#think like.. the backrooms but it's a school with classrooms and exits and such

[neon-angels-system]

I <3 not really getting nightmares. like. I get dreams where clearly I’m supposed to be stressed or concerned or whatever, but they’re not really nightmares? I wake up and I’m like ‘wait no I wanna see the ending’. I’ve been binge-listening to a horror podcast, and you know what my not-nightmare was yesterday when I finally fell asleep at 6am (due to insomnia and dumbassery, not fear)? it was a reoccuring setting of my school but with a distorted layout, and I was trying to get back to my chemistry class. was more interested in figuring out the layout than stressed.

[chxrrylime]

I'm an adult (sobs), cis male reader

hmmmm, loved your last work so... how about another part to it? I wonder what would happen next (what other kinky games would kurt think of) and what would happen when the livestream officially is about to end

if you wish to have a break from kurt, then I have another suggestion for you: flayed!steve abducting you and planning to give you over to the Mind Flayer, but he ends up being possessive instead when he sees how pretty you are :))

if you want a break from all the dark topics, then a soft-dom steve who guides you through your first time sounds like a sweet deal too

hope any of these interest you! + intrigued to read your works <3

I decided to go with the second one this time around, but I'll definitely do the other two at some point, so keep an eye out! ;)

↪ 2275 words — 18+ / SMUT — tw for dub-c0n, mind control, breeding mention, mild pain play, crying, and claiming.

Content tags — cis male submissive reader / cis male dominant flayed!Steve / fingering, analingus, penetrative sex, anal sex, dirty talk.

At first, there was a line drawn—nearly visible in the abscess of his infected mind, figurative and dark but at least present. He knows something is making him sick and he’s terrified—he can’t tell anyone, he has to take care of it himself. He’s supposed to be the brave one, the one that comes out on top. He stops coming into work and no one bothers to check up on him. When he’s not haunting the streets of Hawkins at night, he sits and stares at the wall, emotionally drained and mind so numb that the line starts to blur.

It twists and coils until he can’t kid himself anymore—can’t find himself anymore—can’t look himself in the mirror and think “it’s not me doing this,” anymore. The more bodies he brings kicking and screaming down into the decrepit steelworks, the more his own thoughts intertwine with that dense swarm of take, spread, build—the more he realizes he is the sickness. 

It’s nearly 10 PM when you hear the little bell over the door ding. You heave a sigh, dropping the box you’d been trying and failing to heft onto a high shelf with a loud thunk. You call out, voice carrying from the backroom you’re in to the main part of the store, “we’re closed!”

You’re met with a heavy silence before the sound of light footsteps follows. You roll your eyes, cursing your manager's insistence on leaving the front door unlocked until the employees leave at 10:30, despite the store closing a full hour before that. It always leads to people coming in to grab last-second snacks—it was some shitty little corner antique store, but there was a cooler with drinks and a rack of candy and chips up by the register. Stoners and the stragglers of local ragers often would come by, since Melvald’s was closed at this time and the gas station down the street overcharged for everything.

It’s worse now, that you’re alone in the store. The girl you were supposed to be closing with had called out last second, and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of anyone else to cover. 

You roll your shoulders and let out another huff as you exit the stock room.

“Did you hear me—?” you start, annoyed, frowning when you find the store empty. You step onto your tiptoes to glance over some of the shelves before moving towards the front window to peer outside, leaning against the large sill. You catch movement in the reflection of the glass, eyes snapping up to see—Steve Harrington?

It’s like bullet time, as your eyes meet.

The reflection is distorted, fractured by the light and intersecting with the scenery outside, but you recognize him from school—you’d been infatuated with him after all, letting your eyes wander in the locker room showers, staring from across classrooms and cafeterias. You’d watched and overanalyzed and hoped to God maybe he was a little curious, a little adventure-seeking—would lock eyes with you one fateful night and the rest would be history. Of course, that night never came.

After Nancy Wheeler, his face lost the usual sneer and overconfident smirk he’d carry around the halls, replaced by a tired exasperation, a gentle fondness for the simple things around him—senior year had seen the new reign of the one and the only Billy Hargrove. The king is dead, long live the king, et cetera, et cetera.

Though, the reflection looking at you now, right over your shoulder, is like an ice-cold shock—that reminder of King Steve in all his glory. He looks twisted, exhausted, angry. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks and could still kill you with one hand. You swallow thickly.

Everything finally moves again, all catching up far too quickly as one of his big hands clamps down at the back of your neck, the other grabbing your wrist as he yanks you to face him. You cry out at the bruising grip, legs giving out as he digs his fingers into some spot at the base of your skull, an overwhelming tingling numbness rushing through your body.

You fall forward against his chest, letting out a pained gargled noise caught halfway between a gasp and a moan. The hand gripping your wrists moves to your waist, your own hands grasping at his sides to try and keep yourself from completely collapsing. The smell of copper and petrichor overwhelms you as your face presses against the crook of his neck. 

He stumbles back at the sudden weight, caught off guard by you pressing so heavily into him. The hand at the back of your neck moves up to tangle in your hair, the one at your waist moving around to grab at your ass. You moan when he yanks your head back, gazes locking. The chestnut brown of his eyes has gone an inky black, pupils indistinguishable from their irises. His face softens out, his lips slightly parted as his brow furrows.

“I’m… not…” he tries, speaking like his tongue is too big in his mouth, “fuck,” he finally breathes, eyes squeezing shut for only a moment—like he’s thinking really hard about something.

A new thought floods his brain—animal and base: take, claim, own.

His eyes snap back open, his body going rigid like a livewire as you’re suddenly pulled and pushed, manhandled and shoved against the counter—the perfect height for you to bend over at the waist, that grip in your hair pressing hard, pushing you cheek-first against the cold marble top with a thud. 

He twists one of your arms behind your back, his other hand releasing your hair and sliding down to yank at your jeans, pulling your boxers along with them, down below your ass cheeks in one fell swoop. You let out a whimpering moan, mindlessly pressing your hips back to grind against his denim-clad crotch. 

It’s like a wet dream come true—your brain too muddled with stupid horny teenager hormones and some other niggling feeling tickling at the back of your mind to overthink the circumstances—the how or the why. Especially not when you feel his hard cock pressing up against you, the hand that pulled your pants down sliding over your ass, inexplicably slick as he brushes a wet digit around your hole, circling, teasing.  

“Steve—” you gasp, “ah! Haa~” you can’t help but keen, squirming as his middle finger pushes past the tight ring of muscle. The feeling is familiar enough—you’re used to nights alone, biting your pillow as you fuck two fingers into yourself—but it’s so much more exquisite with someone else doing it—with Steve doing it. 

He leans forward, scraping his teeth against your shoulder blades, practically growling at the breathy whines and moans you make. He bites down, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make you jolt, as he pushes another finger in. There’s a slight burn, too much too fast, but it only makes your cock kick where it hangs heavy between your thighs, dripping pre onto the white tiled floor.

“Such a slut… you’re so easy, aren't you?” He chides, lips hot and wet against the skin of your back. He licks a stripe down your spine, the hand gripping your wrist moving to place your arm against the counter before his palm continues down. You feel his hands spread wide against your ass cheeks and roll your head enough to peek down, nearly panting as you watch Steve kneel down behind you, eyes fixed on your fluttering hole as he spreads your cheeks apart.

“W-wha’r’ you—?” You slur, cutting off with a loud broken whine as his tongue licks over your pucker, lapping wetly before he’s pressing further forward, digging the tip of his tongue against you until your hole gives. You let out little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ as he thrusts his tongue into you, swirling and sucking at your tight clutch. His tongue feels…long—not inhuman, not enough to be worrying—but enough for you to notice. 

Your neglected cock bobs between your legs, red and angry. You scramble to wrap a hand around it, desperate for some stimulation only for one of Steve’s hands to shoot out and crush your wrist against the side of the counter. You groan in pain as the bone grinds against the sharp edge.

“Be good or he—we’ll,” he stutters, growling frustratedly, “I’ll make this hurt,” his voice sounds off, an octave lower than what you remember before he speaks again, his tone back to normal, though hesitant—like he’s unsure, or trying to calm a wild animal backed into a corner, “you make such pretty noises, baby, you’re so beautiful, you’re, mmmfh—” he moans, pressing his mouth back against your twitching hole, wet and dripping with saliva and what you can only hope is some kind of lube.

You grip the edge of the countertop as he presses two fingers in alongside his tongue, moaning lude and loud against you like he’s the one feeling it—feeling the wet muscle sliding in and out of his hole. You mindlessly realize there’s a tickling feeling climbing up your spine. You’d be convinced something was crawling across your skin if it didn’t feel so good, feel so overwhelming and hungry—hot liquid pleasure seeping into the back of your mind.

You feel fuzzy, time becoming less linear as he licks into you. Your prick throbs, your hole aching to be stuffed full. You feel desperate, needy—completely overtaken by some alien desire to be claimed. Your mouth is moving before you can even process the words you want to say.

“Steve, Steve, please, God, please—” you moan particularly loud when his tongue pulls away, quickly replaced by a third finger, “want you—need you in me.”

You hear a low chuckle from behind you and whimper in response. His voice is dark again when he speaks, “I’m already in you,” he says simply—as if he’s idly chatting about the weather. He crooks his fingers to rub against your prostate, your hole clenching tight and cock jumping at the feeling, “see?”

“No, no~!” you whine, “please, please, Stevie. W-want your…” you moan out in frustration, biting your lip, pressing your sweaty forehead against the cool marble of the countertop in an attempt to steady your thoughts, “need your cock in me, need it so bad.”

“Yeah?” He replies breathily. You whine as he pulls his fingers out, hips wiggling back and forth in search of something to fill that suddenly empty space in you. You hear his belt clinking, the sound of fabric rustling before there's the blunt feeling of hot, unyielding flesh pressing against your dripping clutch. He lays himself over your back, cock slowly pushing into your loose hole—the both of you moaning long and drawn out—until he’s close enough to press his mouth right against your ear, panting wet, hot air, “gonna… he’s…” he stutters.

His hips buck forward, bottoming out in one swift thrust that has you crying out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you claw at the countertop.

“We’re,” he finally says, this time with conviction, “we’re going to claim you, fill you up…” he punctuates each statement with a slow but brutally hard thrust, his swollen cockhead grinding against your prostate on each push in and each drag out, “make you ours, going to… going to breed you.”

The hand on your right hip slides down, across the span of your thigh to your drooling cock. You sob in relief as he starts to stroke your prick in time with the increasing pace of his thrusts. The sound of your moans, skin against skin—his balls slapping against your taint, his hips against your ass with each harsh thrust—fills the far too humid room, the harsh store lights spreading the scene out bare.

He grunts and growls, licking up the sweat dripping down your hairline, sucking a deep purple mark right beneath your ear, pressing so close his cock barely pulls out anymore—the slight curve of it still stimulating your prostate as he grinds into you ruthlessly. 

You feel white-hot pleasure building at the base of your spine and in the pit of your stomach. Your dick throbs, his left hand sliding from your hip up, up, up to cup the front of your throat, pulling you until your back arches prettily, your neck barred. His thick cock pushes impossibly deeper at the new angle and he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moan with a slow, deep kiss as you cry out, muffled, into his mouth, coming harder than you've ever before, viscous white ropes splattering across the countertop. 

He gives one, two, three more sharp, cruel thrusts before he’s groaning against your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth as you pant. Your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting, like something’s crawling through you—blank and fuzzy as he fills you with his cum. It’s so much—you can feel it leaking out of you, squelching whenever his cock twitches and pulses inside your tight heat.

He breathes hot and wet against your cheek, licking a trail to your ear, pulling your earlobe between his teeth and giving a sharp tug. You feel… almost connected to him somehow, almost drawn by a magnetic pull—claimed, owned, something whispers in the back of your mind—like you couldn’t leave even if you wanted—and God knows you don’t.

“Ours,” he growls, low and breathy.

“Y-yours…” you whisper back.

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 1

Hello! So this is my first Peaky Blinders Fanfiction.  I own nothing, except for the few OCs I created. 

This story is also on Wattpad and FF.net under the same title if you want to read it there as well--- however be warned it is not as edited as this post and I changed the name of one of the characters because I thought it was a better fit... lol!

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

  Enjoy!

OoOoOo

"He's a ghost, he's a god, He's a man, He's a guru,

You're one microscopic cog, In his catastrophic plan

Designed and directed by his red right hand"

~Red Right Hand~

1919

She had that dream again, the one where she had to decide which door she would open. Both doors were identical in every way. Yet, she just stands in the empty room lit as if by candles; frozen in place; The weight of the decision ultimately waking her out of-

No, that wouldn't do, a dark-haired girl thought as she scratched out the words she had just written down. In a small bedroom on the second floor of number Seventeen Watery Lane, sixteen-year-old Margaret Shelby sat on her bed, or rather the bed she shared with her older sister. Dressed in the long white nightgown that had once belonged to her mother and with a pen in hand, she scribbled down more words in her brown leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The journal was gifted to her by her Aunt Polly on her most previous birthday. Upon receiving it she couldn't wait to fill its pages. She liked writing, ever since she learned how to form her words into a cohesive sentence on paper. It had been an outlet, a distraction from the "shit-hole" that was Small Heath, Birmingham.

As a child, she had the fondest memories of taking the drawings her eldest brother Arthur would sketch and would accompany his rendering with an original story. She took pride in how much he would always be so impressed and relished when he called her “his little genius". As the years passed, she believed if she could write and publish a story that was good enough, then maybe one day she could provide for her family. Give them a way out of their current situation. Not that she knew much of how dire their situation really was. To their credit, her family tried their best to shield her, as well as her youngest brother Finn, from feeling the effects of living a life in the slums. She was lucky in that way, most of the girls her age had dropped out of school and had a child of their own already.

Her thoughts of prose were soon interrupted by familiar sounds causing the pit of her stomach to sink. Even after three months of him being back, she doubted she would ever get used to it. Opposite from her bed, through the thin wall with floral green wallpaper which had been peeling off for years, muffled cries could be heard. Maggie knew exactly who it was, her brother, Tommy.

She placed her journal onto the thin cotton sheets and traveled into the hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the door of her older sibling. Taking a deep breath, she decided against knocking and slowly opened the door.

"Tommy?" she whispered into his candlelit room. She could see he was awake. Lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Go back to bed, Mags," the second oldest Shelby ordered, but the girl hesitated.

"I thought I heard yelling," she sounded apologetic, before taking a whiff of the air. "Do you smell that?"

"I said back to your bloody bed," his harsh tone surprised her.

This time she did listen, gently she closed her brother's door and made her way back to the empty bedroom she once was in.

OoOoOo

The next day, Margaret exited the small school she attended that was located right on the edge of Small Heath with her best friend Cara Ryan by her side. The girls had played together for as long as their memories had served them. Cara was a stylish and talkative girl who stood at a height of five feet and six inches. Dazzling green eyes sparkled and her straight honey blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. Her family did better than most, the Ryan's own a dress shop that is very popular amongst the younger women, Ada, in fact, is a frequent customer of the establishment. Though the word 'customer' was a loose term, the Ryan's like most shop owners in the area were obliged to give anyone with relations to the Peaky Blinders whatever they wanted. Mrs. Ryan's and the two oldest sisters operated it, and in her spare time, Cara could often be found working in the backroom, sewing buttons and beads to fabrics. The family had a deal, in a year's time Cara would come to work for the shop full time, but until then Cara could continue her education.

"Can't believe Henrietta's having a baby," Maggie said aloud, as shorter and younger students ran past them excitedly.

"I can," Cara replied smugly. "That girl would open her legs up for any sod that gave her a second glance."

"I feel bad for her." She admitted thinking of the fifteen-year-old whose life was now forever changed.

Cara shook her head, "Don't it's her own bloody fault."

After rounding the corner, they both saw Ross Murray. A thin nineteen-year-old with dark hair standing at five feet and eleven inches, resting his back against the dull red brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Cara stopped them in their tracks and waved at the young man. "All right, Ross?!"

Maggie smiled at her friend, she liked Ross, he'd always looked out for her and Cara like they were his own sisters. They had all been in school together up until the moment Ross was kicked out for beating up another boy named Jonah Smith. In all likelihood Jonah may have had it coming. He never had the ability to let go. For example, just last year Maggie would have to constantly have to turn down his advances for over a month. Due to the reputation of her family, attention from boys was a rare occurrence. Which she didn't mind, she never really felt romantic feelings for anyone. However, Jonah took advantage of her brothers absence. One day he even cornered her when she went back to the classroom to grab the jumper she left behind. Thankfully Jonah eventually stopped, and never bothered her again.

Getting kicked out of school didn't seem to bother Ross though. Once he turned eighteen, he enlisted to help with the war effort. He completed basic training within the required three months, and according to the letters he would send her and Cara, he was held in high esteem with all of his commanding officers. Just as he was about to be shipped to France, an armistice was declared. He'd managed to find a job working at the BSA factory rather quickly, but when he came back into town Maggie could tell he had changed. He now had this mentality that made him seem as though he was ready for a battle, yet had no one to fight.

"Cara, Margaret," he acknowledged, stubbing out his cigarette on the bricks he had rested his back upon "Where are you two heading, aye?"

"Just going home," Maggie told him, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.

He came closer to them, "I'll walk with you. Birmingham hasn't been the safest place now that all these blokes with fucked up brains are back."

"Look at that Mags," Cara said happily, and he allowed her to take his arm. "The only gentleman in Small Heath"

Maggie smiled knowingly at the sight. Since Cara was ten years old, she had been smitten with the dark-haired boy. Cara would frequently turn down other offers in hopes that Ross would one day ask her to be his girl. They both hoped that it would happen soon, because in Cara's words "She wasn't getting any younger".

"Don't know what you two keep going to school for," He expressed to them, as they began to walk in the direction the girls needed to travel. "What more is there to learn?"

His comment made Maggie shrug, "It's something to do."

"Yeah, most girls our age who aren't in school are either whores or mothers." She agreed.  "Or both."

They continued chatting about their school day as they walked closer into town. The canal that ran nearby as well as the different establishments were coming into view. "Mags, is that your brother?" Ross asked, pointing to a couple of boys.

Maggie turned her head to where her friend was pointing. He was right, her younger brother Finn, was running around in front of the pharmacy with Isaiah Jesus. He must have skipped school again. "Oi!" Maggie called out angrily, and Finn froze in place "What have you been up to all day, hm?"

"Please don't tell Tommy," the ten-year-old begged.

Maggie was about to tell him off, but she was caught off guard by the arrival of a person exiting Compton's, "Ada?"

"Oh, hello." The dark-haired beauty clutched the paper parcel tighter in her hands, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her younger siblings. "Heading home then?"

Maggie nodded and Ada continued, "I'll join you." The older sister then turned to her brother "Right Finn?" The boy scowled, but nodded all the same.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Maggie told her friends, still trying to process what her sister was up to.

Cara didn't seem to mind her best friends' announcement to depart. Turning to the hazel-eyed boy she asked, "Fancy accompanying me to the confectionery?"

He looked over to the Shelby family first, "Will you three be alright by yourself?"

Ada looked amused at his worry, "We'll be fine. I doubt anyone would mess with us." He accepted her answer with a nod and led Cara to the candy shop.

As the water rushed in the cut, Ada and Maggie walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Finn wasn't too far in front of them. He was running and jumping around like a madman. That boy always had so much energy, Maggie found herself thinking. No wonder he skipped school, the poor thing probably could not sit still.

"That Murray boy has aged well hasn't he," Ada commented, finally breaking the silence, "Have you two?"

"Ada!" The younger sister cried out in surprise.

"Just asking." She shrugged, "Jesus you're a prude"

"Everyone's a prude compared to you" she retorted, "What were you doing at the pharmacy?"

Ada didn't reply though, instead opting to purse her lips. They were almost home now; Maggie could even see Pol heading to the house, traveling towards them. She was about to wave at her aunt until she was distracted by Finn, who ran around in front of his sisters. Her heart clenched when she noticed a black metal object in his hand.

"Finn, where did you get that gun?" she questioned, yet the youngest Shelby only giggled in response. 

"Oi! Quit messing around," Ada scolded, moving forward in an attempt to take the weapon away. "You shouldn't b-"

BANG! The sisters screamed and Aunt Polly, who had witnessed the whole event transpire, rushed over from down the street. Both the girls tried to catch their breath and a shocked Finn looked like he was trying to mentally process what had just happened. 

"The hell were you thinking?!" Polly scolded, snatching the gun from his hand. "Where did you get this?!

"He nearly fucking killed me!" Ada screeched pointing to her brother.

"I-I found it on the sideboard of the shop." Finn spit out as they watched his face concave and he soon began weeping in fear. "I-I thought it was empty. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

His tears pulled on Maggie's heartstrings, but Polly wasn't having it. She pushed the sobbing boy towards Maggie ordering, "Take him home, and no more playing with guns. Next time you leave them be." 

The young boy nodded and allowed his sister to lead him back home."I didn't know Mags, I swear" he cried out again.

"I know you. You can apologize to Ada once she's feeling more forgiving" she expressed, her arms wrapped around his small shoulders.

OoOoOo

Childhood had molded her into the person she had become. Now she understood that...

Maggie internally groaned and scratched out what she had just written. No, that was definitely not good enough. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle. Her eyes were taken off the page by Ada, who was getting ready for her date with some mystery man.

"What's so funny?" the younger sister grumbled.

"You," Ada smiled as she brushed her hair in front of the small vanity mirror, "And how seriously you take yourself."

Quickly she closed her journal, wanting to change the subject "So, what was the family meeting about?" Maggie asked, not genuinely curious.

"New copper’s coming to town," Ada replied unbothered, more interested in fastening her shoe buckle.

"When I went downstairs, I caught Finn trying to listen through the door. Told him off for eavesdropping," the younger sister snickered .

"Can you believe that little tosser?" Ada said, putting on her paste earring. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He could have killed me today!"

"It was an accident, Ada." She reasoned, opening her journal once more, "Pol already told him and John off, what more can you do?"

"I can still bitch," the older sister huffed, before looking at the book in her sisters' hands. "Are you ever gonna tell me what you're writing about?" Ada asked pointedly, now completely dressed in a white fur coat that rested over her dress.

"Are you ever gonna tell me who you've been going out to see the last few months?" Maggie shot back jokingly. 

Ada responded by pantomiming the locking of her lips, which only made the younger sister smile. "Cover for me?"

"As always," The girl assured Ada before she quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.

It was about an hour later when Maggie began to hear the familiar muffled cries. Feeling hopeless as she stared at the green papered wall.

OoOoOo

The following day was mostly uneventful for Margaret. She'd gone to school and heard all about Cara's "date" with Ross. According to Cara, he was a complete "gentleman", much to the blonde's disappointment, though she still clung onto hope. 

Now she stood in the kitchen with her Aunt and sister making dinner, continuously kneading some dough until her skinny arms began to burn. Hopefully, this batch of bread would last long enough for her to enjoy. Last time she made bread her siblings had eaten it all, not saving any for her. Upon hearing the door slam, she and her aunt stopped to glance over to the door.

"Holy Shit!" The girl exclaimed, witnessing her eldest brother who was bloody and beaten, being assisted by John into a wooden chair.

"Finn, go find Tommy and tell him what happened," Polly commanded. Like a shot, Finn was running out of the room, but not before Pol hurriedly added, "And tell him we need a shit ton of more alcohol!"

Polly then immediately began to gather gauze and rods of wood to make a splint, "Margaret, start heating up water, then cut this cloth up in stripes." Nodding at the directive, the girl began to do just that.

"The fuck happened?" Ada interrogated, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"Was told some of the men found him like this outside the cinema," John explained.

"Do you know who?" Maggie heard her sister continue as she put the kettle over the flame, but Arthur remained silent.

"I'd like to know as well," An aggravated Polly chimed in.

This time Arthur did speak. “That Belfast copper,” the mustached man spit out, "I'll discuss it more once Tom gets here."

They all fell into silence, the only noise coming from Maggie who pulled out a chair to sit next to her brother, and quietly began cutting the cloth Polly left for her on the table. "Do you think this is enough?" Maggie asked her aunt after she finished.

"Should be plenty, love," Pol told her, taking one of the strips to start mending his hand.

"John, wipe the blood out of his eye," Ada told the third eldest sibling who was just watching the ladies scrabble around as they tended to Arthur.

"Since when did you give orders?" John asked incredulously.

"I'm a trained nurse." The sister stated.

Though seeing as John wasn't budging Maggie rose from her seat and began to wipe the blood herself.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Arthur joked as Polly bandaged him up. "You're a nurse like Mags here is a writer."

His comment caused more annoyance than Maggie cared to admit. With her index finger, she pressed onto a forming bruise on his cheek with great pressure, instigating a string of curses to come out of the eldest man's mouth.

"Oops," Maggie said insincerely. This caused Arthur to look to his aunt, wondering if any reprimanding would be given to the girl, but Polly just gave her brother a 'like you weren't asking for it' look.

 "I bloody am!" The older Shelby girl whined to John.

"You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling," John corrected her.

"Not before I learnt how to stop somebody from choking," she shot back.

"I'm not bloody choking, am I?" Arthur spoke gruffly.

"You will be when I wrap this cloth around your neck." She told him as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl.

"Let me see him." Tommy's voice was heard as he entered the kitchen. "Well, have this" Tommy passed the bottle of rum and Arthur took a swig. Grabbing a rag, he immediately got to work tending to his brother's face.

"He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. 'National interest', he said. Something about a robbery." Arthur explained. "He said he wants us to help him"

"We don't help coppers," John said immediately, disgusted at the thought.

"He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said -" He paused a moment before continuing, "I said we'd have a family meeting and take a vote".

Everyone remained silent, and frankly, that was enough of an answer to the eldest. "Why not? We have no truck with Fenians or communist," Arthur said exasperated, before heatedly asking Tommy. "What's wrong with you?"

Tommy continued to stare back at him, before asking his aunt, "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"

"If I knew I'd buy the cure from Compton's Chemist," Polly answered, staring at Tom who stared right back.

OoOoOo

Being alone at night was something Maggie had gotten used to now. The cries next door, however, that was something entirely different. Sighing to herself, she decided to give it another go. Once again, she rose from her bed, and ventured into the hallway. This time though she brought her journal with her. Not long she stood in front of her brother's door, allowing herself to open it. 

Again, in the candlelit room, she saw him lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. "Still awake?" she asked.

"Can't seem to fall asleep," Tommy mumbled calmly. She took his stillness as permission to enter.

"Do you remember when I was a little girl and you used to read me books to make me fall asleep?" she asked, moving closer to the bed, "I used to love those voices you'd do for all the different characters from the picture books."

He nodded and he couldn't help the ghost of a smile while thinking of the memory. Unlike his other siblings, Maggie was the only one who would beg him to read to her. It was something they bonded over.

"If you want," she continued, motioning her hand to hold the journal up. "I can read you my story." Tommy was silent as he looked at the journal for a moment, before Maggie added, "I just thought maybe I could try to help you sleep like you did for me."

"Only if you do voices" he stressed jokingly, then shifted his body to make room for her on the small mattress.

"Remember," she squished next to him leaning her back against his bed frame. "This is a work in progress."

"I won't judge you too harshly" he replied, watching her open the journal that lay on her lap.

"Long ago when she was young, she believed that what she saw in her dreams could be a vision of what was to come. It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of-"

"A what?" He interrupted.

"An amalgamation" she repeated. "Do you not know what an amalgamation means?"

"No, I do. Didn't think you did."

"Shut up. You're supposed to allow my words to lull you to sleep."

"Sorry, please continue"

"It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of all her childhood aspirations, fears, and perhaps a little  too much whiskey. With this knowledge she found herself yearning for-"

By this point, Tommy had closed his eyes and was half-listening to the words his sister read from her journal. It wasn't half bad what she wrote. He reckoned by the time she was his age she'd actually make something of herself all with those stories in her head. Perhaps make a career out of it, possibly even get out of Small Heath. It was to be the start of a new decade, a new time, who knows what would happen? When he finally made it back from France, her face was the first face that caught his attention on the station platform. It shocked him. No more was the little girl he would read stories to, but in her place stood a smiling young woman. She had changed so much during the time he was gone.

Come to think of it, they'd all changed. Arthur was head of the family, in charge of the business, and had done a decent job of it. But that was before France, he was different now. He quickly noticed the change in his brother and how he couldn't think straight anymore. Arthur's personality became more explosive, as well as violent. John, well he had become more reckless, especially after a few drinks got into him, and since Martha's passing the drinking had only increased. 

As for him, well he was the one who had changed the most. He used to be carefree, joke and laugh, but now he was more solemn and even more protective of his family. Constantly worrying about how Arthur couldn't handle the business anymore, how John couldn't be alone anymore, and him? Well, he couldn't stand to see his family scrape and scrounge in the slums of Small Heath in order to survive any longer. No, not anymore. New copper sniffing about or not. No matter what Polly said, Tommy saw an opportunity with these guns. He wasn't about to turn it down. He just had to play it smart. As Maggie continued her reading, Tommy could feel himself slowly begin to drift out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

[rogueariadne]

To Have A Villain’s Quirk

NINE: LET HIM GO

Song: One For The Money - Escape The Fate

The next day was pretty uneventful, at least during the morning. Still sticking to a normal school curriculum, English was first, with normal core classes following behind. Then lunch, which was pretty nice, but, of course, Kaida didn't eat anything that was there. It seemed to confuse her classmates but they didn't give it too much thought. She sat with Kaminari and Kirishima, trying to get to know them better but it was mostly them talking to each other. They both tried to include her in the conversation but she had trouble keeping up. And finally, the time had come.

    UA's Hero Course.

    They all sat in their respective spots, the classroom alive with chatter. Kaida had out her notebook, doodling away as she watched the other students talk among themselves. Humming softly to herself, she tilted her head to the side. She was a seat in front of Hagakure, the invisible girl, and right behind her was Bakugo, who looked like he was staring off into space. Midoriya was right behind him. He looked like he was in deep thought, going over his notebook probably. It made her smile. At least they made it past the first day together. Kaida nearly jumped out of her seat as All Might came bursting through the door, hanging onto the door frame and leaning into the room. "I am here!"

    "Coming through the door like a hero!" Kaida giggled a bit while everyone else gasped, realizing just who was in front of them. Yes, it was the number one pro hero. She smiled lightly as everyone seemed to be getting excited about how he was a teacher. She watched him march to the front of the room. "Welcome to the most important class at UA High. Think of it as 'Hero-ing 101'. Here, you will learn the basics of being a pro. And what it means to fight in the name of good! Let's get into it! Today's lesson will pull no punches!"

    "Fight training!" She could hear the grin in Bakugo's voice without even looking at him. Only to hear Midoriya's worried question. Poor boy.

    "But one of the keys of being a hero is... looking good!" He immediately pointed to the side, grinning away as compartments automatically came out of the wall. "These were specifically designed for you based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started." Even Kaida was excited at this point, knowing exactly what it was. Their hero costumes. She grinned ear to ear as she thought about it. She went into full detail designing the costume. It was simple but it was hers. "Get yourselves suited up, and then meet me at Training Ground Beta!"

    "Yes, sir!" Kaida quickly grabbed her suitcase, following the girls to their changing room. The girl was hesitant to open it, noticing how the others were already stripping out of their clothes to put on the costumes. Ochaco tilted her head at the ghoul.

    "Is everything okay, Hiyama?" Kaida glanced up at her before nodding, laughing a little. "Are you nervous, too?"

    "Uh, yeah. I just hope it looks good on me."

    "I don't think that'll be a problem, Hiyama. You're very pretty, I think it'll look fine, however it looks." She turned her head to see Yaoyorozu looking at her with a confident smile. She was already dressed in her costume, causing Hiyama's face to go red.

    'So gorgeous!'

    "Right, okay!" She took a deep breath before carefully changing into the suit. A cropped skintight top, a slightly longer cropped jacket, shorts, tights, boots, and gloves. All that was left was the mask she had designed, pulling it around her neck first to button the back, then zipping down the front. She pulled the surgical like bands behind her ears to keep the mask in place, finally fixing it over her nose. The neon lines on the front made it look like teeth, fit for a ghoul. The bolts on the side were added just for some flair.

    "Perfect." Kaida looked herself I the mirror, twisting and turning as she fixed her hair up in a ponytail. She was smiling but no one could see it. Hagakure slide beside her, sounding ecstatic about her classmates outfit.

    "Whoa! You look cool! That mask is pretty, too!" Yaoyorozu stepped behind her, arms crossed.

    "Simple but nice." If only they knew the meaning behind it. The other girls lined up, taking in their costumes as well. They all exchanged the same look of confidence before turning and making their way to the training grounds. Marching onto the scene, Kaida couldn't help but feel empowered, walking with everyone like this. In their hero costumes, no less. They were just one step closer to becoming pros.

    "They say that clothes make the pros, young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof! Take this to heart. From now on you are all... heroes in training!" All Might's voice rang through the area as they exited the tunnel, coming to a stop as they spread out a little. Kaida stood near the tall dupli-armed boy, Shoji, catching Uraraka just next to her. She noticed, however, that Midoriya wasn't there yet. "This is getting me all revved up. You look so cool! Now. Shall we get started, you buncha newbies?" Kaida grinned, cracking her knuckles at his challenge. She turned her head to look at Midoriya as he entered, Uraraka calling him out. She wanted to go say hello and talk about his outfit, but it looked like gravity girl had it covered. Kaida looked away with a small smile, glancing to the ground. A certain blond looked back at the girls sudden exclamation, catching the look on the ghoul's face.

    "Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training." The pro hero started, only for Iida to cut in.

    "Sir! This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean we'll be conducting urban battles again?"

    "Not quite. I'm going to move you two steps ahead. Most of the villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run-ins with the most dastardly evildoers take place indoors. Think about it. Backroom deals, home invasions, secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise, you'll be split into teams of good guys and bad guys and fight two-on-two indoor battles. I know we have an extra in the class, but don't worry! I came prepared!"

    "Isn't this a little advanced?" Kaida looked in front of her, seeing the frog girl. She had forgotten her name, whoops. She did have a valid question though.

    "The best training is what you get on the battlefield! But remember, you can't just punch a robot this time. You're dealing with actual people now." Everyone seemed to join in in asking questions, causing Kaida to look back and forth between everyone, noticing how Kaminari had moved more towards the back, standing next to Kirishima now. She was caught staring, Denki turning his head at just the right time to give her a big grin before turning back to their growling teacher. "I wasn't finished talking!"

    "Listen up!" A script? "The situation is this: The villains have hidden a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to foil their plans. To do that, the good guys either have to catch the evildoers or recover the weapon. Likewise, the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes." Kaida tilted her head. It sounded like a video game. "Time's limited, and we'll choose teams by drawing lots. I brought an extra box along for the extra person, too!" Before Iida could really throw a fit, Midoriya brought him back down by explaining the urgency of how teaming up works. It seemed to do the trick as he apologized. Everyone moved forward to draw their lots, Kaida waiting until she was the last one and grabbed out of the extra one, courtesy of All Might.

    All teams were formed and All Might stared down at the maroonette, leaning down to get a good look at her paper. "And young Hiyama! Look's like you're on Team E!" Kaida nodded as the pinkette and twinktoes joined her.

    "Yay! We got an extra! We totally got this in the bag!" Ashido yelled, sticking her tongue out at everyone else. Some just rolled their eyes, the others just kind of laughed. Kaida smiled a little as she threw an arm over the other's shoulders, pulling her along. She just barely caught that Midoriya was facing Bakugo. She hoped he'd be alright.. She didn't fight the girl as she let her lead her to the monitoring room with everyone else.

    Hiyama tried to keep up with Ashido's babbling, just nodding dumbly along, catching bits and pieces as they stood in front of the monitors. As the time started, everyone quieted down, watching carefully. Kaida took off the mask in the meantime, keeping her eyes on the green suited boy on the screen. Her hands flew to her mouth as Bakugo attacked. Everyone was calling out but Kaida's eyes were fixated on the boys. Her eyes widened, watching how Midoriya took Bakugo down. She kept her hands clutched together in front of her chest, brows furrowing. She was so proud of him with how far he's come, but she was terrified. She was pulled from her thoughts as a hand rested on her shoulder. She looked to the side to see Denki, smiling at her.

    "Hey, don't worry. He'll be fine." He reassured, dropping his hand as he turned back to the screen. Kaida smiled a little and nodded, continuing to watch the fight. She had pretty much blocked out everything that they were talking about, watching closely. "Whoa, that guy has some major anger issues.. it's kinda scary." She heard from Denki, but she didn't hear anyone else. As Bakugo found Midoriya again, Kaida bit her lip, eyes widening more as she gasped, realizing what was going to happen. She flung herself forward, hands slamming down on the rail beside All Might.

    "No! All Might you have to stop him!"

    "Young Bakugo! Don't do it! You'll kill him!" He yelled into the mic, Kaida gripping the rail so hard she was sure there had to be a dent in it by now. As the explosion released, Kaida shouted, hand covering her mouth.

    "All Might, please tell them to stop! He's going to pulverize him!" Hiyama begged, glancing up at the hero. He looked like he was torn. "All Might!" Everyone else started joining in to shut him down. The fight dragged on and she was finding it hard to watch, flinching as she could see Bakugo yelling away.

    "They're gonna kill each other! Sir!" Kirishima yelled, causing Kaida to slam her hand down once again.

    "All Might! Shut them down!" She watched the two boys go, ready to destroy each other. She could feel her eyes tearing up. How could Bakugo just do that to him? How could Midoriya keep going? All Might started to tell them to stop before he heard something from them. She didn't know what, but the impatience was gnawing at her. Suddenly, Midoriya punched through the entire ceiling, her gasping as Bakugo blasted at him. It was quiet as the scene died down, everyone staring wide eyed and open mouthed.

    "You did it." All Might started. "The hero team... Wins!" A breath, Kaida didn't even know she was holding, came rushing out, feeling a few tears slip down her face as she saw her best friend drop to the ground. She still had a fight she had to do, but all she wanted right now was to rush to him. She couldn't though, and it killed her. She quickly wiped away her tears, starting to feel the rage bubbling up inside her, all of it towards the ash blond bond. She watched her friend get wheeled off the scene by the infirmary robots, just waiting for the other boy to walk in. She could hear people faintly talking, and she could've sworn she heard her name a few times but she was too taken over by her rage. She hadn't even noticed how her eyes changed, glowing their bright red.

    "Kai..?" Denki stared at the rage fueled girl, Mina hearing his question and looking to the girl.

    "Hey.. is she okay? Hiyama?" She moved to rest her hand on her shoulder, turning to the door as it opened, revealing Bakugo. As he walked in, Kaida heard his name, and the door close behind him, snapping from her thoughts as her rinkaku came loose, immediately pinning him against the wall. It all happened so fast, no one could comprehend what happened until Bakugo started yelling.

    "What the fuck, Red?! Let me go, you damn brat!" He growled out, clenching his teeth as her ghoul eyes stared him down.

    "What the hell were you thinking?! You could've killed him!" Everyone flinched, Denki trying to pull her back, only for her to quickly shake him off. "Are you so threatened by him that you had to go that far?! Are you really that afraid that someone you've looked down on your whole lives is better than you?!"

    "Young Hiyama! Stand down!" She ignored All Might's demand as she took a step closer to him.

    "I don't think it's any of your business how I feel, idiot! Now, let go of me before I blast you to hell!" Kaida tightened her grip on his limbs, keeping him from exploding the tentacles.

    "I'd like to see you try!"

    "Kaida!" She snapped her attention to the three that called out her name. Kaminari, Ashido, and Uraraka stood there, worried expressions across their faces, Ashido walking towards her and resting a calming hand on her arm. "Let him go.."

    She glanced between everyone in the room, eyes widening as she realized what she had done. She quickly but carefully put the boy down, the tails dissolving and eyes relaxing. She looked down, ashamed. "I.. A-All Might, may I be excused, please?" The room was quiet before the man cleared his throat.

    "Very well." Hiyama nodded and pulled herself away from everyone, pushing past Bakugo as she went. She ran from the training grounds, just barely catching up to the gurney that pulled the green haired boy away. She walked beside him, explaining to Recovery Girl what happened and that she was allowed to stay. She didn't dare leave his side. She promised Mama Midoriya she would take care of him. She couldn't help but think of what happened back in the monitoring room. What was she thinking? She let her feelings get the best of her, she could've seriously hurt someone. She was an idiot.

    Back in the monitoring room, all was quiet before All Might ordered the next team to go. Bakugo stood at the back, fists balled as he recounted what happened, ignoring the stares he got from everyone else. Ashido frowned as she crossed her arms, standing between Aoyama and Kaminari. "I hope she's okay.."

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[scartale-an-undertale-au]

Papers of Homelessness - Chapter 39

(This banner had been made by the awesome and amazing artist @benteja​. i am so honored that she had drawn this banner for this story. please go and show her all the love in the world that she deserves!!! \[^o^]/)

BEFORE | NEXT

a/n: i wanted to write another scene for this chapter, but i totally forget about it until i finished the drawing. and now i’m too sleepy to concentrate. so enjoy some confused chara and grillby having a petty argument over the tip jar.

p.s. sorry for anything weird. like i said, half hallucinating.

Your eyes opened slowly to reveal the familiar pale color of your room's ceiling. You blinked, not recalling ever leaving your classroom.

Did you blank out or something? Probably all the fatigue from Muffet's stalking getting to you. You shifted in bed and attempted to rise, instantly holding your head when it exploded in pain.

You took a few deep breaths and lied back down, the pounding in your head feeling like nails drilling into your temples.

That's strange… you had a strange vision during the test, but you didn't get such a severe headache from it. You probably slept on the wrong side or something like that. You pushed yourself up once more and placed your feet on the floor, trying to think past the dizziness and pain.

Were you sick or something?

You spotted from the edge of your sight a glass of water and some tablets of painkillers. An all too familiar scene from the many books that you have read.

…

You got drunk?!

Might explain the lack of memory and your shitty mood. But you didn't know how you were as a drunk man since you never tried to get drunk. Felt too troublesome.

Well, seemed like there was a first time for everything.

You gratefully downed the tablets and drank the water, slowly getting on your wobbly legs and walking carefully to the door. When you finally managed to get your feet under you and so more confidentially opened the door and turned towards the kitchen to grab food before you headed out back to college.

A red blur rushed towards you and you managed in the nick of time to duck behind the wall and watch as the big woman crashed into the floor.

"What the hell are you doing in my house, Undyne?" You asked in annoyance. Was she driving you to school? Does Grillby really think that you couldn't protect yourself? And what about Frisk? Are they forcing her to stay at the diner from now on? She would go crazy if she stayed there for too long.

You needed to talk to Grillby about that.

"I was worried about you, you punk!" Undyne exclaimed, jumping to her feet and pulling her mussed up hair back to a braid. That was a strange new look for her…

"Did I really get drunk that badly?" You muttered and she raised a brow in confusion.

"Drunk?"

You stared at her. "I did get drunk… right?"

"Huh? Of course not! You passed out on the bus I told you not to go on! You're lucky I drove to the last stop just to yell at you! The driver was going nuts, already about to call the ambulance on you."

…

"I fainted?" You asked in disbelief. She nodded. "But I don't recall anything that could have made me faint…"

"Apparently you called for someone named Void about winning something." You drew a blank. "Is he like a gamer or something?"

Undyne shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the dining table, where two nylon covered plates were placed on. An orange bottle standing between the plates. "Now go eat something. Your mom made breakfast before she left."

Applause for mom.

Your stomach let out a loud rumble and you quickly took your place at the table and unwrapped your plate, eagerly eating the scrambled eggs, cucumbers and toast. For some reason, you were starving.

"Did she say where is she going?"

"Nope. She just said that she was extremely worried about you. Seriously, man. That was super scary seeing you all unconscious in the poor driver's arms. You looked dead there for a moment," Undyne sighed.

"…Sorry? I don't even know what happened."

"Huh…" You two went back to eating.

Seriously. What did you even do to make you pass out like that? Relieved another strange vision of that other life or something?

…

Wait, you said something about 'void' and winning. Perhaps you did see something and the pain was too great… that would make sense since your visions tended to leave you half-hanging to life.

Great… it progressed to passing out and memory problems…

What a way to begin the day.

Frisk looked unhappy when you came to work

To be honest, so were you. You got a good grade, but it was lower than usual so you had a talk with the professor about redoing the test since you were 'sick'.

Undyne drove even faster than yesterday if that was even humanely possible and you nearly puked when finally getting off at the campus.

You asked her to drive her slow mode when she gave you the lift to Grillby's.

"Not happy with staying at Grillbz'?" You smirked at her. She huffed and pinched your side, ignoring your yelp. "I was being nice!"

"…No, you were sarcastic."

Touché.

"So any signs from wanted no. 1 stalker?"

A shake of the head. "Left a note…"

Great… "Can I see it?"

Frisk nodded and slinked back to the backroom, so you took over her until the paper slipped into your hands. You told the costumer to wait for a moment before reading the slip of paper.

'I have all the information I need.'

Wow, so ominous.

"You think she's going to act now?" You glanced at Frisk. She shrugged, hidden face lowered. You decided to change a topic while you began the order. "Want to try and uncover your face for an hour?"

Frisk thought over the offer and then shrugged again, hands rising to pull the hood back. She took a deep breath and then opened her eyes. When no strange sounds were heard because honestly, no one here cared about looking at the baristas, she relaxed and went to clean the tables.

You grinned and placed the cup of coffee in front of the costumer, who had given a small patient smile. Oh great, a talkative client.

"It's very sweet of you to encourage her," The costumer said in her elderly sweet tone.

You shrugged. "No one really cares so I just do that to show her that."

"Still very sweet of you, young man," She placed a few coins in the new tip jar you had got. Take that, Grillby! "Good luck."

"Thank you," You said genuinely, glad for the tip. "Have a good day."

"Will do."

She left and you greeted the next costumer. You sighed in relief and quickly changed the song playing from the jukebox to some jazz before returning to your order.

An hour later and a switch to classic rock, you saw Grillby exit the backroom and gave him a cheeky grin and pointed slyly at the tip jar. "Who was the one who said that no one gives tips? Who? Who?" You poked the half-filled jaw at each 'who', grin widening.

Grillby stared at you for a long time before he approached the cashier. "…Tip to Frisk…"

"Hey!" You cried out in indignation. "I was the one to get the tip!"

"…Don't gloat…"

"Grrr…." You growled and held the jar to your chest. "Mine!"

Grillby gave you a long gaze. "…Less pay."

"You're being petty!"

"…You too."

"Shut up..." You jolted and turned to see Frisk stand before you two, looking even smaller than usual because of her height next to the tallest of the bunch Grillby. But being small did not smother her glare.

She really was unhappy.

You shuddered despite yourself. Grillby, however, simply nodded. The smug little bastard.

Which reminded you…

"Frisk, can I have a talk with you after close up?" You inquired and Frisk tilted their head in confusion before nodding, sending a glare at Grillby.

The redhead shook his head. "…Today as well…"

The jukebox let out a string of drumming.

Frisk huffed and turned on her heel, walking briskly back to her task cleaning the floor, but not before changing the channel to soul music. You turned to Grillby and frowned. "You know she hates being confined here."

"…Safe here."

"She can take care of herself. It's not like she's your daughter or something."

"…Granddaughter."

"Huh?"

"…Joe… like a son…" Grillby's glasses gleamed and he sighed, fixing them. You caught glance of his tired green eyes and the multiplying gray hairs in his hair, standing out between the dark red strands.

So Grillby was affected by everything that has been going on lately as well… you wondered what kind of things he sees at night when he's alone.

Having Frisk here probably wasn't helping. And Muffet lurking in the shadows with the idea that she's wanted by the police and wants something from Frisk… he was probably more worried than he lets on.

You might be socially awkward, but you were no idiot. Grillby was probably keeping Frisk here more for his sake than hers…

"So you see her as a granddaughter? I thought grandparents pamper their grandchildren," You gave a lopsided grin and nudged him.

He shrugged. "…Can't... Too reckless…"

"Frisk?" You snorted. "She's manipulative for sure. But she's not reckless."

You heard a small chuckle and your eyes widened at the small quirk up of the older man's mouth. "…She is… a lot… of things…"

You gaped at him, not used to the smile and the way his face became younger with the laugh. Grillby noticed you gawking and his smile fell, his serious demeanor returning.

You immediately felt like a scum for ruining this moment and cleared your throat. "Well, whatever she is, you still got to understand that she's not a baby. She doesn’t like to be forced to stay here or being babied."

Grillby nodded. "…I know…"

You rolled your eyes and gave up on convincing the older man. It was said that older men are always stuck in their beliefs and you knew that you won't win an argument with your boss. "Whatever, Grillbz. Just don't push her too far. Maybe even get your daughter to come by. Give Frisk a chance to meet her aunt," You smirked at your owner when he gave you a piercing look.

But after a moment, Grillby sighed. "…Why not…"

You grinned in triumph.

NEXT