is fine.

Just casual knee contact with your ex-best friend slash person-you’re-definitely-not-still-in-love-with. No big deal.

Then—

“Yo,” Aubrey whispers, way too loud for a whisper, jabbing Paige in the side with two knuckles like she’s trying to get her attention and restart her heart.

Paige startles—physically jolts. Her knee knocks into Azzi’s harder than intended, solid enough to make her wince. Her elbow swings wide in the process and lands—of course—right against Azzi’s ribs.

“Oh my God—sorry,” she mumbles, already pulling her arm back like it’s on fire.

Azzi lets out the softest breath. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh. Just… something that says I felt that too.

Paige doesn’t look over. Can’t. If she does, she’s pretty sure she’ll combust.

“Sorry,” she mutters under her breath.

Azzi gives a tiny head shake like it’s nothing, but she doesn’t look at her.

Paige blinks, disoriented, half-thinking she’s about to see a TikTok or a meme or something equally stupid that’ll at least give her a reason to unclench.

She looks down.

And her stomach twists.

Azzi

The interruption is a relief. A welcome one, honestly.

She’s felt like she’s been holding her breath for the last thirty minutes—shoulders tight, legs folded too neatly, heart thudding in some dumb, unsteady rhythm she swears wasn’t there when the movie started.

It’s just a couch.

Just a movie.

Just Paige sitting four inches to her right, jaw clenched and eyes trained on the screen like it personally offended her.

Azzi hasn’t moved in forever. Not really. She shifted once to reach for popcorn and regretted it immediately when her knee brushed Paige’s. Light. Unintentional. But it might as well have been electric. She’s been statue-still ever since.

She doesn’t dare lean back or adjust or even uncross her ankles. Not when her skin is still buzzing. Not when her arm is close enough to Paige’s that she can feel the heat through two layers of fabric and the silence between them is doing more damage than words ever could.

It’s not like anyone else would notice. To everyone else, it probably looks normal. Like nothing’s wrong. Just two teammates watching a movie.

But to Azzi?

It’s suffocating.

She can feel Paige’s tension like it’s her own—like it’s crawling off her skin and settling in Azzi’s chest. She can feel every breath Paige takes and every one she holds. Every shift. Every twitch. Every micro-movement of trying not to care.

And she wonders—stupidly, selfishly—if Paige feels it too.

So yeah, when Aubrey leans over and jabs Paige with her elbow, Azzi nearly exhales out loud.

Thank God.

She tries not to look. Tries to give them privacy, even though nothing about it seems that deep. Just a phone screen, a low chuckle, Paige’s voice tight and unreadable.

But then Paige goes still.

Not physically—emotionally. The kind of retreat you only notice if you’ve memorized her face.

So she glances over.

Not to be nosy. Just… to know.

And that’s when she sees it.

A phone screen held between two hands. Lit up with an Instagram profile. A girl.

Dark brown hair. Sharp jawline. Smiling in cleats and turf-stained socks.

Azzi squints. She recognizes her—vaguely. From the soccer team, maybe? She’s pretty. Objectively.

Something in Azzi’s stomach shifts.

And then—like a puzzle snapping into place—she remembers the conversation from earlier that week.

Caroline and Aubrey sitting at the table in the student center, laughing over iced coffees and talking just loud enough for Azzi to catch the tail end of it.

“I swear, she’d be into her,” Aubrey had said, voice low but not exactly subtle.

“She’s cool. Chill. Doesn’t take things too seriously.”

Caroline had hummed, not disagreeing. “Paige could probably use someone like that right now.”

And then—

“Something easy, y’know? While she’s stuck on the sidelines.”

Azzi hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Hadn’t let herself.

But now? Seeing the girl’s face on the screen? Watching Paige go still?

It lands.

Aubrey’s trying to play matchmaker.

And the match?

Isn’t her.

Of course it’s not her.

Azzi shifts in her seat slightly, just enough to break the contact between their legs. Paige doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t react. That might be worse.

A tightness starts blooming in Azzi’s chest, quiet but immediate. Like a too-small sweatshirt pressing against her lungs. Like she just learned something she wasn’t supposed to hear.

Her eyes flick back to the phone. The girl’s still there—smiling like she has no idea she’s the source of the ache forming behind Azzi’s ribs. She’s pretty. Chill-looking. Effortless. The kind of girl who probably doesn’t overthink a thing. Who’d slide into a relationship like it’s just another afternoon.Who could hold her without all the questions.

Azzi looks away.

Her stomach twists.

Because the truth is, this girl probably is a better fit. Probably won’t freeze when Paige gets close. Probably won’t make her feel like she has to tiptoe around invisible landmines. Probably won’t leave her hanging in the middle of a sentence because she doesn’t know how to say I think about you all the time, but I still don’t know what that means for me.

And that’s what stings the most.

Not that Paige might move on. But that maybe she should.

Azzi presses her hands into her lap. Hard. Just to feel something else.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. She’s the one who stepped back. Drew the line. Told herself it was better this way.

But now, watching Paige stiffen beside her, reading whatever’s on that screen, Azzi wants to reach across the couch and snatch the phone from her hands. Or rewind time. Or say something. Anything.

But she doesn’t.

Because what could she possibly say?

Wait, don’t like her. I still think about you every night. I wasn’t ready then, but I miss you in a way that still scares me. Please.

No.

Instead, she stays still.

Breath shallow.

Heart splintering slowly in her chest.

Because the girl on the screen is probably good for Paige.

And then— Oh God. Derrick.

Her actual boyfriend.

She’d forgotten about him. Completely. Like, not just out of sight, out of mind—but fully erased from her mental hard drive for the past thirty seconds. That probably says something awful.

They’ve been hanging out. It’s not nothing. He’s good to her. Steady in a way that’s rare around here—especially in guys who spend half their lives in cleats and compression sleeves. Derrick’s on the football team, so he gets it. The early lifts, the pressure, the silence that sometimes follows a bad game. He doesn’t ask her to explain the way her brain works when she’s locked in season mode—he just understands.

He laughs at her driest jokes. Always walks her to her dorm, even when it’s out of the way.

It’s not fake.

Sometimes, when she’s with him—when it’s quiet, and he’s smiling at her like she’s not hard to love—she almost lets herself believe this is what right feels like.

But then moments like this creep in.

Moments where her whole body tunes to Paige’s without meaning to. Where a knee bump or a glance makes her forget who she came here with.

And suddenly, even good things start to feel wrong.

Maybe this is what happens when you wait too long to be brave.

Paige

She scrolls for a beat too long. Long enough to memorize the girl’s face even though she doesn’t mean to.

Pretty. Friendly smile. The kind of person you could sit next to in class and not feel the need to impress.

She feels Azzi shift beside her. Just barely.

But Paige feels it. Like a ripple through the couch cushion. Like a silent inhale that doesn’t fully let go.

She doesn’t look over. She doesn’t need to. 

Azzi saw. She knows that much.

And maybe—God, maybe—there’s a version of her that should be thrilled by that. That should take the tension radiating off Azzi’s body as proof. That should cling to it like a sign that not everything’s lost. That maybe there’s still a version of this story where they get to figure it out.

But all Paige can think about is how tired she is.

How long it’s been since someone touched her and meant it. Since she felt chosen. On purpose. Without conditions.

Aubrey leans in again, barely above a whisper. “I told you she’s cute.”

Paige forces a tiny, noncommittal smile. “Yeah. She’s… fine.”

Aubrey nudges her with an elbow. “She’s more than fine. And she’s chill. Pre-PT major. I think you’d vibe.”

Paige keeps her eyes on the screen, where the rom-com couple is slow-dancing in the rain. “We’ve literally never spoken.”

“So? That’s what DMs are for,” Aubrey says, like it’s obvious. “And don’t give me that look. It wouldn’t kill you to flirt for once.”

Paige huffs out something like a laugh. “I don’t even know how to flirt anymore. My game died with my ACL.”

Aubrey snorts. “Okay, drama. You’re still Paige Bueckers. You could wink at a vending machine and it would Venmo you lunch.”

That gets a real smile. Small, but real. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not wrong.”

Paige shrugs, letting the phone settle in her lap. “Maybe.”

She hasn’t been with anyone since Azzi. Not seriously. Not in the ways that matter. A few flirty texts. A couple of could’ve-beens. Nothing that stuck. Nothing she wanted to.

Because how are you supposed to fall for someone else when the only person you ever really wanted still looks at you like that—and then does nothing?

Maybe it’s time.

Not to move on, exactly. She’s not sure that’s even possible. But maybe it’s time to try wanting something new. Something easy. Someone who doesn’t come with a year of silence and soft maybes. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s constantly waiting for a door to open that might never unlock.

She nods at the phone, even though the screen’s dimmed now. “She’s cute,” she says quietly.

Aubrey nudges her again, triumphant. “Told you.”

Paige passes the phone back with a smile she hopes looks normal.

She leans back into the couch, exhale soft, heartbeat a little too loud in her ears.

Azzi hasn’t moved. And Paige doesn’t either.

Then— A soft buzz. Azzi pulls out her phone. The screen lights up.

Paige doesn’t mean to look. But she does.

Derrick 💪🏽 One text. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

Paige’s throat tightens. She turns back to the screen, blinking hard. The movie’s still playing, some oversaturated love story about two people who keep finding their way back to each other no matter what.

She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth and wills herself not to care.

But the ache sits there anyway. Familiar. Heavy. Right in the center of her chest.

Maybe this is what moving on looks like. Maybe it's not dramatic. Not loud. Maybe it’s just noticing someone’s Instagram profile and not looking away this time.

She pulls her hoodie tighter. Sinks a little further into the couch.

And for the first time in a long time, Paige wonders what it might feel like to be wanted by someone new—someone who doesn't already know how to break her.

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

summary: you are a twenty five year old woman who lives with your father in austin, tx. you’ve been good friends with the millers for years, but in the past few months you’ve begun to see joel in a new light and it’s disrupting your life.

warnings: brief mention of parent loss, grief, loneliness and sexual harassment (by an inconsequential coworker) (pls let me know if i forgot anything — this is my first fic)

Chapter 1

That summer had been a scorcher. It was routine to shimmy out of your business casual and throw on a tank top and shorts each day after work. You let your hair down from its clip and let it fall naturally.

It was Friday evening and your father was out grilling in the back. Corn on the cob, fajitas and sausage were on the grill, making the air smokey and delicious. You knew there would be a big bowl of potato salad in the fridge and deviled eggs on the shelf above it. You stepped out of the glass sliding door to join the chef.

“How was work, doll?” Your father asked, sliding up his sunglasses to greet you.

You approached him for a big bear hug. He was damp with sweat from the hard work of grilling in the heat. “Hey Pop. Work was work.” You said, going over to a pool chair and reclining it so you could get some sun. “Are the Millers coming over?

“‘Course, Joel’s taking Sarah to pick out some gear for her softball camp. She leaves tomorrow.”

“Oh cool, and how was your day off?” You lathered some sun screen on your arms, chest, and stomach. The smell of chlorine coming off the pool was met with the barbecue smell. It was a nostalgic combination, reminding you of the two and a half decade’s worth of memories made in your backyard.

“All good, changed the oil on the truck, decided to grill for Sarah’s last day at home.”

The Millers usually came over when Pop was grilling. You wished you’d made a cake for Sarah’s last night in town.

“I made her some of that pink salad she loves.” He seemed to read your mind.

You lied back, closing your eyes and clearing your thoughts for half an hour. Your peace was interrupted by the sound of cicadas buzzing louder to compete with the sound of a truck pulling into your driveway. Joel and Sarah must have come straight over from shopping instead of walking down the street to your home from theirs. There was a flutter in your stomach when you’d heard Pop answer the front door and greet them, Joel’s booming voice asking where you were.

It was only a few moments before you’d heard the glass sliding door open and Sarah popped over to you.

“Hey Bug.” You said, looking up at her with a smile.

“Oh we’re sunbathing, huh? Let me get changed, be right back.” She said, turning on her heel with her backpack over her shoulder.

You loved that girl to death, she’d been in your life for the past decade. Ever since she and Joel had moved down the street, they’d become a part of your life. Joel and Pop hit it off when Joel had noticed Pop trying to fix a gutter on his own.

Pop was cursing up a storm when he’d failed to secure the gutter and it all toppled down. Joel had been outside sitting on the tailgate of his pickup truck that evening when he’d seen Pop and jogged over to help. It had taken him a fraction of the time to get it right. Pop was impressed and slightly embarrassed, but he thanked Joel with a cold beer and the rest was history.

Life had become less lonely with the Millers around. Before they’d moved down the street it was mostly just you and Pop. Your mother passed away when you were just a toddler. She was sick and it almost killed Pop when he couldn’t do anything to save her. After a few years overshadowed by grief he’d turned his life around and became everything you needed from a mother and a father.

You were fifteen when you’d started to babysit six year old Sarah for Joel. Now ten years later, at twenty-five and sixteen you were very much bonded. You’d been there for Sarah when she’d come out as a lesbian. It took Joel by surprise, but he embraced his daughter and her choices.

You felt a pang of guilt as she took her spot beside you by the pool. Your friend would probably get the ick if you’d mentioned that you maybe, sort of, kind of had a crush on Joel. Your fathers sat beside the grill, just out of earshot, nursing two cold beers and chatting. You had to fight the urge to look back at Joel. The opportunity to get up and cross paths with him would come when the food was ready.

The truth was you’d inadvertently developed a crush on Joel Miller. It felt sort of twisted, he was twelve years your senior, almost forty years old. Not exactly old enough to be your father, but still a noticeable age gap nonetheless.

You’d asked him for guitar lessons last Winter and he obliged. He took you to a music store and you picked out an acoustic guitar. He was excited to pass down the skill to at least one other person. Sarah was never interested, what she really cared about was competing in sports. You’d gone over to their home on weekends and practiced, Joel moved your fingers patiently back to their position when you’d messed up. His large, callused hands landed and held the strings down with ease. He’d tried to make you commit to developing your own calluses to improve your skill.

By the end of Winter you’d learned how to play a handful of songs, mostly dad rock that Joel loved and knew by heart. He would smile so bright when you’d finally get it right. You did everything in your power to get him to flash his teeth and celebrate your little victories.

“That’s it, Darlin, those fingers ain't just for clickin’ and clackin’ on a keyboard now.” He’d chuckled.

You had been drunk on his praise and your shared laughter one evening when you leapt up from your seat and onto Joel's lap, throwing your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist and you pulled your head back, coming face to face with him. His breath was warm on your lips and you swore there was something in his eyes. It flashed and faded as quickly as it had appeared.

You both dropped the embrace and Joel cleared his throat, helping you pack up for the night. Tears of embarrassment stung your eyes as you silently gathered your things and went home without another word.

You knew in that moment that you were well and truly fucked. As it would happen, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel from that moment on. You tried to temper your feelings. You mostly doubted that he’d felt what you felt in that moment. The spark, the fear and the desire to cross the line. But the gleam in his eye, the way he almost leaned forward then hesitated replayed in your mind.

You’d stopped responding to the guys you were matched with on dating apps. You’d lost interest in anyone other than Joel. You’d imagined all the ways that evening could have gone. He could have become upset that you’d crossed his boundaries, but he didn’t. He could have closed the gap between you and pressed his lips to yours, but he didn’t. And you hadn’t spoken of that incident since it happened, two seasons ago.

“Can you two go in and grab the potato salad and eggs from the fridge?” Pop had asked you and Joel, tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, no problem.” Joel said, opening the sliding door and motioning for you to head in first.

Your skin prickled when you sensed his eyes skating over your body from behind as you opened the fridge.

“Pop made pink salad for Sarah,” you said, grabbing the bowl of potato salad and turning to face Joel.

“She’s gonna go nuts.” He said grinning, “How’ve you been, kid?”

“Not a kid, Joel.” You huffed. “I’m a quarter of a century old.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He took the deviled eggs from the shelf in the fridge and followed you out to the back.

~

After the barbecue, Pop had made a run to the gas station for more beer and Joel made his way to the kitchen to help you clean up while Sarah took a dip in the pool.

“How’s Angel treating you?” Joel asked, drying off the wet dishes from the rack.

“She’s good, but I’ve been neglecting her a bit lately.” You said, speaking of your six string acoustic guitar. An image of that moment in Joel’s garage flashed through your mind and you blushed.

“That’s a shame, what’s been keeping you too busy to play?” He knew where your dishes belonged, putting them away in the cabinets and drawers as he spoke.

“Work, mostly. This guy at the office has been bugging me to go out on a date with him, it’s borderline sexual harassment.” You huffed, wiping down the inside of the sink.

“Well that’s just not right. You should tell the boss.” Joel said, his voice stern.

“He’s the boss’s nephew.” You turned and saw Joel’s jaw clenched. Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t meant to strike a nerve.

“Shouldn’t matter, he's a punk. What’s his name?”

“Easy, cowboy.” You said, stepping closer to him. “Nothing’s gonna happen, he’s just overly confident.”

“Tell him your friend Joel wants to talk.” This time he was grinning, drying off a glass bowl. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tanned skin on his muscular arms.

You were staring until you heard the screen door pop open, then the front door creaked open as Pop appeared just in time for you and Joel to put some space between the two of you. You finished wiping down the counter and Joel rejoined your dad in the backyard.

You poked your head out the door and called out, “Pop don’t forget we’re going to go get my car fixed in the morning.”

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry I forgot. I have a work thing in Odessa, I'm gonna be out all weekend.” He said sympathetically. “You’re a big girl, you can go by yourself.”

“I’m not afraid of going alone, silly. I’m afraid that they’re gonna overcharge me cause’ I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I’ll take her, I won’t let that happen.” Joel said, pressing a bottle of Budweiser to his lips.

“See, no one would dare bullshit our Joel, here.” Pop grinned. He was giddy and buzzed.

“Alright, nine-thirty sound good to you?” You asked, trying not to sound excited.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up.”

Chapter 2

[softlymellow]

The Order Forgot Me First - Chapter 4

☆⁠ PAIRING : Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☆⁠ word count: 3.5k

☆⁠ story themes: lovers to enemies to eventually lovers

☆⁠ warnings: spoilers to swtcw

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

"I would have died for you. I wanted to."

You threw the wrist comlink attached to your arm on the sand covered floor, the constant beeping began to irritate you as you had other matters to focus on.

Using your mechanics, you had removed the gps chip inside of the comlink back at Coruscant but kept the commlink itself – mainly to have some sort of contact with Anakin. Regardless, the sooner you got rid of it, the sooner you could move on. 

Looking down at the device, flickers of red kept emitting from it alerting you that you had received a new message. It took everything inside of you to not open and listen to it. It was from Anakin. Of course it would be from Anakin. He had stayed up nights and days talking to his comlink as if his life depended on it. He would talk about how much he missed you, how he would find you and that he loves you. It had only been a few days since he had last seen you but it had proven to be the worst days of Anakin’s life.

You never responded to any of his messages, instead you would lay inside of your now wrecked ship you stole from a poor person back in Coruscant and listen to his voice as he talked to you, but he didn’t know you were listening.

At least he hoped you were.

The device had no status ability to tell you if someone was listening or not, a common flaw that irritated the Jedis. And that’s what Anakin had to live with. He would continue to send you voice messages until you would respond to them. 

Your foot hovered over the device ready to smash it, but you just couldn’t. 

“Errgh!” You screamed to yourself in frustration, snatching the comlink from the ground and throwing it next to your destroyed ship from your failed landing.

You inhaled deeply, rubbing your face with both hands in anger. Why couldn’t you just get rid of the damn thing?

“Woah there, lady.” You whipped your head around to see a man sitting on a speeder bike, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and glared at him, “I don’t have time for people like you.” You barked as you walked towards your comlink, covering your mouth as the dark smoke from the wreckage clouded the device. 

“No need to be nasty, you just looked like you needed help.” He joked, his golden locks flying back as the wind hit him, his red goggles sitting at the top of his forehead. He wore a loose collared shirt with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing his tan skin underneath and baggy tar pants. 

“Piss off,” you sneered, grabbing the comlink and attaching it to your left arm, refusing to make eye contact with the man. 

“Is that any way for a Jedi to be speaking?” He eyed your lightsaber that rested on the side of your hip.

Shit

You instinctively hovered your hand over your saber in defense, afraid that he might pull a move now that he knows you're a Jedi, well was. 

“If you’re going to keep talking, at least tell me how long the walk is for the next town.”  

“We’re in Jakku! You got to be kidding if you think you’re going to walk in this heat.” He exclaimed as he watched your despondent figure. 

“Well, I didn’t plan on crash landing here…” You mumbled to yourself as you began to walk past him, if he wasn’t going to help you then you would do it yourself. 

The speeder rumbled besides you, the man driving it excruciatingly slow to match your pace. 

“It will take you 2 hours to walk but 15 minutes on my speeder.” He sighed.

You paused and raised your eyebrow, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” 

You didn’t have much of a choice, by the time you’d reach civilisation, it’d be sunset and you couldn’t afford that, not when Jakku has one of the coldest nights. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the man and threw your leg over his bike, his back uncomfortably close to you. 

“Hold on tight,” he exclaimed, a grin plastered on his face. Without giving you a chance to even listen to him, the speeder bursted with speed, your body almost falling off. Your hands immediately rushed towards the sides of his figure but not close enough that your entire body was touching his. 

It didn’t feel good though. You knew that if Anakin had seen this man being too close to you he wouldn’t see the light of day, but Anakin wasn’t here right now. And you didn’t know when you would see him next. 

“My name's Dev!” He exclaimed over the howling of the wind. 

“Cool.” You yelled out, not wanting to really know anything about this man considering you wouldn’t see him again after this.

“Yours?” He exclaimed again.

You remained silent, unsure on how to respond. “....Ani… My name’s Ani!” You didn’t know why you told him that, if anything you knew you didn’t want to tell him your actual name. In an isolated place like Jakku, it wasn’t bad to be too careful about your identity as your name had become some sort of a prodigy. 

Dev nodded to himself, a smile growing on his face, “Nice to meet you, Ani.” You didn’t respond, unease growing in your stomach. 

You both didn’t speak for the rest of the trip, instead, you relished in the feeling of the air hitting your face, closing your eyes as your head lightly hit his back. The speeder eventually came to a halt at a junkyard.

Hopping off of the bike, your eyes darted everywhere, taking in the outpost. Just traders, scavengers and outlaws. 

“Well, there’s not much to it. Then again, you are in Jakku.” Dev said as got off his bike, his hands on his hips as he observed the surroundings. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled to yourself, already walking away from him. 

Dev broke into an awkward speed walk as he tried to catch up to you. He didn’t say anything beside you but followed you around like he was a mum trying to supervise his kid. 

Looking around, there were a couple of jackets and worn out clothing on display. You walked over to the rack of clothing, the wind blowing it out. Your hands gently touched a poncho, it had no sleeves or zipper but was long in the back and short in the front, it shielded your arms from your elbow to your shoulder and had a dirty mediaeval look to it. Taking the poncho, you held it in your hands as you observed the other clothing. 

“You stick out like a sore thumb,” Dev said beside you, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“That’s why I’m picking out clothes, genius.” You pointed out, rolling your eyes as you walked over to the Teedo who had a cocky expression, pleased that someone who dressed classy had come to buy off of him. 

“All of these please,” You plopped your clothing at his wooden desk.

“Republic Credits, no good.” he announced.

Your mouth fell agape, “What?” Ignoring the fact that he immediately thought of you as part of the Galactic Republic. 

Dev tried to stifle a laugh and you shot him a glare in return. “What do you mean, no good?”

“We exchange here.” 

“Yeah, well I’m exchanging my credits for these clothes.” You blinked. 

Dev suddenly pulled out a small bag containing goods inside of it and dropped it in front of him, “Here, take these instead.” The Teedo eyed Dev carefully but Dev wouldn’t back down from his stare, his eyes almost commanding. 

The Teedo cautiously took the small bag and opened it, a pleased smile lit up in his face and he nodded, taking the bag away from him. 

Dev took your clothing and handed it to you. Narrowing your eyes, you took it grimly from not enjoying the fact that he had paid for you. 

“Thank you,” you muttered as you looked down at your feet.

Dev waved his hand around, “It’s getting dark. We can go to my ship and stay there for the night.”

Not really feeling like arguing with him, you nodded and followed him as he led you to his ship. It was a small light cruiser but plentiful for you and him, at least for this one day. The cargo doors open as Dev walks you inside. It was a Republic light cruiser for all you could tell, having had to ride with it many times with Anakin and Obi-wan. 

“Go down the hall, last room on the right, you can shower and change there.” Dev said without looking at you, fixing the manuals on his ship.

You nodded and walked towards the room. It was a bunker and you were going to assume that was where you’d sleep. In all honesty, you had no idea if you could trust Dev, but right now, he would be the only person you could trust in this planet. 

Locking the door behind you with the touchpad attached to the wall, you slowly began to strip off your clothing, afraid that there was a hidden trick to this. You put your lightsaber and your comlink underneath the mattress of the bed, wanting it to be as safe as possible. You walked over to the very small bathroom that connected to your cabin and entered the shower. Turning on the shower, the hot water immediately hit your back as you held back a moan.

You began to slowly wash off the dirt and grime that stuck to your skin and thoroughly wash your hair. You closed your eyes and thought about Anakin, how much you missed him and what he was doing right now. Part of you was still hurt about what had happened between you and the council, but you were so far from it now that it seemed like a lifetime ago. But you couldn’t forget it at the same time. The distrust and blatant disrespect you felt by not only the council but by Anakin and those you loved as well, for them not to believe you but taking the council’s side instead? 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you turned off the shower. There was no towel so you had to make do with what you had to dry yourself. You took your new clothing and threw them on, your Jedi robes neatly folded on your desk. 

It didn’t look like you were a Jedi anymore, just a smuggler, but that was the look you were going for. Lifting your mattress, you pulled out the comlink and your saber, hooking it to the belt that was hidden underneath your jacket - making it invisible - and strapping on your comlink in your wrist. Walking out of your bunker, you made your way towards Dev who sat on the floor of the ship with his legs crossed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, sitting on the co-pilot seat. Dev had two packets of what looked to be some sort of powder or flour and two bowls of water on the floor. 

“Making dinner,” He said without looking up at you. 

Dev ripped open each packet and poured it in the liquid. His eyes focused as he began to stir each bowl with a small wooden spoon, his jaw clenched. 

In almost a blink of an eye, the mixture began to lower before suddenly expanding, and a beige and green bread-like loaf was formed. 

Dev then handed you your bowl with a sheepish smile, “Dinner is served.”

You picked up the bread and fiddled with it with your fingers, your eyes suspiciously rising as the bread had a hard texture almost as if it was just baked. 

“Eat it while you can…Hard work getting rations around here, can’t always rely on your fancy credits.” Dev said as he began to take bites of his loaf, crumbs falling off with every bite he took. 

Ignoring his last comment, you twirled the bread in your hand before taking a bite. It was dry to say the least. Dev was right though, you weren’t back at Coruscant with fancy food and luxury showers, you were in Jakku, practically nowhere. 

“So, Ani,” Dev shoot you a look. You almost choked on your bread, forgetting that your name was supposingly Ani. 

“What brings you here? It’s not common for a Jedi to wander around on this planet.” Dev questioned you, watching your reaction carefully. 

“I’m not a Jedi.” You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

Dev raised his eyebrow, “Sweets, you have Republic credits, Jedi robes and a lightsaber. I beg to differ.”

“I stole it,” you shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him. 

Dev began to hysterically laugh, clearly not believing in your lie. What was so unbelievable about that? I could totally steal from a Jedi if I wanted to, you scoffed to yourself. 

“Okay…What actually brings you here.” He laughed in between his words, setting his bowl down.

There was no point in lying if he knew that you were a Jedi, you just hoped he wouldn’t take advantage of you for that. 

“I got kicked out of the Order,” You confessed in a quieter tone, playing with the loaf of bread. Dev fell silent immediately, a somber expression on his face. 

“Why?” 

You shook your head, spinning in the co-pilot chair to face away from him, “That’s none of your business.” Yes, you could trust Dev after he took you in, brought you clothes and made you food but you weren’t ready to share personal backstories with him just yet. The cuts were still fresh and it hurts even thinking about it. 

Dev went silent as he watched your back, his hands in his pocket. “We should be a team.” 

“What?” You span to look at him, your eyes wide. 

“We’ll do bounties together.” 

“No.”

“You have nowhere to go,” Dev said as a matter of fact. 

“No, I-I do,” All you could think about was Anakin. He would never approve of you for even listening to this. You could even hear Obi-wan scolding you. 

“You have no home, no ship and no money. As a matter of fact, you need a great pilot and just in your luck-” Dev boasted, a glowing smile on his face. Dev was right. You needed a pilot. You weren’t exactly the greatest considering the reason you are talking to him was because of your plane crashing. You always relied on Anakin for flying, he was after all, the best. It was something Anakin had always teased you about.

….

….

“What kind of bounties?” You interrupted him, not wanting to dwell on past stories.

“We only capture people and worst case scenario, killing them-”

“And you always do this?” You asked, feeling suddenly uneasy, internally cursing yourself for even seeming remotely interested. 

“I never pick the good guys, Ani, just the bad ones.” He reassured you, noticing the way you shifted in your seat from side to side. 

“We can do one tomorrow and then you can decide if you really want to be my partner. We’ll split the reward and if not-” He raised his hands, “Then it was a pleasure knowing you.” 

You had to take this. Dev was the only person you could remotely trust on this planet and you couldn’t pass on an opportunity to have some sort of stability. After all what he said was right, you didn’t have a ship therefore, no escape from this planet. 

You nodded slowly, “Okay…Who are we getting tomorrow?” 

“Tala Illnen. She is on the loose for the attempted murder of Ziro the Hutt when he visited his homeland in Sleheyron.” Dev said as if he had repeated it to himself many times, he had already planned to go there with or without you, you assumed. 

“Well, I need weapons. I don’t want to use my lightsaber, it’ll make us a target.” You shrunk in your seat, feeling slightly dejected that you aren’t able to use your saber in the open. 

“Already thought of that, sweets.” He said, picking up both of your bowls and placing them on a table, his back turned towards you. “Sleep on it. We have a big day tomorrow.” You nodded in response, you did in fact have a big day tomorrow. One that wasn’t very clear. 

You got up from your seat, unsure if you should thank him or greet him a goodnight. You weren’t friends but he did help you and you might be his partner in crime. 

“Your clothes suit you,” He complimented you, his back still turned against you and his eyes staring intensely to the empty bowels.  

Okay. 

…

A pink hue began to slowly crawl up your cheeks as you were taken back by the sudden compliment and that he noticed. Dev was probably used to the Bounty Hunter attire so it’d be obvious that he would prefer those on you than the Coruscant clothing. Obviously. 

“Thanks.” You replied, not wanting to think much of his praise. You retreated to your cabin while Dev smiled to himself as he busied himself with the cruiser. 

Locking the door behind you using the pad, you took off your jacket and placed it on the desk and slowly began to remove your shoes.  You turned the lights off using the same pad near the doorway and walked over to your bed. You pulled the covers back and began to slither inside, it wasn’t as comfortable as your own Jedi chambers but you’d have to get used to it. It definitely wasn't as comfortable as Anakin's arms.

Snuggling into your bed, you closed your eyes. You need the rest. Afterall today was a long day. It was officially day one of your journey without the Jedi Order, Masters and Padawans. Without your best friends. Without him. 

You couldn’t go back, not after what had happened. The people you thought were closest to you ending up betraying you, unbelieving of your pure intents and you don’t think you could forgive that too easily. It was like everything stopped for a second and the only thing you could process are the millions of memories and thoughts and emotions. They all collectively hit you at once making it harder for you to run away. You couldn’t forget the busy streets of Coruscant, the ships after ships that flew overhead while blinding you with their beams of lights. The mixture of tears, sweat and rain on your body. The yelling and screaming to find you. The soldiers after soldiers after soldiers that chased you down the tunnels. Because no one believed you. 

But the greatest of comforts was the illusion that the dark is temporary. 

A sudden beeping began to sound in your wrist, sending your heart racing. Pulling out your left wrist, small flickers of red emitted from your comlink.

You quickly sat up and brushed your hair behind your ears. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest while your stomach began to do somersaults. 

“Okay…Okay…Okay…” You whispered to yourself, trying to soothe yourself. It was Anakin. 

Pressing the small illuminated red button on your comlink, Anakin’s voice was heard. 

“-Still nowhere to be found. Every hour that I’m not assigned for something...." he breathed. "I’m looking for you.” He sighed, it was almost like you could see him rubbing his face in discontent. His hair a mess, his jaw clenched and his muscles in knots.

“I miss you, Y/n." He said in a softer tone. His voice low, rough, like he hadn't slept for days.

"Wherever you go, I'm with you." He inhaled shakily. "Every moment that I'm not with you, I can't breathe."

"So please. Please, answer this. I don’t know if you’re dead. Alive. If you made it out safe. Just -force- tell me where you are and we’ll run away together. We’ll leave the order behind. I don't care. We'll get married like we had planned."

There was silence for a few seconds, deep and aching, before he continued. 

“I would have died for you. I wanted to." He exclaimed, his voice hoarse.

You began to fiddle with the comlink, smashing the microphone button to allow you to communicate.

"Anakin?" You called out.

"I’m sorry…I wasn’t there to help you like I should have." He continued.

"Anakin, can you hear me?" Once more.

"I should've burnt down the whole universe for you. I won't fail again.”

It wasn't working. The goddamn comlink wasn't working. It was all because you fucking threw it on the floor. Gritting your teeth you kept pressing all kind of buttons, hoping a little red orb would flare.

“Obi-wan’s worried. He told me to keep trying to contact you. He wants me to remain calm, trust in the force and-” He sighed, “The Council don’t believe that I should be searching for you."

You brought the comlink underneath the covers with you, sniffling into your shirt. 

"But I promise you , I will find you. Even if it's for the very last time. Even if you hate me." He breathed out.

"I love you.” Anakin said quietly. Then a beat of silence.

"This is pointless-” His voice snapped. It was then you heard a loud thud. Like metal clashing. Like in his anger he had hit something.

Static. A muffled voice. And then nothing. 

He'd shut it off.

Groaning, you squinted your eyes and fell deeper in your bed. The comlink being one of the only things tethered to who you used to be.

Rubbing away the tears that threatened to fall out of your eyes, you laid on your side, holding the device close to you as you fell asleep.

a/n: it was a longgg one guys sorry if i bored u with the dev stuff i just need to set the world for when shes gone and the timeskip and stuff dev will also be importanttt laterrrr but next chp we're getting more pov on anakin and obiwan !!!! i also just finished writing their reunion and working out what happens after its not happy is all i can say

Taglist: @endairachristensen26 @hayden-christensen-verse @ducks118 @seventeen-x @movingalongthekiwi @ssnapsaurus @caramelfondu

if u want to be added or removed lmk!

ALSOO in the meantime if anyone wants to req oneshots/imagines of anyone im so down to do it

[ambrosiagoldfish]

i’m going a teensy bit feral reading your adam x third spouse story so i guess im just asking for part five and for it to hopefully have focus on dad beat dad and how lucifer would react to seeing the reader again after so long and like what would happen n stuff 🤭🤭 ofc if this is dumb ignore it i like what you’re doing with the story already !! the part im most excited for is the finale tbh but there’s a lot of time in between what you have rn and then so i’m just yapping abt stuff that could be cool in between. thsi is so jumbled omg sorry i just wanna see more of your writing it’s so good

idk how to end this uhh i love you bye 🫡

Benefit of the doubt PT.5

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: GN! Reader, confronting the past, next to no Adam (I know, sad, but it’s for the plot), Reader focused chapter, this is set during ‘Dad Beat Dad’, swearing, the next 2 chapters will have a LOT more Adam DW ❤️❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Request Box: OPEN

Word count: 4322

A/n: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the support on all the other chapters. It’s been 8-ish months since the last update and for that I want to apologize. I’ll save it for its own dedicated post to not full int his page too much. But if you’ve saw one of my post from the other day, I have posted this on A03 and I’m giving myself 8 total parts. 7 will be the finale and 8 will be an epilogue styled thing (not even sure if I’m wanting to do it so when we get there, you guys can tell me if you want it!! ) so yeah, enough rambling, you’ve all been waiting so long for the next part so here you go!! <3

Reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(My posts have been flopping so much, I would love you forever if you did 😭)

Old memories have a habit of slithering their way back into a person's mind, and even sometimes, people

The first few months at fhe hotel were a lot more enjoyable than you originally expected. Most days went relatively the same, Charlie would choose an activity to do and you would observe the progress they made.

At first, progress hadn't shown much promise but as everyone grew closer, things began to look up. Angel had gone clean with his drug abuse and was distancing himself from his line of work. Sir Pentious started to actually trust the people around him and has done no major constructional damage to any buildings as of late.

Everything was going so smoothly that, when you had woken up one morning to the sounds of screaming, running, and just general chaos. You thought everything was finaly going into the ground.

You quickly run down to the lobby, thoughts of what could be happening run through you. Did one of Pentious experiments fail and explode? Were we being attacked by one of the many gangs in town? Did Alastor decide the hotel was actually boring and started destroying it, starting with the occupants? Whatever it was, you hurry faster to the lobby.

But what was meeting you there was… unexpected to say the least. Party streamers, banners, cookies. It looked like some kind of welcome party heaven would do, albeit with less flare and taste in decor. A banner that read ‘Wellcum Daddy’ was being hung up by Razzle and Dazzle, everyone was either cleaning or baking something, and Vaggie seemed to be ordering them around.

You look at the clock, huh, it’s way too early for any kind of Charlie’s trust exercises. Not to mention, she would have told you about the curriculum and there was absolutely not a 10 AM home-EC class listed on your schedule.

You quickly run up to Charlie who seemed to be preoccupied with helping Vaggie put something up “Charlie, what’s going on?” You tap on her shoulder, She jumps a bit before just realizing it’s you,

”Oh- Y/N, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to get you!” She apologizes when Vaggie pops in,

“Don’t be, I told Nifty to go wake you up, but looks like she had better things to do” she points over at Niffty swifty stabbing bugs and removing cobwebs out of habit

“It’s fine, just… what’s everyone doing, what’s with all the party supplies and sweets?” You say, arms to the festive lobby around you.

“Oh well…” she took a deep breath “you know that The deadline is fast approaching and while we’ve made progress it’s not much” she paused, trying to even brace herself for what’s coming out of her mouth, “I have asked… my dad to come over and hopefully get us a meeting with heaven” she stops, completely caved in on herself.

“Wait, so… your dad is coming here?” you thought about the times she had asked you to get them a meeting with heaven but you had already explained to her that it would be next to impossible for someone like you. You had to practically beg just to monitor the hotel

Charlie Picked herself back up and looked at you with a shakey demeanor, “Yeah In about… 55 minutes”

You blink a few times before giving a small chuckle “Well, would you look at the date! I think it’s time I used my 1-per-month trip back home! If you’ll excuse me-“

“Wait! No-“ she trips over herself “We need you here, if dad can see, not only the progress we’ve made, but also that we already have an angel supporter, there’s no way he could say no!”

“Charlie, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“PleasePleasePlease! I will pay you back, promise! But I- we could really use you there!” Her eyes looked at you, similar to a puppy. She hands clasped together In plea.

You looked away in thought. Seeing him again was the last thing you wanted to do at this moment, any moment for that matter. The last time…well to be honest, the whole exchange hadn’t meant anything to you in quite a while. He could say whatever he wanted about you… it was the words he had to say about Adam that kept your heart ablaze in anger at the Morningstar.

Trash? He should really look in the mirror before saying that about your Adam. But… this could be a good opportunity for the hotel -as much as it pained you to admit- You can only sigh, “fine.. for the hotel…” You let out a small chuckle raising your arm in defeat.

Charlie jumped up and down with glee, repeating a matra of ‘Thank You’s’ before continuing “I get it might be difficult since you’re an Angel.” She tries to give some comfort. But that caught your attention.

“Because I’m an Angel?” You honestly didn’t mean to say it out loud but it came out as a question.

She looks at you confused “yeah, you know, considering I don’t think angels have too kind of thoughts to my dad for being… the devil” she laughs nervously

Oh. Oh. So that’s what she means. So she doesn’t know about your past with him? Not too much a surprise, I doubt Lucifer would bring up any of his failures. But that also made you realize one other thing. Charlie doesn’t know about your marriage with Adam.

Look, you didn’t mean to keep it a secret. In fact you had already assumed they knew. I mean you were sitting literally right next to him and Vaggie already knew who you were. You just thought she would have told Charlie, but knowing this now… it may be best to keep it a secret.

You let out a quick “I understand.” and with that, you all went your separate ways, you did contribute to the decor the best you could, as well as helping Sir Pentious and Nifty with the baking until finally, it was time for Charlie’s dad to arrive.

You walked over to a more remote place in the hotel lobby, look… you may have to interact with him today but you will not be doing it that soon. Instead, you decided your best choice of action was to sit and watch quietly until Charlie decided it was time for you two to meet. And in the meantime, you can mentally brace yourself.

Charlie sighs deeply “Okay everybody, it’s showtime!”

With that she swings the door open revealing the one, the only (thank Father) king of hell himself, Lucifer. Immediately Lucifer pulls his, obviously nervous daughter into his arms. He greets her with excitement before moving on to Keekee, and eventually Razzle and Dazzle.

He eyes the room, clearly covering up any distain for the hotels “character” to protect Charlie’s feelings. At least until he got to the bar which even he couldn’t lie his way through.

Even from the distant view you were from, you could see Alastor and Lucifer weren't going to be the best of buds anytime soon. As soon as they were introduced to one another they immediately got into it. Huh, at least now you have something in common with Alastor at least! If that’s even a good thing.

Their quarrel lasted a few minutes, everyone either waiting for it to be over, completely ignoring it, or enjoying it as entertainment. It lasted what felt like an eternity and was only interrupted when a short and plump woman by the name of ‘Mimzy’ came into the scene.

The old time-y dressed woman was one of Alastor’s friends, you honestly didn’t think he had those but you digress. Eventually once the commotion dies down, you see Charlie give you a nervous smile and wave for you, ‘that’s my cue’ you thought. Anxiety still felt taught in your heart but still you pushed through.

You walk out of your hiding spot, walking up to be next to Charlie. Still trying to keep your presence hidden for as long as you could, savoring those last few moments of peace before a wave of interactions.

Charlie clears her throat and puts on a more professional demeanor despite her nervousness, getting the attention from her dad, “And last but certainly not least, i’d like you to meet our Angelic sponsor-“

“Y/N!?-“ the fallen Angel suddenly started coughing, clearly having choked on his own words. He clears his throat “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting… you to be here” he lets out a chuckle.

“You guys know each other!?” Charlie looked shocked, her voice pitching up in bewilderment.

“We’ve… met before,.” Your voice was low, But still you pushed through “Though, it’s hardly relevant to anything of importance now. Isn’t that right, Morningstar?”

Lucifer's face contorted into an uncomfortable shaky smile, fingertips digging into his Apple-shaped cane. Perhaps he felt some type of remorse for the way things happened back all those years ago, but even if that’s true, you had no plans to forgive him.

He clears his throat “Yes it’s- unimportant Sweetie.. “

You 3 stand in awkward silence for a moment, all you can do is glare daggers at the short ex-Angel in front of you. Eventually though, you couldn’t stand the scilence any longer, “Well Charlie, I have to get something done in my room and I’ll be back to help with the tour in a few minutes, if that’s ok?”

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, for you to stay with her through the tour, but she knew you wouldn’t just leave and not come back. “Um, yeah that’s fine! Me and Alastor can get the tour started and you can meet us around the 4th floor?”

You gave a quick nod as agreement and make your way to your room. Sighing, you flop down on your bed, feeling the soft warmth as you sink into comfort. Pulling out your phone, you quickly typing a text to Adam but your thumb simply hovered over the send button, anxiety washing over you. Your message was simple,

‘I promise that everything’s ok, but he’s here’’

You were hesitating, should you even tell him that he's here? You didn’t want to worry him over something so insignificant. He has a show tonight, he wouldn’t be at his best if he was constantly thinking you would be in the same room as the devil.

Or even worse, he could just cancel the show completely and march down here and a cause a ruckus which at best would completely destroy the Hotel’s plans and at worse… No, you can’t think of that.

You look at the message again before just setting your phone on your nightstand. 10 minutes… that’s all you need before you go back out there…

…Lucifer was having… let’s just say a tinsy bit of a bad day. Not only has he been forced to interact with that insufferable yellow-toothed sinner but also, he has been reunited with someone he hadn’t seen in a millenia, you.

The anxiety of the day was only topped off with the added stress of being with his daughter. Don’t get him wrong, he LOVES his daughter and is always happy to see her, but the way she talks and acts with these sinners… Ugh, it reminds him too much of himself back in the day.

Her hotel too… He may have given her the place but he never gave it much thought beyond it being a pipe dream for her. He was just trying to do something for his daughter, especially with… Lilith being out of the picture. He just wanted to cheer her up, and unfortunately it seems ‘grandiose plans’ run in the family.

Even now as Charlie and that Red haired Buck show him around, Charlie explains excitedly about different things they have at the hotel. It reminds Lucifer about how she was when she was little, that glow of joy never seemed to fade away from her despite the conditions she lives in.

But even still, as much as he’s trying not to zone out and actually listen to his daughters rambles, his mind keeps trailing back to one, singular thought. You.

What were you doing here? He knows you were there to ‘support the hotel’ as Charlie puts it. But this is the absolute first he’s hearing about it. Why wouldn’t heaven tell him that another Angel was down here, let alone, you most of all. The last time he saw you was… not the best first meeting

Were you here in secret? You clearly weren't fallen, considering you still had your halo and you didn’t look like you’ve been damaged anywhere close to what you’d be if you had fallen. Not to mention… Adam, the exterminations were his idea so why would you even consider an alternative when you are his-

“Uh, Dad?” Charlie interrupted Lucifer’s thoughts, a look of worry on her face. ”You’ve got a little bit of… horn? Sticking out”

Lucifer looks up and sees that he’s subconsciously beginning to phase into his full demon form. He quickly takes his hand and pats the horns as if he was just dusting off his coat, causing the horns to seem to fade away like dust. Wow, today really seems to be getting to him.

“Ah sorry Sweetie, it’s nothing just… uh..” He thinks for a moment, he has to talk to you alone, just for a second. “*Ahem* I was just realizing I had to… use the bathroom, I seem to have had one too many drinks on the way here. Can you tell me where the… bathroom is?” He lets out a chuckle to hopefully cover his lie.

“Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right, I can take you there-“

Lucifer quickly lets out a loud ”No!“ Before clearing his through again “I can get there on my own, just wait here and I’ll be back!”

Before Charlie can even answer, Lucifer rushes through the halls of the hotel, yelling a ‘I’ll be back soon’ to his Daughter before turning the corner. He lets out a deep breath as he lays out the plan in his head. Figure out why you’re here, and get back to Charlie as fast as inhumanly possible.

Picking his feet up again, he makes his way to the lobby of the hotel, he looks around for a moment before spotting the check in desk. ‘They usually keep visitor information there, right?’

He quickly scours the desk, looking for any forms or documents that have your room number, before finally setting his eyes on your room number. It didn��t take long to find you seeing as there were such few occupants in the hotel.

He memorized your room and repeated it to himself while walking to your door. Past the first, 2nd, then finally, halfway through the hallway on the 3rd floor he finds it. Before he can knock, a sudden wave of worry floods his senses. Seriously, Why would he hesitate now?!

He shuffled around nervously, starting to doubt this little mission of his. Should he really be doing this? Is he really worried about you being here or is the real reason he came here because he wanted to… apologize to you? It’s true that the guilt of what happened all those years ago was still there. But… Digging up old memories just because he’s selfish and wants to apologize to you? He takes a deep breath.

He had to make things better or… at least get some things off his chest. So, with a heavy fist and an even heavier heart, he gently knocks on the hard wooden door…

This had been the longest 10 minutes of your life, trying to decide wether to send Adam the message, or to even return to tour with Charlie at all. As much as it pains you to say, you still become anxiety ridden when he’s in the room or even the mere mention of him. That spark of defiance you had in the lobby earlier being nothing but a small bit of courage. But you remembered that you had promised Charlie you’d be there for her, and you certainly weren’t one to take back a promise.

Before you could decide what to do, you hear an ever so faint knock on your door. Curiosity peaked, You thought Charlie was supposed to be waiting for you on the 4th floor? Had you taken too long and the tour went south? You quickly made your way to the door and hoped you wouldn’t see a very angry Charlie on the other side.

As the wooden-door creaked open, your face slowly turned bitter at The short, impish man who stood on the other side. Lucifer Morningstar. To be honest, you much would have preferred the angry Charlie, TWO very angry Charlies over this.

The man shuffled awkwardly in place, gripping his cane. Neither of you could break the silence . He avoided any eye-contact with you and even you couldn’t hide The disgusted expression on your face when looking at him. Finally after what feels like 3x the eternity you’ve lived thus far, you spoke In shaky words, ”What do you want?”

Lucifer pushed out his words as well as he could, meek they were, but you understood what he said “Can we please…talk?”

Your fingers gripped at the door, nails embedding into the wood, leaving scratches. It took all you had not to slam the door right in his face, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have solved any pressing issues. If anything, it might make him against Charlie’s idea with the hotel, which you couldn’t afford. You take a deep breath before letting out a quick but unsavory,

“5 minutes”

The short demon shuffles his way into the room as you follow in behind him, locking the door to prevent someone like Nifty or Charlie from walking in. Lucifer stands timidly by your nightstand as you stand on the complete opposite side of the room, facing him. Lucifer runs his neck as he lets out a shaky sigh “I just want to know what you’re doing here…” he pauses, he looks like he has more to say but decided not to.

You can only laugh to yourself “I’m here because I believe I think Charlie’s idea has potential to be great. The exterminations, they have to end… that’s why I’m here”

Lucifer seem a bit… surprised? Surprised with your stance on the exterminations. you figured he needed more than that so you continue “I… I’ve never been one for the exterminations. I've been against them from the start. I just didn't know what else to do. Nothing else seemed…right.“

He stayed silent, processing what you told him. He really didn’t understand you, he had a completely warped view of you. “If that’s all you wanted to know I’d rather you take your leave-“

“No!” You step back at the sudden raise in voice but he quickly clears his throat “No, there’s another thing. I would… I’d like to apologize to you about how things went… when we first met.”

You stared at him, the silence once again feeling the air. You didn’t dare break it, you watched as the impish man looked around with anxiety, trying to find the right words. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind. How we- I, treated you. It was unacceptable… Lilith kept telling me to let it go, that she was done thinking about it, but I just couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath “so, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Y/n…”

Lucifer Morningstar. The man in front of you looked more akin to a puddle than a person at this point. Sweat dripped from his face, a scrunched mouth filled with a sour taste. He wasn’t looking at you, focusing his attention to the ground. Finally, after many long seconds later. You step forward, grabbing his attention.

“As much as I appreciate the apology, I don’t forgive you.” Lucifer began to speak or at least say he understood but no matter what his reaction was going to be, you interrupted him ‘“-I don’t forgive you, because I’m not the one who deserves it”

To that, Lucifer's head was struck with confusion, “what do you mean?” He tried to make sense of your words, shifting eyes looking around in unease before landing on a framed photo of a candlelit man, an old and forgotten, yet familiar smile on his face… ”You mean… Adam?” Despite his best efforts around you, saying the first man’s name still dripped his words with venom. That same sour taste filling his mouth at the mere mention of him. ”What does-” he stops himself, he knows why.

You breathe in slowly, “What you said to me, all of those years ago, hasn’t meant anything to me in a long time. I’ve gotten through it 10x over and finally understand that I am more than those words” you take another step towards him, closing the gap, “so… there's no use for your apology to me. But Adam… you’ve hurt him more than you couldn’t possibly imagine“

The room was filled with dense air, like any sudden move could kill the king of hell or even you at any second but still you continue. “Adam deserved so much better than what he was forced to have from you, so if anyone deserves your apology, it’s him.” He goes to speak but you shut him down again “but we all know that you are too prideful to do so, and Adam… he’s too stubborn to hear it”

You don’t yell, scream, all of your words coming soft from your lips “So… what you’re going to do, if you truly mean what you say. You will go back to your daughter, forget this conversation ever happened, then you can march back to your big castle with your Loving wife, and leave us be, for the rest of eternity.”

With that, you step away from him, words that have been bubbling inside you for centuries finally having been let out. It felt like several hundred pounds had been lifted off of you. You begin to walk to the door to let him out, wanting the conversation to be over, When you hear him speak a faint ”Ex-Wife actually”

You pause, your teeth already biting your tongue. Honestly, if you really thought about it, it was poetic. The Angel who ruined two marriages, leaving Adam nothing but a broken heart and baggage, ended up with a failed marriage himself.

But even still, you still felt a slight pain of pity for him. Through clenched teeth you let out ”I'm… sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

This kind of thing, no matter the person, is always tough. You knew the aftermath of it through Adam, even now he struggles with so many issues from it. In that regard, you felt pity for the ruler of hell, but the rest of you felt… glad? Glad that he finally understands just a thorn of the pain he inflicted on Adam.

“The 5 minutes are up so… go now… please.” Your voice shakes near the end, your will power for everything you’ve done starting to break. Lucifer looked equally as defeated, you could tell he wanted to say more but he just nodded his head before walking out the door. slowly, silently, you close the door back before sliding down it as your legs give out.

You wanted to cry, scream, do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. Your voice hurts from talking, your feet hurt from standing, everything just… hurts.

DING DING DING

A luminous yellow light follows the sound, you lifted your head and saw your phone on your nightstand. Adam… You used all of your strength to make it to your bed, practically having to crawl to avoid any more tiredness in your aching body. You finally land on the soft mattress to pick up your phone, seeing the plethora of messages from Adam.

DIXKMASTER69

Yo Bitch, everything good??

You’ve been typing for like 10 minutes

Answer me

Hellllloooooo??????

Oh, that’s why he was texting. You had completely forgotten your half written message you were debating on sending earlier. You start to delete it and rewrite it when suddenly,

INCOMING CALL FROM DIXKMASTER69

You sigh at the screen, your phone vibration sends chills through your aching arms, it acts as a lifeline for you not to fall asleep on the soft plush beneath you. You press the answer button.

‘Fuck Babe, finally! Are you ok?!” Adam’s voice sounded angry but you know he was just worried “you’ve been texting for like 15 minutes”

“Yeah, don’t worry Adam, I... must have fallen asleep while trying to message you”

“It’s 12 in the afternoon, you dont normally fall asleep in the middle of the day” Adam questions, his voice having obvious worry for you.

“Today’s just been very tiring. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just happened a lot today.” You hated lying to him, your other half, but you know this is something that he shouldn’t have to worry about.

You hear him groan, “how many times do I have to fuckin’ tell you not to overwork yourself for those sinners”

“I know, I’m sorry” you pause “I… I have to go now but I promise I’ll call you later, yeah?“

He was quiet on the other side before he lets out “Yeah, just don’t overdo yourself ok?” His voice was soft, no hint of sarcasm or anger, just him.

You let out a small breathy laugh “I promise. Have fun at your show tonight. Talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too”

CLICK

You sigh to yourself, you still have the tour to do. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Tomorrow will be a better day. it has to be.

-

TAGLIST: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn

@ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che

@edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee @pandaquick @white-00-7 @call-me-nyx @adamstruelove @jennieyeager @sillyycatt @solatiium @my-name-is-heartache @parisiterileymoon @titan-senpai @lovely-night-owl-86 @innergardentoadpony @animefan106sposts @starlightstarbrightmyfirststar @lovkayy @ilikedrinkingsoda @barrythestrawberry041 @deadpoolssweetchimi @asegirllovesreadingporn @ripashy @deleted-1-800 @sirenetheblogger @ur1nonlygabi @aweleyirene @n0tmentallystable

(I really hope I didn’t forget anyone if I did, just asked to be added in the comments!!)

Shoutout to these specific asked as well, love you all <3

[blackynsupremacy]

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 1

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words,neighbors to friends, slow burn, martha lowkey being the hookup, snarky teens, some swearing, fluff, friendly banter, a bit of angst. lyric’s thoughts. clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @zombiehe4rt

next: CHAPTER 2

it was around 8:30 PM on a friday night as clark kent gazed at the stars through his telescope in his “fortress of solitude”. it was just his loft in the barn, but he never forgot how lana lang coined that term for this sacred space of his. lana was known as the typical girl-next-door and the cheerleader dating the captain of smallville high’s football team, whitney fordman, and clark’s first love. well—it’s crazy how things can change so rapidly. lana quit cheerleading to own the talon, whitney was killed while following in his late father’s footsteps to serve this country, and she wasn’t the girl-next-door anymore. she had to move in with one of clark’s best friends, chloe sullivan and her father, gabe because her aunt nell’s new husband wanted to move the family out of smallville, but lana refused to leave it all behind. one thing that didn’t change was clark’s love and admiration towards the girl.

the loft wasn’t just his space where he’d go to think or look into space. he also shared it with her. whether it’d be using the telescope to admire her from afar, having late night talks, or watching the sunrise together. you’d think with this much time spent with someone, clark would finally have the gusto to officially ask lana out. he has tried, but between the obstacles of figuring out his heritage, keeping his abilities a secret, not wanting to hurt others feelings, and his cowardice of opening up to his loved ones, his chances with her all went to hell.

lana’s tasks at the talon were getting busier by the day and she still had her load of class work to tend to, so her visits to the loft for sunrises or meaningful conversations weren’t as frequent. it’s been getting quite lonely here. a deep sigh escapes from clark’s chest as he takes a step back from the telescope, both hands tucked within his pockets. his blue eyes peer at the dark sky that was softly lit with luminous stars that goes beyond this planet he’s come to know and love. his longing for the answers concerning his heritage grow stronger and impatient as his thoughts trail back to the aircraft that’s hiding in the cellar. he wished that this burden wouldn’t have to be so much. he understood that his parents, jonathan and martha, didn’t want to lose their miracle child if he found out where he came from or if the world knew of his powers, they would experiment, exploit, or worse, treat him like an outcast. it’s already hard enough on clark that his best friend, pete ross, knew. they’ve worked it out once he’s sworn his secrecy to the kents and their friendship seemed to be stable, but deep down he knew that pete would never really get used to that. clark just wanted someone—no, anyone to understand his intentions. whether they’re a human or not. why did i have to come down to this planet? what happened on my planet that was so bad that i literally crashed into the quiet lives of this town? why—

clark’s train of thoughts came to a halt and his heightened sense of hearing caught the sound of revving engines and purring wheels coming into the direction of the neighborhood, but not directly to his home. both of the vehicles make a stop and park at their destination. one of the vehicles is a u-haul moving truck the other, resembling what might be a white honda civic. this stop wasn’t an ordinary stop either. it seemed that the destination was—the old potter house. was it possible that nell had changed her mind? did lana know about this? could things go back to the way they were? clark had to pause for a second because he didn’t recognize the car at first, so he looks back into the telescope to investigate further.

it was pitch dark outside to see who exactly were operating the vehicles, so clark knew what he had to do to find out. his eyes focused on the closely on the u-haul, he could clearly see the boxes and luggage near the rear end before his x-ray vision travels towards the front. in the driver’s seat, he could see the outline of a human skeletal figure, stretching their arm muscles and reaching for the seatbelt. his pupils shifted to the car parked behind the truck. there were three figures this time. one sitting in the drivers side, the other in the passenger with their head leaning against the window, and third that seemed to be curling up on the passengers lap which clark assumed to be a pet. the driver taps the passenger’s shoulder to signal them to wake up before they open the doors.

with the low quantity of streetlights near kent farm, it was still difficult to see clearly, but clark was positive he saw three different silhouettes with three different voices as he watched them exit the vehicles. the tallest silhouette was definitely an older male with a deep voice muttering as he made his way to the front door before fishing the key out of his pocket to gain access to the house.

“come on now, girls! this house won’t be moved in by itself. let’s at least get what we need for the night and start fresh in the morning, alright?” he commands before stepping into the house. the next silhouette was slightly shorter than the first and the soft, alto voice was of an older female followed by the final silhouette who had a similar voice to hers, but it definitely sounds like a person of around clark’s age. she appears to be holding a bundle tucked securely in her arms. her own sigh resonates in the night air, her posture deflating with exhaustion.

“man, if i have to move another muscle, i swear i’ma fall apart.” the youngest of the three groggily protested as she dragged her feet forward.

“your father’s right! the faster we get things done, the faster we can go to bed, get some rest and greet our new neighbors in the morning. i’d suggest you put that cat down somewhere and pick up those feet, young lady. we don’t have time for all that whining, now.” the older female firmly responds as she beckons the younger to follow her into the house.

“yes, mama. just—let me put the princess in my room and i’ll be right down with ya’ll. god knows i’m beat.” all three figures trudge their way into the now lit house and close the door.

clark lets the conversation cut there before he takes some paces away from telescope.

it looks like we’re getting new neighbors. i’ll make sure to tell mom and dad in the morning.

he turned off the light switch before descending down the stairs to retire for the night.

lyric james huffs out in relief as her spine finally makes contact with her lavender comforter set delicately draped over the air soft mattress of her new bed, in her new room, of her new house, and in a new town. the bare walls were illuminated with the amber glow of the ivory bedside lamp she recently installed. her closet was about a quarter full and the drawers had the essentials like undergarments and socks, but there were two things she couldn’t live without for one night: grandad’s record player and noir. speaking of noir, lyric could hear the soft patter of paws treading on the hardwood floors and an audible mew of the feline. she got the strength to lift herself upright to look down and find noir staring back at the girl with those large round, yellow-green eyes and her fuzzy,black tail swaying across the floor as if she were waiting for her owner to carry her as she did before they stepped into the new house.

lyric chuckled at her cat, shaking her head. although it was a tired smile, her dimples made a prominent appearance within her toffee skin. “girl, i know i got you spoiled rotten—can’t even get up on the bed without needing an escort.” she reached her arms below to scoop noir up into her bed before laying vertically with her head against her plush pillows and a fair number of stuffed animals. lyric adjusted, so that one hand was underneath the white, paisley bandana wrapped to protect her hair and the other, tenderly stroking noir’s dark coat of fur as the cat nuzzled on her torso. her brown eyes shifted to see the red glowing digits of the time set on her alarm clock. 10:30. i really need to sleep, so i can move all of that junk tomorrow. thank god it’ll be a saturday. her chest raised slowly to deflate as she sat alone with her thoughts. i miss new york already. what’s so interesting about this itty, bitty hill billy town anyway? what does a place like smallville have to offer?

let’s rewind that real quick. lyric james was a born and (formerly) raised native from new york. she’s currently a sophomore with a love for old vinyl records, talking junk, eating sweets, going out with friends (well the ones she had back home), impulsive shopping, and documenting core memories with her digital camera.

her voice was soft as rain and calm as her mother’s, one might say a sound like a voice of reason, but one shouldn’t get that confused with her being a pushover. when it comes to meeting new people, she’s not shy per say, but before opening up she needs to observe certain people. observe of how they speak, their body language, and just how they are as a person in general. if the vibe’s good, that’s what’s up! she’ll crack jokes, speak in fluent sarcasm, and maybe a bit of flirting when she gets the balls. if not, she’ll be cordial and respectfully keep her distance. she’s had moments of naivety in the past when it came to friendships causing her to get burned, but hey— she lived and she learned. that was her just her outlook on life: to live until you die. she was only a teenager, so she’s expected to screw up every once in a while, but when it came to having that common sense her parents instilled in her during childhood, she knows where the line should never be crossed.

her parents, crystal and joseph james, were suitable guardians and they supported lyric as well as nurtured her to be a well mannered young woman, but one thing that got her tight was their demanding work schedules. joseph worked as a firefighter and crystal, an er nurse. don’t get her wrong, she loved that her parents saved lives for the love of it and kept their lives afloat financially, but it also made lyric anxious. as an only child, she’s been with her parents for so long and she couldn’t imagine if something happened to one or both of them. hence why she had a curfew, even back in her hometown to make sure she’s home and near the phone just in case. the main reason why her parents decided to move to smallville was that it was safe. it wasn’t like smallville didn’t have crime going on, but it wasn’t as bad as new york. crystal and joseph knew that their daughter was left alone most of the time and they’d allowed for her to go out with friends and come back at a certain time, but the risk was too high for them to stay ever since—omar. fortunately, they had some colleagues recommend that smallville had some opening positions for their professions and that’s how they got here to get away from their past.

lyric felt her eyelids drooping lower as a yawn escaped from her mouth and reached over to the lamp switch to cease the glow in her room. careful not to wake noir, she shifted her body as carefully as she could to conceal herself under the sheets. she turned on her side, her knees curling up slightly in a fetal position as her bare feet rubbed against each other. her arms wrapped loosely around noir. the sounds of the feline’s low snores were enough to send lyric into a peaceful, calm slumber.

the rising sun of saturday crept in at around 7:15 AM. clark was used to being up this early. that’s farm life, but this was part of his daily routine to wake up, get dressed, and head to the loft to watch nature simply take its course. as he leaned his elbows against the window sill, his eyes of blue soaked up the harmonious mixture of the sky’s color palette of lavender, pink, tangerine, and gold. the clouds resembled the fluffiness of the cotton candy that was served at the fall festival every year. it was silent, but the wind hummed as it lightly tickled clark’s face and fanned his raven tresses with a breeze so gentle at just the right the temperature that he couldn’t help, but to close his eyes and inhale the morning within his lungs. he was sure this weekend was going to be the same: do some chores, hang out with his friends at the talon, run into lex luthor, or maybe fight off people who’ve been poisoned by those cursed green rocks like he’s some sort of superboy. you know, the usual. clark then had that sinking feeling within his stomach and that tiny weight of heaviness in his chest with visions of her.

i really wish lana was here. maybe she’d find some time to at least catch the end of this.

his eyes then traveled back to the house next door. the two vehicles and the “SOLD” sign out in the front yard confirmed to clark that the kents having new neighbors wasn’t a fever dream like he’d hoped. he didn’t really get to see the family clearly, but he remembered a father, a mother, and perhaps a daughter with a pet of some kind. he pondered on the details of where they came from, what they looked like, what were their personalities, and most importantly, were they prepared for what kind of town they’ve moved to given its bizarre history? well—clark, felt he was to blame for the bizarre part, but his parents reassured there was nothing no one could do to prevent it.

after the sun took its rightful place in the heavens, clark decided it was time to get a head start on his chores for the day. that was until he felt something nuzzle itself against his ankle and his ears picking up on the soft mewling sound that filled the silence of the loft. well—that’s new… he thought knowing that it was the norm for animals to be on the farm, but not this one. clark peered down to find two wide eyes of yellow-green that reminded him of the glow of a firefly in the darkness of july. they were attached to a tiny, furry head with a pink button nose, whiskers, and pointed ears all surrounded by onyx fur. one of clark’s brows raised and a grin curved on his lips as the feline continued to wrap around his or her tail around his leg some more. with blended knees, he squatted down low enough to meet the cat’s level to slowly, but gently reach his hand towards the nose first, so the cat could detect clark’s scent properly before giving him the green light to go any further. a dark paw stretches to lightly touch his hand before leaning a fluffy cheek in forward to nuzzle clark’s knuckles, indicating that he can proceed with his touch. clark couldn’t help, but to smile before taking both hands to enthusiastically pet this friendly little, black cat’s face.

“now, i wonder how you got yourself in here, huh? your owner must be pretty worried—“ he paused to check to see if the cat had a collar of any kind in which he came up short. geez, he at least wanted to know the feline’s gender without catching them off guard by picking them up. as if the cat read his mind, they rolled over on the hardwood floor to reveal the underside of their body. after a quick observation, clark figured out this feline was a female before she rolled over again to her original position on her belly.

“don’t worry, girl. you can stay up here until your owner comes back. for now, i’ll take care of you.” he simpered as his palm soothingly descended down the cat’s spine. noir couldn’t help, but to respond to this boy’s touch by filling the room with a satisfied purr as if she were in paradise. clark sighed with content before he realized that he now has to let his folks know about the new visitor. he ceases his petting and his tenor voice softly urges, “i’ll be right back, girl. you stay right here, okay? if you’re good, i’ll come back with a little treat for you. how does that sound?” he coaxed. she responds by mewling and laying on her stomach, tail swaying back and forth across the floor as she watches clark walk away and descend down the stairs of the barn and out to his home to find his parents conversing at the breakfast table in their kitchen. his father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper while his mother was preparing breakfast.

“morning dad! morning mom!” he hurriedly greeted his parents, jogging to the cabinet to retrieve a plastic bowl and the refrigerator, for some fresh milk.

“mornin’, son!” jonathan responds, his eyes still skimming the headlines. martha repeats the phrase back to her son, her eyes glancing up to see to him getting the items needed for cereal, but no spoon nor cereal. martha squints in curiosity as her mother’s intuition urges her to ask clark what he’s up to.

“hey, clark, if you want breakfast, i’m putting something together. are sure you just want cereal, dear?” she questions.

“nah, mom. i’m good just…uh, getting started with my chores. hey, did you know that a new family moved into nell and lana’s old house? i saw the truck come in late last night while i was in the loft. you guys were sleeping by then, but i didn’t want to wake you.” clark spoke, pouring the right amount of milk in the bowl and putting the carton back in the fridge. he didn’t instantly want to stall on the fact of the feline, but he definitely wanted keep his parents in the loop of their new neighbors first.

martha’s face responds in awe, her head nodding with a smile on her lips as she resumes to cooking and jonathan lowers the paper to get a better insight on the topic of the discussion.

“ah, right! i noticed the truck still parked when i looked out the window this morning. at first i thought nell had changed her mind for lana’s sake, but i saw a different man walk to his car. either way, it’s exciting to see some fresh, new faces around smallville, right jonathan?” martha inquired to include her husband. jonathan nodded in agreement,

“oh, yeah. they’re likely a friendly, hardworking family with good old fashioned values that happen to live right next to another average family: a farmer, his wife, and their herculean son with the strength of 2,000 men!” jonathan wise cracked, earning some laughter from his family.

clark’s infectious smile crept on his lips before he takes the bowl off the counter, careful not to spill it.

“very funny, dad! in the case of meeting fresh faces, the new ones i’ve met so far are covered in fur and whiskers. i was out at the loft just now and this black cat just snuck in.”

“oh, a cat? so that explains the bowl with no cereal. well, do you think it’s just a stray?” martha questioned, wiping her hands clean with a plaid, hand towel.

“where’s the cat now?” jonathan chimed in.

“ah—not really, she’s actually very friendly. i’ve tried to look for a collar, but she didn’t have one. look, i’m not saying i’m keeping her, but i think someone would be coming for her soon. she should still be waiting in the loft. until then, i want her to be taken care of before they come.” clark utters, gesturing to the bowl in his hand.

“that’s sweet of you, clark! i’m sure they would appreciate that. oh! just milk won’t do, sweetie. let me see if we have a can of tuna in here somewhere.” martha inwardly beamed as she turned to rummage through the pantry to retrieve a can of tuna. as she fetched a can opener, spoon, and a bowl, her heart couldn’t help to swell at her son’s benevolence. his desire to care for all species on a foreign planet made her feel more content of what happened in the fall of ‘89. sure there was some destruction, trauma, and long lasting negative outcomes, but clark would never fit in those categories. out of the can she scooped the meat into a bowl and handed it to clark.

“thanks, mom! i’ve learned from the best, you know.” he leant down to tenderly kiss the auburn head of his mother and made his journey outside to fulfill his promise to the amicable fur ball that was still waiting on her treat. once inside, he places the two bowls in front of her and it wasn’t a second later before she indulged in the food and drink.

little does this sneaky kitty know that her owner is about to cross paths with smallville’s main attraction.

lyric’s grogginess was short lived after waking up to find noir missing. she quickly sat up to look underneath the comforter to see if the onyx feline was at the foot of the bed. lyric knew that noir liked to sneak away and hide in other places of their old house, so what makes her think noir wouldn’t give this house a test drive for that same purpose? lyric moved the comforter to free herself and swung her feet to the side of the bed. she rubbed the sleep from eyes to get a clearer vision in order to see the red digits on her clock. it was approximately 8:00 am. as soon as the bare soles of her feet touched the floor, her knees followed suit to search under the bed.

“noir?” she called as her brown eyes searched and her head moved from left to right and vice versa, but noir was nowhere in sight. feeling a tad irked with her pet’s usual shenanigans, a huff erupted from her chest and her brows furrowed. lyric stood up to her feet and made her way to the closet only to find just her clothes on the hangers, no noir. lyric checked all the usual places upstairs where she would hide. bathroom? no. linen closet? nah. the den? negative. not even her own parents room provided lyric with the answer she desired.

“now, where the hell could she be?” she muttered lowly to herself under her breath. lyric knew better for her parents not to hear any type of profanity slip from her mouth. her ass would be grass, but so would noir’s if she didn’t pop her fuzzy head out in the next few minutes.

she was such in a tizzy trying to find her cat that she didn’t notice her mother, crystal, calling out for her from downstairs. lyric brought herself back to earth before she made her way down the steps and into the kitchen where she found crystal to be unpacking an open cardboard box and placing dishes, bowls, and cups in their respective cabinets. each item making a clanging sound as they were maneuvered out of the box.

“good morning, mama! where’s dad?” lyric hastily greeted and questioned as she also noticed the absence of her father. her doe eyes perused areas such as the floor, near the refrigerator, and under the tables. damnit, no such luck.

“good morning, honey! your father’s out at the station to settle some final paperwork before monday and running some errands for the house, but he should be back in time soon. we still have so much unpacking to do and meet our new neighbors, so get a move on to get dressed!

“hold up, don’t the ones living here already usually come to meet the new ones?” lyric’s nails reached to scratch her scalp as she raised her arched brow, piqued by the statement.

“yes, usually, but the unusual doesn’t always do harm.” crystal responded to her daughter before she turned around to see her still clad in her nightly attire. lyric hastily nods, her thoughts still running laps around her head.

“you sound like you’re in a rush. what’s wrong, baby?” she placed the items she was unpacking on the counter before she approached lyric.

“ma, have you seen noir? i’ve checked her usual spots and i can’t find her nowhere. i know she likes to sneak out my room every once and a while, but she stays in the house hiding and i keep coming up short— you’ve been down here for a minute, so maybe you’ve seen her tryin’ to get somethin’ to eat?”

“mmm—no. i’m sorry, i haven’t. it don’t help that we barely got any food to start with, my guess is noir went to search somewhere else for that. one thing about her, if she can’t get food here, she’ll get it somewhere else and you know how greedy she is the way you got her spoiled.” crystal chuckled as she heard lyric sigh out a defeated “if that ain’t the truth.” even though noir can be a handful, she adored her due to antics like this because let’s be real, a girl’s gotta eat!

“i just hope you remembered to put that collar back on her neck when we got here.”

lyric froze. her lips tighten as her eyes shut, inhaling and huffing out a breath of deeper frustration with herself before she realized that she didn’t put noir’s collar on when they settled in last night. she was so worn out from going back and forth to move in her essentials to her room, that it slipped her mind completely. now, she knows noir likes to wander a bit, but damn it! she never expected that cat to venture out in a whole new area. crystal took lyric’s silence and that pout on her face as a signal of negligence to complete the task, but she understood that it was late and the whole james family were even dead tired to get the rest of what they needed. a sympathetic smile rose on her full lips and her palms find their way to reassuringly massage the tensed muscles of her daughter’s shoulders.

“don’t worry. you know noir always finds her way back home, she wouldn’t dream of getting into some trouble without you, especially not too far away, so she may be closer than you think. now, i bet you’ll do the right thing and put that collar on as soon as you get her back?” crystal inquired with a playful tone, so lyric’s pout transformed to a lopsided grin, the dimples she inherited from her mother protruding as she giggled. in return for her mother’s wisdom, lyric pulled her into a bear hug and rested her chin on shoulder. this reminded her of the moments in her childhood when crystal would console lyric, whether she was taking her accountable or not.

“yes, ma’am—and i’m sorry for not handling my business. it won’t happen again, i swear.” she murmured near crystal’s ear and pulled back to face her again.

“you live and you learn. i’ll tell you this, instead of looking around in the house, how about going outside? you might find what you’re looking for. you can worry about unpacking the rest of your things later.” after giving lyric her cue to get started, crystal’s kissed her daughter’s cheek and ceased the embrace before finally disposing of the box that was emptied of its contents.

departing with a smile and nod, lyric rushed upstairs to her bedroom and opened the closet door to locate a presentable outfit that was not too laid back nor over the top, but something that was comfortable and fashionable enough to locate the missing noir. no matter what the occasion may be, lyric wasn’t gonna be too flashy nor look like she just rolled out of bed! she settled for an aqua blue top that was slightly cropped at the bottom to expose a bit of her abdomen with a mural of a geisha patterned with black, white, gold, and salmon. she paired this one pop of color with black cargo pants, black bomber jacket, and a classic pair of black chuck taylor’s. she placed the ensemble on the bed and left her bedroom to perform her hygienic ritual in the bathroom before returning to don her outfit for the day. lyric removed her scarf and adjusted her dark, long, natural hair to her liking with the heat of her straightening iron, the stroke her detangling brush, and the spritz of the heat protection spray to ease the guilt of damage. there was no harm in the addition of her signature eyeliner, mascara, and lastly—the brown lip liner and gloss combo painted on her full lips that were the icing on the cake of her everyday look. as for accessories, her ears were adorned with the cherished pair of golden hoops she was gifted for her 13th birthday, and the simple, black crossbody satchel that was her go to for whatever she needed for any journey.

“alright, ma. i’m going out to get your fast tail granddaughter back home!” lyric’s voice echoed out after jogging downstairs to wait by the front door to her crystal respond, “okay, honey! be safe and i love you. don’t stay out too long, now.” lyric reciprocates the farewell before bolting out of the door and into the front yard. it was a sunny day with a moderate fall-like temperature, not too hot nor too cold. her legs moved like clockwork as the falling leaves made a crunching sound beneath her sneakers. lyric squints and furrows her brows as she starts to look around the perimeter of the house, her mind started to go into overdrive mode, thinking of what that sneaky ass cat is up to. god, i just pray she’s not lost in a cornfield or behind a barn getting knocked up by some stray. now, i know i raised her better—but then again, i ain’t get her fixed.

after frantically searching all around the front and backyards, lyric made one more final decision before she could take her search further out into town: the next door neighbors. the chances were low, but never zero. besides, she was going to have to cross paths with them anyway. she took another deep breath and placed her hands in her jacket pockets as the autumn breeze picked up with her feet leading her to the home. it was a brisk 2 minute walk. she stopped and her head leaned up to read the hung up wooden sign that read, KENT FARM— and she wasted no time to walk on the property. to say it was just big was an understatement. as lyric ventured down the dirt path of the driveway, her eyes perused the land that possessed animals such as horses, cows, and pigs. she attempted to not contort her face at the new, pungent smells that filled her nose.

i don’t wanna be rude to these people, but ugh! this is nothing short of a farm. i’d better get used to this though.

the abode itself resembled the classic farmhouse with the white picket fence aesthetic. it was a vibrant, lemon yellow two story house with white trimming on the windows and a welcoming porch with white, wooden steps that creaked as lyric’s feet gingerly ascended before approaching the door and checking to see if any cars were parked that indicated the presence of her new neighbors. once she spotted the parked red pickup truck, she took that as her cue to knock on the front door. in the brief time she waited for someone to come to the door, her head turned to the left to find a colossal, vibrant red barn. it seemed to have an open window and what looked like to be a telescope protruding. lyric’s mind began to wander again, but instead of panic, it was serenity.

that looks like a dope spot to stargaze and listen to some stevie. ain’t nothing like your own personal quiet place.

her thoughts were halted at the sound of the front door hinges creaking opening to reveal a couple around her parents age, they both greeted lyric with a “good morning” and benevolent grins which gave her a warm feeling. the wife was a few inches shorter than lyric with auburn hair, blue eyes, and rosy lips. as for the husband, he was towering over both of the females with sandy, blonde curls, sculpted jawline, and blue eyes as well. lyric regained her focus and introduced herself.

“hey—good mornin’! my name’s lyric james. my family and i just moved in last night in the house next door. it’s very nice to meet you mr. and mrs.—“ she paused to lead them to their names to politely address them like how she was raised. with a smile, she held out her hand to give each adult a handshake before the husband reciprocated the salutation on their behalf,

“well, lyric, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you and welcome to the neighborhood! mr. and mrs. kent will do, but when you feel comfortable, my name is jonathan and this is my wife, martha.”

“lyric—what a lovely name. we definitely look forward to meeting the rest of your family very soon and welcome to smallville. is there anything we can help you with, honey?” martha enthusiastically chimed, that sunshine smile reappearing that compelled lyric to return a dimpled simile of her own as a result of that welcoming compliment.

“ah, thank you both so much! first, i just wanna let ya’ll know you have a lovely home. second, if it isn’t such a bother— did ya’ll happen to see a black cat with these big, yellow eyes, no collar, and sneaky? i mean—she has a collar, but because i was so tired, i forgot to put it on her last night. her name is noir. she likes to wander off sometimes and i was wondering if ya’ll seen her around here? i understand if you haven’t, i was making sure before i start putting her face everywhere in town.” lyric’s face heated with embarrassment as she dumped her predicament on these lovely folks, she takes her hands that were previously tucked in her pockets and fidgeted with them. who knew that one kitty could cause this teenager this much stress and chaos? lyric knew, but in this circumstance? give a girl a break.

after lyric drops the cat’s exact description, realization set in martha’s mind and the gears started turning in her brain.

lyric. what a friendly and polite girl! she must be the cat’s owner. the same cat that snuck into the barn and the same cat that clark was currently caring for. not to mention that she’s a sight for sore eyes! this girl could use a trusting and kind first friend in a new place. who better than clark? maybe this was the fresh face that could bring him out of this lana funk.

an invisible light bulb popped out of martha’s head, her smile never ceasing at her clever thinking. it was now martha’s turn to respond to lyric.

“oh, no! that’s unfortunate. we have a son who’s he’s about your age. his name is clark and he would definitely be of service to help find what you’re looking for. he’s actually in that barn right over there.” her auburn bob sways as her head tilts in the direction of the barn, a nonverbal signal for lyric to take a look.

“are you sure about that, mrs. kent? i don’t wanna bother nobody with my problem.” lyric questioned, using one of her hands to brush a piece of hair out of her face.

“i’m positive, lyric! one thing about clark kent, when there’s a call for help, he’ll answer. i’m sure he’d be happy to assist you!” martha said with a reassuring grin.

lyric reciprocated with a grin and nodded her head in approval.

“by the way you’re hyping him up, he sounds pretty cool. alright, mrs. kent, you got a deal. i’ll take you up on that! again, i really appreciate your help! you said that barn over there, right?” lyric pointed to the left.

lyric took the kent’s nods as approval to give them a wave, walk down to the porch steps, and make her brief trip to the red barn with the telescope in the window. the entrance was already opened, giving her easy access. she looked around to see the piles of hay and various farming tools and machinery. her head turned to one side, then the other to see if she could spot the mysterious clark. her gaze then shifted to the beige, wooden staircase that led to the next level.

“here goes something.” she mutters under breath, her legs carrying her to the staircase to get the next lead in finding the missing noir.

“hello! is anybody up there?!” she called out as she ascended.

clark was still in the loft. he was lounging on the sofa with noir comfortably laying across his lap, softly purring and snoozing the day away after a snack and some playtime with a laser pen that clark found. he was now waiting for lyric’s arrival to retrieve her furry companion. his heightened sense of hearing and open window worked in his favor when he heard the recent conversation between the girl and his parents in the distance. that soft voice he heard last night confirmed the match for the voice of the new girl next door. last night, her tone conveyed raspiness and exhaustion, but while conversing with his parents, it was soothing and pleasant to the ear, sensitive or not. he was content in knowing that the feline, noir (now that he finally knew her name) had a caring owner and home. he also couldn’t help, but simper bashfully at hearing his mother’s compliment about his willingness to help others. his cheeks were glowing red when lyric enthusiastically agreed and the two were only seconds from meeting. she already thinks i’m cool even though we haven’t met. that’s—interesting.

clark’s thoughts came to a halt when he hears footsteps and that same voice calling out for another human— well, being in his case. him and noir perked up and glanced in the direction of the footsteps that were approaching closer to his exact location. noir let out a mewl that louder than normal.

“noir? noir! is that—“ lyric gains speed at the sound of a “meow” that belonged to the onyx kitty she’s missed so dearly. once she made it to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, her movements ceased to find a boy sitting on the couch. clark turned his head in her direction. a kind smile that revealed his pearly canines appeared as he gingerly scooped noir in his arms and approached lyric. silence filled the room as they inspected each other’s features for a moment before speaking.

as clark was standing, lyric could tell he was in the 6’0+ range of height. his hair was dark like hers, but he had ivory skin, benevolent aqua blue eyes, sculpted jawline, and rosy lips. he resembled the prince in that little mermaid movie that lyric always enjoyed as a child—after some years, she’s realized it wasn’t just the songs that drawn her in.

clark curiously gazed at the girl before him. she was at average height. he noticed her medium earthy skin tone complimented her deep brown eyes, long, natural dark hair, and shimmery, full lips. he knew that it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she was pleasant to the eyes. the teen’s conscious’ brought them down to earth before they awkwardly stammered their introductions in sync,

“hey! i’m—“

“hi! my name’s—“

“sorry—“

“my bad—“

they both respond with a brief chortle before clark chimes in,

“ladies first.”

“oh, right! um, my name’s lyric james aka, your new neighbor and owner of that fast tail cat you got.”

lyric gives the boy an amicable grin and playfully glares at noir. she holds out her arms towards clark’s and he instantly takes the cue to hand noir back in lyric’s awaiting arms. he beams as she embraces the feline, her knuckles nuzzling between the ears and pecking her head.

“god, don’t you ever do that to me again. i’m too young to have a heart attack, but i’ve missed you, girl!” she affectionately murmured.

“i’m clark kent by the way! it’s really nice to meet you, lyric.” he holds out his hand and patiently waits as she shifts noir into one arm, popping her on her torso like an infant and reaching her hand to grasp his in the friendly exchange.

“nice to meet you! your mom talked a good game about you helping those who need it. it looks like you really came through and i appreciate that, clark. this is noir and i’m sorry that she snuck over here disturbing your peace, but i forgot to put her tag on, so that’s on me.” lyric confessed, looking at her cat with the expression of a disappointed mother before gleaming in gratitude towards the farm boy.

“hey, it’s no problem, really. this sounds a bit embarrassing, but i’m relieved she snuck in. i was feeling kinda lonely up here and she cheered me up. plus, i got the chance to meet you and get out of doing my chores for a while.”

they briefly laugh before lyric chimes in,

“hey, there’s nothing embarrassing about that! trust, when i’m feeling down, i can count on this gremlin to bring some excitement to my day. even if she get on my everlasting nerves with her shenanigans, wandering off being the biggest issue—now, that you said it, she got me out of doing my chores too!” they laugh again as she playfully rolled her eyes before quickly spotting two empty bowls on the ground. she snickered to herself at her what her mother referred to this morning and it didn’t go unnoticed by clark.

“care to let me in on the joke?” clark wittingly quizzed.

“i think it’s funny how when i was looking for noir this morning and told my mom about it, she said it was because noir was just looking for a snack and that i got her spoiled. it looks like you gave my baby the royal treatment, huh?” lyric chuckled and gestured to the empty bowls.

clark reciprocated his own laughter before he replied,

“i just wanted to make sure she was taken care of before her owner came back. it’s the least i could do for her after she cheered me up! i’m just glad that she has a good home. even though it hasn’t been very long, i think i’ll miss noir when she goes.”

“well, clark, if you want to see noir again, you can! that’s if—you let me kick it with ya’ll. i won’t lie, it’d be nice to know someone when i start at smallville high on monday. you cool with that?” lyric proposes, raising an arched brow and a smirk playing on her lips. inwardly, she didn’t want to put the pressure on by dropping the “f” bomb on him just yet. not until they get to know each other better. lyric wasn’t opposed to it and she got the vibe from clark that he felt the same, especially with the way they hit it off.

the infectiousness of the action caused clark to smile and nod in agreement.

“i’m cool with that. ah! i’m such an idiot.” he jokingly pinches the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “i’ve probably kept you waiting here all day when you’ve got stuff to do at your place. i’ll walk you home?” that was always the gentlemanly thing to do and clark wanted to make a good impression on his new neighbor who would hopefully want to join him and his small circle of friends starting monday. as they walked down the stairs and out of the barn towards her home, they continued to their small talk for the brief duration of the stroll. he asked the basics of where she was from before moving to smallville, what her life was like there, her family, school, and how she’s adjusting to the new house so far. clark felt a sense of nostalgia. he hasn’t walked down this path towards that house in months, it was refreshing.

they stopped and reached their final destination. clark took it upon himself to walk lyric up to the door while still keeping a safe distance behind her. her father had yet to get extra keys made, so she had to knock on the door. as they waited, lyric turned her body to face his with an appreciative expression and broke the ice,

“hey—all jokes aside, it was really nice of you for taking care of noir until i got her. thanks again! i get a good vibe from you, clark kent. there’s just somethin’ about you. one day, the whole world will see it and they’ll appreciate it like i do.”

clark couldn’t count on his fingers how many times this girl has made him laugh or smile within these several minutes.

“it’s no problem, lyric. it doesn’t hurt to give back to others, whether they’re covered in fur or not. i’m just happy that i can do some good in this world.”

clark reaches over to pet noir on her head one last time before the door swings open to reveal an older african-american woman that looked to be about the same age as his mother. it didn’t take clark’s x-ray vision to see where lyric got her looks from. her mother’s skin tone and eyes matched with lyric’s, her straightened shoulder length hair was dark and shiny. she smiled and greeted the teens with full red lips and the familiar dimples that clark once saw on her daughter’s face. lyric introduces her mother, crystal, to clark and vice versa. crystal was immensely impressed with the farm boy’s manners, politeness, and small town charm. in smallville, chivalry would never die.

after they both make their acquaintance, crystal leaves the two alone to finish unpacking. lyric urges clark to stay put for a second before heading upstairs to her bedroom to put noir’s collar on and places the cat on her bed. she digs into one of those household junk drawers where one could find the items needed at the right time. she retrieved a pack of her mother’s post-it notes and a pen before she power walked to still find clark waiting patiently on the porch, standing with his hands in his jean pockets.

“like i said, if you want to see noir, don’t be a stranger, alright?” she handed him the packet of notes and the pen, “you know what to do, clark.”

“you got it, lyric!” he took the pen and wrote down the digits of the kent’s landline before giving the items back to her.

“when we get our phone in order, i’ll hit you up, so you can save mine. until then, if i’m not doing anything moving-wise, would you like for noir and i to swing by the barn tomorrow? i mean, that’s if you’re good with—“

“i’d love to see you both.” he interrupted her with the same enthusiastic tone. both teens nod with a smile on their faces to confirm their meeting the next day. clark watched and waited until lyric was safely in the house before he traveled back to his own.

maybe this fresh new start wasn’t so bad for the both of them. life will always come with change whether we want to or not, it’s all about what one is to do with that change. how could they adjust? for clark and lyric, they adjusted by the absence of a sneaky, onyx feline. this could be the beginning of a refreshing new era of friendship between the farm boy and the new girl next door.

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: Torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood, explicit language, name calling, fear, near death experiences....

WC: 1757

Chapter 1

“I have business to handle with the Harlow pack tomorrow. Frankie and Triston are going with me to meet with our allies. I need you here to be in charge of the house while I’m gone.” Alpha Lewis says to Hayes.

“You got it. I will keep you updated.” Hayes nodded his head.

“I know nothing will really be going on around here but I will be gone for a few days. Maids should be here to clean at 9 am… Oh and uh, make sure they feed the omegas. I think they forgot yesterday.” Lewis rolled his eyes as if it was silly for them to have forgotten.

“Surprised I can’t hear their stomachs growling from up here.” Milo chuckled, walking into the room.

“Y’all two stay out of trouble this time. Last time you burned down my shed.” Lewis pointed a finger at Milo.

“Hey…it was old anyways. We built you a nicer one.” Milo said.

“Yeah so I don’t want to lose this one either.” Lewis said, leaving the room.

Lewis is Alpha to the Nyko pack. A pack known for its ruthless leader, large numbers, and murderous ways. Alpha Lewis took over two of the neighboring packs, making them all submit to his rule. Anyone who refused, he slaughtered in front of their family. In doing so, he grew vastly in territory and numbers, now having nearly fifty members loyal to him. No one dares cross him, for a war could break out - most of the surrounding packs don’t even come close to the numbers he has. 

For the most part, any remaining packs that neighbor his territory live in harmony with him. They stay on their land and out of his way and he doesn’t overtake their land.

Alpha Lewis’s immediate pack consists of a lesser alpha, five betas and three omegas. The lesser alpha is his younger brother as well as one of the betas. The rest of the people under his rule live in their own dwellings and not in his house like the immediate pack. A few members of the pack share rooms but the omegas are kept locked up in the basement.

Nightfall was approaching as Hayes and Milo unlocked the padlock on the basement door. Alpha Lewis had left late morning and should be in Harlow territory by now. Which means he’s far away and off-the grid for the rest of the night. He will probably check in tomorrow morning but for now, the boys were home with just the omegas. The two other betas left behind decided to go see a movie in town.

The basement was half finished. The unfinished part had prison looking cells - one for each omega and an extra. Cement walls and flooring with reinforced steel bars in the front. The walls and floors were damp from leaks, the air smelling of piss and mildew. Each cell had a metal cot with a thin mat on a wire frame, a hole in the ground for them to relieve themselves, and a chain embedded into the wall and connected at the ankle of the omega inside.

The omegas were filthy, hair matted, and covered in injuries and bruises both old and new. They cowered into the back corner as the young alpha and beta appeared. They stopped at one of the female’s door. It was their favorite omega - YOU. You whined, pushing yourself further into the back wall, but they just laughed. 

“C’mon bitch….we wanna play.” Milo taunted.

Hayes opened your door and stepped inside. You cowered in the corner, shaking and shying away as he unlocked the cuff on your ankle. Then he snatched you up and guided you out. You winced in pain as he forced you to walk. You knew Alpha Lewis must be gone if they decided to “play” with you. They only took you out to play when he wasn’t home to boss them around and keep them busy. So they use you to stay entertained.

You endured whatever game they came up with, knowing no one would take your side or care what they did to you. Their latest interest is a game of hunting. And it seemed like it would be the same game again tonight as they led you through the living room towards the back door.

Wincing at the bright lights, you looked down and tried not to trip over your own feet as you walked. Your limbs hurt, you were tired and hungry, and you were not in the mood to entertain them. Not that you ever were, but most nights they bring you out, you use it to your advantage and study the terrain. One day you will escape, and when you do, you will know how to get away. But tonight, you didn’t have it in you.

“Alright bitch… run.” Milo commanded with an eager smile.

Your feet were heavy and you felt like doing anything but running. All the walking made you lightheaded honestly and you wanted to just curl up and die. You drop to the floor, sitting as your hands support you from fully laying on the floor.

They both sigh dramatically.

“I think she needs some motivation..” Hayes says.

Milo pulls a gun from the back of his pants. It was a BB gun, modified to have a stronger shot and shoot bigger pellets. He aims it at you, touching the side of your head. Your breath catches in your throat as you slowly turn to see the barrel of the gun aimed at you. Hayes flashed his BB gun too.

“I got new pellets…” Milo wiggles his eyebrows. “They are silver.”

Hayes whips his head to his brother, brows furrowed.

“So… run.” Milo growls.

You scramble to your feet and take off, knowing too much silver will kill you. You hear the pop of the gun and hear the whoosh of a pellet go by your ear. He just missed you. You run into the treeline, heading for cover in the woods.

“Silver?! Are you nuts? We aren’t out here to kill her.” Hayes speaks lowly. 

“Relax… I won't hit her much. I just want to use these special ones here.” Milo holds out a gloved hand with pellets in it.

“Why are they blue?” Hayes reaches for one.

“Don’t touch without gloves. Each one contains a small dose of cobalt.”

Hayes steps back quickly. “What the hell?”

“I have an antidote. I’m not gonna kill her.” Milo rolls his eyes.

“Silver is one thing Milo, but cobalt?” Hayes lectures. “Lewis can’t find out we do this when he’s away…remember?”

“She’s getting away, c’mon.” Milo says, running into the woods after you.

This went on for over an hour. They would get too close when you stopped to catch your breath, which was often, and you would feel the pellets pierce your skin. The pain kept the adrenaline pumping, pushing you to get up from behind whatever tree or bush you were using to hide and keep running. This was the first time they used silver pellets. Most of the time the regular pellets hurt enough to keep you running away, especially when they got too close. But this pain was much worse. 

One of the first times they decided to play their little hunting game with you, you decided that the pain wasn’t worth all the running. You refused to play along and in turn you were badly beaten - worse than the pellets would have been. They threatened to tell Alpha Lewis and when that didn’t scare you enough (because you knew he wasn’t home), they took to beating you. They broke three ribs and your leg. The healing was excruciating and took longer than it should have thanks to the terrible living conditions and lack of food.

They must have explained to Alpha Lewis what happened when he was gone because he didn’t say anything about your injuries and was more irritated with you than usual. He also withheld a few meals from you and kept you locked in the basement and used the other omegas for his fun for a while. From that day forward, she knew not to underestimate the brothers, or the absence of their alpha.

You ran as fast as your legs would go, the ground beneath your bare feet feeling like glass shards with every step. You huffed as you weaved between the trees and bushes.  You could feel the branches slashing at your skin as you ran past but you didn’t let it stop you. Plus the cover of night made it nearly impossible to see anything or where you were going.

As you ran, the world felt as if it began to tilt. You blinked and shook your head trying to focus. It didn’t work and you lost your footing, stumbling forward. You hit the ground with a thud, knocking the air from your lungs. You cough, trying to breathe in air as your heart pounded.

“We can smell your blood.” Hayes taunted.

Forcing yourself to stand, your limbs feel heavy. Wincing as you stand, you stumble as you try to stand straight. What was happening? Was this because you hadn’t eaten in like two days? You heard a branch snap behind you. Whipping your head around, you don’t see anything. They sounded close so you took off again. 

As you run, you begin to slow. It feels as if you're trudging through mud. You push with all your might but you don’t feel right. Looking around, you realize you’re not on your usual path. These trees haven’t been marked by you from the previous nights. There’s no dirt path beneath you either - at least that you can see in the darkness of the woods. Looking around, you were definitely lost. Fear creeped up as your stomach churned.

You run, hoping you can circle back to the path, afraid to run into any neighboring territories. Alpha warned you of the awful things they would do if they found you unwelcomed on their land. Shivering at the thought, your eyes feel heavy. You push through your head as it spins but it’s no use. You stumble over a tree root and tumble forward.

You reach a hill and manage to tumble down the ferns and ivy. Your body hits the ground with a thud and you feel yourself slipping into darkness, your whole body screaming at you in pain. When the brothers do find you, you are definitely going to pay for this.

TAGLIST:

@its-the-solar-system @estella-novella

[milla-frenchy]

Recs | April 25

April readings 🤍

Please, rb the fics you appreciated, that's how they live 🤍🙏

Check the warnings before reading, some of the fics are very dark

Joel Miller

On the job @stellamarielu

You and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

Wide open @ilikeevilblondes

After a long day of work, Joel expects nothing more from the evening than getting some shut-eye. Fate has other plans, however, because the daughter of the family next door forgot to close her blinds again and is putting on quite the show

Give it to her like a man @sceletaflores

Joel gives the best graduation gifts...

Embrace @pedge-page

In the park @toxicanonymity

Tempting @pedgito

Joel's pent up, you've got ideas

Messy @joelsrose

Popsicle stand @toxicanonymity

Only teasing @magpiepills

You’ve been teasing your neighbor, Joel, but he’s got other ideas

Don't make me ask again @arcanefox207

Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences

Collared | part 6 @tateypots

You are kidnapped by Joel and Tommy 3 years after the outbreak

Safe and sound | part 6 @guiltyasdave

An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Trusting them isn’t easy, but you won’t let another person die in this house. It doesn’t take long until you’re terrified of the day they’ll leave again

Feast @toxicanonymity

Kiss it better @baronessvonglitter

After an awful day, you turn to Joel for help to de-stress

Slow, deep, close @toxicanonymity

You wake up with a nightmare about Joel carving your skin. As he faces the damage he's done, you ask him to give it to you slow and deep

A short and bittersweet fic about what Joel could have experienced episode 2 season 2 @joels-princess

A borrowed shirt to dry off @secretelephanttattoo

Joel episode 2 season 2 @iiconicxpersona

Change of clothes @toxicanonymity

After cheetah print pt. 2, cum inflated reader needing to run into a store. She has to squeeze into her booty shorts... someone is there to help

Joel dealing with wifey: the ex @pedge-page

Clint Flood

Tell her to stay away from the light @iamasaddie

1982, Clint parks at the screening of ‘Poltergeist’ in the local drive-in. Somewhere between ghosts intrusions and seances, he finds a much more appealing thing to look at in the car next to him

Cherry lips @aurorawritestoescape

Clint and you have a simple relationship - you fuck each other and go on with your lives. Can it stay that way? What if one night changes everything?

Did you miss me @yxtkiwiyxt

Clint returns after a week away for work, and you're fucking pissed because he didn't bother to call you even once. But now, all he wants is to be close to you, and he's got that irresistible way of turning things around and getting back in your good graces…

Pero Tovar

Without chains @604to647

You help Pero shave in preparation for his journey back West with William

Dave York

Distractions @baronessvonglitter

You and Dave are finding it hard to forget that one night.. and a chance encounter gives you both a second opportunity

Hitman | Part 5 @punkshort

Fresh on the heels of a breakup, you move into a new apartment in a shady part of town. When a mysterious man breaks in, insisting he knew the prior tenant and needs to recover something left behind, you get caught up in a whirlwind of danger and attraction

Frankie Morales

Thirty rain showers to get to you | chapter 1 @jolapeno

He is in love with her. She is in love with him. They're already best friends, yet somehow it takes thirty moments for them to admit this

Three days till sunset @sawymredfox

The clock is ticking, the time to ponder is almost consumed, and a decision must be taken

Dieter Bravo

Fucking Dieter from behind @sp00kymulderr

I think of you all the time | part 1 | part 2 @schnarfer

Best friends to lovers, to worse

Tim Rockford

Wrong number @604to647

Detective Tim Rockford receives an unexpected text after leaving for work

Threesome (and more)

Conversation pit @toxicanonymity (Connie x f!reader facing Steve x Javi)

D x C @whocaresstillthelouvre (Clint x Dieter x fem reader)

Clint walks in on you and Dieter in a particular situation and decides to join in

My writing

She's a rainbow (Jackson!Joel x reader)

Joel returns after a long patrol and you greet him with a surprise

You oughta know (Clint x reader)

After your ex breaks your heart yet again, you ask your dad’s best friend for a favour

Friend zone (Tim x reader)

An event leads your best friend to reveal a secret he's been keeping from you for years, and you finally find what you've been searching for

Fics recs

[n30nwrites]

Good Doggy (Shifter! TF141 x Male!Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist here

Warnings - Some awkwardness and staring

Updated; 3/5/2024 with more details

Beta Reader: @letmelickyoureyeballs whose saving my life right now.

You had to leave your job in the city for your own safety, to an abandoned house left by your aunt, who you were close to until she passed. It was a struggle to get there, most of your cousins wanted to burn it down, as did your father.

But in times like these, you needed it.

The car pulled up to the house, a Jeep that was filled to the brim with everything you could grab. Suitcases and trash bags filled with items. You didn't even have a bed, just some pillows and blankets. Maya would be by later and she would set up her own room. Thinking of her caused you to fiddle with the knife in your pocket, your thumb rubbing over the runes that were etched into the metal.

The house was nice. Large, you looked it up on Zillow because you could barely remember what it looked like. 4 beds, 3 baths, fully paid for.

And you would be alone in it. 

The car was parked so that your trunk was facing the garage, opening it with a click of a button and dragging everything out. Quickly, avoiding your neighbors’ stares as they walked out. One neighbor in particular who didn't seem to stop even when you stared back at him.

A mohawk, buff thighs and arms, and his mouth was slightly opened as he kept staring. You stared back, glaring at him as every time you turned back in the car he was there.

Until he turned into air. Just a second and he was replaced by someone else, someone who was taller than him and with a mask that had a skull on it.

You had a mask on as well, but yours was a plain black medical mask. And Mohawk was back next to him, and both just stared.

You didn't like the staring, you escaped that city for a reason.

So you finished shoving all your stuff in the garage and locked your car, staring at them until the garage closed, where you could finally take a breath, taking the mask off as you relaxed in your closed-off house, all the doors locked and the windows covered.

You went to your future bedroom, your aunt's items were gone. All the furniture was taken when she died. In your cousin's words "You got the house, not her stuff" and you were fine with that. No pictures, no couches nor shelves, just plain purple walls. All appliances were gone as well. No fridge or stove, it was dead.

And Your cousins just burned it all. It was such a waste.

You were fine with it, it was almost comforting. Her spirit wasn't around anymore. 

"I'm hungry..." you grumbled to yourself, grabbing your new phone and calling the closest pizza place.

"How is that even possible?" John Price was angry. He liked things to be planned to the very last detail. It kept him and his pack safe. Moving to this small town with a large forest was for safety, and now it could all be screwed up because of a new neighbor.

A new neighbor that was supposedly Soap's AND Ghost's mate.

Stupid fucking shifters.

He says that as if he isn't jealous. Part of moving here meant that they also had the ability to leave quickly if needed, and having an attachment like a mate, especially a human one, meant that Ghost and Soap wouldn't leave without you.

Whether they would force you or not would be your decision.

But it was all so stupid. Stupid enough that Price thought about killing you, for just a moment. And then he looked at Soap's lovestruck look and completely forgot that idea.

It was time for him to meet you. To actually see what the big deal was.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick wanted Soap to shut up. Ghost knew when to be quiet, and Gaz could appreciate that. But if he had to be reminded of how lonely he was one more time he was going to snap.

Of course the second in command and the lieutenant found their mate. Of course it had to be a human.

And Gaz wanted to be happy for his friends, of course he did but god did he wish it was him instead. He had always been so lonesome and just focused on finding this one person, but since he's left to live a (relatively) normal life, he's had no hope. It's just been him and the pack, and while they were great people, he couldn’t see himself marrying them.

He almost cringes thinking about it.

But Gaz shuts up instead as Soap goes on about this person who moved in right across from them. About how amazing they looked and what Soap spotted in their suitcases. He seemed obsessive over every detail and Gaz wished it was him.

But he grins and laughs and tells Soap "I can't wait to meet him" because that's what good friends do.

NEXT

Alright so I know it's been a hot second, here me out. Things have gotten super stressful and I basically couldn't function for a few months but I'm gonna try to write some more so here's a new story I'm working on, IDK I like the idea of it and it's mainly for me more than anything so.

[writingchalamet]

Angels Like You

This is part 1 of my new Bucky series, taking place just after FATWS, Sam and Bucky are visiting Sarah when they meet her neighbour Y/n, who happens to catch Bucky's eye, the rest you'll have to find out...

Slow burn, eventual smut.

2.4k words

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, mentions of graphic physical abuse, fluff, y/n has a child

Please do not read if you find these topics upsetting or triggering, my inbox is always open for any messages 🧡

Chapter 1

Bucky's ears tingled with the sound of Cass and Aj's voices echoing through the house as they played, along with the clatter of feet smacking against the wood floors and laughter. A smile crept its way to Bucky's face as himself and Sam walked down the drive to Sarah's house, upon hearing the chaos that ensued inside. The sun beamed down in golden streams lighting the path towards the house, that's when he saw her, sitting on the front lawn with Sarah, smile on her face, eyes gleaming and laughing along with something Sarah had said to her. He felt it instantly in his chest, his heart stopped for a minute.

"You okay, Cyborg?" Sam nudged his vibranium arm arching his brow in question. "Yeah, yeah sorry, thought I forgot my keys but we're good" Sam side eyed him but continued down the path to the house.

"Sam! Bucky! Hey! Kids your uncle Sam is here!" Sarah called out to the boys, rising from her seated position from the floor, her unknown companion says something about drinks and heads inside, not before turning her head and nodding towards the two men. "Hey baby sis" Sam engulfs her in a hug as the pair reach, her reply about not being a baby is muffled by Sam's chest which gains a laugh from Bucky. "How are you guys doing?" Bucky asks as they split, nodding his head towards the house.

"You know, we're good, busy as ever, the kids miss their uncle though" she nudges Sam. "Hey, not just anyone can be Captain America, think of the street cred those kids will get" Sarah and Bucky both roll their eyes scoffing in unison. "Anyway I have a question, who was your hot friend that was sitting with you?" Sam wiggled his eyebrows smirking looking back towards the house, where you could be seen in the kitchen window making a pitcher of lemonade.

"Sam! That's my friend Y/n, she lives next door, and she has a bakery in town" She sighed as she answered knowing she couldn't avoid the question. "Yeah, yeah okay, but is she single" Sam enquired rather pointedly. "Not for you, she's not, stay away Sam! I'm serious she got out of a real bad relationship and she doesn't want to date!" Bucky couldn't help but feel his own heart break a bit, he didn't know what was wrong with him, he hadn't even met you. Just as Sam was about respond, no doubt some witty comment about being the hero to sweep you off your feet, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them, Cass and AJ came out carrying a pitcher and glasses placing them on the outdoor table before pouncing towards their uncle and his friend. But Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off the front door as you emerged with a little boy attached to your hip, he pointed at the sky and muttered something as your pointed back a smile adorning your face as you approached the group.

"Hey" you breathed out as you reached everyone, standing next to Bucky, you couldn't help but feel judged as you felt his strong gaze unwavering on you and your son. You didn't know much about Bucky, just what Sarah had told you, the former Winter Solder turned good guy, born in 1917, Hydra captive then the Wakandans broke his trigger words or something like that. But why was he staring at you, was it because there was no apparent ring on your ring finger and you had a baby, you knew he was from a different time but surely he didn't think so outdated. "Hi, I'm Bucky" he extends his had to you, you shake it nervously, unwrapping one arm from your child to do so. "Y/n".

"Hi I'm Sam, and who's this little guy?" Sam gives you a wave, then tilts his head smiling at the boy in your arms, who buries his head in your chest at the sudden attention. "Oh this is Forrest, you gonna say hi baby" you tickle the babies belly erupting the sweetest giggle from him as he nuzzles further into your chest, "sorry he's shy around new people" you smile stroking his curls away from his eyes. "Aw just like you Bucky" Sam laughs which earns him a smack from Sarah. "How old is he" Bucky asks quietly, still not looking away from you, "He's one and half" this time you speak directly to Bucky turning more and meeting his eyes, it's then you realise the soft smile he wears across his face as he looks rather intently at you.

As you turn towards him, Bucky takes notice of your face, committing it to memory, he notes every line, freckle, the way your smile curves, the slight indentations in your cheeks as you do, the way your nose crinkles as you look at your son, how your eyes seem to brighten when you talk about him, then he notices a small scar on the side of your face above your eyebrow, how the jagged little line fades into the skin. He spots another faded scar like it on your hand as you continue to brush back the babes hair away from his face. Forrest points up to the sky and excitedly squeaks "bird" as one flies overhead. Bucky again couldn't help but make another mental note, this time of the way the baby who very much resembled his mother, and how his little face lit up at the sight.

"Oh well done Forrest, bird!" Sarah came forwards enthusiastically clapping her hands pointing to the sky. "Bird! Bird! brr brrr brrr-" Forrest continued to babble away to himself, pointing to the sky at the birds. "Bird was his first word, that's pretty much all he says besides mama and bye, he loves birds" you laugh bouncing him on your hip. "Oh Sam he'd love you in your bird costume!" Sarah jokes, Sam however who's eyes seem to pop out of their sockets at the comment does not find it funny, while Bucky laughs. "Costume! it's a suit, a suit that saves the world I'll have you know! bird costume.." he tuts kissing his teeth.

"Well I think your bird costume is cool uncle Sam" AJ pipes in. "Me too" Cass adds though is overlapped by a heavily frustrated Sam "-it's not a bird costume!! you know what, next time any of you guys need saving I'm leaving y'all to fend for yourselves. pfft bird costu-" his rant was cut short by Sarah "Well that's not true and you know it, you love me big brother, kids get in on this" Sam is soon bundled to the floor by Sarah and the kids piling on top of him all of them laughing harmoniously.

"Okay as much as I want to stay I have to get this little angel down for his nap, so I'll head back to mine, thanks for letting us play guys" You shout at the group hearing a faint 'okay love you' from Sarah under all the laughing. You turn to Bucky and smile, "It was nice to meet you Bucky, maybe see you again sometime" this time you extend your hand to him which he took in a heartbeat. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin as he stands a little taller nodding. "Yeah it was great meeting you guys, bye Forrest" he turns his attention towards the tired toddler in your arms who sleepily lifts his hand giving Bucky a small wave goodbye, making the old mans heart skip a few beats. "Bye Bucky" you gently let your hand slip from his holding eye contact with him for just a few more seconds before daring to tare yourself away.

As you carry yourself down the driveway, one thing you were certain of. Bucky had made your heart melt in just a few small moments.

Bucky and Sam had been staying with Sarah for two nights now. The pair of them loving the 'uncle duties' as Sam liked to call it, playing with the kids while Sarah worked, showing them how to fly Redwing and dangling off Uncle Bucky trying to take him to the ground. Buck wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved how the kids had taken to him so quickly. the thought of being a part of a family especially one with kids seemed so far out of reach, so he appreciated Sam for letting him join his. However, he did feel a tinge of disappointment over the fact that you had not been over to visit since the first day they had arrived. Sure, he had caught a glance of you cooking in your own kitchen window when they were on their way out yesterday afternoon, and sure you heard a commotion through your open window looking up in an instant hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain blue eyed beauty, eyes meeting for only a second before you had to tear them away to check your toddler wasn’t playing with knives or anything. Bucky again felt the small pang of rejection in his chest as you looked away just as quickly as you looked at him.

Over dinner that evening Bucky was surprised it was Sam that brought you up as a topic of conversation clearly reading the signals that he had wanted to know more about you without seeming nosy. “So, your friend Y/n” Sam suggested the topic after swallowing a mouthful of beer, finding the confidence, Bucky instantly perked up, waiting to see what Sarah would say. She only tilted her head to the side cocking an eyebrow. “What about her Sam” there was a brief pause, Sam looked between Sarah and Bucky, “You know, what’s her deal” he took another swig of his drink feeling slightly under pressure. The man could fight evil and not break a sweat but ask his sister a challenging question and the boy would crack. “Her deal is none of your business Sam” Sarah stated matter of factly. “Oh, common Sarah, we’re just curious” Sarah huffs and sits back in her seat looking between the two men. Bucky gives her a subtle nod letting her know it’s okay.

“If either of you say anything to her, I will beat you both senseless, got it!” she points across the table at both the men sitting next to each other. Bucky and Sam raise their hands in unison, the sight quite comical for Sarah.

“I told you she got out of a bad relationship, but I didn’t say how bad. She moved from Wyoming to get away from him, she was with him for years, he’d keep her locked in the house, put her in the hospital god knows how many times, but she was too terrified to press charges against him. Then she got pregnant and it got worse, she told me he said he was gonna kill her and the baby and she finally left while he was at work one day, got in the car and drove for a day straight until she got here, she didn’t know anyone, she was living out of her car, I let her stay at mine when I met her and found out what happened and got her in contact with her family again and they helped her buy her house and open her store, she used to have a café back in Wyoming before she met Matt, but he made her sell it, asshole. But anyway she has a restraining order against him but he keeps showing up here, we don’t know how he found out she lives down here, but he keeps coming and waiting for her outside her shop across the street and just stares at her, we don’t know if he lives in town now or if he just travels here to shake her down then goes back, but the guy is nuts.” Sarah’s chest felt heavy as she released the intel on her best friend, she couldn’t read the faces of her brother and Bucky, something distinguishable between disgust and regret of asking on Sams face but Bucky she could practically hear the gears turning in his Vibranium arm as he clenched his fist, nostrils flared and jaw tight, the man looked ready to fight.

“Have you guys not called the police about harassment” Bucky all but snarled. “Yeah, but they said they can’t do anything as he has never breached his restraining order, he’s not allowed within one hundred feet of her or Forrest and no contact is to be made, and so far he’s not done that, he’s never even met Forrest, I don’t think he’s ever seen him, he just sits on a wall in town opposite her shop, and the police say that’s not harmful and no means for arrest, or some shit like that I don’t know.” Sarah shook her head again at the thought.

“That’s bullshit” Bucky’s hand hit into the table with force causing the drinks to knock over and spill. Sarah let out a little yelp at the sudden boom of his voice. “Ah sorry” already picking up the classes and reaching for napkins and cleaning the mess. “Maybe we could hire her a bodyguard? What about Torres, I bet he’d love it!” Sam piped up again nodding to Bucky with a grin on his face. “She doesn’t need a baby sitter, what she needs is the police to do their job and arrest the creep who threatened her and her sons life multiple times but is still somehow walking around scott free” Sarah’s words seem to hit a nerve with Bucky, as he rises from the table storming towards the exit.

The thought of you in danger kept Bucky awake all night, not that he ever got much sleep anyway, but you and Forrest were keeping him up more than usual and he found it near maddening. Deciding to take things into his own hands the next day, he asked Sarah if you would be home, after finding out you would be in your Bakery he was very excited to pay you a visit, though that excitement soon turned to dread at the sight of a man having you pressed against the wall with his hands around your neck, while screaming in your face through the window of your shop. Matt had picked the wrong day to break his restraining order, and Bucky sure was happy of his saviour complex.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Monk's Temptation (part 3-1)

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ Reader's POV ]

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ art 1] [ art 2]

a/n: slightly nsfw chapter like the others, but nothing explicit tw: frotteurism

You certainly noticed the monster monk as soon as he entered the chapter house during the choir practice. This small town didn't have a lot of non-humans to begin with, and he was the tallest sentient being you had ever seen, with tiny horns on top of his head protruding through his hood.

When you first saw him, last week, you thought he was really intriguing looking. Kinda cute even though you couldn't see his face in the deep shadows of the hood. Just two dimly glowing eyes. He always seems a bit nervous, though. And his singing... Ooof, his singing is appalling. How did he even get accepted?

Just as soon as the abbess announces a break, you turn to the towering monster behind you. His shining eyes blink, surprised.

"You know," you start, "you have a wonderfully deep voice. It's probably the lowest bass I ever heard. But I feel you don't use your stomach. It's as if you're trying to sing through your throat and that will damage your vocal cords. I know that sounds silly, but next time try to sing from here."

You hold your hand out and touch him just above his belt. Does he have an armor underneath it? It's so... hard. He flinches as if you slapped him.

"Oh sorry!" You truly are - you completely forgot he's a monk. "I'm very sorry! Ah, yes, just try to sing from your belly button. Think about your belly button and pull the voice from there. Do you understand what I mean?"

He stares at you and you feel oddly... small. Is he mad at you? Maybe you shouldn't even speak with the monks at all. But nobody warned you about anything. They just said not to wear uncovering clothes, that's all. Eventually, he slowly nods and replies, with a voice like a streaming thunder. "I... think I do."

You let out a sigh of relief. "Hope it helps!"

You really hope it helps. You can't stand listening to his croaking behind you a minute longer.

The abbess instructs you to sing Carmina Burana, but after just a few notes, she screams: "No, no! The bass is too strong! It falls from above like a storm cloud and suffocates all the other voices."

She marches toward the choral raiser and pulls the monster guy standing behind you. "You are too high! Stand on the step lower, there." She pulls him down, right behind you.

He is lanky but quite big too, so he brushes against your back... assets. You look up and see his hooded shadowed face looking back at you. Was there some saying about gazing into the void and it will gaze back at you?

"What is your name?" you ask him.

His glowy eyes blink again. Or do they? "Atanas," he replies quietly, as if he's unsure about it. There is a low tremble in the way he articulates the last syllable and it makes you shiver.

The practice begins again, and the immediate intensity of Carmina Burana washes over your senses. You full-heartedly sing, until... Until something presses against you. From the back. Did... did Atanas lean closer? It's not just his thick habit touching you. There is something else? Something hard.

Please forgive me, please forgive me, please forgive me, please... You think you hear quiet and breathless chanting behind you. It's overpowered by the song so you can't be for sure. But something is happening against your back. Atanas is... fidgeting? Or is he...?

You continue singing, keeping your back straight, pushing back against the towering presence behind you. He doesn't stop squirming behind you, but he is warm and firm. Such an interesting person, you think to yourself.

Once the choir reaches the beginning of Floret Silva, there is an obvious hitch in his breathing. Almost inaudible, yes, for everyone, but not for you. The fidgeting stops. You look behind your shoulder and up again, into the void... and it is gaping back at you with a crimson glare.

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ part 3-2 ]

[unoislazy]

Masterlist

Oldest to newest

(The only things out of order are the Headcanons which can all be found at the same spot, specifically for BES)

If I did it correctly you should be able to click the underlined places and they’ll send you right to the story!

Special Information

Request Information

Y'all will never believe what I forgot to add

RDR 2

How To Aim

Arthur Morgan x Reader

One Part

Th actual fic that started it all

————————————————————

HTTYD

Question? What Question?

Hiccup x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Hiccup accidentally lets it slip that his father is expecting him to ask someone a question. Who could that someone be… and what’s the question?

Part 2

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: You and Hiccup go out to figure out where that smokes coming from. You decide to return back to Berk to tell Stoick what you saw. However, Stoick had other plans in mind.

Somethings Off About That Boy

Hiccup x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Hiccup has always been weird but lately he’s been acting… weirder than usual. What could he be hiding? Maybe you should try to find out on your own. Who knows, maybe he’s just going to the woods to make weird outfits.

Hiccup Haddock Headcanons

Word Count:459

Hiccup x reader headcanons : just general ones, no specific focus.

What Can Never Be

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Hiccup fight together during the battle against Drago Bludvist, what could go wrong?

Warning: a bit of angst

Trapped With You

Hiccup x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: if you’re prone to second hand embarrassment this one’s gonna be a doozy

A Dragon Trappers Fate

Eret son of Eret x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You’re forced to tag along on the quest to find Hiccup after he went off, determined to find Drago. While you there you happen to stumble across a certain dragon trapper. You feel… weird when you look at him. Why?

Part 2

Word Count: 1.7k Words

Summary: you thought you’d only have to see Eret once and never again, that way that weird feeling you got when you looked at him would disappear. Well, turns out you need him again so you an find out where Drago Bludvist is located. No one better to interrogate than a dragon trapper.

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you this.

The Outsider

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

(Shocker I Know)

Part 1

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You wound up on the shores of Berk after something… had happened to you. Thankfully someone had found you and reported your presence to the Chief.

Part 2

————————————————————

Blue Eye Samurai

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Part one

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Two

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Not much sparring actually happens this time. But you still somehow wind up in an embarrassing position.

Disclaimers: light language, has not been proofread, shorter and way more embarrassing than the last chapter

Part Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: after dealing with a situation in town, Mizu helps you calm down a bit.

Disclaimer; a small bit of violence

Healing Takes Time

Injured! Mizu x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: you’re just a simple healer minding your business, avoiding a fight that had broken out along your street when suddenly an extremely wounded strange man ends up at your door.

Disclaimers; very soft angst, nothing too bad.

Part Two

Jealousy Looks Good On You

Mizu x Jealous!Reader

One Part

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and Mizu have been close friends for quite some time. You truly enjoyed each others company, that was until Taigen showed up.

Disclaimers; light language, has not been proofread, I am currently delirious from packing and moving all day but I had to write this out to feed the starved mizu lovers. A fair amount may not make sense at this point in time. My apologies ❤️

'Til The Caged Bird Sings

Mizu x Mixed! Fem! Reader

Part One

Part Two

Word Count: 3.9k

Content Warning: Contains violence and mentions of SA

Part Three

Cw: A bit bloody, mentions of SA

Headcannons

Mizu Dating Headcanons

Mizu Fluff Headcanons

Jealous Mizu Headcanons

BES Characters and pets

BES College Au

NSFW Mizu Headcanons

Fucking Brat

Mizu X reader

Part One

Disclaimer: light cursing obvious

Heated but no NSFW

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

One Part

I lied, here's

Part Two

Fem! Reader

a bit heated, but doesn't go all the way

I Am No Coward

Mizu x Fem! Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Art

Mizu Drawings 1

Mizu Drawings 2

Mizu Drawings 3

Mizu Drawings 4

Mizu Drawings 5

Mizu Doodle (w/ Progress picture)

Mizu Drawings 6

Mizu Drawings 7

Mizu Drawings 8

Mizu Drawings 9

————————————————————

ARCANE

Promises

Vi x Reader

Part One

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Part Two

Childhood Friends to Lovers...

Part Three

Childhood Friends to...?

Part Four

Friends?

Changes

Vi X Reader

Vi needs a hug

School Time Crush

Vi x Fem!reader

Vi is a dork

For Me?

Vi x Piltover! Reader

You did this for me?

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: Being in band wasn't the most popular among the student body... Being in a band was: everyone in that school fawns over students who are in a band. You and your friends are the only band in the entire s. But, none of them know... You live two different lives: Drum Captain by day, Drummer by night. The school's Cheer Captain happened to attend one of your shows...

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, Swearing

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: Honest - The Home Team

A/n: I read somewhere that someone (I forgot who, so idea credit goes to them) wanted a Bridget Cheerleader AU, so here it is :)

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

*Y/n's POV* You ruffle your hair after stepping out of the band room; about to leave the school after a successful football game, however, bump into the wall after a football player shoulders you.

"Whoops, sorry nerd!" He chuckles, walking off with his jock friends

"You alright?" F/n asks

"Yeah," You sigh, "I hate that they're so successful, yet in real life, they're jerks..."

"They're going to peak in high school when they graduate," They tell you, "Besides, we have a gig tomorrow night."

Ahh...

Your 'second life'. Your most favored part of your life over your actual one.

"We're headlining this one for once," They say, "Big achievement for a small town band."

It was...

Normally, slightly bigger bands would ask you to be an opener for the opener that was touring with them. Your band didn't have the funds to travel. Yet. That was the end goal: To tour with a headlining band. Maybe even headline a tour...

"Y/n, you there?" F/n calls you out

"Hmm?" You look at them blankly

"You were imaging us headlining... Weren't you?" They ask

"No!" You lie

"Save that for when we tour with a headlining band," They say, "Come on, I'm tired, let's get out of this shit hole already..."

You follow them out to the parking lot and see a familiar face... Bridget: the School's Cheer Captain. The both of you are in the same grade. But, you never really noticed her until she joined the Cheer Team. Your friend elbows you.

As you watch the football game: Your team leading by a whole ton of points, you eyes drift down to the track, normally where the cheerleaders were attempting to hype the student section or the families who either watch their football team offspring or the band offspring.

Your eyes drift to the only girl with bright pink hair. By coincidence, she looks up at you too. You look down at your drum head, trying to not look flustered. However, when you look back at her, she's looking away too; a deep rose color upon her cheekbones.

"Let's go Dragons!!!" She, and her cheer girls scream

"Y/n!" Bridget runs up to you

"Oh! Hey, Bridge," You smile, trying to greet her casually

"I'm heading home, I'll see you tomorrow Y/n," Your friend walks ahead

You try to protest and try to keep your friend with you, however, was too far ahead.

"You waiting for a ride?" You ask

"No, you?" She asks

"I live close enough to not need to drive," You say, "Want some company to walk you home?"

"Sure, that'd be great," She smiles

You've met her a handful of times, but never really had any chances such as this one: the both of you have a one-on-one. She was also one of the popular girls. Not the traditional mean girl.

You lead your drumline mates onto the track. As you set up your drum onto its stand, the cheerleaders run over to you guys. You look up and see Bridget smiling ear to ear right in front of you.

"Captain," You tilt your shako, smiling

She runs over to her friends and squeals as they fawn over your other upper classmen drumline mates.

As you check to make sure your drum mates had their drums securely on their stands; you drum a rhythm and the others follow along. The cheerleaders gawking.

"I'm surprised that you girls gawk over the drumline over the football players," You joke

"Please, drumline has more dignity," She rolls her eyes playfully

"Pfft, wouldn't be sure about that," You chuckle under your breath

+*+

You follow Bridget as she walks to your neighborhood; unsure how to make conversation...

"What's going on tomorrow?" She asks

"Oh... Just stuff for band," You say

"What kind of 'stuff'?" She asks

"just band stuff," You say, "No one here really enjoys the band... I can always hear them talk over our halftime shows..."

"I try to be invested," She confesses, "But all of my friends drag me into their conversations. The drum stuff you do with your drumline sounds really cool..."

"Yeah?" You ask, your eyes nearly lighting up, "Well... That drum break was arranged by yours truly."

"Really?!" She asks, her eyes lighting up, "I didn't know you arranged music too!"

"It isn't that hard when you understand the basics of music," You say

"Wish I continued with music," She says, "But, it was too difficult for me..."

"Maybe one day," You say, "I like it when you guys do some stuff with us."

"My favorite is when you bring the drumline down to us and we just hype y'all up as you play. Seeing all the cool tricks is absolutely mind-blowing!"

"Oh.. That," You chuckle, "Yeah, I enjoy those too."

You follow her up a sidewalk, leading to her front door. You remain at the bottom as she ascends the two steps.

"Thanks for walking me home," She slightly smiles

"You're welcome," You reply

"You get home safe too, alright?" She asks

"Yeah, I will," You say

You wait until she closes the door behind her. You plug music into your ears as you walk the way you came.

I didn't know she lived down the street from me....

+*+

You and your guitarist haul in your personal drum set as your friend: the bassist and lead singer set up their own thing.

"Nice of you to help me, f/n," You sigh, setting down the kick drum

"Hey, do you want to tune these babies?" They ask

"As if I'll touch a stringed instrument," You scoff

"Come on, you play basically everything!" They whine

"Drums is more my territory," You say, taking the high-hat from your guitarist

+*+

You sit at the merch table as the openers go on. Your band couldn't afford to hire someone as your merch runner, so there would be two of you working the merch booth. At the end of the gigs, two of you would run to the merch table and the remaining lot would load instruments outside.

You rotated with two of your other friends once the next band began playing. You warm up your hands with some rhythms as you listen to some songs, trying to sound out the opener's rhythms.

You only stop when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"They're on the last song, let's get ready," F/n says

+*+

Two of you rush out to the merch table as soon as the gig ended: in case any patron would want to buy merch.

"You guys were really good!"

"You guys are underrated!"

"How are you guys not famous yet?!"

Many new fans would ask you that question. You only reply with: "Thank you!", or, "We've been working towards being a big band.". Along those lines.

Once the patrons had gone, you begin breaking down your merch table after a successful show.

"Y/n?!" A familiar voice calls your name

Your head shoots up, "Bridget?!"

"I knew you looked familiar!" She says, "I didn't know you were in a band!"

"I..." You try to find some kind of excuse

"Go on, I'll take over," F/n says

You get up and stand in front of her...

"Uhm.... You want to step outside?" You ask

She nods, she gently takes your hand and begins to lead you out of the venue.

"Where's your friends?" You ask

"They headed home right at the end of your set," She says

"And... You didn't go with them?" You ask

"I had to be sure the drummer was you," She says, "Let alone we have two of our school's band members in an actual band."

"Well, I like to keep that on the down low," You say

"What? And not be popular at school?" She asks

"Popular isn't our thing," You say, "Besides, we prefer to get famous from the outside."

"Oh..." She says

"So," you clear your throat, changing the subject, "What brought you here?"

"My friends and I were here for one of the openers," She explains, "It only took us a few

"Guess I gotta drive you home now," You joke

You weren't really joking...

"Would you have room?" She asks

"For you? Always," You half smile

She smiles as she looks down, blushing.

You help your friends load the merch into your friend's SUV and bid each other goodnight.

"I try to keep my front seat clear," You say

"In case you bring girls home?" She jokes

"No," You say, bluntly, "For my food run."

She tosses her hair ver her shoulder, huffing. You could see the joke in her gesture...

"It's my own kind of tradition that I get food after a gig," You say, "Drumming makes me hungry. You saw how I was whamming on my drums."

You pull out from the venue and make your way to the nearest late night fast food place.

"Want anything?" You ask

"Just... A water," She says

"Just a water?" You ask, "Please don't tell me you cheerleaders have a strict diet..."

She's silent...

"Come on, one junky meal won't kill you," You say, "Besides..."

You tuck hair behind her ear to look at her in the eyes...

"I don't like it when people in my car starve themselves," You say, "So, please.. Eat something... The venue only had snack items... Which is why I made this post-gig food a tradition. Never really had a passenger join me on the adventure.. So that makes you a first."

You order yourself and Bridget food. You drive to a secluded spot and begin indulging in your food.

"Don't you cheerleaders have your own tailgates at the football games?" You ask

"We do, but I barely eat," She explains, "I get really anxious and when I get anxious, food doesn't settle well."

"I understand that," You say

"You do?" She asks

"Yeah," You say, "I also get nervous before every performance I have. I try to not eat too much so that when I do feel nervous, I don't get nauseous."

"Guess we're more alike than we think," She sighs

You slowly make your way back to your neighborhood; praying the night won't end... However, her tapping your arm resting on the gear shift takes you out of your thoughts.

"Thanks for taking me home," Bridget says

"Anytime," You say

"I know this'll sound stupid but ummm... Could I get a picture with you?" She asks

"Sure," You chuckle

She squeals as she situates herself to face her phone camera properly. You lean over the center console and nearly stiffen as she puts her hand on your cheek. As soon as she snaps the photo the both of you look back at the photo: your head lingering on her shoulder.

"You want a setlist too?" You ask

"Yes!" She squeals

You reach into your pocket and hand her a folded piece of paper. She immediately unravels it and she squeals again. She Nearly leaps over the center console and wraps her arms around your neck.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She smiles

"Always," You chuckle

She steps out of your car, and leans down to meet your eyes.

"See you Monday," She waves you off

Again, you wait for her to enter her house, and fully close the door before you drive down the street to your house.

Chapter 2

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

You think back to when Harvey was your best friend; Harvey reminisces on how he fell for you.

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3

paper rings masterlist

chapter two: so high school -> "tell me 'bout the first time you saw me."

Harvey woke up with a groan, rolling over to turn off his blaring alarm. He rose from his incredibly comfortable bed while keeping his eyes shut, not ready to face the day just yet. The birds outside his window sang loudly, as if they were reminding him of something.

His eyes shot open, scrambling for his glasses and checking the date on his phone.

Spring 1.

He couldn’t believe it. How had time passed so quickly? He swore he felt like he’d just spoken to you on the phone. He began to pace around his apartment, hands running through his hair as the realization began to sink in.

He was going to see you.

He was going to see you, in front of him, for the first time in years.

Harvey wanted to scream. No, he wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend nothing about his life was any different. 

In reality, he knew he didn’t want to do any of that. If anything, he wished he had the confidence or the courage Elliott had spoken so passionately about so he could spill his heart out to you.

He sighed. If only he had the capability of doing any of the three options he’d presented to himself. Instead, he took a few deep breaths to center himself, trying his best to stay collected. What was he so anxious about, anyway? It’s not like he was talking to any other person, it was you , the person he once considered his closest friend.

More specifically, the person he once thought he could spend the rest of his life with.

Just then, Harvey’s phone rang, your name lighting up the screen. He cleared his throat and chugged the glass of water on his nightstand before answering, reminding himself to sound calm.

“Y/N, good morning!”

“Good morning, Harvey.” God , he swore he could listen to you say his name all day. He shook his head; what in the world was wrong with him? “I know it’s a bit early, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all. I’ve been up for a bit now,” he said, ignoring the fact that he was still in his pajamas. “You’re moving in today, aren’t you? What time will you be here? I’ll make sure to clear my schedule as much as I can.”

“Oh, right! I forgot to tell you, I actually got here last night,” you replied, voice bright as ever. "It was late, though, so I figured I would get some rest before unpacking.”

Harvey blinked, slowly processing your words. Maybe he should have downed a cup of coffee, too. “So, you’re here?”

You laughed. “Don’t sound too excited. Come over whenever, okay? I’m going to start unpacking in a few minutes.”

“Right, I’ll be over soon!”

Harvey got dressed into his usual outfit, even remembering to spritz on some cologne before leaving his home. He figured if he was panicking internally, he might as well try to look put together on the outside. After making sure he didn’t have any appointments throughout the day, he locked up the clinic and put up the ‘Closed’ sign, making sure to leave his phone number on the door in case of emergencies.

“Harvey! You’re up early.” Pierre waved, making his way over to the front of the clinic. He glanced at the sign. “Closed for the day, huh? I’m guessing you have errands to run?”

“Well, uh, I promised the new farmer I would help her move in,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the thought of how he reacted in the store the other day. “You remember Y/N, don’t you?”

“Why, of course! You two were running around the town before Pierre’s even existed.” Pierre sighed, a wistful look taking over his face. “I was in my early twenties then. Caroline and I had just started dating, but I was already thinking about what kind of ring I was going to get her. We were so in love.” He paused, frowning. “I wonder when that changed.”

Harvey cleared his throat loudly, desperately wanting to escape the awkward topic. “I should get going, I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Harvey!”

“See you! And remind Abigail to set up her check-up appointment with me!” Pierre nodded knowingly and waved goodbye, turning back to start opening up his own shop.

Harvey let out a breath of relief as he turned away, suddenly racing to get to your farm. Once he got to the entrance, though, he stopped in his tracks, waves of memories beginning to flood his thoughts. Sure, the farm was more beat up than he remembered, but for the most part, everything was where it had been all those years ago. He especially recalled the times when he had slowly fallen for you more and more, his sentiments only growing stronger as the two of you got to know each other better over the years. 

As he slowly made his way to your front door, he reminisced on the first time he realized he cared for you in a much stronger way than he initially thought.

-

“Y/N, wait up!” Harvey couldn’t make out what you yelled back as he ran to catch up to you, the farm animals unamusedly watching him through their fences. You had been so excited to show him all the “secret spots” on your grandfather’s farm. 

He’d only caught up to you after you tripped over a rock jutting up from the ground, scraping your knee. You looked up at him with big, watery eyes, lip trembling.

“Grandpa’s gonna yell at me,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “He always says I’m too clumsy.”

Not entirely sure what the right thing to do was, Harvey opted to squat beside you, shrugging off the small backpack full of “emergency supplies” his mother always made him carry around. He took out the mini first aid kit, grabbing the ointment and a bandaid before delicately treating your knee.

“You know,” he started, trying to distract you from the stinging of the medicine, “I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

Your eyes widened, suddenly inspired. “Really?” He nodded. “Wow. How’d you think of that?”

He gave a small smile as he stuck the bandaid on. “Then, I can always help you whenever you get hurt. You’ll always have someone to take care of you!”

You grinned before tackling him with a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders. Harvey’s face was burning, though he blamed the heat of the sun.

“You’re my hero, Harvs,” you stated confidently, your hold on him unrelenting.

-

Your hero.

He huffed a laugh to himself at those words, shaking his head. Well, at least he kept his word — after that summer, he’d gone home and begged his parents for books on how to become a doctor. His medical career had begun before he’d even reached middle school, much to his mother’s delight.

Just as Harvey was about to make his way up to your porch, a glimpse of blue caught his eye. Squinting to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, he peeked below the stairs, wondering if an animal had gotten stuck.

Instead, he was met with the face of a small, blue . . . blob? 

No, that was impossible. They couldn’t be real, could they? Harvey had only ever read myths about them.

As he leaned closer to double-check his hypothesis, the blob jumped toward his face, letting out a small squeak as it disappeared right in front of his nose.

He let out a shout and jumped backward, tripping on a thick clump of weeds and landing on his back with a thump. He groaned, readjusting his glasses as he sat up and rubbing the back of his head. 

He didn’t even notice you were standing in your doorway until you let out a laugh. 

-

You continued to laugh as Harvey stood up quickly, dusting off his clothes as he rambled on about some blue spirit he saw under your porch. You raised a brow — his excuses were becoming more and more creative. You spared him the embarrassment of calling out his ridiculous comment, deciding to walk over to him instead and fix the collar of his shirt.

“It’s good to see you,” you said, smiling up at him. Harvey stared at you for a moment before nodding and looking away.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he replied shyly. “It’s been about four years, hasn’t it?”

“Try five,” you corrected. “You left the city after med school, remember?”

His eyes widened. “That’s right. You were working while I was finishing up, weren’t you?”

You pursed your lips and nodded, thinking back to the period of your life when you had just begun working for Joja.

“Thinking back on it now, I should have just done more school, too,” you confessed. “Working for that damn company sucked the life out of me.”

Harvey laughed. “You think? You know, most people are overjoyed when they receive a promotion — you were miserable.”

“You remember that?”

“How could I not? You were in tears in the middle of the restaurant we were eating at.” 

- 

You slumped in your chair, eyes burning with threatening tears as you looked at your childhood friend. 

“I’m doomed, Harvs,” you sighed, leaning forward to pick at your uneaten meal. “Is this what my life has come to? Working for some company that’s probably killing the earth as we speak?” You laughed, dropping your fork miserably. “At least one of us is doing something right for the world. Maybe you can share some of your good karma so I won’t be doomed in my next life, too.”

Harvey looked at you with an almost distraught look on his face. He hadn’t fully grown out his mustache back then, stubble trailing from his chin to his cheeks. You vaguely remember thinking facial hair would suit him.

“Y/N, please, we’re still young,” he pleaded. “It’s too early to be talking like that. Besides, everyone has different paths in life, and you never know where yours will take you.”

Sniffling, you’d shrugged, unable to get over the fact you were profiting from a company like Joja. Hell, you’d done such a good job that they’d given you a promotion, not that it was something you felt any pride over.

“Maybe we can run away,” you’d suggested idly, not noticing how Harvey choked on the soup he was eating.

“Wh-what was that?”

“Let’s move to a different country,” you suggested, smiling at the absurd thought. “Then, I can open a cafe, and you can open your own clinic right next to me. I’ll trade you coffee and cookies for free monthly check-ups.”

He’d laughed, though he wouldn’t meet your eyes for some reason. “That sounds like a plan. Now, you have to eat. I can only imagine the amount of sodium your usual diet of cup ramen consists of.”

“Hey!”

-

You coughed, a bit embarrassed at your dramatism in the past.

“That wasn’t a great moment in my life, was it?” you admitted, shaking your head. “Well, now that I’m on the farm, I’m sure I can earn back all the good karma I lost working for that evil place!”

Harvey smiled, nodding. “I’m sure you’ll more than makeup for it.” He glanced at the singular box left on your porch. “Is this . . . all you brought?”

You laughed, turning and gesturing for him to follow. You opened your front door to reveal the cozy cabin your grandfather used to stay in, several boxes already piled up in the living room.

“So, I’ve already moved in some of the simple stuff,” you started, moving some of them aside, “but for the life of me, I can’t get a good grip on that last one, it’s a bit too heavy. One of the ladies in town helped me carry it to the porch — Robin, I think it was?” The redhead and Mayor Lewis had greeted you the evening before, going over some basics and helping you carry some of your belongings from the moving truck. 

“Yes, Robin! I’m glad you met her, I’m sure the two of you will get along.” Before you could reply, Harvey easily lifted the box off the porch, carrying it inside and placing it in your living room. 

You blinked.

Had he always been that strong?

“What’s in this one, anyway?” he wondered, looking at you curiously.

You put a pin in your thought and walked over to him, opening the box with a smile. After taking out the fragile items you had placed at the top, you revealed what you’d shoved to the bottom as cushioning. Harvey’s jaw dropped, amusement lighting his eyes as he laughed.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he said, picking up the giant stuffed animal. “I thought you would’ve given it away by now.”

You gasped, feigning shock as you grabbed the weighted bear away from him. “You thought I would betray Mr. Biscuit? How could you!” You looked at the toy affectionately, placing him next to your bed. “We won him together, after all.”

Harvey cocked his head. “We did?”

“Is that not how you remember it, big guy?” you joked.

“Well, not exactly,” he said, laughing nervously. “You won him after beating one of those carnival games, didn’t you?”

You hesitated, looking at the ceiling as you thought. “I guess I did,” you stated, “but I like to think of it as a team effort.”

-

You smacked your forehead as you pitifully watched Harvey struggle to win the game once again, the younger kids around him giving him smug looks. 

You felt a bit guilty; this was your idea, after all. Harvey had been adamantly against going to the Stardew Valley Fair that year, claiming he had to regain his focus since school was starting the following week. 

“Junior year is critical when it comes to getting into colleges,” he’d explained. “I can’t mess up my applications because of some festival.”

“Harvey, come on,” you had begged, clasping your hands together. He frowned and looked away, trying not to give in. “Please, let’s just go! Think about it, when is the next time we’re going to go to the fair together?”

“Next year! After we pass our classes!” You rolled your eyes, knowing that “passing” for him meant acing every course he took.

“Fine then,” you huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. “I’ll go by myself and tell everyone about how you left me there, alone.”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous.” You ignored him, opting to look at the shape of your nails instead. “Stop this act, you know I’ve been planning on going home today for weeks. My parents are expecting me.” You hummed, wondering if you should clip them or let them grow out. “Fine, fine! I’ll go, just . . . let me call my mother,” Harvey sighed. You grinned, bubbling with excitement next to him as he reluctantly took out his phone.

After watching him play the games, though, part of you wished he had given up. Sighing, you stormed up to him, pushing him away and snatching the slingshot from his hands.

“What are you—”

Without hesitation, you began shooting at the targets in front of you, easily hitting them and just barely winning against your opponents. The kids groaned in disappointment, sulking away as you excitedly picked out your reward.

Harvey simply looked at you in amazement, unable to speak.

You showed off your new prize, barely managing to hold it properly. “Look at what we got! Wasn’t this worth it?” He nodded slowly, still in awe of both your performance and the size of the stuffed toy. You shoved it into his arms, laughing at how he nearly toppled over. Before he got the chance to steady himself, you were racing off to see the booths nearby.

“Come on, let’s try the other games!”

“Y/N, slow down!”

-

“We can go again this year,” Harvey blurted. You looked at him in surprise. “I mean, we could, if you want to,” he corrected, composing himself.

You smiled. “We should,” you agreed. “We can win some more prizes. For now, though, want to help me unbox my things?”

“Of course. I guess we got a bit sidetracked.”

It didn’t take long for the two of you to have everything in place. After an hour passed, your house was finally starting to feel a little more homey — plants lined the corners, and your old rug was spread in front of the TV. Harvey helped you dust and mop the floors, opening all the windows so it could air out. The sun reached its peak in the sky when you finally decided you were done, leaning your back against the wall for support as you took a breather.

Harvey wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, setting the mop in his hand to the side. He had abandoned his jacket a bit ago, left in his white collared shirt and loosened red tie. You realized how grown up he looked. You darted your gaze away when he turned to you, looking accomplished.

“Looks like we’re just about done,” he said, looking around the room. “What do you think? Feel like home?”

“Just about,” you replied, taking in the amount of progress you’d been able to make with him. “Thanks a bunch, Harvs, I really owe you one.”

He shook his head, waving his hand. “It was my pleasure. Besides, take this as me making up for not keeping in touch all this time.”

“It was a two-way effort.” You grabbed his jacket and handed it to him, smiling. “We should sit down sometime and seriously catch up,” you suggested. “Are you free for dinner tomorrow?”

He looked at you for a moment — as if he didn’t realize you were talking to him — before nodding eagerly.

“Yes, I’d love to,” he said, pulling on his jacket. “There’s a place in the center of the plaza, the Stardrop Saloon. Does that work?”

“Works for me. I’ll buy you a drink,” you promised. You walked with him out the door, noticing how he glanced under your porch as he walked down the steps. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

He nodded, smiling. “I’ll see you, Y/N.” You sighed as you watched him leave the farm, brow raised and arms crossed.

“Yeah,” you decided, walking into your new home, “he totally doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“ . . . Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “ . . . Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“ My dearest good doctor, ” Egg Boi #04 reads. “ What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh . . . yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything ,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note ,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right . . .” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as you turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, lest you get scrambled.”

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Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor . . .,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We invite my . . . dad .”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “ the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh . . . So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘ Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“ Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years . . . his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘ longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois . They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois .”

“Egg Boys .”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up . . . er  . . . interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’ . Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God . . .

Lucifer begins to sing.

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Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh . . . hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm . . . he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No . . . not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say . . . light treasure hunting . . . ?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh . . . his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of . . . let’s say, mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like . . .  the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story . . . Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh . . . ” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why . . . why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I . . . I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think . . . ” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . .” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“ Motherfucker! ” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firmly against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“ . . . No.”

“Then settle down, Husker ,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still . . . or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “ Bitch. ”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “ Virgin. ”

“I am not . . .grandma. ” Husk’s fangs show when he growls. 

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties . . . or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot  . . . or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes ?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected .”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you . . . do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“ What does that even mean ?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I . . . have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh . . . and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha! ”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’ .

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh  . . .  I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“ Husband? ” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “ Pause ,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“ I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh . . . Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well . . . no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just . . . I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why . . . ?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why . . . ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean . . .  I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything .”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wipe it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no . . .  not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Willd double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs.

Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.  

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This . . . .” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh . . . that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait . . . ,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You . . . you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

”Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes . . . ?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer.

Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass.

Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we , my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment.

Someone pounds on the door.

You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“ MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops . . . ?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room . . .  Huh , that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw. 

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows. 

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully , with a grin.

“Mimzy . . . ” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “ . . . Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh . . . 

Another song.

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

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As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—it doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he says, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“ Doting husband ?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close . . .  just . . .  one . . .  second . . . 

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems . . . It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride . . .  his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘ glorious’ . People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh . . .  I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just . . . trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

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Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

[ayotofu]

the monsters we fight are close to home

(chapter 1) (read on ao3)

Eddie really hadn’t expected to like Steve Harrington.

Even after the guy had shown up in that boatshed, with Dustin and Eddie’s neighbor and Buckley-the-band-girl, and after hearing the most insane story imaginable, he hadn’t thought that he would like Steve half as much as he did now. Had never imagined that he would spend his days curled on Steve’s couch, aching from still-healing wounds, laughing at Steve’s perfect impression of Henderson in a snit. Never dreamed that when he woke from nightmares of leathery wings slicing him to pieces and Chrissy screaming blood into his mouth, Steve would be the first person he called.

Henderson was disgustingly smug about it. “Told you so,” he said one day, when Eddie expressed his disbelief at the turns his life had taken since Spring Break. “I told you Steve was a good dude.”

Eddie shoved him off the couch for that, smirking at his undignified squawk. The ego on the kid, honestly.

All that is to say, Eddie nearly forgot why he hadn’t liked Steve in the first place. It was hard—nay, impossible—to reconcile the King Steve in his head with the Steve who had ripped a demobat apart with his bare hands, or with the Steve who held him when he quaked in the aftermath of a panic attack. The Steve he knows now and the Harrington he had derided in high school felt like two wholly separate people.

So he can’t really be blamed, then, for forgetting his friends wouldn’t see it that way.

And he tried! Really, he wanted them all to be friends together. If Gareth and Jeff and Nate would just give Steve a chance, they would see—well, they’d see what Eddie saw: a brave guy, a selfless friend, a bitchy babysitter, the hottest fucking monster slayer imaginable—

Okay, maybe not that last one. That one was maybe just Eddie.

Still, it wasn’t his fault that none of his old friends were willing to give Steve a shot. And yeah, maybe after the first fight they had about it, he wound up spending less and less time with them and more time with Steve, and Steve and Robin, and Steve and Dustin. But that wasn’t his fault either: Steve wasn’t the one who refused to hang out with the others, after all. He wasn’t going to cut down on his Steve time just because they were all hung up on high school.

Plus, there were the Gates.

Max surviving meant that the whole split-the-town-apart-and-unleash-a-horde-of-monsters plan only kind of worked. The cracks split, and there were still portals to the Upside Down, and doubtless Vecna had some other plan going on, but the actual apocalypse had been prevented.

So far, at least.

So they kept an eye on the Gates. Little Eleven (whom Eddie had been absolutely delighted to meet for the first time) was keeping up a good pace of closing as many as she could, but no one wanted to overwork her. And there were a whole lot of them. Every few weeks, Eddie would go out with Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Joyce Byers, fucking Chief Hopper (who, instead of being dead, was apparently in Russia, because this was his life now), and Jonathan’s friend Argyle (who Eddie was kind of obsessed with) and back El up as she closed each Gate. Vecna loved to send his smaller monsters through the portals, trying to stop them. Eddie’d gotten bruised and scratched up more times than he cared to admit and it was starting to get on his nerves.

“Why can’t the government do this part?” he grumbled one day as he wrapped a bandage around Steve’s arm. One of the bats had managed to take a chunk out of it before Robin swatted it away with her bat. Eddie thought it was a reasonable enough question: if the government knew about all this stuff, if it was all their fault like the others claimed it was, then they should take some fucking responsibility for once and do the actual fighting.

Next to him, Joyce just laughed. “Oh, honey,” she said.

“The government tends to be more focused on coming after El than actually solving the problem,” Nancy said. “I learned a while ago not to rely on them for anything when this shit happens.”

“Could you imagine, though?” Steve said with a snicker. “The government actually doing their jobs?”

Robin cackled from where she was wiping down her bat, a perfect copy of Steve’s, nails and all. “A world where the first people to find the secret Russian base under the mall weren’t a couple of teenagers working minimum wage and two children?”

“The what under the mall?”

“Honestly, you’d think they’d’ve at least monitored Hawkins more, all things considered. They knew we were the first choice location for any Upside Down bullshit, but they didn’t notice the radio signal the Russians were regularly sending out? Dustin found it on accident!”

Eddie met Argyle’s gaze from across the clearing, hoping for some new guy solidarity, and found the man looked just as mellow as he usually did. Did he already know about this? Or (more likely) was he just too high to care? God, Eddie wished that was him right now. Russians? In Hawkins? Last summer, he'd been begging Dan to give Corroded Coffin a shot at a weekly gig at the Hideout and driving up to Indy to check out the queer scene. Nancy Wheeler had fought off her possessed boss in a hospital before shooting at a possessed Billy Hargrove trying to run her over.

Sometimes, it was hard not to feel a little inadequate with this group.

(“Do you hear yourself?” Steve said when he brought it up to him once. He reached over the couch and pulled up Eddie's shirt, revealing the pink scars from the bats. “You nearly died saving us. Saving everyone. And you think you're not as good as the rest of us?”

“No, I just mean—you've done this a bunch of times, and I still don't understand what's going on half the time.”

Steve shrugged. “Me neither.”

“That's not—” Eddie groaned and shook his head. “I'm not explaining this right.”

“No, I think I get it. But, Eds, you know you have nothing to prove, right? You're here. You're in it. You're part of the group. No one cares how much you were or weren't here for before.”

Eddie felt his cheeks warm, and he almost, almost, believed him.)

It had never been quite like this before, according to the rest of them. It was truly a miracle that they had all survived. Eddie had been in the hospital for two weeks, while Max had taken twice as long to merely wake up. She was still going to physical therapy, even now, and had been banned (along with the rest of the kids—bar El—who protested both the ban and being called kids) from the portal closing adventures. Hopper and Joyce had wanted to keep the rest of them out of it, too, but they were all legal adults at this point, and it quickly became apparent that they needed the bodies. Too many Gates for Joyce and Hopper to handle alone.

Still, it was rapidly becoming... normal. Routine. Fight monsters, close portals, hang out at Steve's for movie night and a joint or two. Make sure to schedule the skirmishes for days that he didn't have band practice or Hellfire. Make time for dinners with Wayne and the occasional Sunday afternoon watching football (which was way more entertaining now that Steve would come by and watch with them. Eddie didn't understand a word that they said, only had the vaguest idea what a running back was, and once asked why there was a position called a tackle if everyone was supposed to tackle, but seeing both Wayne and Steve laughing and getting along was worth it).

Really, he was happier than he should've been, considering the apocalypse of it all. Which was maybe why he was struggling so much with his old friends. He fit so well into this new life and he didn't quite know how to be the person he was before. He still loved metal, but sometimes he wanted to hear something gentler. He still loved his style, but sometimes he wanted to look soft, too. He still rejected conformity, but he had a broader view of nonconformity these days. It wasn't just about interests and rhetoric and style. It was action. It was community. It wasn't finding a different box than the one society wanted to put him in; it was rejecting boxes all together.

So he'd play metal, scream his heart out, and maybe he'd do it in Steve's baby blue sweater. He'd play DND on Thursday, and on Friday he'd go to a baseball game with Steve and Wayne. It wasn't that he wasn't the person he was before, it's that he was more, testing his feet in the waters, seeing what he might actually like of the stuff he always refused to touch.

Eddie “The Freak” Munson went to Hell, and he came out different. He was still figuring out who just Eddie was in Hell's wake.

Jeff and Gareth and Nate couldn't see it. They thought it was all Steve. That Eddie was changing for his ill-fated crush. Eddie didn't know how to explain it without getting into the monsters and evil hell dimension and the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat most nights but that Steve and Robin knew just how to soothe with words and touch and hot cocoa. And he couldn't tell them, even without the NDAs, because even if they believed him, even if he found the words, how could he bear to drag them into this mess, too?

All he could do was try to convince them that Steve was not the villain. It very quickly proved easier said than done.

—

Eddie managed to get his bandmates in the same room as Steve exactly once.

After the school disbanded Hellfire, Steve offered his living room up as a safe place for them to keep playing.

“It's not like my parents are ever home, anyway,” he said, like it was normal and acceptable that his parents didn't even come visit him while he was in the hospital with gaping wounds on his abdomen and not something that made Eddie want to bite people.

Still, he couldn't deny that it was convenient. The Harrington house was spacious, and it smelled way better than the drama room. Plus it came with Steve, which was always a fun bonus, even though Steve pointedly refused to play. At this point, Eddie thought it was more to spite Henderson than out of any real hatred toward the game, since Dustin was always the most insistent on getting him to play and the most offended when he turned them down. He'd been cooking up a secondary campaign in the back of his mind for a while now, for the older kids, if he could convince them. Something small. He wondered, if they all promised not to tell the rest of the kids, if Steve would agree.

But this time, at least, Steve was mostly there to hang out with Robin in the next room over, watching a movie, occasionally wandering into the living room to tease the kids and grin at Eddie in a way that totally didn't make his stomach flip.

Every time he did, though, Gareth, Jeff, and Nate would glare at him in the least subtle way imaginable, like he'd personally kicked their dogs or whatever. Eddie didn't get it. Sure, Steve had been kind of dickish in high school, but mostly just in the look-the-other-way sense. He'd stand there and watch, sure, maybe laugh a little at Hagan’s antics, but, if anything, he’d been the one to stop things before they went too far.

He understood holding a grudge, really, but why wouldn’t they even consider that they were wrong?

Why wasn’t his word enough for them?

The night was tense and awkward and, for the first time ever, Eddie rushed to end the session nearly an hour early. No one called him on it, and as Gareth, Jeff, and Nate left, the building let go of a breath it had been holding.

“That sucked,” Henderson said, blunt as ever. “What crawled up their asses?”

Mike rolled his eyes and pointed at where Steve was already moving to clean up the mess Eddie’s bandmates had left behind without a word of thanks. “I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and slapped Mike’s hand away before Steve could see it. “Don’t be rude, little Wheeler,” he said. “We’ll just—give them some time to come around.”

Steve looked over at them, a question in his eyes. Eddie waved him off. He shrugged, grabbed a few plates, and moved into the kitchen.

“How long are we gonna wait though?” Lucas said.

“Yeah, it took you like five near death experiences.”

Eddie smacked all three of them on the head to cover for the way his face was burning red. “Hush. Let’s go clean up after ourselves, shall we? We are not slovenly beasts.”

Dustin squawked. “Excuse me? I’ve seen your room. ‘Slovenly beast’ is exactly the phrase I’d use.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fucking house, is it?” He hissed, flaming even redder. “Clean up your mess, you little shits, or I’ll TPK you next session.”

That, at least, got them scrambling. Eddie wasn’t the most intimidating figure, but he didn’t make idle threats about DnD.

Eddie brought a precarious stack of cups and plates into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter first chance he got. Steve stood at the sink, running water over the plates he’d already gathered before placing them in the dishwasher.

“Special delivery,” he said, picking his stack back up and dropping it next to the sink. Steve didn’t look up but he hummed in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” Eddie said, when Steve didn’t reply. “For hosting us, I mean.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, okay. Pretty sure I was the problem, actually.”

“You’re not a problem, Stevie.”

“Then why’d you stop an hour early, huh?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Because they were being dicks. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve scrubbed at an already clean plate. “I did plenty of things wrong.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure. And so did I, with Sinclair.” Steve winced at the reminder. “And now they are doing a bunch of things wrong with you.”

“They don’t have to like me, dude. I promise I’m not gonna cry myself to sleep about it.”

“I know, I know. But they can dislike you without being assholes.” And really, they shouldn’t dislike Steve at all. Steve saved Eddie’s life. If that wasn’t enough for them to like Steve… “Maybe if I can just get them to sit down with you for lunch or something.”

Steve rolled his eyes and plopped another plate in the dishwasher. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

—

It was bad.

Eddie didn’t really mean for it to turn into a fight, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t his fault. All he did was suggest they get lunch with Steve. Sure, they’d rebuffed him every other time he’d suggested movies or brought Steve to the Hideout. And maybe he’d been talking about him a lot. And maybe he had a crush visible from space.

But they didn’t have to say all that. To say that he and Steve weren’t really friends, like they knew the situation better than he did. Like they knew Steve better than he did.

(He finally, finally understood why the kids were so annoyed when they’d had that first argument about Steve.)

“So that’s it?” he said, snapping his teeth. “Steve saves my fucking life, and you shitheads won’t even give him a chance?”

“He had his chance. In high school. People don’t change that much, and you know it.”

Eddie swallowed down the poison he wanted to spit (and, really, he deserved a medal for his restraint).  “Fine. Whatever. But I'm not gonna stop hanging out with Steve just because you fucks won't get your heads out of your asses.”

“And we'll say I told you so for at least a year when this all blows up in your face.”

“Whatever. I'm going to get lunch with someone and you're all not invited. We can have Hellfire in Wheeler's basement, with his mom yelling at us every half hour. I'll stop inviting you to movie nights. That's what you fucking want, yeah?”

Gareth opened his mouth like he wanted to protest and Eddie let some of his swallowed poison slip into his eyes as he glared at his closest friend.

“Don't you dare say I should be hanging out with you more instead of Steve. Don't you fucking dare.”

Gareth’s mouth shut with a clack and he looked away.

“Look,” Jeff said, clearing his throat, “clearly we're not gonna agree on this. Can we just—move on?”

“Okay,” Gareth said, still looking away. Coward.

Nate shrugged like none of this mattered to him. Shithead.

“Whatever. I’ll see you assholes Thursday.”

And he stormed out. Very maturely.

Things entered a holding pattern after that. An awkward, shitty holding pattern. Eddie still hung out with Gareth, Jeff, and Nate, but less. A lot less. He didn’t really intend for it to be that way, but… Steve wasn’t the one being a little bitch.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” Robin said one day, when he was complaining about it from the floor in front of his sofa. “I may be small, but I’m crafty.”

(Robin had shown up at his trailer an hour ago looking like a drenched cat even though it was perfectly dry.

“Steve’s on shift” was all she said, before letting herself in and plopping down on his couch.)

Eddie groaned, thunking his head against the arm of the couch. “No. I mean, kinda? But it would only make things worse. So no.”

“Psychological torture then. Got it.”

“I’ve got fake blood leftover from last Halloween if you need it.”

Robin snorted. “Don’t mock me. I’ll do it.”

“Oh, I never doubted you.”

She rolled over so her head was hanging off the couch, upside down. “Seriously, though. They suck. It’s not like Steve hasn’t noticed. He says he doesn’t care, but I do.”

Eddie blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I do too.”

—

He didn’t push it.

Maybe he should’ve. Maybe, if he’d said something sooner, if they’d hashed out all their problems before Halloween, this wouldn’t have happened.

But despite what Steve and Dustin and Wayne might say, at his core, Eddie is still a coward. It was easier to not rock the boat. If he brought up all the wounds festering between him and his oldest friends, they might decide that actually, they didn’t like the new Eddie at all anymore. They might leave.

He’d never been so afraid of them, before. He’d always trusted them with everything. But things were different since Spring Break. He was different.

But, as he stood in that parking lot, watching his friends (ex-friends) drive away, ready to head into danger they couldn’t possibly understand, he knew he’d fucked up. Now Gareth, Jeff, and Nate would be walking right up to a Gate, totally unprepared, and all Eddie knew about where it was was that it was an abandoned picnic pavilion somewhere in the woods. There wasn’t any Gate like that on the map Nancy and Hopper had been maintaining since the beginning of this whole saga, but it wasn’t exactly surprising that they had missed a few. 

(Or, maybe, new ones were opening. A terrifying thought for another day.)

Eddie stood there for too long, heart hammering in his chest. “Shit!” He scrambled for his car. Everyone else was going to be at their Halloween get together thing at the Byers-Hopper house. They’d invited Eddie, but he turned them down to spend the time with… well. And now he had to ruin the whole thing because his dumbass friends (ex-friends) were gonna get themselves killed.

“Shit!” he yelled again, beating the steering wheel of his van a few times before peeling out of the lot towards the Byers-Hopper house. He might have hit a stop sign or two on his way.

He screeched to a stop outside the house. “Code Red!” He hopped out of the van, stumbling, and falling onto the ground. “Fucking—they’re fucking morons and we have a Code Fucking Red!”

Dustin was the first out of the building, followed closely by Hopper, Nancy, and Steve. “Code Red? What happened? Did someone die?”

“They’re fucking about to.” If not to the monsters, then to Eddie when he wrung their stupid necks. “Gareth, Jeff, and Nate found a Gate in the woods. They’re going to play a Halloween oneshot by it.”

Everyone else at the party had spilled out onto the driveway by this point, in time to hear the Code Red. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at Steve, who did not meet his eyes, face blank.

“Outside?” Mike said, nose scrunching. “With the bugs?”

Eddie blinked. “Uh, yeah. Bugs and, you know, monsters.”

Mike flushed. 

“And you didn’t stop them?” Dustin said.

“I tried, dipshit. It… didn’t go well.” And Eddie was still looking at Steve in the corner of his eye, so he saw Steve wince, just a little bit. He wasn’t sure how much Dustin knew about the problems he’d been having with the other Hellfire boys, but he’d told Robin pretty much everything, which was the same thing as telling Steve. Chances were Steve could guess exactly what the problem had been.

Shit.

“El?” Hopper said. “Are you charged enough to close a Gate tonight?”

El nodded. “I can do it.”

“Right. Then we just have to go close it before anyone gets hurt.” Hopper turned to the older teens and Mrs. Byers. “Ready?”

“Man,” Argyle said. “I really wanted to chill out tonight.”

“Sorry, dude.” He didn’t know what else to say. “My friends are fucking morons, I guess.”

Mrs. Byers put her hand on Hopper’s shoulder. “Jim, if we go in guns blazing, there’s a good chance they see. There’s a chance they’ll get in this too.”

“I know. If I can, I’ll scare them away as the Chief first. But if we get there too late for that… better in it than dead.”

God, if they thought Eddie called the fucking cops on them they really would never forgive him. That was the best outcome here: they would hate him, but they would be alive and well and normal.

He’d take what he could get, at this point.

—

It took too damn long to find.

Even with all nine of them searching, it took too long. Eddie had, perhaps foolishly, hoped that they could make it to the Gate and close it before Gareth and the others got there. But, of course, they were already there and setting up the session by the time Nancy spotted the glow of the Gate.

“Stay back,” Hopper said out of the side of his mouth. “Let me handle this.” And he strode out into the clearing.

“Hey!” he said. “This area’s off-limits.”

And maybe Eddie took a little pleasure from watching his friends jump at the sight of Zombie Chief Hopper. A little schadenfreude. No one else had to know.

“Chief,” Gareth said, voice tight. “What brings you out here?”

Hopper ignored the question. “You need to leave. This area is unsafe.”

Gareth stared at the Chief for a moment, eyes narrowing, then he looked over to the tree Eddie was hiding behind. Their eyes met, and, even as he ducked back behind the trunk, Eddie knew he was fucked.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You called the fucking cops on us?”

Eddie stepped out from behind the tree. Beyond the boys, he could see the portal, bright red in the ground. The night was crisp, the shadows long, the air heavy in a way that Eddie knew well. Something was coming through the portal soon. “Sorry, but—”

“Eddie’s not your concern right now. Get out of here before I have to arrest you.” Hopper felt it, too. He could see it in the tenseness of his stance. They needed to get the boys gone, and now.

“Oh, it’s Eddie now, is it?” Nate said, and Eddie kind of hated him right then. “You’re on a first name basis with the chief, huh Munson?”

“You can have your little catfight later. Away from here. Now come on.” Hopper strode forward and grabbed Jeff’s arm, hauling him up.

“Hey, let him go!” Gareth, tugging at Hopper.

Then several things happened in quick succession.

First, Gareth, unable to budge the Chief, stumbled back into Nate, bringing both of them to the mouth of the portal. Then, Hopper let go of Jeff, reaching out for the two boys teetering at the edge. Jeff moved after them as well, never one to leave his friends behind, even if he could run and save himself. And, finally, a vine snaked out of the portal, wrapped around Gareth’s ankle, and pulled both him and Nate into its depths.

Jeff screamed, or maybe Eddie, or maybe both of them, but the sound was drowned out by the screeching from the portal. Eddie ran into the clearing, spear in hand, and stabbed at one of the demobats that were fluttering out of the hole in the ground.

“Shit!” he said, flinging his spear around. “Shit shit shit!”

Beside him, Steve and Robin worked in tandem, beating back a demodog that was forcing its way out. Nancy and Hopper both shot into the oncoming swarm, trying to prevent them from spilling out into the woods. Joyce used her whole body as she swung her axe into a vine coming straight for Argyle, who held off a stray demobat with a shield.

“What the fuck is this?” Jeff said, scrambling back. “Where did they go? What are these things?”

“This,” Eddie said, “is the reason I didn’t want you here, dumbass!”

“Are they—dead?”

“No,” Steve said with way too much confidence. “We’ll get them out.”

Eddie realized what he was going to do a second before he did it, just as Robin said, “Steve, please don’t—”

And just as there was a break in the monsters, Steve jumped in the portal.

“Steve! Damn it!” Robin looked at Hopper and Nancy. “Stay here and hold the fort.”

Then she jumped after him.

“Oh, I fucking hate this,” Eddie said. He pointed to Jeff. “I’m so fucking pissed at you. Just in case I die, know that I’m gonna die pissed as hell.”

And he jumped in, too.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 3.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,2K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly returns to work only to throw herself into her project. Viktor is happy to have her back, but will keep it to himself at all cost! Also - bullshit science and some backstory.

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Renly quickly forgot about that cat idea when it dawned on her how right Jayce had been. Indeed she began spending more and more time at the lab, only visiting her campus apartment when she needed to do laundry. They all worked relentlessly, whether on their own projects or collaborating on shared ones. Additionally, Renly assisted Heimerdinger’s classes and periodically tutored the younger students. She and Jayce looked a bit scruffier than usual with the beautiful Mel Medarda out of town for a few weeks and for Renly, well… there was no reason to look better than bare minimum.

Viktor was the only one to maintain his routine, always presentable, even when the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how many hours he had spent adjusting hextech blueprints. He was also the only one getting annoyed by the perpetual mess left around by the other two—scrap paper, spare clothes, dirty dishes, and his beloved coffee pot, always empty, never cleaned. They had a few disagreements about it—Renly had tried to explain the concept of hyperfocus, which couldn’t be interrupted under any circumstances, while Jayce always apologized and made fresh coffee instead.

She was desperate for a breakthrough, which felt as though it was slipping through her fingers. And even though her work wasn’t as glamorous and grand as hextech, it was so vitally important to her. She remembered herself as a child, her brother’s death from Grey, toxic waste exposure, and how she hadn’t understood then that it was irreversible. To this day, she refused to accept that nothing could have been done. In his memory, she had already decided to call the medicine ‘Angus.’

She stared at the flickering light above her workstation, the bubbling of chemicals the only sound breaking the silence. The logical thing would be to go home, sleep, get a fresh perspective. And maybe try a little bit harder to forget about John. But the desperation, the ache of disappointment—and the sting of humiliation—made her restless.

Renly rubbed her temple, her fingers trailing over the faint tension lines that had deepened over the past week. Every formula she scribbled felt like a dead end, every hypothesis mocked her with its glaring flaws. She glanced at the collection of vials on her workstation—half of them untested, the other half failures. Somewhere in the cacophony of bubbles and scattered papers, a small voice whispered that maybe this wasn’t her fight to win. But that voice only made her clench her jaw harder.

Her gaze flicked to a photo tucked into the corner of her workstation. A boy with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “I’m trying, Angus,” she murmured, the name catching in her throat. The ache of guilt and frustration mixed into a cocktail that burned her chest. She shut her notebook and went back to staring at the flickering light above. The lab felt suffocating and empty all at once.

The silence pressed in on her like a lead weight. She wanted to scream, to shatter the stillness, but all that came out was a shallow sigh. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Maybe she should go home, sleep, and come back with a fresh perspective. But what if tomorrow was no different than today?

Viktor appeared in the doorway, his cane tapping softly against the floor. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “You do realize that exhaustion is not a substitute for productivity, yes?”

Renly snorted, not bothering to look up. “You sound like Heimerdinger.”

“That is not a compliment,” Viktor muttered, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. He leaned against the nearest counter, watching her work. “You should go home.”

“And you… should mind your own business,” she shot back, but her tone lacked venom.

“Fair enough,” Viktor said, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he stayed, quietly observing, until Renly finally put down her tools with a sigh. “Why are you still here?” she asked.

Viktor tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps I am... curious.”

Viktor’s fingers brushed over the edge of the counter, tracing absent patterns against the cold metal. He hesitated, his cane shifting slightly in his hand, as though debating whether to leave or stay. The flicker of the workstation light caught in his gaze, casting shadows that softened his usual sharpness. He looked at her with an intensity that made the silence feel heavy—not the silence of a quiet lab, but something deeper, laden with unspoken words.

“I’ve noticed,” he began, his voice quieter now, “that the lab feels... different when you are not here.” He straightened slightly, as if realizing how much he’d said. “It is likely just the absence of your noise. You are rather loud for someone so small.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed locked on her, waiting for her response.

Renly blinked, caught off guard by his admission. The way he said it—measured, deliberate—made her chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to hope. She tried to deflect. “And what is it that you are so curious about, exactly? My tendency to break things under pressure or my... unique approach to teamwork?”

Viktor’s lips curved upward slightly. “Teamwork, you say? Is this your way of bringing up your impeccable massage skills again?”

Renly flushed, pointing a pen at him like a weapon. “If you don’t want me reminding you, stop bringing it up first.”

“You were the one who dragged it back into the light of the Bunsen burner,” Viktor countered smoothly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of amusement that made her want to sink into her chair.

“Well, I—” she stammered, but the words refused to come out. Her face burned as Viktor tilted his head, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Forget I said anything,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the workstation.

“As you wish,” Viktor said softly, his tone maddeningly neutral. But the glint in his eye betrayed him, and Renly could practically hear the laugh he held back.

“I might, perhaps, be curious about both.” Viktor shifted his weight onto his cane and regarded her for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes assessing, as though dissecting her every feature and reaction. He was endlessly relieved that she came back. Though slightly concerned about her current state not improving.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an open book,” she said lightly, bringing him back to the conversation. But there was a tension to her voice, a nervous energy she couldn’t quite mask.

“I have always been more interested in… difficult books,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “The ones that require careful study.”

Renly’s breath caught. It was subtle, easily missed, but there was something in his voice—a challenge, or maybe an invitation. She tried to steady herself. “Careful, Viktor. You’re starting to sound like Jayce when he’s trying to charm his way out of trouble.”

“That is a dangerous comparison,” Viktor replied, his tone drier now, though his gaze hadn’t wavered. “I would like to believe I am more… subtle.”

Renly laughed; the sound lighter than she expected. “Subtle, huh? I’ll give you that. But you should know—” she stepped closer, lowering her voice to match his, “—I’m not the kind of book you can study in one sitting.”

Viktor’s brow arched ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue passing through his features. “I would not expect otherwise.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—something unspoken, tentative, and charged with the weight of possibility.

Renly felt her heart skip a beat, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and broke the eye contact, her gaze drifting to the nearby workbench littered with diagrams and half-finished experiments. “Well, if you’re looking for something more straightforward, Viktor, I think Jayce keeps plenty of picture books in his little office,” she quipped, trying to recapture her footing.

Viktor made a low sound, something between a laugh and a hum of amusement. “Jayce prefers works with… fewer complexities. I find myself drawn to challenges.” She realized that Viktor’s thick accent made a certain spot in her brain tingle.

Renly looked back at him then, catching the faintest flicker of something warm in his expression—interest, maybe, or amusement, or something she didn’t dare name. “Well, I hope you’re ready for disappointment,” she said, half-joking but wary of what his words might mean. “I’ve been told I’m more confusing than challenging.”

“That remains to be seen.” Viktor turned away, his focus drifting to one of the diagrams pinned to the wall. It was a complex sketch of a device she’d been working on for weeks, each line and symbol carefully detailed. It was supposed to make the delivery of her future cure possible on a larger scale and cleanse an entire district at once. As she was pointed out by Jayce – in the wrong hands that could be a deadly weapon. It was quite ironic, coming from his mouth.

Viktor reached out, his gloved fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “This… is yours?”

Renly nodded, thankful for the shift in focus. “Yeah. It’s still in the early stages, though. Just an idea, really.”

His eyes traced the lines, his expression unreadable. “It is… bold. Ambitious.”

“Ambitious is one word for it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Jayce called it reckless.”

“Jayce is often blind to subtlety,” Viktor replied, his tone mild but carrying the weight of experience. “This—” he gestured to the design, “—is not reckless. It is innovative. You see possibilities where others see only obstacles.”

Renly blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “Well, don’t tell Jayce that. I’d hate for him to think I’m smarter than him.”

Viktor’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Viktor’s gaze lingered on the diagram, but Renly had the distinct feeling his thoughts were elsewhere. She wanted to say something—anything—to fill the silence, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Renly,” Viktor said suddenly, his voice softer now. He turned to face her fully, his expression more serious than she expected. “About… earlier. John. You should not allow someone to make you doubt your worth.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the burn of tears threatening to return. “I… I know,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind. “Because there is no doubt, at least in my mind, that you are capable of far more than he could ever see.”

Renly didn’t know what to say. Instead, she managed a small, trembling smile, her chest tightening with something that felt dangerously like gratitude—or something more.

***

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jayce’s voice pulled Renly out of the trance she had fallen into while staring at the blackboard covered in her notes.

“Um… are you kidding? My thoughts are priceless.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.

“Well, of course, I never meant to pry on your genius,” he added but saw her cheekiness was already gone, replaced with exasperation.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it without a sample.” She slumped down in her chair and added, “And I doubt that anyone from the docks would give me one willingly, even though I’m technically a local there.”

“And what do you need exactly?”

“Ah, bone marrow preferably,” she said with ease, but when she saw the horror on Jayce’s face, she immediately added, “But that’s obviously out of the question—it’s dangerous and painful." signalling him to calm down. "So, the blood sample, maybe saliva, and any… umm, excretion fluids from, like, blisters or boils,” she continued, no longer paying attention to Jayce, whose face grew more repulsed by the second. "Oh, and obviously,”—at this point, her friend was silently praying for her to finish—"it has to come from someone with Grey exposure symptoms."

Jayce, having shaken his distaste, gave her an obvious look. “Well, that shouldn’t be so hard then. I mean, the boils and… fluids might be impossible, but the blood and saliva?”

“Care to elaborate on what’s so easy about it?”

"The fact that you exist alongside someone like that every day, who also happens to be a scientist—and who would probably sacrifice far more than a blood sample in the name of progress?" And in the name of making you happy, he thought, though he kept the sentiment to himself.

She slapped her forehead with an open palm. She had been so caught up in her own frustrations and doubts that she hadn’t even considered Viktor an option—a glaring oversight she now felt foolish for.

“Gods, how am I so stupid? I take everything back; you are smarter than I.” Before Jayce could express his confusion about that last remark she added, her mind racing „But wait… do you really think Viktor will agree to this?”

“Definitely. Maybe just don’t say anything about the… fluids.”

***

She can do this. It’s fine, it’s science and all. It took her a few days to collect herself enough to actually ask Viktor for this favour. She made sure to tidy up her notes in case Viktor asked for any further explanation.

Renly lingered in the doorway of the lab, her heart racing slightly. Viktor sat at his workstation, engrossed in whatever mechanism he was fine-tuning. The rhythmic tap of his cane against the floor punctuated his movements as he adjusted screws with steady precision. She hesitated, unsure how to approach the topic.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice cutting through the low hum of machinery.

“Renly,” he replied without looking up, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. “To what do I owe the honour? Or are you here to borrow more coffee filters?”

She stepped further in, shifting her weight nervously. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow something a bit more... personal.”

That got his attention. He looked up, raising an eyebrow as his hands stilled. “Personal?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing the phrasing she’d agonized over. “I need a blood sample.”

His expression didn’t change immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Are you planning to sell it at The Lanes, or is there a scientific reason for this peculiar request?”

She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Scientific. Definitely scientific.”

He set down his tools and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to elaborate.

“Okay, so… I’ve been working on this formula to counteract the effects of long-term exposure to the Grey. But I’ve hit a wall because I need a sample from someone with exposure symptoms. And, well...” She trailed off, motioning vaguely toward him.

“Ah,” he said simply, his gaze narrowing slightly in thought.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she continued quickly, her words tumbling out. “And I totally understand if you’re not comfortable with it. I just—”

“Renly,” he interrupted, his voice calm. “It is fine.”

She blinked. “It is?”

“Yes,” he said, rising slowly to his feet and reaching for his cane. “You are not asking me to donate a kidney. A blood sample is... manageable.” His lips curved into a faint smile as he added, “I only hope you have the proper equipment. I doubt either of us wants Jayce involved in this.”

“Right, of course,” she said, fumbling with the small kit she’d prepared in advance. “I can handle it. Promise.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as he sat on a nearby stool, rolling up his sleeve. “That remains to be seen.”

Renly approached cautiously, trying to suppress the sudden wave of nerves washing over her. “Okay, uh, just relax your arm.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I am relaxed. Are you?”

“Totally,” she lied, though her hands betrayed her as they fumbled with the stasis band. She moved closer to him, taking his arm gently and rolling up his sleeve.

“You are trembling,” he remarked lightly.

“I’m not trembling,” she shot back, but the slight shake of her hand betrayed her again.

“Perhaps I should do it myself,” he offered, half-teasing.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, steeling herself.

Viktor’s forearm was lean but surprisingly solid beneath her touch, his skin pale against the dark fabric of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against his wrist as she adjusted the band, and she felt the slightest hitch in his breath—so slight she wondered if she imagined it.

She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on securing the stasis snugly just above his elbow. “Tell me if it’s too tight,” she murmured.

“It is fine,” he replied, his voice quieter now, almost curious.

Renly pressed her thumb into the crease of his elbow, coaxing the vein to rise. She could feel his eyes on her, and the proximity made the air between them feel heavier. Viktor was always so composed, but now his stillness seemed heightened, as if he were studying her in the same way he might study an equation.

“Do you always take this much care?” he asked, his tone light but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

She glanced up, catching his gaze for just a moment before looking away. “I like to make sure I get it right,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You are very thorough,” he said, and though his words were neutral, there was a warmth in them that made her cheeks flush.

Her thumb brushed over his skin one last time before she picked up the needle. “All set,” she said briskly, trying to steady herself. “This won’t take long.”

“There,” she said triumphantly, as the blood began to flow into the vial. “See? Professional.”

“Impressive,” Viktor said, though his tone carried a trace of mockery. “If you ever tire of chemistry, you may have a future in phlebotomy.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Once she’d sealed the vial and carefully labelled it, she turned back to him. “All done. You survived.”

“Barely,” he said dryly, rolling his sleeve back down.

Renly hesitated for a moment, holding the vial. “Thank you, Viktor. This really means a lot.”

He nodded, brushing down his sleeve as she carefully packed the sample into a sterile container. “I hope it proves useful,” he said simply, his tone neutral but distant, as though he was already retreating back into his usual reserve.

Renly stilled, the words forming on her lips before she could stop them. She pressed them back, fiddling with the clasp of her sample kit. But the thought wouldn’t leave her, and she knew this might be her only opportunity to ask.

“Viktor,” she began cautiously, her voice quieter now, unsure. “I, uh—this might sound awful, but… if you—” She faltered, her nerves getting the better of her.

He turned to her fully, his brow creasing in concern. “If I…?”

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting anywhere but at him. “If you ever… you know, cough up anything… I mean, if it happens, not that I hope it happens, but…” She groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead. “Gods, I’m making this sound terrible.” She just remembered what Jayce had said about her mentioning additional fluids.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture stiffened. “You mean to ask,” he said slowly, carefully, “if I would be willing to provide a sample of my… condition.”

Renly winced, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter behind her. “I’m sorry, I just— I know it’s not my place to even ask. It’s just, if it does happen, it could be invaluable for the research.” She looked up at him finally, guilt written across her face. “But I really, really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

For a moment, Viktor said nothing. His eyes studied her, not with anger but with a weight that made her chest tighten. “You have been aware of it,” he said softly, his voice devoid of accusation.

She swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “I notice things,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “But it’s not my business, and I’ve never—”

“You do not need to explain,” he interrupted gently, sparing her the rest. He turned, leaning his weight onto his cane. “If it comes to that, Renly, you may have what you need. But I will hope, as you do, that it will not.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, only quiet acceptance. It made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected, and she opened her mouth to say something but the only thought that came to her mind was another blunt and awkward comment.

“Look, I can only imagine how hard it is… I want you to know that this is not what I think of when I think, well… of you.” She desperately tried to convince him that she herself not a long time ago had completely overlooked his condition.

Viktor, as he would be, was not convinced. “For what it is worth, I appreciate your honesty. You do not have to back out of it now.”

She blinked, taken off guard. “What do you mean?” Renly asked, her brow furrowed, unsure of where his comment had come from.

Viktor gave a soft, humourless chuckle, leaning slightly on his cane as if drawing strength from it. “The first time we met,” he began, his tone measured, “you stared. Not at me—at this.” He gestured briefly to his cane. “I am no stranger to it. People have a tendency to look at this first, and then decide what sort of man I am. I had assumed you were no different.”

Renly’s lips parted, silent realisation of his initial coldness washing over her. “Wait—first time we met? You mean the day this horrible goo blew up into my face?”

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if to remind her not to play coy. “You paused when I approached. You stared. Perhaps you thought I didn’t notice.”

Renly blinked again, completely thrown off course. Of all the things she thought he might say, this wasn’t it. She let out a short laugh, her voice incredulous. “That’s what you think I was staring at?”

Viktor raised a brow, his expression a mix of curiosity and scepticism. “Were you not?”

“No!” Renly shook her head vehemently, her cheeks flushing. “Gods, no. I was staring because I thought I recognized you.”

He frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “Recognized me?”

“Yes!” She stepped closer, her hands moving animatedly now as the words began tumbling out. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the way you walked, the shape of your face—it all clicked. I was trying to figure out if you were… well, you.”

Viktor still looked puzzled, though his expression softened. “You’ll forgive me, but I am not sure I follow.”

Renly hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous, but there was no turning back now. “When we were kids, I used to play by The Undercity docks every summer. One year, there was this boy—I think it was you—who wandered off into this dark, abandoned cave. Everyone thought he’d gone for good. But hours later, you came back, like it was nothing.”

Viktor’s brows knit together as she spoke, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. “You remember that?”

She nodded fervently. “Of course, I do! It scared the life out of me. I thought you were some kind of magician when you walked out.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You mean to tell me you remembered something so… trivial, and that is why you stared?”

“It wasn’t trivial!” Renly protested; her face still flushed. “You disappeared into a death trap! Which was rumoured to have an evil wizard within it as well! I was terrified for you. And then you just climbed out like you’d been on a stroll through a garden. Who does that?”

Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes were distant, as if piecing together fragments of a memory long buried. “I suppose I never thought anyone would remember such a thing. Least of all you.”

Renly smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, now you know. And for the record, I wasn’t staring at your cane that day. I was trying to figure out if the brave, reckless boy from The Undercity had somehow made it all the way here.”

Viktor tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “And have you decided?”

Her grin softened, her gaze meeting his. “Oh, I decided the moment you opened your mouth to tell me I’d miscalculated the viscosity of my formula. Only the boy who walked out of that cave would have the gall.”

His quiet laugh filled the space between them, and for a moment, the weight of their earlier conversation seemed to lift. But the memory lingered in both of their minds—one that now felt like a thread tying them together, fragile yet strong.